Read an Excerpt

My Only One

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.

Chapter One

He came to a stop in the middle of the floral arrangements and said curtly, "I want a couple of dozen roses sent to this address."

"Red roses?"

"Certainly not. Yellow - pink, it really doesn't matter."

He stared at her, and really she was worth being stared at: a big girl with generous curves, short dark curly hair, large grey eyes and a pretty face.

He said abruptly, "What is your name?"

"Eulalia Warburton," she replied promptly. "What is yours?"

He smiled thinly. "The roses are to be sent to this address." He handed her a card. "How much?"

"Fifteen pounds and two pounds for delivery." She glanced at the card. "This afternoon - this evening? Tomorrow?"

"This evening, before six o'clock. Make sure that they are fresh ..."

She gave him an outraged stare. "All the flowers in this shop are fresh."

She took the money and thumped the cash register with some force. Thoroughly put out, she said snappily, "If you doubt it, have your money back and go somewhere else."

"Dear, dear." He spoke with infuriating blandness.

"Are you having a bad day?"

"It was a perfectly good day before you came in," she told him. A good thing Mrs Pearce wasn't here - she would have been given the sack on the spot. She handed him an ornate little card. "You will wish to write a message?"

She took it back when he had written on it, handed him his change and bade him a coldly civil good day. She got a grunt in reply.

She watched his broad back disappear up the street and took a look at the card. It was to a Miss Ursula Kendall and, after a careful scrutiny of his scrawled message, she gathered that he was sending his apologies. Well, thought Eulalia, if he was as rude to her as he had been here, a nice piece of jewellery would be more in order.

She finished her bouquet and began to arrange the yellow roses in their Cellophane sheath; somehow pink didn't go well with a name like Ursula.

Mrs Pearce came back presently, approved of the bouquets and, since it was almost time to close, told Eulalia to deliver the roses. "I know it's out of your way, so take a taxi - the money's in the till." She bustled around, rearranging this and that. "You'll have to take the bouquets round in the morning. Half-past nine - another taxi, I suppose - but it's a good order."

It had been a pleasantly warm June day, but now that the afternoon was slipping into early evening there was a cool breeze. Eulalia donned a navy blue jacket over her navy and cream patterned dress, gathered up the roses and left the shop, taking a breath of air as she waited for a taxi. Even there, in London, from time to time one had a faint whiff of really fresh air.

The roses were to be delivered to an address close to Eaton Square. She paid the driver and mounted the steps to the front door of a Georgian terraced house. The girlfriend, if it was a girlfriend, lived in some style, thought Eulalia, and pressed the bell. The door was flung open at the same moment and a young woman stood frowning at her.

"I'm just going out ..."

She was a handsome girl. Her features were too strong to be called pretty but she had beautifully dressed fair hair and large blue eyes, which for the moment held no warmth; moreover, she was dressed in the very height of fashion.

"Miss Kendall?" asked Eulalia sweetly. "I was asked to deliver these to this address before six o'clock."

Miss Kendall's perfectly made-up mouth thinned. She snatched the flowers and tore open the little envelope attached to them, glanced at the note and pushed the flowers back into Eulalia's arms. "Throw them with the rubbish," she demanded angrily. "If he thinks he can -" She stopped. "And don't just stand there - take the beastly things and go!"

"I simply cannot throw them in the bin," said Eulalia firmly. "They're fresh and beautiful."

"Then take them home with you - eat them for your supper for all I care." Miss Kendall turned suddenly and went into the house and banged the door.

They deserved each other, decided Eulalia, walking briskly to the nearest bus-stop. She hadn't liked her ill-tempered customer; she didn't like Miss Kendall either. A well-matched couple. She dismissed them from her mind and boarded a bus to take her home.

Home was a basement flat in Cromwell Road - not the best end by any means, but it was on the edge of respectability and the flats in the rest of the house were occupied by quiet people. It was dark and poky but it had a narrow strip of garden at the back and she had been lucky to get it. It was a worrying thought that the five-year agreement she had would run out before the autumn, but she had been a good tenant and she hoped that the landlord would renew it and not put the rent up. She tried not to think what she would do if he did that ...

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from My Only One by Lindsay McKenna Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---