He eyed her solemnly, then grinned, took her hand, and pulled her to the rear of the garden. "Then tell me what you think of this, Beth."
He made her name sound feminine, musical, compelling. Curious, she followed him without protesting. Around a segment of hedge, she saw a colorful orange-and-yellow profusion of African daisies interwoven with ferns, marble statues of cherubs, and red roses.
"Ooh!" she breathed as the invigorating hues titillated her senses. Then she remembered. This was business. "It's a rare combination, but it works well. The roses add a wonderful smell, the marble a shiny, cool contrast."
Nash looked like he was suppressing a smile at her change of demeanor. "It's inspired," he agreed. He checked his watch. "But we don't have time to appreciate it now."
She realized Nash was still holding her hand. The contact gave her a comfortable feeling. For about two more seconds. Then she felt self-conscious for enjoying the rough and smooth places of his hand, its warmth, its protection. Wiggling her fingers, she pulled back, all too aware they were alone.
A playful smile quirked up the corners of his mouth as he released her. "I can't decide if I like the swim suit better or that. It's the same color as cotton candy."
She felt her cheeks grow warm. "Shorts seemed too casual." She glanced down Nash's white knit shirt and pale yellow slacks. That was an imprudent move. Her heart fluttered. "We'd better get back to the picnic," she said brusquely.
Nash walked silently beside her as they passed through two more gardens, both different from the others. Beth concentrated on their design, rather than on Nash. One thing she knew about Osgood already. He liked variety.
Nash's arm brushed her elbow. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. Now or in the pool. It's just that I'm, uh, used to seeing working women dress more conventionally."
He looked uncomfortable, as if he'd stepped on her toes. She hated to make anyone uneasy. "Tailored is boring. I don't know who decided women had to dress like men to be good in business. And you didn't embarrass me. Working solo has its disadvantages, one of them being a scarcity of compliments. I guess I've forgotten how to accept one."
He thrust his hands deep in his pockets. "You haven't always worked alone?"
A question that could lead to an unpleasant discussion. She'd learned to be honest but to give as little detail as possible. That way no one made connections. "When I left college, I worked for a large firm that covered a broad scope of services from contracting to interior decorating. We handled jobs from start to finish."
"The problem with that is enthusiasm dims. One project starts looking like another." His voice carried disdain for the cookie cutter approach.
"Exactly. I was ready for a change." That was no lie. Circumstances had merely pushed her out sooner than she'd anticipated.
Cognizant of Nash at her side, she recognized the mild scent of chlorine. Was it sticking to his skin or hers? She glanced at him. His complexion was more tanned than hers. Would he have a swimsuit line around his hips? She grew warm imagining him naked. Since when did she indulge in...voyeurism?
Beth was thankful when they arrived poolside. The picnic had moved to the adjoining flagstone patio. Osgood himself, wearing a chef's hat and apron, was flipping hamburgers while two maids scurried around a table laden with food.
"Grab a plate," their host invited. "Help yourselves. The baked beans will get cold. Don't forget the chili. It's my grandmother's recipe."
Nash stood aside to let Beth step in front of him. With a quick look at him, she realized he did it without thinking and would have done the same for any woman. She felt respected and that made her feel good. During John's divorce trial, her self respect had reached a low point. She'd called herself every color of stupid for being naive. Although her parents had bolstered her and she knew she'd done nothing wrong, criticism from outside sources had taken its toll. Would Nash believe her side of the story? Or would he, too, draw mistaken conclusions based on circumstantial evidence?
Why was she even wondering? After tonight they'd go their separate ways.
In addition to filling her plate with a little of this and a little of that from the crystal dishes on the table, Beth chose a bowl of chili rather than a burger. Two white wrought-iron chairs were positioned closer together, four others scattered along the pool's border. Nash sat down in the chair beside her.
Devoting her attention to the food, Beth kept quiet and took a spoonful of the cheddar-topped chili. As soon as she raised it to her lips, Nash warned, "You'd better be careful. It's--"
As the chili hit her mouth, her tongue tasted fire. Her throat felt the singeing heat next, and when she swallowed, she knew she'd feel the spices the whole way to her stomach.
Nash grabbed his cup of punch. "Here, drink this fast to wash it down."
She grasped the cup and downed the liquid as fast as she could. Her eyes were watering and she feared her face was lobster-red. She felt like an idiot!
Nash leaned close to her ear, his warm breath fanning her cheek. "Hold on, I'll get you another glass."
While she opened her mouth to let air help cool it, she searched for a Kleenex in her purse, covertly glancing at the other two men who were still heaping their plates and talking to Osgood. Thank God they hadn't noticed.
Nash was back with water this time. She gulped it down and leaned into the back of the chair finally feeling less uncomfortable. "My gosh! Did his grandmother formulate that recipe, then decide it was too potent for her generation so she had to hand it down?"
Nash chuckled. "I think Osgood embellished it. It's hotter than the last time I tried it."
"I didn't see you gasping for water! Do you have a steel throat and stomach?"
His eyebrows hiked up, giving him a roguish look. "I only take small forkfuls at a time. You scooped up half the dish."
"I did not..." She saw he was teasing her, so she smiled. "Thanks for the help. You saved me from causing a scene."
"You don't like being the center of attention?"
Beth's inner alarm went off. Nash wasn't just being friendly. He was probing to know more about her. She felt pleased, yet scared at the same time. Nash learning about her, her learning about him, was an exciting idea. But not a relevant one.
Her manner was casual. "No, thank you. Being in the center ring of a three ring circus doesn't turn me on."
"What does?"
You. Thank God she hadn't said it out loud.
But it must have glowed like a neon sign in her eyes. Nash reached forward and brushed a telltale tear from her cheek with his forefinger. For a moment she was stunned...stunned that such a gentle touch could cause a squall of turmoil in her chest. It unnerved her, so much so that she jerked away. His eyes held hers with such intensity her hands trembled. She reached for the dish that had tilted on her lap and lowered her chin. The charged moment passed. Remember, after tonight you won't see him again.
Nash moved back, fished his plate from the flagstone, and picked up his hamburger. With a wicked grin, he asked, "Wanna bite?"
She suppressed a smile. "No thanks. I'll concentrate on the deviled eggs."
As Beth ate, she tried not to be distracted by Nash and his long, lean presence. Relief passed over her when Osgood stood and demanded the group's attention.
Untying his apron, he flicked it over one of the tables, took a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses out of his shirt pocket and settled them on his nose. "Now we get to the nitty gritty of why you're here. Last evening, we were blown from the site of my next resort. I wanted you to get the feel of the surroundings, but I suppose you can do that on your own." He picked a pack of papers off the cocktail table and handed a packet to each architect.
"These are the building specifications and the parameters of the acreage. You have free rein. I've kept the cost down on the structures because I feel the grounds are more important. Do your magic. I'm not interested in the lowest bids. I want inspiration--let your imaginations run wild. I've chosen the four of you because I'm imp
ressed with the work you've already accomplished."
Whipping off his glasses, he poked them at the group for emphasis. "I want to make one thing perfectly clear. Your presentation is due on September fifteenth at one p.m. in my office. Your oral presentation and explanation of your concepts will be as important as your sketches and boards. You will draw lots to decide who will go first, second, third, etc."
With a professorlike look at all of them, he said, "I know you'll do your best." He returned his glasses to his pocket. "That about sums it up. Any information you need is in the packet I've given you. Now, let's enjoy dessert and iced coffee."
Beth turned to Nash as naturally as she would have turned to a friend. "That's it? All this hoopla for a five-minute speech?"
"He's one of a kind." Nash patted the papers on his thigh. "But he's right. Everything we need will be here. These get-togethers are to look over the people he's considering. And believe me, he's had his eye on you all evening."
She wasn't oblivious to what went on around her. "You're wrong. He's had his eye on you as much as me."
Nash's expression said that few people challenged his observations. "You could be mistaken."
One of his looks could level someone. She ignored it. "Nope. Osgood's subtle but sharp. Look at him. He's pretending to be interested in choosing a dessert, but his eyes are on Rosenthal."
Nash looked taken aback by her perception and inclined his head slightly. "What do you think he's learning?"
"I don't know. But I'm going to join him at the dessert table and go on the offensive." She stood and walked toward Osgood, feeling Nash's eyes on her back.
Osgood saw her coming and held out a dish. "Carrot cake?"
"Thank you, but I'll pass. I do have a question, though. I'd like to tour your factory and grounds as soon as it's convenient. Is that possible?"
His bushy gray brows arched over his eyes. "Of course. Anytime. Just come to my office and I'll show you around myself."
"Nine o'clock tomorrow morning?"
He looked at her speculatively. "You don't let grass grow under your feet, do you?"
"I try not to." She extended her hand. "I must be going. But thank you for the swim and picnic."
"A heavy date?" He winked.
"A heavy workload." She winked back.
Osgood laughed out loud. "I like your style. Straightforward. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
As Beth went into the house to retrieve her duffel bag, she remembered Nash's jacket in her car. Hopefully his car wouldn't be locked and she could throw it inside. She didn't like to be impolite, but leaving now was better than giving Nash a chance to cash in his rain check.
She left by the door that opened onto the winding drive where her car was parked. She was thankful the auto club had managed to start it without taking it to the shop. The problem was she was postponing the inevitable, but when she contemplated major repairs like a new carburetor, the cost made her procrastinate.
The sky was a marbleized blue, streaked with orange. End-of-summer sunsets were her favorite. When she opened the door of her Datsun, she pulled out Nash's jacket, now laundered and folded, and threw her bag to the passenger's seat.
As she slammed the door and stepped back, she stomped on a foot and heard an "Ouch!"
She turned and found herself close enough to Nash to kiss him. Her erotic meter ran overtime. Flustered, she exploded, "That's what you get for sneaking up behind me." Thrown off balance, Nash leaned against the car and balanced on one leg, rubbing his instep through his docksider. "I didn't sneak. You didn't hear me. You were too busy trying to leave without saying good-bye."
She pulled herself up to her full five feet five inches and said in a distancing tone, "I didn't think it was necessary."
"And I thought we'd established a...rapport."
They had. But she was going to ignore it. A cold wind blew around her heart. When would she be able to trust again? To forget John's divorce trial and the accusations his wife had made. To forget John had named Beth as corespondent to get out of his marriage and change his life without regard for her reputation or feelings.
Nash dropped his foot and put his hand on her shoulder. "I just mean I thought we'd decided to be friendly rivals."
She stepped back, away from his touch. The spot he'd held was stinging with heat. "That's not a good idea."
He gave her a devastating smile. "What can it hurt?"
Her. Her creative streak. Her enthusiasm for the project. Her singlemindedness. Her heart. "I want Osgood's contract, Nash. At this moment, nothing is more important. If I want to be successful, I need it. I don't want to be distracted."
His eyes gleamed devilishly. "I'd be a distraction?" A buzzing bee searched for nectar, leaves rustled with the gentle breeze, the truth rang in her ears. "You could be. Besides--"
"Besides what?"
She was afraid the fluttering pulse at her throat would give her attraction to him away. She wasn't ready to get involved with anyone. But to say that would be presumptuous when all he was asking for was friendship. "Nothing." She held out his jacket. "Thanks for letting me borrow this."
When he took it, his hand brushed hers. A reaction sparked in his eyes. Was he feeling the same chemistry she was?
The pause became uncomfortable. He looked at her closely and pushed a few tendrils from her cheek. "Do you know how lovely you are?"
The tail of the question was low and husky. Tingles skipped along her cheek and her mouth went dry. "Nash...."
"I know. That's personal and you're all business. Do men believe the image you project?"
She noted how smoothly his jaw was shaved. Did he shave twice a day? Most men didn't. She'd bet he was a perfectionist. Corralling her thoughts, she said, "My image hasn't been a problem." At least it hadn't been until the story about her and John broke.
He didn't appear to believe her. "Are you seeing anyone now?"
"No. I don't want to." Uh oh. That had slipped out.
He frowned. "Is that a generic disclaimer for all men or just me?"
How could he believe a woman wouldn't want to get involved with him? Could he be that vulnerable? This conversation was entirely too serious. Time to lighten up. She smiled. "I plead the fifth."
Before she changed her mind and accepted his offer of friendship or more, she slipped behind the wheel. "I really have to be leaving. Good luck on the project. I'll see you at the presentation."
Nash held the door, his eyes holding questions she wouldn't answer. Finally accepting her departure, he closed the door and stepped away. He watched as she started up the car. He was still watching as she drove away.
CHAPTER THREE
When Nash ventured into Plastics Unlimited, Osgood's parent company, he was struck anew by the architecture. He had toured the buildings two years ago. The style of the office complex was Spanish in design, yellow stucco accented by terra cotta and black wrought iron. It was unusual for this part of the country. The sprawling attached factory was similar, but one story instead of two. Nothing much had changed, including the smell of the small bakery that offered doughnuts and sandwiches. Most factories boasted a couple of microwaves and prepacked refrigerated lunch items. Not Osgood's domain.
The man's taste was eclectic to say the least, and Nash knew he'd have to employ more than one style in planning the resort. But he needed a unifying theme to tie it together. Maybe when he visited Osgood's resort in the Poconos this weekend, a good idea would grab him. If not, he'd work at it until he captured what he wanted.
Nash ambled down the carpeted hallway, noting the sconces and tastefully arranged wall decorations in black and gold. Remembering Osgood's office was situated at the end of the first floor hall, he headed in that direction. He was surprised to find Osgood's secretary absent from her desk and the door to the inner sanctum only half closed.
Nash heard a sound he'd recognize anywhere--Beth's laugh. Her throaty laughter was sexy, and he wondered why he'd never thought of anyone's laughter i
n those terms before. Whenever she spoke, he expected a high, sweet voice to come out of her mouth. He was always surprised by a lilting alto. It reminded him of whipped cream on gingerbread--a mixture of rich and spicy.
She laughed again and he found himself moving closer. Why was she in Osgood's office? Was this a planned meeting or a spur of the moment visit meant to take Osgood off guard? Despite what she'd said, maybe she was pursuing more than Osgood's contract. If so, Nash needed to find out.
"Can I tour the buildings or do I need a pass?" he heard her ask.
"I'll be your pass," Osgood answered. Nash thought he detected an undertone of smooth seduction. Was Beth attracted to older men with overused lines?
"I don't want to interrupt--"
"My dear, you aren't. Whatever's on my desk can wait. Being your escort will be much more enjoyable."
Over my dead body, Nash thought, barraged by an unexpected burst of jealousy he had no right to feel. Before he could rationally dismiss it, he pushed Osgood's office door open. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "Your secretary wasn't at her desk." He turned to Beth and nodded. "We meet again."
Her dark brown eyes widened when she saw him, then the black pupils narrowed. "Is this a coincidence?"
Nash shrugged. "Must be."
Osgood was scowling, as if Nash had interrupted when it was least convenient. The phone rang and Osgood picked it up, still glaring at Nash. His scowl deepened as he listened to the voice at the other end of the line. "I told you to take care of it. No, that won't do. I'm busy at the moment--"
"Mr. Osgood," Nash interrupted. "If you have matters that need your attention, I'll be glad to take Ms. Terrell on a tour of the facilities." He gave her what he thought was an ingenuous stare. "That is why you're here, isn't it?"
Beth ignored Nash. She said to Osgood, "I don't want to interfere with your schedule, and if I don't feel Mr. Winchester is showing me everything there is to see, I'll be back to enlist your guidance."
Nash had to hand it to her. She was good at public relations, making Osgood feel important yet agreeing to Nash's suggestion. He took her elbow in his palm. "We won't bother stopping in before we leave. I'm sure you have more important concerns." Before Beth or Osgood could protest, Nash guided her out the door.
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