No Red Roses: A Loveswept Classic Romance (Santa Flores) (9 page)

“A week? I received the impression that it would be much sooner than that,” Aunt Elizabeth said, frowning. Then her face cleared
and she added, “Oh well, perhaps I was mistaken. What’s the young man’s name, dear?”

“Rex Brody,” Tamara answered. “He’s Margaret Bettencourt’s nephew and evidently very well known. It will only be for a short while and I’ll be perfectly safe. You mustn’t worry, darling.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” her aunt assured her tranquilly. “I have nothing but good vibrations about this move of yours, dear.” A tiny frown wrinkled her brow. “Though there was some disturbance about the blood.”

“Blood?”

“Oh, it was all quite mixed-up. There’s nothing to worry about I’m sure,” Aunt Elizabeth said comfortingly. “It was just a bit puzzling. I’m certain all the details will come in much clearer next time.”

Tamara hoped ruefully that some of the details would remain permanently blurred. How could anyone hope to practice even a well-meant deception when her aunt knew more than she did about her own future?

“I’ll call you as soon as we arrive in each city,”
Tamara said gently. “You won’t be too lonely, love?” It was the first time they’d ever been separated and Tamara was already feeling a bit misty about the parting.

Her aunt shook her curly white head briskly. “I’ll miss you, of course, dear, but I don’t believe I’ll be lonely.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “You’re very lucky, you know, Tamara. There’s such
music
in that young man!”

“Music?” Tamara asked, puzzled. “Yes, I believe that he’s a very accomplished musician. Janie tells me he’s quite a famous composer as well.” She shrugged. “I really wouldn’t know. He’s in the pop field, and I don’t really care for that type of music.”

“That wasn’t the music I was referring to, dear,” her aunt said absently. Then before Tamara could question this bewildering statement, her aunt ordered firmly, “Now eat your supper, Tamara. Your soup is getting cold.”

Tamara obediently picked up her spoon and applied herself to her meal. From past experience she knew that if her aunt didn’t wish to continue a conversation, there would be no
moving her. Besides, she was determined to let nothing worry her during this next week. For the first time in years she was free to do exactly as she wished, with none of the responsibilities of her career to worry her. She fully intended to enjoy the respite she’d almost forcibly wrested from Rex.

And who knew what Rex’s attitude would be after only a few days with her in his fast-moving world? She would be such an alien! She looked musingly around the kitchen with its polished pine cabinets and the red gingham curtains at the window. It was all so simple and homey, and it must be as far removed as another planet from Rex’s luxurious surroundings in New York. Back in his own world, populated with the alluring, sophisticated women he was accustomed to, he would probably forget about this temporary aberration over her. She might not even hear from him again once he realized how very far apart they were in every way that really mattered. Of course he was gone for good!

Why did that realization bring this curious flatness? The trip with Rex was merely going to
be an interesting interlude before she began her own personal renaissance. It couldn’t be disappointment she was feeling, she assured herself quickly. It was just that since Rex’s appearance on her horizon, she’d been thrown into a tumult of new sensations and experiences. The very “newness” of the feelings was exciting, so of course it was natural she should feel a trifle confused now that his whirlwind personality was removed from her immediate orbit. In a day or two, when her life was once more on its smooth, orderly track, she was sure she wouldn’t give the arrogant Rex Brody another thought.

It was almost noon the next day when the door of her greenhouse swung open explosively and Tamara looked up in amazement to see Rex Brody, dressed in rust-colored jeans and a yellow sweatshirt, stride into the room. Except for the change of clothes, he might never have left, for he still wore the frown of angry impatience that had been on his face when he’d slammed out of the greenhouse twenty-four hours before.

“Do you spend all your time out here?” he demanded, as he crossed to where she was kneeling. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

“Most of it,” she answered automatically, staring at him. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in New York!”

“I’m very well aware of that,” he said caustically. “In eight hours I’m supposed to be onstage at Carnegie Hall and I’m still in this podunk of a town thanks to your blasted stubbornness.”

“You mean you haven’t been to New York at all?” she asked, her violet eyes widening.

He scowled at her. “How the hell could I go to New York when I’ve been running around like a madman trying to find this phenomenon of a horticultural expert you insist on?”

“That’s why you’re still here?” Tamara asked faintly, shaking her head. “That’s completely crazy. I told you I’d locate someone and join you later.”

“I’m afraid I don’t trust you to make that ‘later’ as soon as possible,” he said. “And I want you with me now.” Grabbing her hand, he
turned and headed for the door, dragging her behind him.

“But I told you—”

“You told me you wanted an expert to babysit your precious plants,” he interrupted harshly. “Well, I got him for you, damn it. It took me all day yesterday and a trip to Boston University, but your expert is sitting in your kitchen at this moment. Would you consider a university professor with a Ph.D. in Botany adequate for your needs?”

“Well, yes, of course,” she stammered. “But—”

“Well, that’s what you’ve got.” He pulled her across the yard and up the back porch steps. “Dr. Lawrence Billings, currently on sabbatical from Boston University and willing not only to make house calls but actually live on the spot and give your herbs tender loving care.”

“Live here? But he can’t do that! What about Aunt Elizabeth?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Rex opened the kitchen screen door and stepped aside, gesturing mockingly for Tamara to enter.

Aunt Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen table
beside a tall, lanky man in his late fifties, with iron gray hair and a strong, intelligent face that had no claim to good looks. His gray tweed jacket and dark slacks were well worn but of good quality, and he had an air of careless confidence that reflected the assurance of maturity. He rose at once when Tamara entered the room and his smile was quick and warm.

Her aunt looked up from refilling their visitor’s coffee cup and said happily, “Tamara, do stop and say hello to our guest before you leave. Lawrence has just been telling me how eager he is to see your greenhouse. Do you suppose you’ll have time to show him around?”

“Yes, of course,” Tamara answered dazedly. She wondered just how long ago Rex had arrived. It was clear he’d not only had time to reconcile Aunt Elizabeth to her departure, but for Professor Billings to become “Lawrence.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Ledford.” Rex’s voice contained just the right note of regretful apology. “As I explained earlier, time is of the essence. I’m sure Professor Billings will be more than happy with you as a guide.”

“Certainly,” Professor Billings agreed genially. “You’re extraordinarily well informed for a layman, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth Ledford made a face. “I picked up a little expertise by osmosis living with Tamara, but I’m not in her class.”

His keen gray eyes alight with interest, the professor turned back to Tamara. “Your aunt informs me you’re writing a book on herbs, Miss Ledford. I’d be very interested to discuss it with you when you’re not so rushed. I do want to assure you I’ll take very good care of everything while you’re away.” He smiled ruefully. “I must admit Mr. Brody’s offer came like a gift from heaven. My sabbatical actually ended two months ago, but I had the bad luck to contract a rather virulent flu that put me out of action for some time. I was supposed to start teaching a summer course next month, but I’m under doctor’s orders not to return to the classroom for at least another six weeks, so Mr. Brody’s exceptionally generous terms came just in the nick of time.”

“It’s all working out so well for everyone,
dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said with a beaming smile. “Rex explained how disappointed you were not to be able to accompany him on the first part of the tour. Now, thanks to the Professor, you not only can start your new job right away, but I’ll have his company while you’re gone. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Wonderful,” Tamara echoed faintly. Thank heavens Rex hadn’t blown her story about the clerical position.

“I’ve packed two bags for you, and I’ll send the rest of your luggage along to your next stop. Rex tells me that will be Houston,” her aunt went on briskly. “Now all you have to do is change and pack your herb bag. I knew you’d want to do that yourself.” She turned to Lawrence. “Tamara never goes anywhere without her herb bag. It has everything from herbal medicines to sachets.”

“Really? I’d like very much to examine it,” Lawrence said. “I did a paper on the history of herbal medicines a few years ago. It’s really quite a fascinating subject.”

“Yes, it is,” Tamara said eagerly. “Particularly the early uses of belladonna. Did you—”

“I hate to curtail your discussion,” Rex interrupted smoothly, “but we really must be on our way, Tamara.” His iron hand closed on her arm with scarcely veiled impatience. “If you’ll excuse us, I’ll just accompany Tamara to her room and bring down her suitcases.”

“Certainly, Rex dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said, giving him a fond glance. What magic had Rex worked on her aunt, Tamara wondered bewilderedly. He had the very independent Elizabeth Ledford practically eating out of his hand. “But do come back down and join us for coffee. I want you to try my sugar doughnuts.”

Rex’s smile was totally charming. “I wouldn’t miss them,” he assured her with boyish enthusiasm. “Come along, Tamara.”

With his hand under her elbow, he propelled her firmly and quickly from the kitchen and down the hall. They were halfway up the stairs before she was able to jerk away from that steely grasp and turn to mutter crossly, “You don’t have to push me, Rex ‘dear.’ ” She stamped angrily
ahead of him up the stairs. “I’m well aware I’ve no choice but to go with you now that you’ve completely rearranged my life to your satisfaction. Tell me, how did you manage to bamboozle Aunt Elizabeth with all that phony boyish charm?”

He grinned. “I’ll have you know my charm is not phony. I’m just a simple, all-American type and your aunt has the good taste to recognize it.”

“You’re about as simple as a Rubik’s Cube,” she said grimly, as she opened the door to her room. She threw him a speculative glance. “I suppose it’s too much to ask that now that you’ve met Aunt Elizabeth you’ll admit she couldn’t possibly be the criminal you thought her?”

“No chance,” he replied tersely. He followed her into the room and shut the door. “I’ll grant you she’s a delightful woman, but that’s no sign she’s not a crook. When I was a kid, the numbers racket in my neighborhood was run by a little, white-haired old lady who resembled everyone’s dream image of a grandmother.”

She whirled to face him, prepared to make a scathing condemnation of his cynical attitude. Suddenly she lost track of what she was going to say. Rex stood in the middle of her bedroom, looking as boldly out of place as a pirate in the silken chamber of a lady-in-waiting. His dark vibrance charged the serenity of the room with an electricity that was almost violent. She wondered if she would ever be able to occupy this room without remembering Rex standing here, appraising her with those mocking dark eyes.

She was suddenly overpoweringly conscious of everything about him. The way his thick, dark hairline formed into a slight widow’s peak, the rhythmic movement of his hard muscular chest as he breathed, the almost indecent snugness of his rust jeans as they molded the flatness of his lean stomach and hips. She felt a slow heat burn through her that was as potent as it was bewildering.

“Shall I lock the door?” he asked, and her gaze flew up to his in shock. She saw the same sexual awareness that she was experiencing. His dark eyes were hot and intent as they roamed over
each valley and curve of her body, and his beautifully sensual mouth was oddly tender. “Let me love you, sweetheart,” he said huskily.

She drew a deep steadying breath, angry she’d let him see how his presence aroused her. She felt a languid melting in her loins and braced herself as if for a physical assault.

“No,” she said sharply, even as her breasts moved tumultuously with her uneven breathing. She pointed to the two suitcases by the bed. “That’s what you came up here for and that’s all you’re getting, Rex Brody.”

For one breathless moment she thought he would ignore her rejection and take her in his arms. Then his body relaxed, and he drew a deep, ragged breath. With a muttered curse he swung away from her, snatched up the bags, and stormed angrily toward the door. “If you’re not down in fifteen minutes, I’ll take it as an engraved invitation,” he said grimly. The door closed decisively behind him.

Tamara gazed at the door, a curious indignation mixed with her relief that Rex hadn’t exploited that brief moment of fluid electricity that
had leaped so suddenly between them. If he’d held her in his arms, she didn’t know if she would have had the will power to refuse his taking anything he wanted of her. She was only grateful she hadn’t been put to the test, and she certainly didn’t want to face him again in the intimacy of her bedroom. He’d said fifteen minutes and she had a shrewd idea if she wasn’t downstairs in that time, he’d have no compunction about coming up to get her.

In ten minutes she’d showered and exchanged her faded jeans and shirt for a tailored cream-colored blazer and matching pants and a peach silk blouse that looked glowingly attractive with her golden skin and shining, blue-black hair. She slipped on bone-colored high-heeled shoes and swiftly put her hair up in a knot on top of her head, leaving a few wispy tendrils to float alluringly about her face. There was no time for makeup, and she hurriedly checked her herb bag to make sure it was fully stocked. Finally she picked up from her desk the bulky loose-leaf notebook that contained her manuscript notes, and tucked it into the bag. She gave the room a
last hurried look before closing the door and almost running for the stairs.