Transplanting Holly Oakwood (17 page)

His conquest the night before had been worse than empty, it had been sordid, unfulfilling and unkind. It was time to dispel the fog of loneliness which surrounded him since his wife left; time to be in a stable relationship; and time to acknowledge his true feelings.

Why was he so attracted to Holly? Her apparent lack of worldliness was refreshing in this city of sophistry, as was her vulnerability and eagerness to rely on him. He sensed she wasn’t driven by desire for him, but by genuine friendship, and the truth was that he was like an island. In this most American of cities, he played on his uniqueness, yet it kept him isolated and apart. It was surprising that this girl from New Zealand, who had come to call London home, tied him to his roots, grounded him as an Englishman abroad, and made him realise he could be vulnerable too.

TWENTY-TWO

Holly

As she drove down the private lane in the exclusive suburb of Pacific Palisades, Holly drew in her breath at the sight of six million dollars worth of upmarket metal parked outside the Consular Residence. It was clearly a big party, with lots of important, rich people. Thank heaven she’d taken such care with her appearance.

She drove up and down the lane several times looking for a gap big enough to drive straight into. While her parking skills had improved, her pulse beat erratically at the prospect of parallel parking between the gleaming pedigrees. The alternative was to look for a car park on the main road five minutes away, which meant walking too far in her towering heels, and that wasn’t a good option either. Quickly she decided on the lesser of two evils, and carefully manoeuvred the car into a tiny space. It took four attempts, but by a stroke of good fortune no one drove by to witness it, which she took as an omen tonight would be a good night.

A path ran up the expansive front lawn to the imposing black double doors of the Consular Residence. Two uniformed waiters stood inside, greeting guests with glasses of champagne. She picked one up and took a small sip, resolving to show unusual caution and drink moderately. No way was she going to have to order a taxi to take her home.

She followed the chatter of guests through a long hallway and into the doorway of the living area, where she paused momentarily, searching for someone she knew. After several hesitant steps she meandered through the light airy room, admiring the patina of the rich oak floors and expanse of floor to ceiling glass framing the garden beyond. Stark white walls were the backdrop for an impressive collection of art of differing colours, textures and styles, yet wholly sympathetic to each other’s provenance. Carved statues of stone and wood guarded the paintings with inscrutable expressions. Were they part of the Consular collection, or did they belong to Guy?

“Glad you could make it.” He stood in front of her, handsome and trim in his dark suit. “Do you like the art?”

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, caught unawares. She silently chided herself for the fantasy flicking through her mind. If she could achieve Guy’s respect, that would be enough. “The art, yes, it’s fantastic, and your home is beautiful. Thanks for inviting me.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, and yes, the house is beautiful. I can’t complain, but I’ll be leaving in two years.”

“Leaving? What do you mean?”

“I’m a career diplomat and we move to a new post every couple of years. I’ve been here longer than usual as I’m doing a double term.” A shadow crossed his face, and she guessed the double term was because of his wife’s death. “Let me introduce you to a few people,” he said and led her to a group of clients.

She chatted with them happily, keeping an eye out for someone she knew. After some time she noticed Ann, Brittany and Tina deep in conversation, and she excused herself to join them.

“Holly, lovely to see you,” said Tina enthusiastically. “I didn’t realise you were coming.”

“No, I didn’t realise you were coming either,” said Brittany in a sharp voice. “You weren’t on the guest list.”

“I, um, was–”

“Invited by Guy.” As Ann finished the sentence for her, Brittany’s expression changed to one of dismay.

“Guy invited you? When? He hasn’t been in the office.” Her eyes narrowed to slits and Holly imagined her tongue snaking out and stinging her.

“I ran into Guy at the Gift Fair.”

Brittany glared at her but addressed Ann. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention this to me.”

“Didn’t think it was important. It’s Guy’s party after all.”

Brittany shook her head in disgust and made a beeline for Guy, who stood chatting to a group of men. She placed her hand on his arm in a possessive fashion, then looked back at them in triumph when he moved to allow her in to the conversation.

“Thank God she’s gone,” mumbled Tina, grabbing an hor d’oeuvre from a passing waiter. “Stuck up bitch, who does she think she is?”

“The next Mrs Guy Cutler from the looks of it,” said Ann, shaking her head. “Don’t let her ruin your evening, Holly.”

“Are you enjoying LA?” Tina asked as they made their way towards a sumptuous buffet.

“I’m settling, thanks. But I still get terribly homesick.”

“It takes a while. I was the same the first two or three years.”

“Aren’t you American?”

Tina giggled. “Strewth no, I’m from Wellington.”

“I can hear the Kiwi accent now, but I always assumed you were LA born and bred.”

“No, I married an American seventeen years ago. Met him in Wellington and he convinced me the climate was better here. On that note, let’s go outside.” Tina led the way out to a patio. “Isn’t it beautiful out here?”

“It’s gorgeous. Guy’s lucky to live here. I’d never want to go to work.”

Tina looked thoughtful. “Me too, but not Guy. He’s a workaholic. Work’s his escape from grief.”

“It must be awful to lose your partner.”

“He hasn’t been himself since Sarah died. He doesn’t have the same joy and enthusiasm he used to. He should be getting over it by now, but he’s not moving on.” She laughed without humour. “Lucky for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen Brittany in action. She wants him badly and as you can see she doesn’t stand for any competition.”

“I’d hardly call myself competition.” She blushed furiously as she realised what she’d said. “If you’re meaning me.”

“Yes I did mean you. Guy likes you and any woman he likes is a rival in Brittany’s eyes.”

“She doesn’t need to worry, because I’m pretty sure Guy pities me.”

Tina looked at her in amazement. “Why on earth would he pity you?”

“I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him a couple of times.”

“He hasn’t held it against you, or you wouldn’t be here. Guy doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Whatever you did, he still likes you.”

To her relief, Ann rejoined them. She liked Tina, but wasn’t ready to confide.

“Tina,” said Ann, “I want to introduce you to someone from the Australian Consulate. Want to come with us, Holly?”

“Thanks, but I want to have a look around. I’ll find you later.”

She walked back through the living room to a second patio beyond, wrapped around a lap pool. Lush greenery and exotic plants she’d seen in gardening magazines, but couldn’t name, reflected back in the aqua water. The tropical oasis was enclosed by high walls, and a benevolent stone Buddha presided over the space.

“You look thoughtful,” said Guy from behind her.

“This is like a spa. I’d never go to work if I lived here.”

He laughed out loud. “You’re very refreshing. Most people wouldn’t dare say that to the boss.”

“Not that I don’t love my job, of course,” she said quickly. “Do you have a gardener?” she asked to change the subject. “The grounds are immaculate.”

“Yes, he comes in twice a week. Have you seen the flowers?” he asked. “I’ve had enough of the party for awhile,” he said, winking conspiratorially. “Come with me.”

She followed him through a gap in the wall and onto a lawn as fine as a sea of dense cotton threads.

“Do you mind if I take my shoes off?” she asked.

Guy looked at her solemnly. “That’s the only sensible thing anyone’s asked me all night.”

She kicked her shoes off and they walked over the emerald carpet of cool, soft grass.

“Sarah planted the flower beds, and the gardener tends them as if they’re his own children.”

“They’re beautiful. You never see flowers like this in England.”

“Birds of paradise. The white flowers are gardenias, which give the garden its scent.”

He gestured towards a wooden bench, overhung by a majestic shade tree. “Let’s sit down and have a break from the party. Okay with you?”

“Yes, it’s lovely out here.”

“It’s nice to have you at the Consulate, Holly. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

She blushed. “Thanks. Our first meetings were, ah…”

“Unorthodox,” he finished, laughing. “You certainly know how to get attention.”

“Not always the best kind of attention. I always fancied I was sophisticated but I’ve left that part of me back in London.”

“I wouldn’t worry. This city’s too sophisticated for its own good,” he said, and a warm band of pleasure moved up her body. “There’s lots of good people here, but it’s hard to get past their veneers.” He paused, then added softly, “The women are beautiful but it’s hard to judge what’s inside. It’s a minefield for a single man.”

“Must be hard when you’re grieving,” she said tentatively.

“Yes, it is hard. My wife died three years ago but it feels like a lifetime has passed.” His eyes shone with pain. “My friends tell me I should be dating again.”

She twined her fingers together to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. “You have to be ready.”

“You’re right. Is there anyone special in your life?” he asked easily, and she sensed he was glad the conversation had shifted off him.

“No one special. No one at all.”

He nodded, then leant in towards her, the fresh scent of his aftershave enticing her closer. Her heart was racing, and her body trembled. Would he kiss her? Could she be that lucky? Maybe not, but she was happy to be alone with him and savour this intimate moment.

He took her hand in his and as he moved towards her she parted her lips. He traced them with his finger, his touch as light as a feather. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and cupped her chin in his hand. His lips brushed hers softly and when she yielded his tongue searched for hers.

She kissed him back with a vigour which surprised her, then drew away and looked into his eyes. They were dark pools of longing and as he pulled her back towards him she knew he felt the same way she did.

“Holly Oakwood, you taste wonderful.” His mouth sought hers again and this time his tongue caressed hers with the familiarity of a lover. A searing heat moved from her chest down her belly to the secret place between her legs, and she responded ravenously.

“Guy, I’ve been looking for you.” A voice rang out across the grass.

“I’ve been showing Holly the gardens,” said Guy smoothly.

A figure strode towards them, frame taut with anger.

Holly jumped up from the bench, rearranging her hair. “I think I’ll go back inside,” she said and fled back to the party, leaving Guy to deal with Brittany’s jealousy.

TWENTY-THREE

Guy

Guy broke the silence. “What do you want, Brittany?”

“Your guests are asking for you.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I know, but I’m tired, and wanted to relax for a minute.”

“You certainly looked relaxed.”

Her tone was that of an angry wife, and the muscles in his neck tightened. “I think I deserve to relax at a party in my own home.”

He could sense the thinly veiled control in Brittany’s demeanour, and when she spoke again, the pitch of her voice was notched higher. “I know you’re tired and stressed but I’m disappointed you’d let Holly drag you away from the party.”

“Holly didn’t drag me away from the party. I invited her to walk in the garden with me. Look, I rely on you in the office and trust your judgement, but this is my personal life.”

“Yes, and–”

“My personal life’s off limits.”

Hurt clouded her eyes and her chin trembled. For the first time since he’d known her, she was showing a vulnerable streak. “I thought we were friends,” she said stiffly.