In the Midnight Rain (21 page)

"Sure."

"The trouble is, orchids are notoriously difficult to propagate. They have millions of seeds, but everything has to be exactly right for those seeds to grow, and they have to have particular fungus to feed on, and even when you get a plant, it takes seven years to mature."

"So you must be very talented to have all of these flowers."

"Nope. They're hardy and sturdy and what they do is bloom. That's what they like. The problem is that the best method we've found so far to propagate them is by cloning, which requires a sterile lab and lots of equipment and specialized knowledge and doesn't do a lot to provide for the forests." Idly, he plucked a dry leaf from a plant nearby him, and leaned in close with a small frown. Evidently, whatever he saw reassured him. "So, what I'm doing here, basically, is reproducing the rain forest conditions as exactly as possible and trying to find organic ways to reproduce the orchids for a mass market."

"Had any success?"

His grin slayed her. Trouble, trouble, trouble. "You're looking at it."

"The big one?"

"Yes, ma'am. You know how much hotels and upscale restaurants would pay for flowers like that?"

His pride and pleasure were palpable. "Blue, that's great. I'm very happy for you."

"Enough to reward me with another kiss?"

It surprised her, coming from nowhere. But she realized it hadn't. His whole posture, his whole body language this morning said he wanted her. And, oh, God, did she want him. Especially now that she saw that his heart was made of flowers.

All the more reason to steer clear. Blue Reynard, with his music and flowers, and that smell of blossoms and earth in his hair, had the potential to make her previous broken hearts look like hangnails. "Oh, no," she said with the right note of mockery in her voice. "I'm afraid kissing a man in this environment would be much too dangerous, even for me."

He grinned. "Can't blame a man for trying." true.

His body relaxed. "You want the full tour?"

"Absolutely."

"All right." He took her hand. "And then maybe, a movie at my place? Lanie's home, so we'd have a chaperone."

"You've got a deal, Dr. Reynard."

11

B
lue called to arrange for Ellie to meet him at noon on Monday so they could have lunch with the bartender from the Juke Box at Dome's Cafe at one.

Yesterday afternoon, they'd sprawled in a family room of his house, watching old movies on cable. Lanie, a funny, witty old woman, had sat with them, Piwacket in her lap, making risqué comments on the films. Ellie liked her. She was also grateful that the old woman had provided a distraction, for even with her presence, Ellie had been aware all day of the man sprawled across the couch or the floor or reclining in his chair. She noticed things about him she'd never noticed on another man—his cuticles, for example. His elbows, in need of a good dose of cream. His earlobes and the tops of his feet.

And he'd been every bit as aware of her. And it seemed they both found excuses to touch slightly. Sitting side by side, their knees the only contact. Handing off a snack, their hands tangled a little longer than necessary. She saw it happening, felt the fog of sexual awareness pressing down on her, and was helpless to stop it. But it was also so pleasurable in some ways that she didn't want to give it up. It had been so long and he was so different and—well, all of it.

Finally, exhausted by her week and the need to resist him, Ellie had taken her leave before dinner. Alone in the cottage with rain pouring down relentlessly, she'd read a novel and done her best to avoid thoughts of him.

This morning, the strange emotionalism was gone, and she felt like herself again. Now, on Monday morning, there was heat building over the fields as she walked the path up to the first greenhouse. Not even midday and already into the eighties. She'd piled her hair into a knot to keep it off her neck, but it never stayed, and bits clung to her damp neck and cheek.

She stopped a few yards from the door to the greenhouse, and took a breath. Flashes of those exotic, erotic flowers blinked in her memory, and she found herself remembering the taste of his mouth again. The smell of him, the feel of that kiss they'd shared in his kitchen Saturday night lingered on her nerves. It had woven itself into her dreams and made her restless, and now she couldn't think how to arrange her face. Or what to say.

"C'mon, Connor, act like a grownup, huh?" She marched the rest of the way and opened the door with firm purpose.

It was impossible to stay aloof from the splendor. She'd thought herself prepared, but the lush coolness within was so welcome she felt all the rigidness flow right down her spine and out of her toes, just like that.

And she'd thought it would be bright inside, now that the sun was out, but the vines and trees made it almost murky. She felt a draft on her ankles and wanted to take off her shoes to walk on the grasslike softness that carpeted the earth.

From amid the splendor stepped Blue, dressed for work in a white T-shirt and jeans that were sprinkled with soil. The sight of him sent a jolt through her, and a wash of memory—his mouth, that kiss—colored, not with the scarlet of desire, but somehow in shades of green and blue. Not a single word rose to her throat.

"Hi," he said quietly. His feet were bare again.

The spell broke and Ellie laughed. "I want to live in here!" She took a step, but something whizzed over her foot and she froze. "Was that a
snake?"

"Just a little bitty lizard. I've thought about importing snakes, but they're a lot of work." He ducked under a branch and took her hand. He grinned down at her, and winked. "Lizards don't eat nearly as much."

The humidity glazed his cheekbone and his neck. His fingers slid between hers, tight. "How are you this morning, Miz Connor?" he asked. A huskiness marked the slow syllables. "Missed you after you went home last night."

"I . . . uh. . ." She couldn't remember, not with that thumb moving on her skin, not with all that skin gleaming. She frowned. "I read."

He loosened her hand. "Come on."

She followed him under the tangle of vines, along a path laid in flagstone through the greenery, noticing that the little ponds littered the farthest corners and appeared at the bases of trees. They seemed to be networked in some way. "This must have taken a fortune to build. Did you get grants?"

He stopped and an odd expression crossed his face. "No need. I thought you knew." With a flipness that told her the subject made him uncomfortable, he said, "I got money to burn, sugar. My daddy came from real old money, and Mama was even more blue-blooded than him."

"Oh." Ellie stuck her hands in her pockets.

"Most people know. Didn't occur to me you didn't."

"It's not something you have to apologize for, Blue."

"Don't I?" He inclined his head. "It's not the blessing you'd think."

"I never thought it would be," she said honestly, and quoted, '"To whom much is given, much is required.'"

"I reckon." He glanced at his watch. "Hell, we need to get going. Let me change right quick, and I'll be ready."

"I'll wait at the house."

"No need for that. My truck is right outside. I keep some clothes in a room in here in case I get soaked."

Without further warning, he pulled off his thin shirt. He didn't pause, didn't wait for her to look, but Ellie did anyway, and a prickle went through her. His stomach was a work of art, as gleamingly hard-muscled as a picture in a magazine.

He balled up the shirt like every man on the planet, and carried it with him to a door she hadn't noticed between two tree trunks. Ellie watched him, her gaze on the dip of his spine. Her ears felt hot. "Be right back," he said, and ducked into the room.

The rat. Ellie whirled, putting her back to the door. She took a breath, trying to calm herself, but it only filled her head and lungs with the narcotic scent of flowers and earth that clung to him twenty-four hours a day. She paced and ran into a flower that looked exactly like human female genitalia. Turned again to see one that was a glorious shade of brown and copper, with a thick, brown stamen or pistil or whatever it was on an orchid. She covered her mouth and laughed.

Sex sex sex.

"What's so funny?" he said behind her.

Ellie turned and he was buttoning his shirt from the bottom up. The faintest hint of mischief danced in his eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "This is a den of iniquity, and you are the"—she struggled with a proper master for a den—"the ringleader."

He grinned lazily. "You should have let me know you had Victorian sensibilities, sugar. I'd have protected you." He fastened the last button and rolled up his right sleeve. "They didn't let Victorian women work with orchids at all, you know. They thought the women were too delicate to handle them."

"Is that right."

"It is." He finished the sleeves and stepped up. "You feeling overwhelmed yet?"

The answer was yes. The scent alone, in the air, in his hair, was enough to arouse her, but in combination with his brilliantly blue eyes offering whatever would please her, and the temptation of that beautiful body—what woman would not be overwhelmed?

She swallowed, suddenly and deeply terrified. "Blue, let's not do this, okay? A little flirting, a couple of kisses, that's one thing, but I don't want to screw up this friendship. I like you, but I don't want to have sex with you."

"Yes, you do."

A tingling heat crossed her cheekbones. "I'm not saying I wouldn't like it. I'm sure I would. But it's just too complicated, and I'm not here for long, and—" She broke off, shrugged. "I don't want the complications in my life right now."

He touched her arm, drawing a finger from her shoulder to her elbow. "All I thought about yesterday was that kiss in my kitchen. Over and over and over."

She set her jaw, a sense of terror giving her strength. "You know what? I did the same thing. I thought about kissing you and how much I liked it, and how much I like you." A little unsteadiness crept into her voice, and she clamped her teeth together hard to control it before she went on. "I'm the kind of woman who likes to try to save a man who's drowning. And you're the kind of man who looks to a woman to hold on to. But the truth is, I'll start needing you to depend on me, and you'll hate it, and my heart will get broken, and then we'll lose what we do have."

"Is that what this is?" His voice was low, dangerous.

She met his gaze head-on. "Yeah."

He moved one step closer, his bare feet silent on the grassy ground. He brushed her cheek with his hand, and there was a perplexed expression on his mouth. "You're not my type. I like busty blondes who dress nice and don't make me think too much. That's what I was hoping you'd be like when you showed up."

"Wrong on all counts."

"Yeah," he said. "But it doesn't seem to matter. What I keep thinking about is lying down with you someplace where we wouldn't have to get up again for a long time. I can tell you I'll respect the limits you seem to need, but it would be a lie. I'm not even scared when you tell me you'd be clingy. I'm willing to take that risk." His gaze was straight and steady and almost too much to meet directly, and he lifted one hand to cup her cheek, very gently. "Maybe I'm just ready to come out from behind those walls, Ellie."

She pushed his hand away. "Maybe you are. But then again, maybe you're just bored, and I'm convenient."

"Ellie! Damn it." He frowned. "It's not like that."

"No?" He just didn't understand. "Well, it doesn't matter, because I can't sleep with you, no matter how much I'd like it—and I would. So stop teasing me and tormenting me and playing these games. Just be yourself."

"I am."

"Bad choice of words. Be straight with me."

A hardness she had not seen seeped into his eyes. "That I can do."

"Good." She looked at her watch. "We have to go."

* * *

The slanted parking places in front of Dome's Cafe were packed with pickup trucks and utility vehicles and anonymous white cars with various government agency designations stenciled on their sides. "Maybe this was a bad choice for lunch," Blue said, driving his truck around the block. "I should have remembered we'd have to be here early. Everybody comes here for lunch these days."

He rounded the corner again. A tall black woman with strong features was walking in the warm noon sunlight, and Ellie admired her calf muscles. Blue honked and stuck his hand out the window to wave at her. She inclined her head with a wry expression and wiggled her fingers, then shook her head.

Blue laughed. "You know you love me, sweetheart."

"Your mama!" she called back, but Ellie glimpsed the edges of a smile she tried to hide.

"That's Rosemary's youngest sister," Blue said.

"Ah. I haven't met her."

He pulled into a parking place near Rosemary's bookstore. "She works in the courthouse. We had a hell of a fight about that road out to Gwen's place a couple of years ago."

"Why?"

"Well, that's a story rooted in the sad old history of the county. After emancipation, that plot of land where Gwen lives was willed to their family by a guilt ridden slave master who lived there."