Defy the World Tomatoes (37 page)

Then she remembered their conversation about leaving post-it notes on his bench. The days were lengthening, and if she hurried, she’d be able to plaster the bench with love notes without invading his privacy. Or at least that was how she saw it. She grabbed a pack of yellow notes and, with a flower pen tucked in her bib pocket, she set out for Ridgecrest.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on the wrought-iron gate being closed. Unwilling to allow such a minor detail to ruin her plans, she parked on the street. She checked for traffic, found none, and then used the gate’s coiling floral design for footholds. She quickly pulled herself up and over and then sprinted past the bubbling mermaid fountain.

When she rounded the side of the house, she heard Griffin playing the same series of notes over and over again as though the sequence weren’t quite right. Whatever his problem, it was a pretty tune rather than some wretched dirge. Encouraged, she skirted the terrace and crossed the Zen garden.

Her first note simply said she loved him. After slapping it on the bench, she added one to praise the passion he poured into his music. She also loved the sparkle in his dark eyes when he teased her, as well as the gentleness of his touch. She loved his smile, and the confident way he moved. She loved how he listened to her so attentively and remembered everything she said. She loved that he took her seriously. She loved his intelligence and how handsome he looked in a tux.

She wrote I love you a couple more times and added them to the flurry now adorning the bench. With the light rapidly fading, she dashed back around to the front of the house rather than let him catch her writing sappy love notes in the dark. If the audacious stunt worked as she hoped, he ought to be inspired to drive right down the hill to her house.

If it didn’t, she sure didn’t want to be home alone waiting for a call that would never come. So, she sat on the fountain wall, trailed her fingers in the water and waited. Now that it was too late to remove the notes, she was afraid they would all sound impossibly silly, but damn it all, every single one had been sincere. She really did love him, and it was high time she got out of her own way and stopped sabotaging their future.

Griffin had kept his eye on the angle of the sun and, eager for the serenity of the sunset, he left the new melody unfinished and went out to the Zen garden. At first, he thought the wind must have littered the bench with scraps, but then he recognized the small yellow squares for what they were. He laughed as he peeled them off and read them in the gathering dusk.

He hadn’t shaved that morning, nor combed his hair, but on the off-chance Darcy might be waiting in her truck, he didn’t want to waste any time cleaning up. He jogged down the driveway, and when he found her at the fountain, he looked down at the handful of notes.

It was the first time she’d ever seen him at a loss for words, but she still had a few. She got up and walked to him. “I didn’t plan on hanging around, but when you finish sorting out everything, I don’t want to end up being something you’ve sorted out.”

“Oh, Darcy, you’re an absolute treasure.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “Come on, let’s catch the sunset.”

Certain being regarded as a treasure was a promising sign, she fell in step beside him. He was dressed in his gray sweats and looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed, but being with him always tugged at her heart.

“I should have thought of it sooner,” she apologized. “Then maybe I could have written more original notes.”

When they reached the bench, Griffin shoved the post-its into his pocket and pulled her down across his lap. “These were fine, but there’s no rule that says you can’t do it more than once, is there?”

“No, I suppose not, but the next time it won’t be much of a surprise.”

“Are you kidding? With you, it’s bound to be.” He nuzzled her neck playfully and held her clasped in a fond embrace until the sunset had turned the whole sky a heavenly pink.

“I’m sorry you were worried,” he whispered. “After we learned how Astrid died, I was afraid you might decide I was more trouble than I’m worth. So rather than crowd you, I backed off to give you some time to think.”

Amazed he could be so damn clueless, Darcy blamed herself for not sharing the love overflowing her heart. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him sweetly, but she couldn’t help teasing him. “What? And miss having my work featured in the
Architectural Digest
? Or was that just something you made up, like Budapest?”

“Do you see what I mean? You’re the most unpredictable woman I’ve ever met, and it’s another thing I love about you.”

“Nice evasion, but I really don’t give a hoot about the
Architectural Digest
. I just care about you.”

“You’re the coyly evasive one, but thank you, the feature story is real. I’ll show you the confirmation letter. Give me a couple of minutes to clean up, and we’ll go out to dinner.”

“No one else gets to see you looking this scruffy, and I like it. Let’s stay right here.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “You actually like this?”

She slid her hand under his sweatshirt and tickled his ribs. “I love you in a tux or nothing at all. I understand why you’d want to impress your public, but you don’t have to slick up for me when I’d love you in a clown suit.”

His smile grew wide. “All right, we’ll stay here. Would you call this a romantic spot?”

“A lovely Zen garden overlooking the sea? Yes, it’s wonderfully romantic.”

“Good, because I want you to remember this.” He moved her off his lap to the bench and got down on one knee. “Darcy MacLeod, I love you with all my heart and soul. I don’t want to spend another day without you. I’ve already cut way back on my concert schedule. I intend to write and record right here in Monarch Bay, so you needn’t worry I’ll be away from home more than I’m here. As for Defy the World Tomatoes, it’s a brilliant concept, and I hope you go nationwide.”

He paused to take a deep breath and then plunged ahead. “Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

His proposal was so completely unexpected, she was flabbergasted and just stared at him, unable to do more than gape witlessly.

“Would you like to think about it?”

He’d already made it plain they’d have a real home, and the last of her reservations dissolved in a flash of pure bliss, but she managed only a strangled gasp.

He took her hands in his and squeezed them lightly. “I didn’t mean to send you into a catatonic trance. Should I call the paramedics?”

Finally able to suck in a deep breath, she threw her arms around his neck. “All this time, I’ve been telling myself none of this is real. But you are for real, aren’t you?”

He fluffed her hair. “Just because I’ve a closet full of Grammys doesn’t mean I’m not as real as the next guy.”

Darcy pulled back slightly. “You’ve won Grammys for your classical recordings?”

He nodded. “Sure, lots of them, but they give them out before the televised awards, so you’ve never seen photos of me in
People Magazine
hugging whoever’s hot that year.

“Let’s go shopping for your ring in the morning. Then I want to take you home to Atlanta to meet my folks. Your parents could come from Texas, and we could be married there. Would that be all right with you?”

She raised her hand to beg for a minute. “Just let me catch my breath.” Looking back, it seemed as though she’d boarded a roller coaster that first day he’d walked into Defy the World Tomatoes. It had been an incredible ride, and she didn’t want it to ever end.

“I’m doing the flowers for a June wedding down the street,” she finally replied. “Then Christy Joy and Jeremy want to get married, but if you can give me a couple of months to pull everything together, I’ll marry you in Atlanta or Fresno or Katmandu, wherever you like.”

Griffin stood and pulled her into his arms. “Thank you. Now let’s go inside before we start celebrating, get too wild and roll right off the bluff.”

Darcy looked out toward the sea where the waves shimmered with the last of the light. “We’re going to have to put up a railing here so that when we turn the Zen garden into a sandbox it won’t be dangerous for the kids.”

Griffin swung her up into his arms. “We’ll have beautiful children.”

She could so easily imagine their girls being tall like him and the boys barely grazing five feet that she began to laugh. Together they would always have laughter and such beautiful music she couldn’t wait to say, “I do”.

About the Author

To learn more about Phoebe Conn, please visit
www.phoebeconn.com
. Send an email to her at
[email protected]
or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well,
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/phoebeconn
.

Virginity is overrated.

He’s The One

© 2010 Jane Beckenham

Taylor Sullivan doesn’t trust Cupid, but she plays one for a living. As a successful wedding consultant, she creates a couple’s ultimate fantasy—even though she’s never managed to create her own.  And when her clients start asking her for wedding night advice, she’s sensible enough to know when to enlist help.

Cade Harper knows two things about women. They either abandon him, or use him as a walking bank. He doesn’t do commitment, and marriage is a dirty word—witness the string of broken hearts he’s left in his wake. Yet Taylor’s business proposition intrigues him. In exchange for one night of no-strings passion, she’ll develop a promotional plan for his business. Who could say no?

Never one to buy anything sight unseen, Taylor tests the waters with a kiss. In an instant she has the only answer she’s ever wanted—that Cade is the one she wants.

As business starts tumbling into pleasure, Cade finds himself falling hard and fast.

It’s a fantasy come true—if they can turn heartache into forever…

Warning: Contains explicit, straight-to-the-heart sex between a hopeless romantic heroine and an abandon-all-hope hero. No need to dress up for this party—just curl up with a glass of bubbly and a box of tissues!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
He’s The One:

“Virginity is overrated.” Easy words? She’d said them often enough.

Yet when Taylor Sullivan whispered them, the swell of panic threatened to take hold.

She had to do this.

It was time.

Taylor exhaled every emotion she’d bottled for the past twenty-four hours, ever since she’d seen him: Mr. Perfect-for-the-Job.

As she stood outside the bar, her bravado waned and panic set in. Who wouldn’t panic when they were about to make an off-the-wall suggestion to a stranger?

She gripped her assistant’s arm. “I can’t. This is a mistake.”

“No, it’s not. You said so yourself, he’s the one.”

“What do I know? I mean,
who
is he?”

“Cade Harper. Bad boy made good—and one sexy hunk. Is that enough for you?” Nita gave her a suggestive grin.

Oh, yeah
.

Taylor wiped her sweaty palms down the sides of her skirt. “The fairy godmother sure did hand out good looks at his bassinet.” He’d been the best man at a wedding she’d planned recently. Haloed by the light streaming in from the stained glass window, he’d taken her breath away.

But now, twenty-four hours after that wedding, as the throbbing beat of music threaded its way out onto the kerb where she and Nita waited, Taylor’s wayward nerves vaulted into overdrive. “I should never have told you.”

Nita shrugged. “Probably not, but, hey, I get those calls too.”

“But you can answer them,” Taylor countered.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

Taylor bit down on her bottom lip, chewing it as if it afforded her the luxury of time. “I don’t want a relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? This is a fling. A one-nighter. Get you past first base, so to speak.”

First base! Taylor swallowed the lump that choked off her breathing. The icy chill that slid along her bones had absolutely nothing to do with Auckland’s balmy May evening breeze.

Her fingers grazed the side of her handbag and snapped back as if scalded when she remembered exactly what her bag contained.

Condoms!

An appropriate reminder: preparation and safety first.

She could do this. She could. She grabbed Nita’s arm. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Nita stalled mid-step. “What? You expect me to come too?”

“I need you. I can’t do this on my own. I need…”

“Cade Harper is who you need, Taylor. You said so yourself. Cade’s a love ’em and leave ’em sort of guy. Now go.” Nita gave her a push toward the entrance and waved goodbye.

Love and leave. Definitely perfect credentials. Cade didn’t know it yet, but he was the answer to Taylor’s prayers.

Battling the raw panic lodged in her gut as every second edged her toward turning and running, Taylor surveyed the patrons. Her hands shook. She wanted to forget the idea. Forget sex. Forget Cade Harper. If she could.

Instead she focused on the entrance, and her pulse quickened.

The best man. How appropriate.

Cade hadn’t been at the wedding rehearsal; otherwise she would have noticed him. But at the wedding, dressed in a black tuxedo that molded his broad shoulders and a crisp white dress shirt with diamond stud buttons, he absolutely stood out and, within seconds, she’d made her decision. He was perfect for the job.

Squaring her shoulders, Taylor shoved the bar door open. For a moment, she stood motionless, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, the noise and heat hitting her in an undulating wave.

This was it.

Taking a deep breath, she clutched her bag and ventured in.

A single length of hand-chiseled wood operated as a bar and spanned one end of the room. Behind it were a medley of liquors and an ornate mirror etched with the slogan of a famous beer. Tables and chairs dotted around the room were mostly already taken. In one corner, a jukebox emitted ear-piercing rock music. In another corner, an eager group of players surrounded a pool table.

All of this was of little consequence to Taylor, because all she could focus on was her quarry—Cade Harper.

He stood behind the bar, a cocktail shaker in one hand and a salt-crusted margarita glass in the other.

Tawny, sun-bronzed hair tapered over his collar, and an unruly tendril dipped across his forehead, seemingly refusing to be controlled. He looked good. Very sexy.

No tuxedo tonight, but a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled back, stretched taut over biceps that flexed and…

Oh, God.

Definitely a bad boy.

Taylor wiped a hand across her brow and her tongue over suddenly parched lips. The temperature had escalated several degrees in one blazing second.

Partially hidden by a potted ficus, heart dancing an erratic beat, she watched Cade.

“Can I help you?”

Taylor spun around. “I…”

The voice belonged to a female version of Cade. She had the same coloring and the same dark eyes. Taylor glanced toward Cade over the woman’s head. “I’m here to see Mr. Harper,” she mumbled.
Mister! Good grief!
She wanted to have sex with this man, and she called him mister!

“Cade?” his replica responded, eyebrows quirking upward.

Taylor nodded, relieved the woman didn’t ask any questions, and wondered at the same time what her reaction would have been if she’d said, “It’s about sex.”

“Follow me.” The young woman crooked her finger toward Taylor, turned and wove her way between tables. With trepidation and anticipation colliding inside her stomach, Taylor hurried after the woman.

“Cade.”

“Yeah.” He handed the margarita to a customer, and Taylor’s gaze followed the salt-rimmed glass. It shimmered under the overhead lighting, and she found herself licking her lips, almost tasting the delicious salt.

“Lady to see you.”

The moment Cade turned,
everything
changed.

Cade Harper. Bad boy. One sexy guy.

Taylor’s voice stalled in her throat, and she knew, when his smiling eyes captured hers, she was in way over her head.

Cade wiped his hands on a cloth and again Taylor’s gaze followed. Long, lean fingers. Fingers that would touch…
Oh, boy!

He smiled. “You wanted to see me?”

She nodded and felt herself drowning in that smile. His dark eyes twinkled, a swirl of gold and chocolate brown. Just like Hershey Kisses
.

Kisses!

Yep. She was definitely going under.

“Lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got a bar to run,” he said, grabbing a knife and cutting a lemon into wafer-thin slices.

Taylor shook herself.
Okay. Come on. Just say it.
“I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Ask away then,” he said, not looking up.

Taylor burned and eyed the milling crowd. “Actually, it’s a proposition.”

He definitely looked then, and his gaze focused on her. He placed the razor-sharp knife on the cutting board. His mouth quirked at one corner, smiling, gaze assessing. “Sounds intriguing.”