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“In vegetables. Flowers are different.”
She put her fork down and stared at him. “You’re opening a florist shop?”
“Nope. A wholesale nursery. You see, I spent a lot of time on my grandparents’ farm, and I just got into growing things. With all these acres of good rich soil—”
“Wait a minute. You said you’re studying to be a landscape artist.”
“That came later with Grandma’s rock garden.”
“I see. Meanwhile you’re running a wholesale nursery.”
“Not yet. There’s equipment to buy, greenhouses to build...things like that. Not to mention the plants themselves.”
“So you’re actually planning two careers.”
“Not really. Don’t you see how the two fit together?” He began to talk of his plans with a boyish enthusiasm that intrigued her. The clatter of silver and the murmurs of other diners faded as she sat in the little booth and listened. Through his eyes she began to see hundreds of florists and supermarkets filled with lovely luscious and unusual plants from his nursery, landscapes green with the trees and shrubs that would break up the concrete surrounding houses, condominiums, even commercial buildings and shopping centers.
Melody Sands, bored up to the ying-yang with all the successful investments and mergers discussed by all the rich successful men she encountered, listened with deep interest and awe to the dreams of this young man who was starting on a shoestring. She liked being a Miss Nobody listening to an ordinary guy talk about... No. Nothing ordinary about this guy who was really a hunk, worked like a Trojan and dreamed big.
“I guess it will take some time,” she said.
“And money,” he said. “Why do you think I’m planting roses, cutting lawns, and having to borrow a car to impress the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met?”
“The most fascinating?” she teased.
“The most,” he said with emphasis.
“Well, thanks for the flattery, but you didn’t need a car to impress me. I could have ridden in the truck.”
“You don’t belong in a truck.”
“How do you know where I belong?”
He didn’t. And that’s what bothered him. But he knew she didn’t belong in a truck. From the moment he saw her, standing so erect, the wind whipping that mass of flaming red hair... He reached across the table to touch it. It felt like silk. “Is it for real?” he asked, just as he had the first time he saw it.
“Of course it’s for real! Do you think I’d be fool enough to dye it this crazy color?”
“Not crazy. It’s out of sight.”
“Ha! If you knew how many times I’ve thought of dying it. A nice conservative brown or—”
“Don’t you dare!” She jumped and even he was surprised at his vehemence. Why did he feel such possessiveness toward this woman he hardly knew?
Damn it, he didn’t have time to possess any woman. Especially this one. Why did he sense she was out of his league? There was something about her. Something...well, classy. The way she carried herself with a certain confidence, maybe even arrogance. Even this morning, in that tattered jacket, her hair in disarray, she had looked...well, elegant. And so beautiful she took his breath away.
It’s not the way she looks. It’s the way she is. Warm, caring. Interested. He had sat all this evening spilling his guts. All his hopes and plans... things he had never even breathed to anyone else. And she had listened like they mattered to her.
This woman. This one woman. Why did he feel that he never wanted to lose her?
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I might disappear or something?”
That was the way he was feeling. Scared. Like she might walk out of his life and he’d never see her again. This was crazy!
“Just thinking I’m pretty stupid,” he said. “I want to know all about you, and I’ve spent all this time on me. Things I already know. So, tell me. How many brothers and sisters do you have, and where do you live, and when can I see you again?”
“Wait, you go too fast,” she said, trying to get herself together. She didn’t want to lie to this man. But she didn’t want him to know who she was. She liked listening to him, almost as if she was sharing his dreams...like they were on the same level. Would he feel free to share if he knew? “I...I’m an only child,” she said.
“I see. That explains that look.”
“What look?”
“That I - can - have - anything - I - want - I’m - a - spoiled - brat look.”
“Now, don’t you start!” she said, feeling angry because she had always been accused of just that. “I’m not spoiled and I don’t always get what I want.” She hadn’t gotten Dirk, had she? And never mind that he hadn’t wanted her, just her money. She sat up, staring at Tony. He didn’t know about the money. He liked her.
He was laughing. “Okay, don’t bite my head off. I see you’ve got the temper that goes with that hair. And I take it all back. You’re not spoiled. You’re working hard at...what do you do?”
“I... paperwork,” she floundered. “For the man of the house.” That was true. She often helped her father with his business.
“Oh, a secretary. I should have known.” He reached for her hand with its perfectly polished nails. “Much too pretty and soft to do much scrubbing. And where do you live?”
“Where you saw me,” she said, absorbed in the calloused thumb that was stroking the back of her hand, making her feel...like she hadn’t felt for a long time.
“Oh, a live-in secretary?”
“Kinda.”
“Don’t know if I like that. You’re much too pretty to be around some old fogy.”
“He’s away. Away most of the time. He travels a lot.”
“Good. And your parents. Do they still live in Wilmington?”
“My mother’s dead. And my father...well, we had a little disagreement.” They had had a disagreement, hadn’t they! “Anyway, he’s away, working out of town.”
. He could see that she was agitated by his probing, so he let up. There would be time. “Better take you home, much as I hate to,” he said. “I’ve got to start early in the morning.”
CHAPTER THREE
SHE couldn’t sleep. She was too keyed up. Still glowing from the most exciting evening she had spent in years.
She laughed at herself. What, for Pete’s sake, was so exciting about sitting in a crowded little restaurant, struggling with a plateful of slippery spaghetti?
Just talking. They had talked all the way back to the house, where he got out of the car and stayed with her until she let herself in. Protective, courteous. Too courteous. He hadn’t kissed her.
Because of the outside lights? Because he didn’t want to?
She felt like she had been kissed. So alive, tingling as in after a night of passionate lovemaking.
Was it because he had asked when he could see her again? Hell, every man she ever dated asked that. Why was Tony Costello different? Why had she wanted to shout... “Tomorrow, the next day, and the next. Anytime! Anywhere!” She wanted to pin down a time. She had told him not to call the house because she wasn’t sure what kind of signal Mrs. Cook would give off. She had thought of confiding in her. The housekeeper went a long way back and had always been warm and friendly toward her, but she was also loyal to Dad. During the Dirk episode, Mel had never known which side she was on. Best not to confide.
Confide? Good Lord, this wasn’t a conspiracy or anything like that! She was going to tell Tony all about herself, wasn’t she?
When?
Soon.
How soon?
When we get to know each other...well, better. When it won’t matter.
It matters now?
To me, it does. Because Tony likes me. Me. Not who I am. At least he doesn’t know who I am, and I think he likes me.
Anyway, I like him. So much that I can’t stand to see him leave without knowing when I’ll see him again.
So it was she who had said, “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” Then wanted to bite her tongue because he looked so surprised. She was surprised herself. Usually it was her escort, not she, who was eager.
“I have school,” he said. “I missed tonight. Can’t afford to miss too much. What about Sunday?”
“Good,” she said, disappointed. Four days away. “We can go on a picnic. I’ll fix us a lunch.”
He looked embarrassed. “I meant Sunday night. You see, Sunday is my only day off and the only time I get to work at the farm.”
“You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“Huh?”
“You really don’t have time to date.”
“Not until you,” he said with such emphasis that her breath caught. He did like her! “Sunday night? We could take in a movie or go dancing. Whatever you like.”
“You said you work at the farm,” she said, absorbed in his eyes. They seemed to promise...something. “Why...I mean, what do you do out there all day?”
“Lots of things. And...well, right now I’ve got a few lilies ready for the Easter market. Got to fix them for delivery on Monday.”
“Need some help?”
“Now you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. I could help you plant or hand you things...whatever.” Anything. Just so she could be with him. “Anyway, I want to see your grandma’s rock garden.”
He was silent for a moment and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally said, “You don’t know what you’re in for. But...okay, it’s a deal!”
And now she was so excited she couldn’t sleep. She got out of bed, walked to the window and looked out at the night. How could she wait till Sunday?
And she’d have to confide in Cook. No way could she explain being picked up in a truck early Sunday morning.
“Damn it! You got the car, didn’t you! You said you’d turn the soil and...”
Tony held the phone away from his ear, but Pedro’s tirade came through loud and clear. “I didn’t say this weekend.”
“You said when I was ready. I’m ready.”
“Ah, come on, Pedro. I got a date...sorta.”
“What do you mean...sorta?”
“Another date, Tony?” Rosalie broke in.
“Oh, hi, Rosie. Didn’t know you were on the line.”
“Hi. Just picked up to call Mom and heard you and Pedro squabbling. Gee, Tony, you had a date the other night. Again today? That’s good. You haven’t had a date in months. Same girl or—”
“Will you get off the phone, Rosie! This jerk’s trying to wiggle out. You heard him! He said—”
“Okay, okay! Tomorrow. Early.” Tony slammed down the phone. Wouldn’t take more than half an hour to do Pedro’s little plot, but he was already going to lose three hours at the farm. Couldn’t expect Mel to get up at the crack of dawn, could he? Mel...beside him all day. Hell and damnation, he’d lose more than three hours. He grimaced, but could not shake thrill of anticipation. Neither could he shake the feeling that she didn’t belong in a truck.
She was dressed for it when he stopped for her the next morning. Even if those jeans did look as if she had been poured into them. Her loafers were scuffed, the yellow pullover faded, and that gorgeous hair was tied back with a yellow scarf. Suddenly the sun was brighter, the air more refreshing, the day crisp and rich with promise.
He laughed as he lifted her into the truck. “You’re worth three hours,” he said. Just the sight of her was worth a whole darn day.
“What are you talking about? I’m ready, at eight, just like you said, aren’t I?”
“Right. Don’t mind me. I’m mad because Pedro’s cutting into my prime time, and I’m taking it out on you.”
“Pedro? The owner of the Mustang?”
“Who’s demanding payment pronto!”
“Oh, yes. The...er...landscaping. I take it his yard is bigger than your other brother’s. What’s his name?”
“Frank. Yeah, Pedro bought one of those old houses in Richmond. East End.”
An alarm bell sounded. Mel gasped. Wasn’t that the section where Jake’s wife’s company was doing a lot of business? If she ran into Judy...
Oh, for goodness’ sake, Judy might be a dedicated architect/contractor, but was surely at home now, very much occupied with their two-week-old son. Oh, hell, Judy wouldn’t be hobnobbing with the residents, would she? Not even anywhere in the area on a Sunday, and...
And I’m getting paranoid. This is ridiculous. I should just tell Tony who I am.
“Used to be a pretty bad section.” Tony, who seemed not to notice her reaction, was still talking. “They’re upgrading it now, and Pedro got a real bargain. Not bad. Big yard, trees.”
“That’s good.”
