Defy the World Tomatoes (4 page)

“This isn’t a shoe store where we can load up the boxes and cart them down the street,” Darcy shot right back at him. “We’ve created a whole world here.”

“It’s a beautiful world at that,” Stevens added. “My wife loves to shop here.”

“Well, that’s a comfort,” Christy Joy sobbed. “What are we going to do, Darcy?”

“First, we’re going to tell Mr. Stevens good-bye. Why don’t you take a couple of rolls home for your wife? Christy, will you wrap them up, please?”

“Why, thank you.” Stevens shifted his weight from foot to foot while he waited, then took the green bag and, with an apologetic smile, hurried away.

Darcy sank onto the floor. “Maybe we ought to hire our own attorney.”

Christy Joy wiped her eyes on the lace hanky she kept in her pinafore pocket. “I was married to J. Lyle long enough to know there would be no point in that. If only we’d been able to buy the property last fall before Mr. Moore decided to move here. He might have sold it to us.”

“He doesn’t strike me as the reasonable sort,” Darcy fumed. “You sew. Can you make a voodoo doll? We could stick pins in its hands and ruin his career.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Darcy. Then he’d stay here in Monarch Bay rather than tour, and I want him out of town permanently.”

Darcy propped her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands. “We’re doing better every month, but there’s no way we can save enough to lease another building, completely redecorate and move. We can’t use just any building, anyway. We need outdoor space for the nursery. We’re screwed.”

Christy Joy leaned over the counter to look down at Darcy. “Maybe not. We have nearly six months to come up with a plan.”

“It’s not a plan we need. It’s money,” Darcy argued.

“Moore’s rich, isn’t he?”

“What do you want to do, guilt him into paying for our move?”

Darcy had used all her savings, while Christy Joy had spent her divorce settlement to go into business. Things had been going so well, and now she felt as though they’d run full tilt into a brick wall.

She struggled to push herself up off the floor. “We didn’t call ourselves the Defy the World Tomatoes for nothing, but I’ll be damned if I know what to do.”

“I can’t work any harder,” Christy Joy complained. “I’m already exhausted. It’s a good thing Twink and I live upstairs, or I’d never get into work on time.”

“Let’s play Scarlett O’Hara and worry about this tomorrow,” Darcy said. “Then at least we’ll be able to get through today.”

Christy Joy began nibbling on a caramel roll. “Did you have breakfast?”

“Yes, and it’s a good thing too, because I sure couldn’t eat now.”

For the rest of the morning, Darcy smiled until her cheeks ached, but none of that forced sunshine reached her heart. For a few months, she’d had the job of her dreams, but now she could feel it slipping through her fingers.

George Kimble prided himself on his ability to read a face. It was a skill he’d refined over his teaching career, but that day a stranger could have glanced at Darcy’s goofy smile and known something had gone wrong. He eased himself down onto the tall stool behind the nursery cash register and nudged her with his elbow.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

Darcy’s shoulders slumped sadly. “I suppose there’s no point in hiding it,” she began, and hurriedly explained their impending disaster. “I keep telling myself that we’ll cope somehow, but right now, I don’t see how.”

George shook his head in dismay. “At least the bastard will be able to sit in his Zen garden and contemplate the havoc he’s created.”

“Are you trying to put a positive spin on this?”

“Hell, no.” George raised his drooping hat to scratch the remaining fringe of gray hair above his right ear. “But you could use a boyfriend. Do you like him?”

Darcy’s gaze raked the sky. “That’s really not the issue, and believe me, he’s way out of my league.”

“That wasn’t my question,” George insisted.

Darcy backed away. “I need to make some telephone calls. I can haul the cypress, bench and rolls of plastic in my truck, but I want to make certain the sand and boulders are delivered in the right place.”

Certain he had his answer in her abrupt change of subject, George chuckled to himself. “Don’t forget to sell him a new rake.”

“I’ve got the deluxe wooden model all ready to go,” Darcy replied.

Darcy didn’t know how she was going to face Griffin, but when she arrived at his house the next day, he wasn’t home. It was her experience that homeowners usually stuck around. The worst argued about the placement of every flower and shrub. The best merely peered out their windows and waved.

She set her crew to work leveling the ground and spreading out the plastic liner that would keep weeds from sprouting up through the sand. Once the sand and boulders were delivered, the men spread the pale white sand evenly and shoved the boulders into place. Then they planted the cypress and moved the bench to the edge of the sand.

As far as landscaping jobs went, this had been an easy one. Darcy dismissed the crew and began raking the sand into a wavy pattern on her own. When she paused to survey the result, she noticed Griffin leaning against the corner of his house. Startled, she wondered how long he’d been watching her.

He was casually dressed in gray sweats and running shoes. He wasn’t smiling and, as he came toward her, she had to fight the urge to hide behind the largest of the new boulders.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Moore. Is this what you had in mind?”

“I think so, but let’s sit on the bench and give it a try.” He took the special rake from her and slid it under the bench, out of their way.

She’d brought a bench large enough to suit his proportions and, when she sat, her feet dangled off the ground. With no hope of achieving any measure of tranquility, she glanced up at him.

“You been working out?” she asked.

“I try to get to the gym every day. Now that I’m thirty-six, it’s not as easy to stay in shape.”

Darcy assumed he must be joking, because if there was an ounce of fat on him, it sure wasn’t noticeable. She tried to concentrate on the sparkling ocean in the distance, but Griffin was simply impossible to ignore. His hair was damp, and he smelled of spicy soap. His breathing was slow and regular, as though he was enjoying the quiet moment, but she squirmed unhappily.

“Tell me why you chose to become a landscape architect.”

He’d used that soft, inviting tone Darcy was sure must capture everyone’s attention, but she feared she was particularly susceptible to his resonant baritone. “Have you ever been to the Hotel Del Coronado just south of San Diego?”

“Yes, it’s a remarkable place. I understand Thomas Edison strung the lights.”

“That’s what they say. A woman named Kate Sessions did the landscaping. She was born before the Civil War and was way ahead of her time in her regard for ecology. She traveled the world to import plants which would thrive alongside those native to California.

“I must have been about twelve when I visited the hotel with my parents. We took a tour, and the minute the docent described Miss Sessions’ work, I knew what I wanted to be. I went to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo to study. That’s where I met Christy Joy. Now, you tell me something.”

Griffin turned toward her and smiled. “Anything,” he promised.

His smile, his husky voice and his darkly compelling gaze were mesmerizing, and the question she’d meant to ask fled her mind. “Are you a vampire?”

Greatly amused, Griffin responded with a rich, rolling laugh. “Vampires don’t exist, and even if they did, I’m sitting out here in the afternoon sun, and it hasn’t turned me to ashes.”

Somehow Darcy didn’t find his proof all that convincing. “Well, there’s something damn odd about you,” she blurted.

Griffin sighed. “Yes, I know, but perhaps it’s merely the European influence. Tell me, do you find me lacking in warmth?”

“Right at this moment, no, but…”

“So the answer is yes,” Griffin posed thoughtfully. “I’m working on it.”

He didn’t appear to be inviting her sympathy, which Darcy would have regarded as ridiculous, but his poignant comment touched her nevertheless. “I’m sorry I knew nothing about your career. I suppose I should have known when I heard you play.”

“You needn’t apologize. No one knows everything. I can’t name a single quarterback with the NFL.”

Darcy conceded that point readily enough, but she hated to waste what could be her only opportunity to find him in a congenial mood. “I can understand why you’d want your own recording studio, but why does it have to be in our building?”

“It’s not your building. It’s mine.”

His voice now rang with unmistakable authority, and Darcy had nothing more to say. “I think I better go.”

“No, stay and watch the sunset with me, and then we’ll talk about the rest of the grounds. They’re in desperate need of your talents, wouldn’t you say?”

He’d offered a tempting lure to keep her there and, instinctively, Darcy recognized a danger that, with tantalizing steps, he might make her bargain away her very soul. If he weren’t an actual blood-sucking vampire, he seemed fully capable of sucking away her last ounce of free will. It was a terrifying thought, and yet she stayed put and watched the sun slowly slip beneath the waves.

As the dusk darkened, Griffin reached for her hand, then stood and lifted her easily to her feet. “This garden is perfect. Thank you. Let me give you the final payment before we make anymore plans.”

Darcy pulled her hand from his before the delicious tingle of his touch overwhelmed her reason. “It might be better if you hired another firm.”

Without touching her again, Griffin drew her along toward the house. “I don’t want another firm, and you can’t afford to turn down lucrative commissions when you’ll need the money to relocate.”

That piece of logic annoyed Darcy no end. “That may be true, however…”

“However what? Would you feel as though you were sleeping with the enemy?”

“Mr. Moore, really, if you think my services will include more than plants, you’re badly mistaken.”

Griffin unlocked the kitchen door, reached in to turn on the lights and ushered her inside. “It’s merely a figure of speech.”

He flashed a wicked grin, and she wondered if any woman had ever found the strength to climb out of his bed. She’d never met anyone like him. A part of her longed to just go for it, but a taunting inner voice whispered,
Don’t you dare
.

“I’ll be away several months a year,” Griffin confided. “Could you landscape the grounds as your idol would have in native plants that will survive the inevitable neglect?”

“Yes, I’d love to do that, but won’t you have someone here, a housekeeper, butler, some sort of staff to maintain your home?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I should hire someone.” He leaned back against the center island and crossed his arms over his chest.

The remodeled kitchen was aglow in white enamel and stainless steel. There was a commercial-size gas stove, a huge new refrigerator and a complete array of the latest small appliances. There was no sign their owner had made so much as a slice of toast there, however.

Darcy was surprised he’d given such little thought to the lovely home. “What do you usually do?” she asked.

“This is the first house I’ve ever owned. I’ve always lived in hotels, where everything was provided.”

Darcy rested a hip against the counter opposite him. “You’ve never been on your own?”

“Oh, hell, yes. I’ve been on my own for twenty years, but I lived in hotels even when I was married.”

Darcy found that an especially painful bit of news. He was in his mid-thirties, clearly a celebrity in some circles, probably very rich ones, and he’d had plenty of time to marry and divorce. Still, it hurt to think he’d once been another woman’s beloved husband.

“What happened?” she inquired softly.

“With my marriage?” He looked down at the glossy marble floor and paused as though he were weighing how much to reveal. Finally he glanced up.

“Carla and I met at Juilliard. She was also a very fine pianist and, at the time, it seemed a perfect match. But she was even more fiercely competitive than I am. It drove her crazy not to play as well as I do, regardless of how many hours she practiced. Her anger poisoned the relationship. Then, a year after we split up, she married a German conductor and retired to have his babies.” He smiled, but it failed to reach his eyes. “So it all worked out for the best.”

Darcy appreciated knowing the facts, but he’d included only his ex-wife’s emotions rather than his own. “Not if Carla broke your heart.”

“It was a long time ago. I’m not carrying a torch for her, or anyone. What about you? Are you seeing someone?”

Because Darcy had blatantly pried into his past, there was no way she could avoid his question. “With a new business, there’s been no time. I do like men, though,” she added and then blushed.

“That’s good. Now, I’m not completely inept in the kitchen. I’ve figured out how to broil a steak. Why don’t you stay for dinner?”