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Frequent walks kept her mind off her problems and forced her to critically assess the beds and gardens she’d agreed to develop four years earlier when the property owner, Daniel Ellis, had reduced the price of her town home in exchange for her horticultural services.
Now, if she spotted a weed, it had to be pulled. Empty spaces in the perennial island had to be filled. As spring flowers bloomed, she became aware of the need for more balance, more texture or color. Folding new life into the soil was only surpassed by the satisfaction of admiring the results.
She was doing just that while she waited for Frasier to finish his morning business when a big dual-cab pickup pulled a rental trailer through the gates. The driver propped his elbow on the ledge of the open window, his muscular arm visible. He sported a baseball cap, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, but there was no mistaking that goofy little mustache or the very solid jaw.
Rambo.
Her stomach did a quick flip-flop.
Dropping her gaze self-consciously, she grimaced at the cheap shorts and tank top. Recent purchases, but already permanently stained. Her sneakers were old favorites, well past their prime. Even with one pinkie toe visible where the canvas had worn completely through, she refused to discard them.
She reached up, running a hand through the mess she called morning hair, and slid a disapproving tongue across fuzzy teeth. Worse still was the glow from fish-belly-white skin on exposed arms and legs. A little sunburn helped, but frying to a crisp wouldn’t eliminate that fresh layer of cellulite that puckered just below the surface.
Anxiously she glanced up the path, seeking an escape route.
“Let’s go, Frasier.” She yanked the leash to get his cooperation. “Hurry up the front way, and we’ll avoid him.”
They made the long climb with the dog determined to stop every few feet. If Drew Keegan came around the corner for any reason, they’d be spotted. She could only hope he was completely occupied backing the trailer into place.
The pair made it to the Commons without incident. For once, Frasier chose to be quiet. A frisky squirrel could change that in a flash.
As they edged toward the corner, shoes crunched on the nearby pavement. Jerking the white pup to a halt, she held her breath and waited. Quick footsteps closed in. In a last-ditch effort at hair maintenance she ran jittery fingers through the tangles.
“Jessica, dahhhlin’, good morning.”
“Oh.” Jessica dropped all pretense of feminine vanity. “It’s only you, Valentine.”
The older woman’s face spread into a knowing smile. “I see your handsome new neighbor just pulled up.”
“Yes, and I’m glad it was just you who caught me like this.”
Valentine regarded Jessica. “Now that you mention it, you’re not exactly at your best.”
“Well, it’s early and you’re the only woman I know who can look great at this hour of the morning.”
Valentine patted her platinum hair lightly and smoothed the collar of a powder-blue silk jacket. “A girl must have her priorities straight.” She lowered her voice discreetly. “You know, Captain Keegan is the son of Senator Marcus Keegan of Virginia.”
“The Marcus Keegan? The guy who led the impeachment hearings?”
“One and the same.”
“Okay, I can take a hint,” Jessica conceded with a sigh. She glanced around nervously, hoping for a quick getaway.
Valentine noted her friend’s agitation. “I’ve got an early appointment with a client, so I have to run. I just wanted to make sure Captain Keegan had the right security code.”
Jessica gave a quick peck to the artfully made-up cheek. “See you later.”
Resuming her purposeful walk, Valentine jingled her keys excitedly and set off to meet the client who would undoubtedly be signing a contract.
Jessica stood rooted to the same spot, unable to decide which way to go. She gripped the blue leash tightly and peeked around the corner. The tall man bent from the waist and reached for something behind the seat of the truck. She seized her chance, punched in the security code and flung open the door. Balancing on her good leg, she jammed her cane in the opening so the door wouldn’t close before she and the dog scooted inside.
Frasier stretched his tether to its fullest to investigate a beetle that had found its way into the marble vestibule.
“Come on, buddy,” she whispered. “This is no time to get friendly with a stinkbug.”
Another quick tug on the nylon cord and she had his full attention. He trotted forward. As she moved the cane, he suddenly dashed through the doorway at full speed. She released her grip, the only alternative to tumbling in after him. She turned in the direction of his excited barking, mortified.
It was him. Right there in the hallway. Not at the truck.
He stooped to greet her pet. Annoyance grew as the little mutt lavished the guy with kisses normally reserved for the person who filled the dog’s supper bowl.
Drew smiled down the length of the corridor.
What could she do but pretend the entrance was timed perfectly? She squared her shoulders beneath yesterday’s work shirt and turned her unwashed face straight in his direction. She made her way down the hall, leaning heavily on the cane to relieve the mild ache that generally accompanied the morning’s walk.
“Moving day, huh?” she asked casually.
“Yes. I didn’t think I’d get in this fast, but Ms. Chandler was great about pushing everything through for me.”
Jessica nonchalantly folded her arms across her chest and leaned casually against the wall.
“Once Valentine makes up her mind she’s found a good match for one of her properties, there’s precious little that stands between her and a closing.”
“She’s an unusual woman, isn’t she?” he asked.
“She’s definitely in a class by herself.”
“Um-hmm,” he agreed with a smile.
Jessica’s chest tingled at the sight of boyish dimples, and she dropped her eyes rather than return the smile. He was more casual today, dressed for the move in sneakers and creased denims. The neatly tucked racing T-shirt showed signs of having been properly folded right out of the dryer.
Their eyes met again. His kind smile threw her off balance. Literally. Her shoulder began to slide backward, down the wall. Her weight had been on her recovering leg and she didn’t dare kick out with her other foot to counter the backward movement of her torso.
Instinctively both arms cast out, hands grasping at the air in front of her. With eyes squeezed shut, she waited for the pain sure to accompany a fall. Instead she felt an iron grip on her wrists, and then her face crushed against a rock-solid surface. Warm muscular arms enfolded her.
Drew had moved so quickly she hadn’t heard a sound, just felt the security of being rescued. She held her breath, aware of a faint thumping, a light drumming. As she prepared to push away from the heartbeat and circle of protection, the security door creaked behind them.
“Well, I’m glad to know you’re already getting a little Southern hospitality.”
Jessica looked in the direction of the newcomer and then into the eyes of the man who held her in an awkward embrace.
She flushed with embarrassment.
Drew released her, but kept a secure grip on one arm as she leaned for her cane.
“Jessica, this is my business partner, Hank Delgado. Hank, this is my new neighbor, Jessica Holliday.”
She offered the tall, silver-haired man what was surely a weak smile and ran a shaky hand through her hopeless mane.
“Hi, pleased to meet you.” They shook hands over Frasier’s excited effort to sniff up another stranger. “Your partner here just saved me from hitting the floor like a deflated volleyball.” She nodded with gratitude at Drew as she spoke, silently vowing never to leave her front door again without makeup and clean clothes.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I’ll see if my coffee is ready.”
“Coffee sounds great. I take mine black.” The older man spoke up.
“Well, sure.” She turned to Drew. “And you?” she asked reluctantly.
What could she possibly do but be gracious after he’d literally caught her in his arms? Becky Jo would hoot over this.
“Nothing for either of us.” Drew eyed his partner pointedly, acknowledging they hadn’t been offered any coffee. “But thanks.”
“Oh, go ahead and get us both a cup. I’ll just haul another load of your stuff out of the truck. Take your time, son.”
“I don’t mind.” She relented.
“If you’re sure.”
She smiled weakly and nodded.
“Thanks, Hank. I’ll be right out. The front door’s unlocked. Just sit boxes anywhere on the floor and I’ll put them where they belong later.”
“Nice to meet you, Jessica.” Hank turned toward the exit, exposing a long, thin, rat-tail braid that fell about eight inches below his collar.
“You, too, Mr. Delgado.”
“It’s Hank,” he called over his shoulder as he passed through the security door. “Mr. Delgado was my daddy.”
Jessica pulled a key from her pocket. The lock turned easily. Frasier rushed ahead and up the stairs in search of some doggie treasure. The inviting aroma beckoned from behind the ficus grove. Leaning heavily upon the cane, she navigated the usual articles strewn about the floor. She turned behind the potted trees and climbed the steps to the kitchen landing.
Drew hesitated in the doorway hoping for a true invitation.
“Hello?” Her voice carried from the kitchen.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Well, why don’t you come on up and help yourself? It’s kind of hard for me to carry three cups these days.”
That was the only request he was likely to get. He picked his way carefully through the maze of colorful throw pillows that had been tossed or dragged off the furniture. His fingers twitched to return the cushions to their rightful places.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Just sugar, please.”
He rounded the greenery to get his first look at the kitchen, where a garden of potted ferns dangled from the ceiling. Her ceramic mug sat on the counter next to a stack of paper cups, the steaming brew waiting. Piles of magazines teetered on the ledge, pages dog-eared, notes jotted on a nearby legal pad.
Drew couldn’t help but appraise the woman before him. If it were possible, she was even more rumpled than she had been at their first meeting. But something about her was so appealing.
Clear fair skin was creased with faint lines around her wide-set eyes. There could be a crayon named for the unique shade of green, but he wasn’t sure. He did, however, know lots of words to describe her mass of blond hair. He fought the desire to reach out and touch the soft tangles that danced around her shoulders.
Excited barking echoed from the loft upstairs.
“Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to see what that animal is up to.” She edged past him.
“Sure.” He hesitated for a moment and then added, “I must be intruding. I’ll just fill our cups and be on my way.”
“That’s okay. My time is pretty much my own these days, so my work can wait. There’s the sugar. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared around the trees and he heard her steady climb up the stairs. Trained to note even the smallest detail, he let his eyes sweep the rest of the kitchen and dining area. There was clutter everywhere. Not trash, because everything seemed clean and useful. Just clutter. The kind he’d been taught to avoid or correct.
Gardening supplies filled every available space. The built-in wall unit, intended as a china hutch, instead displayed every conceivable hand tool for digging and planting. Judging from the seedling plants crowded onto the pine table and countertops, the local produce market was under serious threat. He sipped cautiously and studied the tags identifying the new crop as cucumbers and squash.
Jessica made her way back down the stairs. She’d changed into a faded T-shirt and pulled her thick sandy-blond hair into a neat ponytail. He smiled appreciation.
“If you like yellow squash, you’ve come to the right place.”
He glanced around the room slowly, his gaze finally coming to rest on her incredible mossy eyes.
“It looks that way. Actually, I’m wondering how you find the space to cook and serve with all the gardening paraphernalia you’ve got in here.”
“I don’t do much of either,” she confessed. “We mostly order in or go out for meals, or I just microwave something. For years I lived on poached fish and steamed vegetables. It’s about the only thing I learned to cook, since it only required minimal effort.”
“From what I’ve seen of your work so far, you don’t seem like the kind of person who avoids effort.”
“Oh, it’s not that.” She shook her head. “I’ve worked hard all my life to make things happen for myself.”
He nodded understanding, remembering too well his own misguided concept of being the one in control.
“It’s just that I never had the time to cook,” she admitted. “When you’re young and don’t have plans for a family right away, you don’t worry about learning things like that. When I finished college I went straight to work. Until a few months ago, there was never any time. So I didn’t bother to learn.”
She hooked the handle of her cane over the high-backed kitchen chair and continued, “My mama’s a great cook. Maybe one day I’ll practice some of the things I used to watch her do in the kitchen.”
Drew set his cup on the saucer as he wondered about her injury. “Then we have something in common. My mother is…was a great cook, too.” His mother had been lost years ago at the hands of a drunk driver, and he still had a hard time thinking of her in the past tense.
“Next time my sister sends me a box of her homemade Tollhouse cookies, I’ll share them with you,” he offered.
“My favorite! It’s a deal.”
For the first time, she gave him a sincere smile. As it spread across her face, her eyes rose at the corners and crinkled around the edges. His breath caught in his throat when the eyes narrowed and flashed in good humor. His chest tingled in the strangest way.
He made a mental note to stick with the decaf he normally drank instead of indulging in this strong Southern brew.
“I’d better get back outside. As it is, Hank is going to give me a hard time about letting him do all that work by himself.”
“You said he’s your partner?”
“Yeah. I’d known him for a couple of years buying parts over the phone from Metro Muscle. We finally met a few months ago at a car show. I’ve always liked this area, so I talked Hank into selling me part of his restoration business.”
“Good karma.” Jessica’s head bobbed up and down.
