by Coleen Kwan
“Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“Normally today would be my day off, but I’ve got too much to do.”
“I wish I could lend you a hand, but I’m heading back to Sydney. The movers are packing up my things tomorrow, then I’ll be back on Wednesday. Permanently.”
And she’d be bumping into him all the time. Maybe familiarity would lessen the impact he seemed to have on her. Maybe she’d get used to those smoky, brandy-colored eyes of his, that confident, dynamic air, that aura of barely leashed sensuality.
Maybe, but she wouldn’t bet on it.
…
Nate muttered an oath as he banged his knee against a cardboard box lying in his way. With his arms filled by a large painting, he hadn’t seen the darn thing just inside his bedroom. Easing the painting down, he glanced about. His king-size bed took up most of the floor space. The Eames lounger looked offended to be jammed under the window, and the custom-built dresser blocked access to the closet. There was simply not enough space in this house to fit all his belongings. At least he’d had the sense to leave the treadmill behind. Here in Burronga he’d have to go jogging the old-fashioned way.
He should have culled his furniture before moving, but he’d been too busy for that. So now here he was, with everything he owned crammed into this house. His only house. The Sydney penthouse had already been sold.
No going back now.
He’d painted the interior and cleaned everything, but nothing could disguise the fact that this was an old-fashioned, modest house. Funny, it had seemed perfectly adequate when he and Robbie had lived here. But then, a bed, couch, TV, and fridge were all his brother had required. As for the collection of modern paintings Nate had acquired, well, he could almost hear his brother cracking up over them. Nancy boy, Robbie would have teased.
He realized he was smiling, and that made him sigh. Sometimes he really missed Robbie.
He inspected the second bedroom. This small, crowded room was where he’d intended to set up his home office, but now he realized it wouldn’t do at all. He needed a proper office, preferably in the middle of town.
Instantly Ally’s gift shop came to mind. It would make the perfect address…but of course he couldn’t kick her out of the shop. Maybe her apartment upstairs? That would be even more suitable given he wasn’t going to be there full-time. But where would she move to? He shook his head, annoyed how his thoughts had circled back to Ally yet again. Something had happened last Sunday night. The spark of attraction he felt for her had grown stronger, but there was more developing now, and he didn’t like it. Sexual allure he could handle. Emotional involvement he didn’t need.
He’d come back to Burronga to rectify a few past mistakes, to find a piece of himself he’d lost along the way as he’d scrambled to the top of the heap. Not to get himself all tangled up with a complicated woman like Ally.
The house was faux American antebellum and in good condition, but the surrounding gardens were a bit worn and patchy, the stone wall lining the driveway crumbling in places. Nate could still recall working on that stone wall under Robbie’s instructions. He straightened his collar before ringing the brass-plated doorbell. He had his professional smile on when the door was opened by a fit-looking man in his mid-forties.
“Good afternoon. My name’s Nate Hardy, and I run a landscaping business. You may remember my brother, Robert Hardy; he did your garden a few years back. In fact, I used to work for him and I remember helping him with that wall over there.” He gestured toward the stone wall in question. “I couldn’t help noticing it could use a few repairs, so I wonder if you’d be interested in contracting me to do it for you, plus whatever else you might need around the garden.” He paused to hand his newly printed business card to the man.
The man didn’t say a thing. His long, horsey face stretched even longer as he scanned Nate’s card.
“Hardy Landscaping?” he said, his voice hard and dry.
“That’s right.” Nate nodded. “I’m re-establishing the business, and I’m contacting all the previous—”
“You can get off my property right now before I call the police.” The man scrunched up Nate’s business card and flung it over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Veins bulged on either side of the man’s neck as his face turned purple. “I don’t need your kind sniffing around here again.”
A feminine voice floated out from the depths of the house. “Babe, what’s all the yelling for?”
The man grabbed the door, as if he feared Nate would force his way inside. “Nothing to concern yourself,” he yelled over his shoulder before turning back to snarl at Nate, “I’m giving you twenty seconds to get off my land.”
“Look, I’m just here on business. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
A woman appeared at the door, dressed in tight Capri pants and a clingy leopard print top, her hot pink nails holding the crumpled business card. “Hardy Landscaping? Oh, you must be Robbie’s brother. I can see the resemblance.” She gave Nate an appraising smile and batted her false eyelashes.
Instantly it all made sense to Nate. The over-familiar wife, the outraged husband. His heart sank. He retreated from the door, leaving the arguing couple, and drove off as quickly as possible.
Another of Robbie’s grubby affairs. He punched the steering wheel in frustration. What had made his brother think it was smart to seduce his clients? And why hadn’t he noticed it going on at the time? Perhaps he’d subconsciously blocked it out, unwilling to see his brother’s shortcomings. Either way, it made a mockery of him trying to drum up new business by visiting old clients. Not bloody likely he’d get a second chance if Robbie had been shagging his married customers.
He pulled up at a red traffic light and crossed the antebellum house off his list. So far he’d done five cold calls, with only one former client showing mild interest. At least the next client was female and not a potential cuckolded husband. Edith P. Montgomery. He pictured a nice old lady with a rambling garden crying out for some maintenance. Yup, that was the sort of client he needed to kick-start Hardy Landscaping.
Twenty minutes later he was back in his car, driving off just as quickly. He’d never considered himself a prude, but he felt in desperate need of a cleansing shower after being subjected to Edith P. Montgomery’s attentions. A nice old lady? More like a voracious middle-aged man-eater who remembered Robbie well and was all too eager to employ Nate. As soon as he’d cottoned on to what kind of “gardening services” she had in mind, he’d quickly cut short the meeting.
Christ, he must be feeling his age. Once upon a time his ego would have been stoked by Edith P. Montgomery’s flattery. She was good-looking, unattached, and not at all shy about stating what she wanted. But he hadn’t been tempted, not one bit.
Because he couldn’t get a certain other woman out of his mind. A woman who seemed all stitched up but had the most soulful blue eyes he’d ever encountered.
He passed a hand over his damp forehead. It was past four in the afternoon. Maybe he should call it a day.
Restarting the landscaping business might prove harder than he’d anticipated. Not because of the amount of work required—he was used to hard work. What he hadn’t realized until now was how much of himself he’d invested in this venture. His job in finance had tested his intellect, but getting Hardy Landscaping re-established was a much more personal thing. And being reminded of Robbie’s indiscriminate affairs was sobering. Burronga was a small place, and people had long memories. Maybe he was a fool to think he could remake himself here.
Turning a corner, he found himself caught in slow-moving traffic. As he inched forward, he realized the road led past Clifton Gardens, the site of a three-day spring festival. This was the first day, a Friday, and he knew Ally had a stall there; he’d called her the day after he’d hauled Seth’s sorry arse out of bed, just to check she was okay. The call hadn’t lasted long. She’d insisted she was fine, and then she’d r
ushed on to tell him about the festival, as if she didn’t want to talk any more about the night she’d spilled her heart out to him.
Now, as he thought about her, an irresistible urge to see her took hold of him. Instead of heading home for his afternoon jog, he parked his car and walked in, telling himself he was here for work. There were bound to be stalls offering gardening and landscaping services. He was just here to check out the competition.
Swaths of tulips in eye-popping colors greeted him as he strode into the gardens, and crowds of onlookers sauntered past. He hadn’t realized the festival would be so popular. Maybe next year he’d hire a stall for Hardy Landscaping. If he were still in business. If he were still here. Of course he’d still be here. He filled his lungs with the scent of flowers. Where else would he be?
A large statue surrounded by a bed of white tulips caught his attention. Hell, he’d forgotten about this: the bronze sculpture of Colonel Clifton, the local bigwig who’d donated the land for the gardens, showed a stern-faced man astride his horse. It was an imposing statue, and it would have been even more impressive but for the missing tail of the horse. Nate winced as he remembered exactly where the hacked-off tail was—stowed away at the back of his garden shed, right where he’d hidden it almost fifteen years ago after getting drunk and breaking into the gardens. He’d never told anyone, not even Robbie. He’d stashed the bronze piece away and forgotten about it. Until now.
What was he going to do about it? It was obvious everyone else had become used to the tail-free horse; they probably didn’t even notice it anymore. But he did. He couldn’t look the horse in the eye. He’d have to do something, but not now.
He pushed on, searching for Ally’s stall. As he passed the bandstand, he paused, blinking as he caught sight of a tall, blond woman, her spine straight and shoulders pinned back as she strode along. Paige Kerrigan. He’d recognize that haughty posture anywhere. She appeared to be alone, but what was she doing here? Judging from the way she was striding along, not looking left or right, her face set, her gaze fixed on something ahead, he guessed she was here to confront someone. He glanced toward the line of stalls she was headed for, and his lungs constricted.
Ally. At her stall, serving a customer. The light breeze ruffled her brown curls and she wore a T-shirt with The Giftorium emblazoned across it in old-fashioned script. She looked a bit tired but pleased, like she’d had a long but profitable day.
Damn. She had no idea what was about to hit her.
Chapter Eight
The muscles in Ally’s lower back cricked as she bent over to record her latest sale in her notebook, but she didn’t mind the discomfort. Making another sale was far too satisfying. Brandon’s organically shaped glass vases were proving hugely popular at this festival. She’d have to ask him for more stock soon. Maybe he could make more large ones this time. They’d been the first to sell, and they pulled in a bigger profit.
Still engrossed in her satisfied musings, she glanced up to see a woman bearing down on her with a determined air. The woman was about her age but far better dressed. Crease-free linen pants and matching blazer, an Hermès scarf casually knotted around her neck, fine silver earrings, a fall of straight ash-blond hair grazing her shoulders, discreet makeup. Cool gray eyes drilled straight into Ally’s.
Ally straightened the edges of her T-shirt and put on her saleswoman’s smile. “G’day. Can I help you with anything?”
The woman looked Ally up and down without a word, her expression remaining stony. Okay, Ally thought. Not a potential customer. Maybe a disgruntled one?
“Are you Ally Griffin? The owner of The Giftorium?” The woman’s voice was as frosty as her face.
Ally frowned. She wasn’t used to this kind of attitude, and she didn’t care for the supercilious tone. Still, she kept her voice pleasant as she answered, “That’s me. And you are?”
The woman pursed her lips and opened them, but before she could speak a familiar figure appeared next to her.
“Hi, Ally.”
Ally blinked at Nate. What was he doing here, and why did he look so on edge?
Not giving her a chance to reply, he turned to the mysterious woman. “Hi, Paige.”
Just in time Ally stopped her jaw from dropping. “You’re Paige Kerrigan?”
The woman sniffed before giving her a tight nod. Ally drew in a breath and studied her with fresh eyes. So this was the woman Seth wanted to marry, for real this time. She couldn’t help comparing herself to her replacement and quickly concluded they were so unalike they might as well have come from different planets. Strange, considering they’d grown up just a few kilometers apart.
Nate spoke. “Paige, do you think this is a good idea?”
Paige’s coral lips compressed into a mutinous line. “Do you think it was a good idea for Seth to hide this”—she flicked her fingers at Ally as if she’d just scraped something disgusting off her shoe—“from me?”
“Excuse me,” Ally burst out. “Don’t talk as if I’m not present. If you have a problem with his past, why aren’t you confronting Seth?”
“He’s in Sydney.” Paige threw up her hands in exasperation. “Most convenient for him! I only found out about you this afternoon from a friend. I couldn’t believe it, so I rang him up and demanded the truth.” She halted, blinking fiercely, cheeks sucked in. “Damn him! Why would he want to hide something so important from me? Shouldn’t I know I’m not his first fiancée? God, the embarrassment. I must look like such a fool.”
The vague throb of sympathy that had welled up in Ally at the sight of Paige fighting back tears died down as she realized the woman was more upset about being humiliated than the fact he’d hidden something important from her.
“That’s for you and Seth to discuss.” Nate laid a restraining hand on Paige’s jacket sleeve. “You won’t accomplish anything here.”
Shaking off his hold, she glared at him, her silver earrings winking in the sun. “What about you? I suppose you’ve been secretly urging Seth not to marry me, either.”
“I haven’t done anything like that.”
But she didn’t appear to hear him, sweeping on bitterly, “I always suspected you didn’t like me. Well, I don’t care! You’re not going to ruin my wedding.”
“No one’s trying to ruin your wedding, Paige.”
“And you?” She turned on Ally. “Are you plotting all sorts of ways to get back at Seth?” She swallowed a few times, her mouth pulling down at the corners. “I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to exact your revenge.”
Ally shook her head. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not planning to sabotage your wedding. I mean, what could I possibly do?”
“Lots of things,” Paige huffed. “You could ring up the local newspaper or one of those current affairs TV programs. Or you could crash the wedding and try to humiliate me in front of my friends and family.”
Ally covered her mouth to stop her gaping. Did Paige really think she was that deranged? She almost wanted to laugh. “Sounds like a good storyline for a movie, but no, I’m not planning to do anything like that.”
Paige’s eyes narrowed to slits. “So you’re definitely over Seth?”
Ally didn’t even pause. “Yes, I am.”
“And you don’t mind us getting married here in Burronga?”
Ally glanced at the giant engagement ring sparkling on Paige’s finger and realized Seth and Paige could get married in her shop if they wanted. It didn’t make any difference to her. She lifted her head and smiled. “Of course not.”
It wasn’t Paige she looked at, but Nate. He smiled back at her, his eyes curiously lit.
“I had to check, of course. Seth wouldn’t tell me anything about you, so I didn’t know what to expect.” Paige sniffed, still scrutinizing Ally. Her stance relaxed, as though what she saw reassured her, and she waved a lazy hand at the laden table. “So you sell this giftware, do you?”
“Sure. Can I interest you in anything?” Why not, Ally thought impishly. Paige ow
ed her.
“I hardly think so. I found one of your shopping bags stashed in Seth’s car with a couple of the most frightful sweaters in it. I can’t think what induced him to buy them.”
Ally suppressed a chuckle. “But Seth picked those out himself for you and your mother. He wanted something special. He’d be so hurt if you didn’t wear them.”
“Oh, heavens.” Paige looked so appalled Ally almost felt sorry for her. Paige flicked her hair and tweaked her silk scarf. “I’d better leave you to your selling.” Shoulders straight, she swiveled on her heel and strode off.
“Phew,” Nate whistled as soon as Paige had disappeared. “You handled that well. I thought for sure there’d be fireworks.”
Tilting her head, she responded lightly, “Is that what happens when your current girlfriends bump into your exes?”
“I don’t try to cover up my mistakes, so leave me out of it. Are you sure you’re okay? Paige can be pretty abrasive.”
“You heard what I said to her. It was all the truth.” A group of boys ran past, balloons clutched in their hands. One of them let go of his, and Ally watched the bright red balloon sail off into the sky. That was how she felt: light, effervescent, released.
But when she glanced back at Nate, it felt as if he were tugging on her string. She wasn’t floating free anymore; he was pulling her back toward him. When she looked at him, everything else faded, and all she could focus on was him. He’d dressed differently today, more casually. In chinos and a blue shirt. But he still appeared smart and businesslike. Nice, very nice. The blue highlighted his tan, made his eyes all chocolatey.
She didn’t want to be attracted to Nate, but it seemed as inevitable as gravity.
“What are you doing here today?” she asked to make conversation.
“Checking out some of the landscaping stalls to see how they promote themselves.”
“So you’re serious about restarting your brother’s business?”
“I am. I’m devoting the next six months to getting it up and running before I start doing some part-time financial consulting work as well.”
