Page 5 of Love Potion No. 69
I jump, my hand flying to my heart. Who in the world…? It can’t possibly be Quinton. No one would come out in this weather.
The music cuts out and the booming knock comes again. As I turn to see who it is, the door flies open as a thunderclap echoes across the sky.
And there, in my doorway as lightning streaks through the clouds behind him, is a very wet, incredibly gorgeous, highly pissed-off man.
Quinton
IHONESTLY DON’T intend for the door to go flying open when I bang on it, but I’ve had a shit day, so it’s completely on brand at this point. I’m soaked, and I’ve just about had it. I can be forgiven for snarling at the woman who’s standing halfway down a row of plants and gaping at me. And I candefinitelybe forgiven for stepping inside the blessedly dry building without waiting for an invitation.
“You can’t—” she says behind me as I shut the door.
My toes squish inside my loafers as I turn. “Are you Clementine Rowan?”
She blinks at me, and as I drip, I take a moment to gather my wits.
Except they’re gone. Because I meet her moss-green eyes right as another clap of thunder rattles the greenhouse, and it might as well be rattling my very soul.
The woman seems to have gotten over her shock. “You,” she sneers.
Yep. This is definitely Clementine Rowan. I straighten and crack my neck, trying to ignore the way my blood heats at the sight of her.
“You’re him,” she says, her dark hair beginning to collapse out of its messy bun. “Quinton Henry.”
And you’re mine.I blink the thought away and doff an imaginary cap at her, managing to flick droplets of water on my face in the process. “In the flesh.”
She crosses her arms, and the movement causes a pencil to fall out of her bun. Her hair unwinds, curling in a frizzy mess of waves around her face and down her back. “How did you find me?”
I step farther in and look around, both to break eye contact and to find something to dry my face and hands with. Spotting a gingham tea towel on the table that seems to be a makeshift laboratory of some sort, I make my way to it and pluck it up.
“Um,excuse you,” Clementine says as I put it to my face without a second thought.
Then I smell it. It’s so much more intense than what I’ve been exposed to all these years. Has she extracted its essence? I press the towel to my nose and inhale deeply, noting the hint of citrus and…hmm. I need more time. “Is this it? Elysian Blossom?” I glance at her, forcing myself to ignore how stunning she is with that angry red flush on her face, and bury my nose in the fabric for another whiff.
She’s in front of me in seconds, yanking the towel away and crumpling it between her hands. “It’s none of your business! Where do you get off waltzing in here and making yourself at home? I thought they taught manners to Canadians.”
I wave at the weather outside, the day’s events spiking my irritation back into full bloom. “Seriously? Listen,Miss Rowan, between nearly missing my flights—plural—then my rental car confirmation being unaccountably missing from the company’s system, andthenbeing unable to find a car service of any sort and having to hitch a ride to the hotel with a guy who I swear took a bath in garlic and onions, and then walking herein this weather, I have had a hell of a day. And if you’d just answered your phone like a normal person, I wouldn’t be here!”
She stomps. Literally stomps. It’s infuriatingly adorable, and the urge to gather her to me and kiss her is almost insurmountable. “I don’t answer my phone when I’m working!” she retorts, then pushes her glasses up.
I nearly wince at the way her eye contact shoots straight to my dick, but I’m here to get a job done. So I take a deep breath and exhale. “Can we start over, please?” I ask.
It startles her. “What?”
I throw on my most devastatingly sexy smile. “Hello. I’m Quinton Henry. Nice to meet you.” I step nearer to her and hold my still-damp hand out, half hoping she doesn’t take it and more than half dying to touch her in any way possible.
Warily, she closes the distance and shakes my hand as another lightning bolt crackles above us. My body fizzes with the electric charge, nearly freezing me in place for a millisecond, and my brain decides to use that time to pack up all logic and hop the nearest train out of the station.
Clementine yanks her hand out of mine and shakes it, pressing it against her apron and scowling. “What are you up to?”
The movement is enough for me to notice the burn mark on her arm, and I want to rage and demand who hurt her.What the hell is wrong with me?I need to focus. “Me? I’m just trying to have a normal business meeting.You’rethe one working in a glass house in a thunderstorm and brewing god knows what in here. I should ask you whatyou’reup to.” I can taste the electricity on my tongue, and if anything, it increases my desire for her. I clench my jaw.
She rolls her eyes. “Your trip here was unnecessary. I told you no. My answer is still no.” Then she turns, dismissing me, and walks to the refrigerator. Her dark hair falls all the way to an absolutely edible ass, and I bite back a moan as she opens the fridge and bends to retrieve something. I step closer to her, literally unable to stop myself. It’s as though I’m watching myself from above, screaming to stop whatever the hell it is I think I’m doing, and yet still my body walks.
Clementine straightens, a vial of clear liquid in her hand, and strides to the workbench. I smell it immediately.Elysian Blossom.My hunch has to be right: that vial must hold the flower’s essence. But doesn’t it bloom only once every hundred years? It’s a serious logistical issue my manufacturing team was going to have to hurdle, but one step at a time. First up was to get the seeds.
But if she’s figured out how to extract its essence? Holyshit.I have to have her.
No,Quinton, what the fuck?I have to win her over—I’m here for her flower seeds, not her damn body.