Mary Beth pushed her glasses up her nose. “Whatever makes you think Wes and I aren’t a perfect match? Oh, never mind, you needn’t explain. Jeremy and I both love to read, but that’s not the same as having a romantic interest in someone, that sizzle that makes you turn and look twice at a man. But why are you asking? Did Jeremy say something about me just now?”
“No, apparently he just stopped by to drop off the Clancy book. Has it ever struck you as odd that you and a sea captain have the same tastes in reading?”
Mary Beth slid one of the Defy the World’s flower-tipped pens behind her ear. “What’s wrong with liking mysteries and thrillers? Jeremy’s very good at analyzing and comparing plots, but that just makes him an interesting friend. Haven’t you noticed how he looks at you?”
Startled, Christy Joy slipped her hands into the pockets of her blue gingham jumper. “Why no. I thought he just enjoyed perusing our stock.”
Mary Beth rolled her eyes. “That’s just an excuse, Christy Joy. The man comes in here to see you.”
“You’re kidding.” Christy Joy hadn’t noticed Jeremy giving her any special attention. “I imagine he’s just lonely.”
“Which could very well be, but he looks at you as though you were a delicious glob of cotton candy that he can’t wait to wrap around his tongue.”
“Mary Beth! You stop right there.” Christy Joy was enormously relieved when the arrival of another clerk forced an end to their conversation and she could attend to business rather than Mary Beth’s wild imaginings.
Darcy left the watering to George that morning to remain in her office and work up some dazzling sketches for Griffin, but she just couldn’t concentrate. Every job she did provided an advertisement for the next, and if she could post a discreet sign on Ridgecrest, she might receive several more lucrative commissions. Unfortunately, at the rate she was progressing, she wouldn’t have a single impressively detailed sketch ready to show him in a week, let alone the couple of days she’d promised.
Unable to sit a minute longer, she went out to find George. “I’m going to walk over to the post office and check on the flowers. There might be some that need replanting.”
“Good plan,” George replied. “Everyone in town goes in at least once a month for stamps, and it pays to keep it looking sharp.”
“Right.” Darcy put on her cap, carried her clipboard to make notes and went striding on down Embarcadero. She turned inland at Monarch Bay Boulevard and went up two blocks to the post office. Even with her critical eye, the landscaping was a panorama of colorful perfection, but she pinched off a fading blossom here and a brown leaf there to justify her visit.
She heard footsteps on the walk and, without turning around, knew exactly who it would be. Her chest tightened in anticipation, and she had to force herself to turn slowly rather than spin like a prima ballerina.
“Good morning, Mr. Moore, you’re out early.”
“It’s nearly noon, Darcy, and I’ve been up for hours. After all, it’s no fun staying in bed alone.” He was wearing sunglasses, but they scarcely disguised his taunting gaze. “I had no idea you did the landscaping here. Do you come by each morning to pull weeds?”
“No, once a week or so will do.” He’d walked right by the sign for Defy the World Tomatoes at the edge of the flowerbed, and Darcy doubted that he’d missed it.
“I have to pick up my mail, and then, if you’re finished, I’ll walk you back to your nursery.” He started up the post office steps, then turned back. “Do you know if there’s a music store in town that sells manuscript paper? I’ve several compositions in my head that I ought to write down before they blur into a single hideous wail.”
Darcy had to crane her neck to look up at him. “You came here to write music and neglected to bring the proper paper to transcribe it?” she inquired skeptically.
“Obviously a terrible oversight,” Griffin admitted. “Now, answer my question.”
Darcy’s glance shot down the row of bright yellow daffodils. From what she’d seen of Griffin Moore, he was not the type of man to overlook such a significant detail, and his answer didn’t ring true. It was disturbing, but then everything about the man was.
“I’m not sure, but Song and Dance might have your paper. The clerk is a big fan of yours, by the way, and I’m sure the store will place a special order for you if they don’t carry anything you need.”
Clearly astonished she would possess such knowledge, Griffin came back down the steps. “How did you happen to discover this remarkable clerk’s preference in music?”
Caught, Darcy mumbled under her breath, “I bought one of your CDs.”
“I beg your pardon?” Griffin stepped closer.
Thoroughly embarrassed, Darcy nearly shouted, “I bought one of your CDs.”
“I would have given you a dozen, had you asked,” Griffin confided softly. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just say so.”
Darcy clamped her jaws shut rather than tell him to keep his hands off their building, but the effort made her cheeks ache. “Better grab your mail. I’ve g
ot to be going.”
“I think you’ll wait.” Griffin took the post office steps two at a time and returned in a matter of seconds with a handful of letters which he jammed into the hip pocket of his Levi’s. “How long have we known each other? Has it even been a week?”
“Not quite.”