“I’ll make it a point to be there. You’ll need my address.” He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket, but it held only his name and telephone number. “Do you have a pen?”
Darcy plucked a green ballpoint from her bib pocket. “Here you are.” Defy the World was printed on the side and a small red silk rose sprouted from the top. She’d never considered the pens ridiculously feminine, but as he reached for it with his left hand, it looked impossibly fragile.
He made a quick note of his address and, after handing the card and pen to Darcy, extended his right hand. “I’m Griffin Moore.”
As her tiny hand disappeared into his, Darcy’s breath left her throat in a hoarse gasp. Griffin’s fingers were long and slim, his grasp firm, but the heat of his touch matched the fiery intensity of his smile and sent a sizzling thrill clear to her rubber-soled boots. At almost the same instant, the outdoor garden was filled with the lively rhythms of native flutes and drums. The lilting tune swirled around them with the grace of animated butterflies and, for a terrible moment, Darcy was so lost in Griffin’s smile that she completely forgot her own name.
“Darcy MacLeod,” she finally blurted, but she couldn’t bear to withdraw her hand and felt a painful tear of separation as Griffin released his hold.
He immediately glanced toward the outdoor speakers mounted on the gift shop. “What charming music. Do you know what it is?”
Darcy’s business partner, Christy Joy, selected the CDs and tapes they played and sold. Darcy told herself she wasn’t afraid to introduce Griffin to her and ask for the title, but she was enormously relieved it wasn’t necessary.
“That’s Otavalomanta. They’re Indians from Ecuador who claim to be descendants of the Inca. We’ve sold quite a few of their CDs. I believe the plants enjoy their high-spirited music as much as people do.”
Another hint of a smile crossed Griffin’s lips. “Yes, I’m sure they do. Bring one of their CDs with you this afternoon.”
He turned away and walked out of the nursery before Darcy found her voice to say good-bye. He hadn’t made a polite request for a CD. He’d spoken a command with the ease of a man accustomed to being obeyed, and she hadn’t even blinked. She drew in a deep breath and released it in an anguished sigh.
He probably had half a dozen leggy blondes at home, along with a gorgeous redhead or two, but she’d never been so deeply affected by any man. That she’d obviously had no such dramatic effect on him was humiliating.
“Brown-eyed for sure,” she swore softly and reluctantly got to work tending the plants.
In what Darcy felt certain was a cowardly move, she merely announced an afternoon appointment and left Defy the World without describing G
riffin Moore to Christy Joy. As she drove from the coastal village toward the mountains, she tried to justify that shocking omission of such a significant detail, but the only possible explanation was a deplorable suspicion that Griffin might prefer the pretty blonde to her. She was appalled that a single meeting had prompted a jealous streak she hadn’t previously suspected she possessed.
Just who was Griffin Moore to come striding into Defy the World and make her feel so inadequate? She caught sight of her reflection in her truck’s rearview mirror and hoped a triple coat of mascara had enhanced her eyes sufficiently to make him take a second look. Everyone always said her eyes were her best feature, and she wore her hair pixie-short with fringed bangs to frame them attractively.
As for her outfit, she flat-out loved the comfort of overalls, and the ones Christy Joy designed for Defy the World were colorful and fit well. The only problem was that a man with Griffin’s obvious sophistication probably hadn’t taken a second look at a girl in overalls since he left preschool. She could have gone home and put on a pair of tight Levi’s and a sweater, but this was, after all, a professional visit, not a seduction. As if she could seduce someone like Griffin!
The thought made her laugh, and she sat up straighter and turned off the thoroughfare onto Ridgecrest still wearing a smile. She’d been through the area a time or two simply to enjoy the pine-scented route and the sparkling view of the bay in the distance. Most of the beautiful estates lining Ridgecrest had been built in the 1920s, when wealthy families from back East had flocked to the Pacific Ocean for the summer.
Set back from the road and screened by oak and fragrant eucalyptus, many of the estates had changed hands numerous times, but, like the quaint town of Monarch Bay, had endured. Now modernized and redecorated, they were showplaces once again.
Darcy had memorized Griffin’s address the moment he’d handed her his card, but she had to continually scan the long stone walls and impressive iron gates for the numbers to chart her progress up the hill. She finally found Griffin’s address near the summit. He’d left the gate open for her, and she drove slowly up the curving driveway.
Even expecting something grand, Darcy was stunned by the beauty of the Mediterranean-style villa. Freshly painted in a rich terracotta shade which nearly matched the red tile roof, its arched entrance and high Palladian windows promised an interior of classical perfection.
The landscaping, however, consisted of scattered clumps of badly trimmed camellias. Darcy couldn’t imagine why Griffin wished to begin at the rear of the house when the front cried out for attention, but she was elated to discover so much work needed to be done.
She swung her Chevy truck around the circular drive and parked by the front door. She’d brought the requested Otavalomanta CD and picked it up along with her clipboard. “This is just a job like any other,” she whispered as she moved up the brick walk, but her wildly beating heart failed to agree. As she raised her hand to the bell, she prayed the door wouldn’t be opened by a pair of stunning twins in skimpy fuchsia bikinis.
The bell rang with a faraway echo, and Darcy strained to hear the click of high heels across what would surely be a tiled entryway. The thickness of the carved wooden door blocked the sound of Griffin’s approach, and Darcy was startled when he suddenly swung it open.
Much to her delight, his sunglasses were tucked in his shirt pocket, for without their shadow his eyes shone with a lively intelligence and wit, and she envied him his dark sweep of thick lashes.
His large, expressive eyes were definitely as handsome as the rest of him, but as deep a brown as dark chocolate, and with that knowledge came a sharp sting of disappointment. Darcy had to swallow a revealing moan, but even knowing the likelihood of his ever caring for her was extremely slight, she felt a real sense of loss.
“Good afternoon,” she managed in a breathless rush. “Here’s your CD.” She thrust it into his hands, then silently scolded herself for not having done it with more grace.
Griffin, meanwhile, began studying the musicians pictured on the CD. They wore blue ponchos, long braids, worn fedoras, and looked convincingly like modern-day Incas.
“Thanks. Do you want to just add this to my bill, or would you rather I paid you now?”
“I don’t really care, but our bookkeeper insists that we keep the landscaping commissions separate from the gift shop sales.”
Griffin reached into his pocket, withdrew a gold money clip and peeled off a twenty-dollar bill. “Will this cover it?”