Defy the World Tomatoes (11 page)

“See, I told you you ought to tour the bathrooms. They may inspire all sorts of remarkable possibilities.”

Darcy glanced at him again in the mirror. She’d once dated a man who couldn’t pass a mirror without commenting on his looks, but rather than himself, Griffin was observing her with a fond glance. A sly smile played across his lips, and he appeared to be genuinely interested in her comments.

What she was most interested in, however, was him. He would surely break her heart, but while still whole, her heart thundered his name. She drew in a deep breath and decided to go for it. Giving up any other course as absurd, she went to him and began to unbutton his shirt.

“Let’s forget breakfast,” she suggested in a provocative purr, “and take up where we left off last night.”

Griffin laughed and straightened to his full height. He grasped her waist and, with two strides, set her on the counter between the sinks. He stepped between her legs and rested his hands lightly on her thighs.

“After I got up at dawn to cook for you, don’t you even want to hear the menu?”

“No. Whatever it is can’t possibly be better than you.” Darcy unbuttoned the last button, and Griffin shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. Crisp black curls fanned over his chest, narrowed to a thin strip down his well-defined abs and disappeared beneath his belt. She spread her fingers across his chest and thumbed his nipples.

“I do have feelings,” Griffin protested. “I don’t just service women on demand.”

Darcy zigzagged a fingertip down his crotch and felt his body’s eager response. “Just this once, make an exception.”

Griffin caught her chin to force her to look up at him. “We were going to agree upon some ground rules last night, but somehow we got distracted.”

Darcy barely recalled the mention of rules. “What sort of rules did you have in mind?”

Griffin yanked on her sleeves and eased her sweater off over her head. He tossed it atop his shirt. “We need to agree on what’s business and what’s personal. I won’t mix the two, nor will I allow you to either.”

While he slid her bra straps off her shoulders, she unbuckled his belt and began to unbutton his fly. He was wearing black silk boxers, and she eased her fingers under the waistband. “You’ll tell me what I’m not allowed to do? That’s your idea of agreeing on rules?”

Griffin caught her hands. “You can’t sleep your way into a new lease, so if that’s your intention, give it up now.”

Darcy licked her lips and smiled suggestively. “There’s only one thing I’m inclined to give up, and it has nothing to do with buildings.”

“Cross your heart?”

Darcy unsnapped her bra, flung it toward the growing pile of clothing and made a cross on her bare breast. “Do you have any other rules?”

Griffin rolled her nipples through his index fingers and thumbs. “Yes, this has to be an exclusive relationship. I won’t see other women, and you won’t see other men.”

The man did indeed have great hands, and Darcy squirmed slightly as she thought of his touching her more intimately. “Better define what you mean by ‘see’,” she asked.

He increased the pressure on her nipples. “How detailed do you want it? Spend time with alone, date, dine with, sleep with, or any other sexual pastime. Is that clear?”

Darcy finished unbuttoning his fly and reached through the slit in his boxers to grasp his cock. Her hands were small, and her fingers didn’t meet as she encircled him. He felt huge. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “Anything else?”

“Yes, never lie to me, and I mean that. Don’t leave things out. Don’t conveniently forget to mention something I ought to know.”

Darcy ran her thumb along the underside of his cock to rub the sensitive ridge where the shaft met the head. His breathing quickened slightly, which she considered a point for her side. “If anything, I’m too honest, but you can’t lie to me either.”

“I won’t,” he swore.

“Anything else?” Fearing a bizarre request that would be a deal breaker, Darcy held her breath.

“One last thing. I know you and Christy will talk, and I don’t care if you tell her the sex is great, but our conversations have to remain private.”

“What’s your real worry, that I’ll tell the
Enquirer
you lie on the beach all day swilling beer in your underwear?”

Griffin leaned in to give her a kiss that demanded her full attention. “Very funny, but fortunately, the tabloids have no interest in classical musicians. Just promise you’ll respect my privacy.”

“You needn’t worry. I won’t even admit I know you, let alone brag about what you say. But what do we have here, promises not to mix business and pleasure, and of fidelity, honesty and loyalty? You don’t moonlight as a Marine recruiter, do you?”

“Damn it, Darcy, I’m serious.”

“You’re also half-naked in a bathroom with my hand on your dick. Now either you trust me to protect your heart and your career, or you don’t. Which is it?”

Griffin released a groan that bordered a growl, scooped her off the counter and carried her to his bed. He dropped her in the center none too gently, then sprawled out on top of her.

“That mouth is going to get you in a lot of trouble,” he warned.

Darcy arched her back to rub her now delightfully sensitive nipples across his hairy chest. “I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you. Just bring it on.”

Griffin kissed her deeply rather than reply. Then he began to tease her gently rounded breasts with the tip of his tongue before sucking first one and then the other into his mouth. Propped on an elbow, he used his free hand to unzip her jeans and slid his hand into her lace panties.

Darcy’s breath caught in her throat as he slipped two fingers inside her. She was so wet, he stroked her with an easy rhythm, and then rose.

He rolled off the bed to remove her pants with a swift tug, then peeled off her lacy lavender panties. He tossed them over his shoulder and shed the rest of his clothes. He crawled up over the end of his bed, grabbed her ankles and spread her legs wide.

His lean, well-muscled body was the perfection Darcy had known it would be, but she suddenly recalled an important detail. “I sure hope we don’t have to send out for condoms.”

“They’re in the drawer in the nightstand to your left, but we don’t need them yet,” Griffin assured her. He stretched out to lick her navel, then slid his hands under her bottom to angle her hips toward his mouth. “You smell so good, and I’ll bet you taste even better.”

Darcy had sprinkled on the pumpkin pie spice liberally, but doubted she would taste like a pie. Then his tongue trailed the length of her cleft, and she ceased to worry over being confused with a dessert. He knew just where to touch her, and when he again slid his fingers inside to caress her in time with his tender lapping, she grabbed hold of his hair to press him closer still.

She remembered her first glimpse of him, but she’d never dreamed a week later she would be shoving him into his bed. As the rush to climax built, she moaned way back in her throat and tilted her hips to lure him deeper. Her whole body throbbed with an aching need for release, but he slowed his pace to prolong the sweet torture, then quickened it again to send her tumbling over the edge.

A wave of heated ecstasy swept through her, warming her clear to her fingertips and toes, but Griffin gave her no time to drift on pleasure. Instead, he grabbed a condom and dipped into her, slowly stretching her until she was completely filled. He spared her the burden of his weight as he thrust deeply, then rolled over to bring her up on top.

His eyes were half-closed, and Darcy loved being able to gauge his reaction as she rolled her hips to ride him. She reached back between his legs to tickle his balls with the tip of her nail and felt him pitch beneath her. She slid her nails up his belly and began a sweet circular dance that swiftly flooded her with renewed desire.

Griffin reached for the spot where their bodies joined and rubbed her in time with her own sensuous rocking. He had amazing control, and thrust up into her until, with a convulsive shudder, he came and pulled her into bliss along with him.

Exhausted by their shared rapture, Darcy lay sprawled across his chest, unable to do more than offer a grateful moan. Joyously relaxed, she fell asleep convinced she’d died and gone to heaven.

Chapter Six

“Darcy,” Griffin whispered. When she failed to stir, he set the breakfast tray on the nightstand and shook her shoulder gently.

“Come on, Darcy. It’s time to wake up.”

Darcy recognized his voice and smiled in her dreams. She rolled over and snuggled down into her pillow.

Griffin sat on the side of the bed and rubbed her back in gentle circles. “I really hate to wake you, but you’ll be furious with me if I don’t.”

His touch felt so good, Darcy twisted slightly to encourage more, but she remained fast asleep. Then Griffin nibbled her ear, and she raised a hand to bat him away.

“Darcy,” Griffin called more insistently. “Wake up, sugar. It’s time for breakfast.”

Darcy yawned sleepily, rolled toward him and opened one eye. “What time is it?” she asked in a sleepy slur.

“One o’clock.”

“One!” Darcy sat up and yanked the sheet over her bare breasts. “One o’clock in the afternoon? Why didn’t you wake me sooner? I should have been at Defy the World by ten.”

Griffin was dressed as he had been earlier, and not a hair was out of place. “Don’t panic. I called Christy Joy and told her our meeting was taking longer than you’d anticipated.”

Darcy shoved her hands through her hair, leaving it spiked in wild disarray. “Oh great, what did she say?”

Griffin reached for the tray and placed it on her lap. “She said you deserved some time off and to take as long as you need. But I knew you’d not want me to let you sleep until dark.”

There was a rose on the tray, half a grapefruit and an avocado omelet that was still steaming. She’d never had a man bring her breakfast in bed, and she had to blink away her tears. She quickly reached for her fork and took a bite of omelet. It melted in her mouth.

“This is delicious. For a man who’s always lived in hotels, you’ve learned to cook with remarkable speed.”

Griffin shrugged slightly. “I’ll admit the first couple weren’t up to that standard, but they tasted just as good.”

“You’re an absolute marvel, Mr. Moore, but where did you get the rose?”

“I climbed a neighbor’s fence.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!”

“I figured they wouldn’t miss it, but you’ll not tell on me, will you?”

Darcy shook her head. He’d obviously been awake for hours, but she was so amused by the theft of a rose from his neighbor’s yard that she couldn’t be angry with him for not waking her.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Now, as delicious as this is, I need to get to work.”

“Have a few bites of grapefruit first. That one is especially sweet.”

Darcy picked up her spoon and scooped up a section. It was as good as promised. “Yes, this is wonderful too, but
—
”

“You needn’t rush off,” Griffin assured her. “I’ve decided to buy that big iron fish. Can you devise some way to hang it in the garden you’re planning for me?”

Darcy swallowed the bite of grapefruit with a hasty gulp. “Griffin, you don’t have to pay for my time.”

“Of course not, that would be prostitution. Is that what you think I’m suggesting?”

“No, I think you’re trying to help us earn enough money to move. That’s sweet, in a perverse sort of way, but you needn’t do it.”

“What if I just happen to like that spectacular goldfish?”

He looked hurt, and she wondered if she’d misunderstood his motives. She took another bite of the heavenly omelet. “All right, if you really want the goldfish, we might hang it on the arbor we’ll have to build to support the wisteria vine.”

Griffin thought for a moment. “Yes, that would work, and then it could be seen from the terrace. What about a fountain?”

“Lined with Spanish tile?”

“Wouldn’t that be appropriate?”

“Yes. If you want a fountain, I’ll add one. Did you want it at the front or on the terrace?”

“I’ll have to think about it. Maybe both.”

Darcy reached out to take his hand. “I really like you, Griffin, and it has nothing to do with whatever business you might send my way. Now, we agreed to separate business and pleasure, so I really shouldn’t be discussing landscaping from your bed.”

Griffin broke into a broad grin. “I didn’t consider that when I mentioned the fish. I’ll leave so you can get dressed, but I sure hated to wake you when you looked so at home in my bed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Griffin stood, then leaned down to kiss her. “That wasn’t a complaint.”

Darcy remained in bed for several minutes after he’d left the handsomely decorated room. She glanced around and imagined herself waking up there every morning, but a pup tent would be equally inviting if Griffin shared it.

She took a couple more bites of omelet and grapefruit and, without Griffin to distract her, noticed the sterling silver pattern featured not simply a modern swirl, but a music note. It was attractive, appropriate, and undoubtedly a custom design.

Unwilling to consider what twelve place settings must have cost, she got up and went into the wisteria bathroom to shower for the second time that day. Griffin had folded her clothes so they were unwrinkled. Damp from the shower, her hair fell into place with a brush of her fingertips.

She picked up her breakfast tray to return it to the kitchen, but because his bathroom had indeed proven to be artful perfection, she decided to look in on the others. She carried the tray to the top of the stairs, set it down and went back to explore.

She began with the bedroom next to Griffin’s, but when she opened the door, she could only stare, for rather than the empty space he’d led her to expect, there was a haphazard collage of maps tacked to the wall and several tables topped with glowing computers. A printer spewed out a steady stream of documents, but she was too shocked to investigate their source. Frightened that Griffin had failed to mention he was running such an ambitious enterprise, she turned to leave and ran right smack into him.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked.

“I just wanted to see the other bathrooms,” Darcy hastened to explain. “But this looks like a war room. What are you doing here, Griffin?” She doubted he could actually be the drug kingpin Mary Beth had imagined, but he was definitely up to something.

“Nothing even remotely sinister,” Griffin swore. “The computers are programmed to answer fan mail. It’s a sophisticated set-up which allows them to respond to email in the language it was sent. They also keep track of how many times a fan has contacted me, so the same reply is never repeated.

“They provide a suitably grateful response, list my upcoming concert dates and information on ordering CDs. Other computers answer letters in the same warmly appreciative way. A clerk in my agent’s office enters the sender’s name and address, and the response is printed here so that I can sign it. The mail is still coming through, so apparently Karen didn’t believe me when I fired her.

“What did you think I was doing, tracking satellites, or managing an off-shore gambling operation?”

His relaxed explanation made perfect sense, but, glancing toward the maps, Darcy was still alarmed. She’d always relied on her instincts where men were concerned, and she truly felt things weren’t nearly as innocent as he insisted they were.

“I suppose you use the maps to keep track of concert tours?”

“Yes. What’s the matter, Darcy? Don’t you believe me?”

“You told me you’d moved in a bed and your piano. But you actually have an entire bedroom suite, and an office with computers that probably run twenty-four hours a day.”

“Yes, they do, but so what? Didn’t you realize I’d probably have a fan or two?”

“Don’t be flip,” Darcy cautioned. She was convinced he’d have a reasonable answer for any question she might pose, but, rather than being relieved, she was growing increasingly uneasy. In so many ways, he was too good to be true, and this eerie room filled with softly humming computers gave her chills.

“I really need to get down the hill,” she said as she scooted by him. She picked up her breakfast tray and carried it down the stairs at a near run.

Griffin reached the bottom of the stairs a second behind her, took the tray and again set it aside on the floor. “I didn’t mean to spook you, but this isn’t Blue Beard’s castle. Will you come back tonight?”

“No, let’s not overdose on each other.” Darcy swung open the heavy front door and dashed through it.

With his long stride, Griffin easily overtook her. “There’s no danger of that.”

“Let’s not take the risk.” Darcy made straight for her truck and yanked open the driver’s door, but Griffin reached around her to slam it shut.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked. “Are you sorry you slept with me? Is that what this is all about?”

He looked more confused than angry, but with all her senses tingling, she felt like Spiderman and couldn’t wait to get away. “I’m not in the least bit sorry,” she exclaimed. “You’re an amazing lover, but I need to get to work.”

“Women complain men cut and run after sex, but damn it all, Darcy, you look scared to death. Go play with your plants, if you must, but I’ll come into town later. We can have a thoroughly civilized talk, and maybe you’ll have calmed down enough to be honest with me.”

He stepped out of her way, and she drove off without yelling at him for keeping what she feared were gigantic secrets, but she couldn’t understand how the day could have begun so well and then spiraled into abject terror.

When she returned to work, she sipped half a bottle of water and took a dozen deep breaths before she peeked into the gift shop and waved to Christy Joy. Then she went into her office, closed the door, sat at her desk and let her forced composure crumble.

All too soon she heard George talking with one of their teenage workers and knew she couldn’t avoid him indefinitely. She reached for a tissue and dried her eyes seconds before he rapped lightly at her door.

“We missed you this morning. You want to talk?” he asked.

Darcy glanced through the open doorway to the soothing greens of the nursery and shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know where to begin. Did you ever have a hunch about something, or an uneasy feeling that things just weren’t right?”

“Sure, everybody does. I’ve learned to heed them too. What’s got you so jumpy?”

Darcy recalled Griffin’s insistence upon secrecy, but she hadn’t actually agreed to his demand. Now, with the sun bouncing across her office floor, she was reluctant to describe how frightened she’d been to discover a roomful of coldly efficient computers. It would sound too silly.

“I just got scared,” she murmured.

George nodded thoughtfully. “Are you talking about Griffin Moore?”

“Yes and no, but it wasn’t anything he did. In fact, he’s treated me almost embarrassingly well.”

George appeared to be weighing his words carefully before he spoke. “I read an article in one of Marge’s magazines that might apply here.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge, Missy. A noted psychologist, whose name I’ve forgotten, wrote that some singles, they could be men as well as women, long to meet Ms. or Mr. Right. But when they actually do, they use every barrier they can haul into place to prevent that special person from getting close.”

“In other words,” Darcy added, “they sabotage the dream relationship for which they’ve been praying. Is that what you think I’m doing?”

George glanced out at the nursery. “I really can’t say. I’m just offering one expert’s opinion that made sense to me. You might want to give it some thought.”

Darcy shook her head. She’d been fine with Griffin, better than fine, until she’d opened the door to the war room and been scared half out of her wits. “I appreciate the thought, George. Marge is a lucky woman to have such a thoughtful husband.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say it wasn’t always the case, but she trained me right. You ought to do the same with Griffin Moore.”

“I could just as easily teach the Statue of Liberty to polka.”

“A bit set in his ways, is he?”

“I don’t know him well enough to say for sure, but he’s used to getting his own way and obviously likes it.”

“Who doesn’t?” George asked. “Now, I better get back to work or the boss is liable to dock my pay.”

Darcy laughed with him, but once he’d gone, her posture resumed a dejected slump. She folded her arms on her desk to create a passable pillow, laid her head down and closed her eyes. She tried to analyze the way the morning had ended in dispassionate terms, but had nearly dozed off when the telephone rang.

Jarred awake, she didn’t answer until the third ring, but then managed a professional tone. The caller proved to be a neighbor of Griffin’s who’d seen her truck and wanted an estimate on completely replanting her yard for her daughter’s wedding.

Darcy tapped her pen against her clipboard as she ran through her usual questions to gain a better idea of what the woman expected. When the caller mentioned gardenias, azaleas and camellias, she understood.

“You want a wonderfully romantic backdrop for the wedding and reception. I can do something truly lovely for you that will continue to give you pleasure long after the day of the ceremony, but first I’ll need to visit your home.” She made a note of the address and set up an appointment for the following morning.