Defy the World Tomatoes (8 page)

“You’re already famous,” Darcy reminded him.

“Perhaps, but that’s no reason not to set goals.”

“My goal is to make a tremendous success of Defy the World Tomatoes,” Darcy countered.

“You appear to be well on your way.”

“Yes, unless we’re stepped upon by an evil giant.”

“Is that how you see me?”

Every time Darcy glanced up at him, she got the same fluttering sensation in her stomach. Half of her wanted to grab him and never let go. The other half cursed her for having such a terrible weakness for such an impossible man.

“You confuse me completely, and that’s not good,” she confessed.

“I’ll not apologize for being who I am.”

“Nor should you.” His hand was warm, the pressure of his fingers comforting on hers, and she wished he weren’t from an exclusive world where landscapers remained in the yard rather than track leaves inside beautifully appointed mansions.

“It’s Saturday,” Griffin suddenly recalled. “Are you free tonight?”

“That all depends on what you have in mind,” Darcy responded.

“Dinner, movies. What do people do for fun here?”

“I’ve really no idea.”

“None at all?” Griffin teased. “What’s the matter with the men in this town that they aren’t pursuing you night and day?”

“Maybe they just have more sense than you do.”

Griffin laughed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You are an absolute delight, Darcy. I wish we’d met on my first visit here.”

Darcy thought it was a damn good thing they hadn’t. When they reached Defy the World, she pointed him on down the street toward the music store and went back to staring numbly at her sketchpad. All too soon she heard Griffin speak to George, and he did not sound happy. Before she could leave her desk, Griffin leaned in the doorway.

“Was that your idea of a joke?” he asked in a near snarl.

He sounded furious, but Darcy had no idea what had upset him and reacted with curiosity rather than terror. “I can’t even imagine playing a joke on you. What do you mean?”

“The clerk at the Song and Dance is a purple-haired freak with a nose ring who calls herself Isis. I still gave her the benefit of the doubt and introduced myself, but all I got in return was a dismissive shrug, so she was obviously no fan of mine.

“She leaned over the counter and said, ‘What can I do for you, dude?’ At least I found the paper I need, so the trip wasn’t a total waste.”

Darcy left her chair in a single hop and pushed her index finger into his broad chest to emphasize her point. “I was straight with you. The clerk I met was a red-haired young man. I’m sorry, I should have described him to you. If the ‘purple-haired freak’ mentions your name, I’m sure he’ll be devastated to have missed you.”

Griffin caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before he released her. “He’ll survive. Where would you like to go for dinner?”

Darcy stepped back and swept him with a suspicious gaze. “Did we agree to have dinner together?”

“Yes, we did. There’s a French movie at the Monarch Theater which looks pretty good. It starts at seven, but I don’t want to rush you.”

Darcy loved foreign films, and it had been ages since she’d treated herself to one. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark green overalls and rocked back on her heels. “We close at six, so we’ll have to go to the movie first and dinner afterwards, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at six forty-five.”

He reached for the pen in her bib pocket, but Darcy snatched it first and handed it to him. “I’m right around the corner at 231 Poppy. It’s the red house with the yellow trim and green door. You can’t miss it.”

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. Where would you like to eat dinner?”

“Let’s walk up to the Wild Thyme. It has the best food in town.”

The other theater patrons had dispersed around them, another couple was walking their way ahead of them, but with the shops closed on Saturday night, there was no other foot traffic on the sidewalk. The slight fog off the sea gave the streetlights a misty glow, and Darcy thought it a wonderfully romantic atmosphere until Griffin suddenly pulled her into a recessed doorway.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “Someone is following us.”

Darcy listened for footsteps and heard them slow, stop for a moment, and then speed up. As they drew near, Griffin raised his arm as though he meant to deliver a vicious karate chop, but as soon as the man stepped into the soft ray of the street lamp, Darcy caught sight of his red hair and grabbed Griffin’s sleeve.

“Wait! That’s the clerk from the Song and Dance.”

The startled young man noted the murderous gleam in Griffin’s eye and took a frantic backward step. “I’m sorry, Mr. Moore, I wasn’t stalking you. I wasn’t even sure it was you.”

“I have a black belt in karate and could have killed you rather easily,” Griffin swore darkly. “Don’t follow me again, ever.”

The clerk raised his hands. “No, Mr. Moore, I was just trying to get close enough to see if it really was you. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re close enough now. Am I what you expected?”

“Well, I didn’t realize you were so tall.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and extended his hand. “I’m Tom Holcomb, and I think you’re great.”

After a slight hesitation, Griffin shook Tom’s hand. “Go home, Mr. Holcomb, before you get yourself in any worse trouble.”

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way.”

Griffin waited until the hapless clerk had started back toward the theater at a near run before he again reached for Darcy’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really believe in your warning about being mugged, but with you here, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

Darcy blamed herself for putting the threat of muggers in his head, but the swiftness of his reaction to a few footsteps had frightened her badly. “Do you really have a black belt, or were you merely trying to scare him as badly as you did me?”

“No, I do have a black belt, but I’ve never had to use it to defend myself, or at least not yet. I’m sorry if you were frightened.”

Darcy’s heart was still thumping wildly, and she took hold of Griffin’s arm to steady herself. “I won’t be able to enjoy dinner now. We open at ten o’clock on Sundays too, so I really do need to get home.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Griffin walked her home without saying another word, but she could feel his disappointment over the way the evening had ended. She thought she ought to at least invite him to come in for coffee, but as she inserted her key in the lock, he’d already begun to back away.

She’d left a light on and pushed the door open. “I really did enjoy the movie,” she told him. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

Griffin studied her shaky smile and shook his head. “Not if you’re afraid of me, or what I might do.”

The man had such an expressive face that Darcy didn’t doubt his sincerity. She wasn’t afraid that he might attack her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wary of her own lack of self-control where he was concerned. She licked her lips and forced a more inviting smile.

“No, really, I’d like you to come in.” She walked through her door and waited for him to follow.

The living room was painted a deep terracotta and filled with philodendron whose trailing leaves reached from an assortment of plant stands to the hardwood floor. He could see into the kitchen where she had pots of herbs growing on the sill above the sink, and rows of African violets sat along the sills of the living room windows.

“I like the jungle look,” he finally announced and turned back to close the door. “Why don’t you slip off your shoes and stand on the coffee table.”