Could she be developing a crush on a less available man? Stick to business. She pointed to the recorder. “Do you mind?”
He shrugged. “You’re the pro. I’ve only done a couple of these. One after each of my book releases.”
She depressed the Record button and donned her reporter hat. “Let’s discuss the title of your latest book. “Soul of the Garden sounds almost spiritual. What does that have to do with gardening?”
A wide smile split his face and made him even more handsome. “Everything.”
Eve knitted her brow. Interviewing celebrities and socialites was so much simpler than authors, who always seemed so complex.
“Making things grow, knowing nature always has the upper hand, watching seedlings you’ve nurtured turn into incredible works of art is one of the most spiritual experiences I’ve ever had. You’ve never grown anything, have you?”
She shifted in her seat. “I have a spider plant.”
He pursed his lips, obviously stifling a laugh.
“I know, it sounds so pathetic.” She rolled her eyes.
Beau stood suddenly and offered her his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and allowed him to help her up. A jolt of sensual energy coursed through her. She couldn’t let go.
“I want to show you something.” He led her back outside, and they followed the walkway to a wood bench beside a high stone wall. Beau wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the bench, then climbed up next to her.
A quiver of desire stormed through her from the contact. She looked up into his eyes. “W-what are we doing here?”
“Turn around.”
She did as he said. The red desert stretched out in every direction beyond the wall, barren and inhospitable. She had to look back toward the garden to remind herself where she was. Awed by the stark contrast, she gazed at Beau. “It’s like night and day.”
“Yes, very much.”
“You’ve brought all this lush green to a dry, forbidding place. You’ve conquered the desert.”
His lips curved into a grin. “No, not conquered. I’ve only harnessed the things the desert offers up. Everything here is native. They’re normally scattered on hilltops and along roadways. I’ve assembled them, that’s all.”
“You’re being modest. It’s got to take incredible skill to create this here.” She swept her arm through the air.
He dropped his gaze, then stepped off the bench. When his hands returned to her waist to help her down, Eve wished time would slow to a crawl. The sensation of being in his arms infused her with desire. She could get lost in his eyes. Remembering her mission, she glanced away. “I guess we should go back inside.” She stepped past him, not waiting for his reply.
His footsteps behind her seemed strangely comforting. Back in the living room, she sat on a chair beside the fireplace, afraid to return to the couch, to be so near him.
Beau took his seat, a playful smile on his lips. His blue eyes sparkled with infectious mischief.
Lord, he was handsome. Had the temperature risen or was it the slow burn he was stoking inside her? “What is it?”
“Stay for dinner. Kelly’s making fajitas.”
The mention of Kelly brought her back to reality. She had a crush on a gay man. How pathetic. She schooled the smile from her face. Her stomach growled. It was after eight p.m., New York time, and she’d not really begun the interview yet. “Um, okay. Thank you.
“Kelly,” Beau called.
Footsteps clicked on the stone tile. She looked up and saw Kelly in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Eve will be staying for dinner,” Beau told him.
Kelly nodded curtly and left.
Eve sighed as she bit at the skin around her thumb nail.
Beau leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not. I’m…must be the flight. I’m…tired.” Or attracted to a gay man. Why did her libido always play such mean games on her?
“Would you like to rest before we finish the interview?”
Finish? She’d hardly started. “No. Let’s do it.” She reached to the coffee table, for the tape recorder. “Okay. I think our readers would like to know about Beau Calloway, the man, as well as the best-selling author. No other gardening books have achieved the popularity yours have. What is it that makes your books so appealing?” She wanted to ask what made him so personally appealing, but she held her tongue.
He stared toward the garden. “Have you read them?”
All three of his books were packed in her suitcase. She’d meant to read them before she got here, but when Jacoby gave her a few days off, she did what any red-blooded, hard-working single woman would do. She went shopping by day and out with her friends at night.
Regretting her lack of preparation, she swallowed hard. “Well, I glanced at them.” God, did that sound lame. “I meant to, really. I promise I will tonight. Let’s shift gears. How about I take some pictures today and tomorrow we do the interview.” She’d speed read the books tonight at her hotel. Not as if she had anything else to do.
“Okay.”
“Let me get my camera.” She headed to the foyer and fished the camera out of her suitcase. At least Lara had showed her how to work the thing. Maybe she could convince Calloway she wasn’t a total slouch. When she returned to the living room she noticed Beau had opened the curtains. A huge picture window revealed an expanse of rocky orange desert. The fiery sunset cast the landscape in a thousand vibrant colors. She sucked in a breath as she took it all in. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“I thought you might want to take a shot of the western view, show the comparison of the garden to the desert,” he said.
“It’s amazing. Can we go out there?”
“Sure.” He led her out through the garden, walking along a path that ran beside the house to a wrought iron gate, similar to the one she’d seen when she arrived. He opened it and gestured for her to go first.
She snapped a dozen photos then checked them on the display. She’d never be able to choose between them. Each showed a slightly different view of the sunset over the rocks. Then she trained her camera on the man and took his picture.
He shook his head. “I’m not fond of posing.”
She snapped another photo. “But I’d like a candid shot of you.”
A slow, sexy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’d rather take your picture. You’re very pretty.”
Heat bloomed in her belly. Was she seriously crushing on a gay man? But damn, everything about him drew her from the cleft in his chin to his thick hair to the was his shirt hugged those broad shoulders.
They stayed there, silently watching until the sun disappeared behind some stone pillars. Beau led her back inside and they sat on the couch. A shiver rolled over her body.
“How about a fire?” he asked.
She smiled. “That’d be perfect.”
She waited for him to light the fireplace. Instead, he offered her his hand.
Warring emotions caught her off guard, but she took it and they strolled outside. The feel of his callused skin against hers had her thinking about things she shouldn’t, like what those long legs would look like under his jeans. She shoved the image from her mind. “I thought you were lighting a fire.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder at her and grinned. “We are.” He pulled her along the winding path, veering off the paved section onto a sandy trail. A few steps later, they emerged in a clearing.
The tiled patio surrounded by potted greenery held a chiminea, a double swing, a table and two chairs. The place was more like a magical wonderland than someone’s backyard.
A set of French doors opened to a huge kitchen and she spied Kelly working at the counter. “Your garden certainly holds many secrets, doesn’t it?”
“Secrets?” He sat on the swing and patted a spot on the cushion next him.
Eve hesitated but after a few moments, she couldn’t resist
joining him. “I thought I’d seen the whole thing, but I never even realized this area existed.” The swing moved slowly, its rhythm lazy and seductive.
“The garden wraps around two sides of the house.”
He stopped the swing and got up. “I promised you a fire, didn’t I?” Plucking a yellow blossom from a pot, he stepped in front of her and threaded the flower’s stem into her hair. “Beautiful” His smoky stare and the feel of his fingers in her hair ignited a heat inside her that hadn’t been stoked in way too long.
“Mexican Gold Poppy.”
Her breathing grew shallow as she looked up at him. Something clanged nearby, and they both glanced into the kitchen.
Kelly headed toward them holding a tray loaded with silverware, plates and wine glasses. He set his burden on a chair and distributed the items on the table.
Beau retreated to the chiminea and loaded wood into it. His broad shoulders and narrow waist formed a sensuous triangle. She tried to remain nonchalant as she studied the muscles in his back and shoulders.
Kelly plucked the cork from a wine bottle. Its hollow pop jarred her attention from Beau’s assets.
Kelly handed her a glass filled with crimson liquid, then walked away. “Your wine’s on the table, Beau.”
Beau winked at Eve. “Now we have wine and fire. What else could we ask for?” He joined her on the swing.
She watched the yellow glow of the fire slowly rise in the chiminea. “World peace?”
He laughed. “To world peace.” He tapped his glass to hers, then drank.
She took a sip. The fruity taste was unlike anything she’d had. “Mm. This is good.”
“There’s a vineyard about sixty miles north of here. I order the stuff by the case. Best Syrah I’ve ever had.”
Her gaze swept over her surroundings. The smell of the various flowers mixed with the spicy aromas from the kitchen. She breathed deeply, inhaling the ambrosial mix. “I understand now why you don’t like to leave here.”
“It’s a veritable Garden of Eden. And here I sit with Eve. All I need now is an apple and I’ll be in deep, deep trouble.”
She swallowed hard. “Let me know if you see a snake.” Writing and gardening weren’t the man’s only talents. He got high marks in the charm department as well even though he couldn’t possibly mean it.
Kelly returned carrying a sizzling platter and set it in the center of the table. “Dinner’s served.” He laced his fingers together. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be heading out now.”
Beau nodded. “See you Tuesday. Thanks for everything.”
Eve looked from one man to the other. Didn’t he live here with Beau?
As Beau served them each a tortilla, she cleared her throat, summoning her courage. “Why isn’t Kelly joining us?”
“Kelly? Why would he?”
“Well, isn’t he your…don’t you two…”
“What?”
She tried to find the right words, but couldn’t. “Never mind. Your personal life is none of my business.”
He burst out laughing. “Wait a second. You thought Kelly was my lover?” He slapped his thigh. “Oh, Eve. Why didn’t you say something before? I must have confused the hell out of you. Kelly cleans and occasionally cooks for me.”
Heat rose to her face. The fact that he wasn’t gay sent nervous tremors through her entire body. “Well, you can certainly understand me jumping to that conclusion, can’t you?”
“Let me assure you, though. I’m straight as an arrow.”
“He seems almost…possessive of you.”
Beau’s smile faded. “He probably is. I’ve helped him out over the years. I volunteer at a crisis center in Flagstaff. Kelly wandered in one night, frightened and strung out.”
Something tugged at her heart. Beau Calloway might prove more complex than her usual fluffy celebrity subjects. “Tell me about your involvement with the center. What’s it called?” She loaded her tortilla with strips of steak and vegetables.
He held up his palm. “I don’t want this in your article, Eve.”
She exhaled sharply. “Why not? It’s part of who you are. That’s what I’m supposed to report on.”
“I won’t exploit my volunteer work. That’s not why I do it. Can’t your story concentrate on my writing, my work with gardens? I’m a very private person. I only told you about the center because you asked about Kelly. How do you think he’d feel if he read the article and saw you make mention of it?”
She sipped her wine and studied his features, lit by the fire. His strong jaw quivered. She had no qualms exposing a married celebrity’s affair or a socialite’s indiscretions. They got what they deserved as far as she was concerned. Beau’s volunteer activities fell into a different category all together. She needed to piece the puzzle together for her readers, create a picture of the reclusive author that would knock Jacoby’s socks off. It could mean a raise, which she desperately needed.
But she couldn’t bring herself to violate his trust. “I see your point,” she finally said. “I’ll leave that out of my story.”
“Thank you.”
As they ate in the comfortable solitude of the garden, strategically placed solar lights glowed brighter, casting a subtle glow against the darkening sky. The foliage took on a different tone at night.
After they’d finished eating, they sat on the swing, drank wine and talked for hours. Eve checked her watch, still on New York time. “It’s nearly three am for me. No wonder I’m so sleepy. Would you mind giving me a lift to my hotel?”
He stood and set his glass on the table. “I know this is really presumptuous, but I have a perfectly good guest room. Sure you don’t want to stay? I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
The problem was she didn’t want him to be a perfect gentleman. She imagined him taking her in his strong arms and kissing her—all over. The chilly night air proved no match for her steamy thoughts. Fanning her face, she shook off the fantasy. She was an adult, not a teenager with raging hormones. Surely she could control herself.
But staying here would mean they’d have more time together tomorrow, for the interview. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be a problem.” She got off the swing.
The sparkle she’d noticed several times returned to his eyes. His face grew darker, more sensual. “It would be my pleasure.”
The fire in the chiminea had gone out, but it still burned in Eve’s core as they stood close, neither uttering a sound.
Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ll show you where the guest room is. Let me grab your suitcase.” He disappeared inside the house.
Eve took a moment to catch her breath, then followed him into the kitchen. He led her to a large bedroom with a sleigh bed and an antique dresser. A picture window looked out on the garden. She sat on the bed, tired yet exhilarated by her attraction to the man. Realizing she was alone with a near stranger in a bedroom, she shot off the bed and retreated to the doorway.
Beau closed the drapes. “Bathroom’s the first door on the right. Let me know if you need anything. My room is next door.” He lifted her suitcase onto a bench then crossed the room to where she stood. They were inches apart. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but he remained silent.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Desire rushed through her. It had been too long. “I guess this is goodnight. Thanks again for your hospitality.” Why couldn’t she just act upon her impulses, which told her to kiss him.
He took a step out of the room. “Right. Goodnight.” He closed the door.
She leaned against it, listening for his footstep. Finally, she heard him walk away, then a door closed. Minutes later, she lay in the soft bed, thinking about him. Her body longed for his touch, but her mind intervened.
She tried to ignore the stirring between her legs but the need refused to abate. She slid her hands over her breasts, felt the nipples tighten to needy peaks. Closing her eyes, she imagined Beau touching her, kissing her lips, her breasts, the hollow of her throat.
Muscles deep inside her pulled taut. She pictured Beau laying beside her, cupping her mound, asking her for permission to make love to her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”
He slipped a finger inside her, in and out in perfect rhythm. She lifted her hips, moving up and down on the bed as she’d always wanted to but never had the nerve.
Then she was naked, bared for him as he pushed between her thighs and teased the head of his cock against her entrance. She spread her legs farther apart, silently giving him permission to proceed, to fill her. He pushed inside her heat as her intimate muscles clenched in welcome. With each thrust he went deeper and deeper, satisfying her need.
Desert of Desire Page 2
