Griffin made a note of her address on the bag from the music store and handed her back the pen. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Until tonight, then.”
Darcy closed her eyes as he walked away, unable to keep from thinking how limited her wardrobe was. Of course, a movie and dinner didn’t require a ball gown, but she couldn’t go in overalls either. She thought she had a couple of dresses hanging in the back of her closet, but she wasn’t actually sure.
Giving up all hope of creating sketches, she went out to the nursery. “Go on to lunch, George, I’ll handle sales.”
George moved out from behind the counter. “You and Mr. Moore going out tonight?”
“We are, if I can find something to wear.”
“He seems to like oxford cloth shirts and Levi’s,” George mused. “I read an article in one of my wife’s magazines that suggested a woman ought to dress like the man she wants to impress, sort of mirror his clothes.”
“What makes you think I’m trying to impress him?”
“He’s good-looking and rich. Why wouldn’t you? Now, if I were you, I’d find myself a cute little denim skirt and oxford cloth shirt. He wears loafers, but you needn’t go that far. Wear flats and you’ll do just fine.”
Darcy shook her head in disbelief. “I had no idea you worked as a wardrobe consultant, George. What other talents are you hiding?”
George responded with an enigmatic smile. “That’s just between me and my wife. Now I’m going to lunch. When I get back, you can go shopping.”
Darcy stared at him as though he’d just suggested she eat bugs, but she thought he just might have the right idea when it came to clothes. She never wore the frilly dresses Christy Joy adored, but a denim skirt and shirt sounded just right. She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. She hadn’t bought a new outfit to please a man in more than a year, so maybe it was time, but she had no idea what to do with the butterflies that cruised her stomach whenever Griffin Moore appeared.
Griffin arrived right on time, but rather than invite him to come in, Darcy stepped out of her colorful house and pulled her door shut behind her. “The Monarch’s about a ten-minute walk. Why don’t you just leave your car here?”
“That’s fine with me.” Griffin swept her with an appreciative glance before reaching for her hand. “You have such nice legs, Darcy, why don’t you wear shorts to work?”
Darcy had been afraid her denim skirt was too short, and now she was positive of it. “Thank you, I do wear shorts in the summer, but overalls are a lot more practical out on a job. I mean to finish your sketches this weekend, but—”
“My yard isn’t going anywhere, and whenever you complete the sketches will be fine. I want you to have fun tonight rather than worry about work.”
“That would be a pleasant change.” They were both wearing blue oxford cloth shirts and Darcy feared she’d gone too far in mimicking his wardrobe, but if he’d only noticed her legs, she supposed things were going rather well.
She didn’t recognize anyone in the line at the theater, but didn’t appreciate the admiring glances sent Griffin’s way. That he remained focused on their conversation was flattering, however, and she was relieved to discover they shared a preference for the theater’s back rows.
Once they were seated, Griffin again took her hand and shocked her by resting it in his lap. He wasn’t rubbing her knuckles along his crotch, which she would have put a stop to immediately, but just knowing what lay beneath his button front fly filled her cheeks with a fiery blush.
She’d never encountered another man who had touched her so easily, as though they knew each other well and were accustomed to exchanging affectionate gestures. She liked affectionate men enormously, but knowing it was simply Griffin’s manner made her wonder if he really thought of her as anything special.
Then the movie began and the witty romantic farce captured her attention so completely she ceased to obsess over Griffin’s motives and lost herself in the fun.
The charming story starred a penniless young man whose poor opinion of modern art inspired him to pose as an artist to romance a series of wealthy art patrons. When he fell in love with the baker’s daughter who served him his coffee and croissant each morning, he then had to juggle his generous lovers to keep the innocent lass from discovering the stylish women visiting his studio were getting more than art.
Darcy laughed so hard she missed a great many of the subtitles in the last third of the film, and she was still laughing as she and Griffin exited the theater. “I was too busy watching the action to catch all the words, but the phony artist’s paintings actually began to sell to legitimate collectors, didn’t they?”
“Yes, and he was forced to fabricate lucid explanations for his work as though he’d actually begun with some lofty purpose. But he did earn the money to marry the baker’s daughter by his own goofy efforts and ceased to scam lonely women. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I noticed you laughed before the subtitles explained the whole joke, so obviously you speak French fluently.”
“Oui, but I’ve heard you speak Spanish to your crew, so you could pick up French rather easily.”
“In my spare time?”
Griffin dropped his arm around her shoulders to offer a comforting hug. “You need to cultivate not only healthy plants, but a better balance between work and leisure, for your own well-being.”
“Have you succeeded in that regard?”
“I’m working on it. It’s the primary reason I moved here. Wher
e would you like to eat dinner?”