Defy the World Tomatoes (16 page)

Had he not caught her, she would have slid right off the counter in a languid heap. Weaving slightly, she pulled up her panties and overalls then headed straight for the nearby bathroom. “Give me a minute,” she called over her shoulder, but when she returned, Griffin was already outside on the terrace.

She struggled to adopt a carefree stride as she approached him, but two of her crew were grinning with what looked like rapt envy, and she feared even without an eyeful they knew precisely how she and Griffin had spent the last half hour. She nodded to inspire them to get back to work and looked up at Griffin.

“The ocean’s roar is so loud here that I doubt you’d hear any gentle bubbling from a fountain. Let’s go scout locations at the front of the house.”

He gestured for her to precede him, but as they rounded the corner, he caught up with her. “Don’t you think your men already know that you’re sleeping with me?”

“Not from me they don’t,” she scolded.

Griffin took her hand until they stepped out onto the circular drive. “I hope you’re not ashamed of me.”

His amused grin convinced her that was scarcely a concern. “No, I’m not ashamed of you, nor of anything we’ve done, but let’s keep it private. Now what about placing the fountain in the center of the circular drive? You won’t hear the sound of the water as clearly, but visually it’ll be more interesting than flat against the house.”

Griffin’s gaze never left her face. “Sounds fine. When can you start?”

“First you’ll need to select a design that will complement your home rather than detract from it. May I assume you’d consider a bust of Beethoven too obvious?”

“You may, but I rather like fat dolphins with water spewing from their mouths.”

“They’re popular, but I’ll research the possibilities to give you a choice, but something classical rather than wildly modern would be appropriate. Once you’ve selected the elements, I’ll hire contractors to handle the plumbing, cement and tile work.”

“Great. Now since you don’t appear eager to visit the property I described, when you wrap up here this afternoon, let’s go on up the coast to the Monarch Inn for dinner. We might even spend the night there, if you like.”

Darcy rested her hands on her hips. She still felt flushed all over and would have much rather been taking a long nap on his bed than beginning yet another argument. “This is Monday. I can’t go tearing around the countryside as though I were on vacation.”

“Why not? You have to eat and sleep somewhere.”

“That may be true, but I can’t spend every night partying with you.”

Griffin leaned down to brush her cheek with a teasing kiss. “Sure sounds like fun, though, doesn’t it?”

“You’re incorrigible, but I didn’t say I wasn’t tempted. Could we postpone the visit to the inn until Saturday night?”

Griffin glanced off toward the mountains. “I’ll be in Chicago for the weekend. I’m leaving Thursday morning. But isn’t the weekend your busiest time at Defy the World Tomatoes?”

“Well, yes, but
—
”

“But you’ll try to work me into your busy schedule?”

She straightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Tell me, when was the last time you loved a man enough to let him into your heart as well as your bed?”

Her first impulse was to slap him so hard the imprint of her palm would grace his cheek for a week. Refusing to resort to violence, she knotted her fists at her sides. “Damn it, Griffin, we’ve both got responsibilities, but I’m doing a whole lot more than merely accommodating you in my spare time.”

Griffin straightened to his full height. “Accommodate me? Is that how you’d describe it?”

Now he was as angry as she was, and that hadn’t been her intention at all. “No, it was simply a poor choice of words.”

His expression didn’t soften. “I explained why my marriage failed, but you’ve told me next to nothing about your relationships. I was hoping that if we got away from Monarch Bay you might open up, but if I’m wasting my time here, I’d appreciate your letting me know it now.”

Darcy glanced at her watch. It hadn’t been twenty minutes since he’d laid her on the counter like some delicious dessert and dived right in. The heat of the memory made her squirm, and she could hardly stand still.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, Griffin, but I don’t like being pushed.”

“Maybe it’s what you need.”

“What I need is to get back to work, but because you’re so damn anxious to learn my secrets, I’ll tell you one. I’ve never had a damn bit of luck with brown-eyed men. Lord knows there are plenty of them, but they have a nasty habit of just passing me right on by.”

“I’d say we’ve broken that jinx,” Griffin mused softly, “and if that’s all you’ve got to confess, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it quickly. She would be damned if she would confess to falling in love with him when they were surely one of the most mismatched couples of all time. “I really should go check on the arbor.”

She took a step toward the path leading to the rear of the house, but couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling she was making a terrible mistake. She paused in mid-stride and turned to face him. “All right, let’s go to the inn tonight. I can’t promise to make any tantalizing confessions, but I’ve heard the food is excellent.”

“It is,” Griffin assured her, and he went inside to work on his compositions while she planted the wisteria vine she hoped would be a lingering reminder of their time together.

The Monarch Inn had been built during the 1920s in the ornate mission revival style to cater to tourists’ fascination with California’s colorful history. The dining room was softly lit by wrought-iron chandeliers and decorated with paintings of California’s spectacular landscapes in heavy gold frames. Mariachis provided lively music on the weekends, but that night, a lone guitarist seated in a dimly lit corner strummed ballads as a romantic undercurrent to the guests’ hushed conversations.

Darcy slid into the red leather booth and was grateful not to need a booster seat. She smoothed the skirt of her new black jersey sheath and tried to appear far more comfortable than she felt. It had been a long day, but she was so filled with nervous energy she was in no danger of falling asleep.

As always, Griffin had drawn considerable attention as they entered, and she’d overheard one couple whispering his name. The man had not only spectacular good looks, but a charisma that set him apart. When she’d been drawn to him at first glance, she couldn’t fault others for showing the same weakness, but still, it made her feel even more petite than she actually was.

She opened her menu and scanned the evening’s special selections, which all sounded incredibly good. “Do people often approach you in restaurants?” she asked.

“It depends on the restaurant,” Griffin replied. “Would it bother you if they did?”

Darcy decided on the scampi and set her menu aside. “I don’t know. It might if they wanted to sit and chat.”

“You needn’t worry that I’ll invite anyone to join us. I want to be with you tonight.”

She chewed her lower lip. She was badly worried she would spoil things by either saying too much, or too little. She almost wished a fan or two would stop by their table to keep him too distracted to focus on her. She took a quick sip of water and then had to grab for her napkin to blot the drip on her chin.

Griffin reached under the table to take her hand. “I meant for us to become better acquainted. I’m sorry I’ve made you so nervous.”

She managed a smile and quickly changed the subject. “This place reminds me of an inn I visited with my parents in Europe. It might have been in Bavaria
—
the trips are all blurred together in my mind
—
but I remember the dark wood and the scent of candles.”

Griffin surveyed the spacious room. “Yes, the inn fairly reeks of old-world charm. The cuisine, however, is deliciously modern.”

Darcy’s mind wandered as he gave their orders to the waiter. She hadn’t thought about traveling with her folks in a long while, but she suddenly recalled waking up in a hotel room one night and hearing her mother’s soft laughter from the adjoining room. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven and, reassured by her parents’ presence, she’d fallen right back asleep. Only now did it occur to her that they had probably been making love.

“Do you ever think about your parents having sex?” she asked.

Griffin nearly choked on his wine, and it took him a moment to recover. “Never. What makes you ask?”

“A vague memory of laughter,” she replied. “My mother has always been such an enthusiastic person, always eager for whatever adventure my father cares to take.”

“So she was happy being a wife and mother?”

“Yes, if she ever had any career ambitions, she never mentioned them, but I really do believe she’s been perfectly content with her life.”

“You’d not be equally happy with a family and world travel?”

His relaxed smile didn’t fool her. The question was an important one, and she answered truthfully. “No. I would have married my college sweetheart if it had been. There, that’s a confession for you.”

“I’ll agree only that it’s an intriguing beginning. What was his name?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. He’d been in ROTC, planned to spend a few years as an army officer, then go into the Diplomatic Corps.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You would have had your mother’s life.”

“Precisely, and while it has been wonderful for her, the constant moves would have prevented me from practicing my craft as a landscape architect.”

“It isn’t really constant travel, though, is it?” he asked. “Aren’t army officers stationed at one base or another for two or three years?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly rather than shriek at him for that hint of disapproval. “Yes, that’s true, but even in the States, I probably wouldn’t have been hired by local firms when I couldn’t promise how long I’d be there, and it would have been even more difficult to find work in a foreign country. Nor could I have built a reputation on my own planting gardens here and there all around the world.”

Griffin nodded thoughtfully. “You didn’t even give it a try?”

“You can’t try on marriage. You either go into it with your whole heart, or not at all.”

“In your view,” he chided.

Darcy paused while the waiter served their salads, then jabbed her fork into the tantalizing mixture of crisp greens sprinkled with feta cheese, pecans and dried cranberries. “I’m really not so different from my mother. I just happen to want a career along with a family, and I want it in one place.”

“So you broke this nameless fellow’s heart?”

“No,” she insisted through clenched teeth. “I shattered my own.”

Griffin slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back such sad memories.”

Before Darcy could respond, the woman who’d whispered Griffin’s name as they entered approached the table followed by her husband. They were middle-aged, slender, expensively dressed and, from the width of their smiles, devoted fans.

“I do hope you’ll forgive this intrusion, Mr. Moore,” the woman began, “but I just couldn’t leave without telling you how much we enjoy your concerts.”

“We own all your CDs,” her husband added.

Griffin slipped out of the booth to shake their hands. “Thank you very much.”

The couple gushed praise for several moments, then turned to Darcy. “You look so familiar, dear,” the woman exclaimed. “I’m certain we’ve seen you in a recent film, but I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t recall your name.”

“I’m Darcy MacLeod, and I’m part-owner of Defy the World Tomatoes, not an actress.”

“Oh, then that’s where I’ve seen you.” Obviously disappointed not to have met a movie star, the woman turned back to Griffin. “Would it be too great an imposition to ask for an autograph?”

“Of course not.” Griffin removed a card from his pocket and, after requesting the proper spelling of their names, he signed it for them. “Good night,” he emphasized and sat.

The couple hurried away, passing the card between them, but Darcy was completely confused. “Did you just give them your home telephone number?”

“No, I don’t give that out to just anyone.” He pulled another card from his pocket and showed it to her. “All this has is my name and a list of CDs. It’s shameless promotion, nothing more.”

Darcy fiddled with her salad. She hadn’t expected the couple to be as thrilled to meet her as they were to see Griffin, but the cool manner in which she’d been dismissed still hurt.

“I hated to disappoint them. Maybe I should have said I’d starred in the latest Pedro Almodovar film and given it some hot title like
Down to the Skin
.”

Griffin laughed, then realized she wasn’t kidding. “That does sound like one of his titles, but the fault was mine. I should have introduced you when they first approached us, but I just wanted them gone. I should have been more considerate. It won’t happen again.”

She stared him. “Do you actually plan to be seen with me again?”