Hearts in Bloom by Kelly McCrady Page B

your mother?”
    “Sandra McVey.”
    He did a small double-take. “Not only family-owned but family-run.” Recovering his composure, he continued, “I noticed McVey Gardens has a limited Web presence. Have you, as a company, given any thought to how your business can grow with Web exposure? A website with order links, Facebook, Twitter, Linked-In…”
    He named others but Ivy’s eyes had glazed over. She waved a hand weakly between them. “Hold on there, soldier. You’re speaking geek.”
    “Exactly. You need a translator. That’s where I come in. I review your business with an in-depth interview then work with you to create a Web presence that suits and enhances your business. McVey Gardens has been around for a long time—it’s time to move into the 21 st century.”
    She shifted to the other foot. “What do you charge for this service?”
    “Initially, dinner out.” That charming smile lit his face again. “I’ll wine you and dine you and ask a few questions, lay out my fee schedule. If you’re agreeable to more, or more to the point, if your mother or accountant or marketing staff are happy with my portfolio, I’ll do the in-depth interviewing. I need to see what platforms work best for you.”
    “I have no authority to make decisions toward spending company money”— not true —“so why wine and dine me?”
    “Because you intrigue me. And because you called me frigid, heartless, misanthropic, and expressed sadness, capriciousness, dislike and disappointment over a broken agreement—with flowers.”
    Ivy stared, open-mouthed. He’d done his homework. “Who are you?”
    “Do we have a date?”
    Ivy tipped her head to the right, considering. “Ambrosia. Tomorrow night, 7 p.m. Meet me there.”
    “Excellent.” Sunglasses flipped open in one hand and he slid them onto his face. “Gotta run. People to do, things to see.”
    Ivy blinked into the afternoon glare at his retreating back. Resisting the urge to paste herself to the front window to watch him enter his car took massive effort. Two cars left the tiny strip mall parking lot at once, so she wasn’t certain which was his. Her shallow end hoped it was the silver BMW.

    At dinner that evening in the McVey home, Ivy told her parents about the bouquet and the business details of CJ’s proposal.
    Her mother nodded. “That might not be a bad idea. I’m afraid I’m too old to learn all this computer jargon and be a Twitterhead or what have you.”
    “Tweeter,” her father said, not looking up from his plate.
    “We’ll leave you in charge of this one, Ivy. If it seems like a good deal, let’s do it—having one guy who specializes in this sort of thing is going to be easier than hunting down all those people ourselves and hiring someone we don’t know to build a website. I’m sure CJ knows the right folks to do that sort of thing.”
    “I’m meeting with him tomorrow night. Over dinner,” she admitted quickly.
    Jake scrutinized her but said nothing.
    As Ivy got ready for bed that evening, her brother knocked on her door. She let him in and returned to the sink to avoid drooling toothpaste down her micro fleece sleep shirt.
    “What kind of penis-extension does he drive?”
    She spit. “I don’t know.”
    “Come on. Camero? Lamborghini?”
    “Have you ever seen a Lamborghini in Springfield?” She rinsed her toothbrush and banged it on the side of the sink to shake excess water out. After drying her chin with the hand towel, she leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “Seriously, I didn’t see his car.” She grinned. “But there was a silver Beemer in the parking lot.”
    “Ha!” Jake laughed in triumph. “You’re such a car slut.”
    “Am not.”
    “When was the last time you dated a guy who just drove a Toyota or something?”
    “I don’t remember. High school. Whatever. Go away.”
    Jake shook his head. “You’ve got to give up your Ken doll habit, sis. For a girl who prefers to be elbow-deep in manure blowing