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He looked so good. Morning sunlight was even more flattering to his handsome face than starlight had been. Dressed in khakis and a blue polo shirt that matched his eyes, he looked hard and muscular as an athlete but gentle as a lover at the same time.
The perfect man—hadn’t that always been the problem? She’d never found anyone better. It made her half-angry, half-thrilled, and practically hopeless. Now that he was back, what was going to happen to her peace of mind?
One casual meeting and she was already straying into thoughts she’d vowed to stay away from. A simple look into that silverblue gaze and her breath was harder to find and she was thinking moonlight and satin sheets and violins on the terrace. Given half a chance, she would be sliding into his arms, raising her lips for kisses….
No! She couldn’t let that happen.
Very quickly, so quickly she hoped he didn’t even notice, she pulled herself up short and forced a refocus. Cam was a friend and that was all he could ever be.
So think friend, she ordered herself. Lover thoughts are not allowed.
“Yes,” she agreed, putting steel in her spine. “I’m…I’m back.”
His gaze swept over her. “You’re looking particularly lovely today,” he noted, a slight smile softening the corners of his wide mouth.
The corners of her own mouth quirked. “As opposed to what I looked like yesterday, after midnight?” she said, half teasing.
His grin was crooked. “Oh, no. After midnight you looked even better. Only…”
“Did you see a doctor last night?” she broke in quickly, eager to forestall any flirting he might have in mind. They had to keep their relationship on a certain level and she was bound and determined she would be the watchdog of that if he wouldn’t be.
“I guess so.” He shrugged. “I was pretty much out of it.”
“Yes, you were.”
Looking chagrined, he put his hand over his heart and gazed earnestly into her eyes. “I don’t drink, you know. Not really. Hardly ever.”
If she wasn’t careful, he was going to make her laugh, and that was almost as dangerous as making her swoon.
“So you said.”
“And it’s true. If I’d found a box of crackers in the trunk of the car instead of a bottle of booze, I’d have been all crumbs last night, instead of the sauced serenader I devolved into.”
She choked and his eyes sparkled with amusement at his own joke.
“But I do want to apologize. I was rude last night. I took over your lake and ruined your sleep and generally made myself into a damned nuisance.”
He meant it. He was really apologizing. She met his gaze in solemn candor. “You did.”
“And I’m sorry.” His blue eyes were filled with tragic regret.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. She’d missed him, missed his candor, missed his teasing and missed what often actually seemed to be his sincere sensitivity to what she was feeling. But she had to admit, that sensitivity could sometimes slosh over into a subtle mockery and she was afraid he might be working his way in that general direction right now.
Still, they were friends, weren’t they? She was allowed to act like a friend, at least.
“I’m not,” she said firmly. “I’m not a bit sorry.” She smiled up into his face. “Despite everything, it is good to have you back in the neighborhood.”
“‘Despite everything,’ you say.” He looked skeptical. “Seriously?”
Her smile deepened. “Of course.”
The warmth between them began to sizzle and she knew it was time to pull back. But it felt like resisting quicksand to do it. If only she could allow herself this small island of pleasure. Soon enough she would leave and hopefully wall off any further contact with Cam, except the most casual and occasional kind. Would it really ruin everything to let herself enjoy him, just for this warm spring morning?
Yes. He was looking at her mouth and it sent shivers all through her. She couldn’t risk even a tiny moment or two of weakness. Determined, she pulled away.
“I drove by to look at your car this morning,” she said over her shoulder as she started to walk toward the French doors that opened onto the gardens.
“How’s it doing?” he asked, walking with her.
She glanced at him sideways. “You didn’t tell me you’d had a tire blow out.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No.” She stopped in the doorway, turning to face him again. “It’s too bad. I sort of liked your story about fighting the wheel in order to get to my place.”
He snapped his fingers. “That was exactly what I was doing when the blowout occurred.”
She grinned. “Right.”
Mrs. Van Kirk, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat and carrying a basket filled with cut flowers, was out among her prized rosebushes and as she turned, she spotted the two of them and began to wave. “Yoo-hoo! My dear, I’m over here.”
Diana lifted her hand to wave back and said out of the corner of her mouth, “Who’s she talking to, you or me?”
He stood beside her in the doorway, looking out. “I’d say it’s a toss-up.”
She glanced at him. “She’s your mother.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked out at where she stood, waving at them. “Sometimes I wonder,” he muttered.
Diana didn’t wonder. In fact, she didn’t have a doubt. Cam looked so much like his mother, it was cute—or frightening, depending on how you looked at it.
“Well, I’m going to go to her,” Diana said, turning to leave.
He hung back. “I’m not coming with you. I’ve got a command audience with my grandfather.”
“Oh, no.” Stopping, she looked back at him. “Is this the first you’ve seen him since you came back?”
He nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “This should be interesting.”
To say the least. Diana winced, remembering all those old, painful arguments with the old man when he was younger. She could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t as optimistic about the coming meeting as he might pretend.
“I’m surprised you’re not taking in a bodyguard,” she said lightly, only half joking. “I remember those sessions you used to have with him.” Her eyes widened as she recalled some especially wild fights they’d had and she shuddered. “He put you through the wringer.”
Cam nodded and he didn’t smile. “That he did.” His gaze skimmed over her face. “You want to come with me?”
She reared back. “Not on your life. When I was suggesting a bodyguard, I was thinking more along the lines of one of those burly fellows digging posts for the new barbecue center out back.”
He laughed. “I think I can handle my grandfather,” he said. “I’m older now. Wiser.” He cocked an eyebrow. “More agile.”
Diana shook her head, suppressing a grin. “And besides,” she reminded him. “From what I hear, he’s often bedridden. I guess that would give you an advantage.”
He laughed again. “Exactly.”
Word was that his grandfather was in rapidly failing health. With Cam’s father spending most of his time at spa resorts that specialized in “rest cures” and his sister reportedly caught up in playing musical husbands, that left Cam to support his mother and help make some decisions. She was beginning to realize that those circumstances were probably part of the reason he’d agreed to come back home.
“I’ll come out and join you if I survive.”
“Okay.” She winced as she started out through the rosebushes. She shouldn’t be encouraging any of this “joining” or chatting or anything else with Cam. Her goal coming in had been to have the meeting with Mrs. Van Kirk and then get out of here as quickly as possible. It was becoming more and more clear that staying away from Cam had to be her first priority.
The older woman came toward her, smiling.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so glad to see you. Thank you so much for coming by. Come sit with me in the garden and Rosa will bring us some nice tea.”
Diana smiled back and followed her to the little gazebo at the far side of the flower garden. Her relationship with Cam’s mother had undergone a complete transformation in the last few years. When she was a teenager, she knew very well the woman had considered her a guttersnipe who would contaminate her son if she didn’t keep a constant vigil. The one time Cam had tried to bring her into the house, Mrs. Van Kirk had practically barred the door with her own plump body.
Years later, after Cam was long gone and Diana had started her flower business, the woman had hired her periodically, acting rather suspicious at first, but warming to her little by little as the quality of her work became apparent. By now, her affection for the girl she used to scorn was amazingly obvious to everyone—and sometimes resented by Janey.
But Diana was comfortable meeting with her, and she settled into a chair across from her in the gazebo, thinking once again how similar some of her features were to Cam’s. She’d been a beautiful woman and was still very attractive in a plush sort of way. Her hair was auburn where Cam’s was almost black, and her look was soft rather than hard, but she had the same blue eyes and sweet smile he did.
“I want to tell you how much I appreciate you bringing my son home last night after that terrible accident,” Mrs. Van Kirk began. “He was certainly out of sorts for a while, but Dr. Timmer assures us there will be no lasting injuries. He was so fortunate it happened so close to your place.” Her gaze sharpened and she frowned. “How exactly did you know the accident had happened?”
“Just lucky I guess,” Diana said breezily. This was not the time to go into reasons why Cam felt at home enough on her property to use it as a refuge. “I was glad to be able to help.”
“Yes,” she said, gazing at Diana as though seeing her with new eyes. “Well, anyway, we’ll have tea.” She signaled toward the kitchen, where Rosa had appeared at the door. The housekeeper waved that she understood, and Mrs. Van Kirk turned back to the subject at hand.
“Now, I want you to take a look at my new roses.” She pointed out a pair of new English heirlooms. “What do you think of them?”
“Oh, they’re lovely. That soft violet color is just brilliant.”
She looked pleased. “Yes, I’ve hired a new rose expert to come in twice a week and advise me. I want to make sure I’m getting the right nutrients to my little babies. He’s very expensive but I’m so pleased with his work.” She looked up. “Perhaps you know him. Andre Degregor?”
Diana nodded. “Yes, he’s quite good.” And an internationally recognized rose expert. “Expensive” was probably putting it mildly.
“You seem to be doing a lot of work on the estate,” she noted, giving the older woman an opening to get the conversation back on track.
“Yes.” She settled down in her seat and gave Diana a significant smile. “And that’s why I wanted to see you. I’m going to begin a major project. And I want you to take a primary role in the preparations.”
“A project?” she echoed brightly. What type of project would involve a flower stylist? She was beginning to feel a faint thread of trepidation about this. “What sort of project?”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.” Her eyes were shining with excitement. “I’m planning a whole series of various social gatherings—teas, dinner parties, barbecues, card parties—all culminating in a major ball at the end of next month.”
“Oh my,” Diana said faintly.
“On top of that, we’ll be hosting quite a few guests between functions. I’ve hired a wonderful caterer from San Francisco—for the whole month!” She laughed with delight at the thought. “And I want to hire you for the decorating. If all goes as planned, this will be quite an undertaking.”
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