Sex & Sensibility

by Shannon Hollis

  Speaking of which…

  “So, where’s this poor tree?”

  “In the back.” He slid open the glass door behind the kitchen table. “Yesterday it was—” He stopped in the middle of the brick patio, gazing at something to the left. “Hey.”

  Tessa joined him, and looked in the same direction. “Griffin, there’s nothing wrong with that tree that a little bit of water and some mulch wouldn’t fix.”

  The tree was yellow around the edges and a little droopy, but other than that it looked pretty good. And here she’d been prepared to give it last rites.

  “I gave it some of that yesterday. It must’ve liked it.”

  “When I was a kid my mom did a series of paintings of banana trees. Really sexual and over-the-top, you know? Big fruit and languid, serrated leaves in brilliant greens, reds and yellows. They sold like crazy. Anyway, she got a bunch of the trees in pots and it was my job to keep them alive in the studio until the series was done. I learned a lot that summer.”

  “About care and feeding of bananas?”

  “No.” She grinned at him. “About how sexy they can be. I was fourteen. What else do you think I was thinking about?”

  THE SAME THING he and any boy his age had thought about when they were fourteen. The same thing he had forced himself not to think about between the time Sheryl had told him she was leaving and Tessa had come breezing into his life in her ’66 Mustang and shot his beliefs about himself and his future all to hell.

  Her gaze was still twinkling at him. “Come on, Griffin. You didn’t ask me over here to doctor your banana. Or did you?”

  Ninety percent of him had. The other ten percent—the part that craved the sight of that dimple in her right cheek and got tight in the chest over where the bows were tied on her blouse—would be delirious if she stayed to er, doctor his banana.

  God, had he really asked her over here to do that? Could he get any more transparent?

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he said roughly. “That was pretty lame.”

  The sparkle drained out of her eyes like a slow leak. What had she been expecting? She’d driven away without a care in the world, just as Sheryl had, leaving him with nothing but pain and guilt. Even if it were self-inflicted in this case.

  “Then what?” she asked.

  There were so many reasons, not the least of which was that she was standing in the sun in those little pants that ended just below the knee, with two—he counted—thin knit tops with spaghetti straps in pink and lime green over that. He’d been trying to figure out for the last five minutes where her bra straps were. Maybe they were the skinny pale purple ones that—

  “Griffin?”

  Jeez. Could he for once focus on something besides her body when he was with her?

  “I wanted to thank you, at least,” she said. “For telling that detective to call me for information. That was nice of you.”

  “It wasn’t nice at all,” he said, his voice rough in his throat. “You send your investigator to the principal witness.”

  “She didn’t believe me, but it still felt good. Like maybe you didn’t think I was a fraud after all.”

  She was handing him his opportunity on a plate. “I don’t think you’re a fraud.”

  “Then why didn’t you back me up in front of Jay?”

  Ah, that was the question he’d been trying to answer all this time himself. He was silent for a moment, trying to arrange the words so they’d make some kind of sense. She bit her lip.

  “Never mind.” Chin up, she turned and walked into the house. “I can live without knowing.”

  “Tessa, wait.”

  In the kitchen, she faced him. “For what? For you to tell me you didn’t really mean to humiliate me in public—again? Just because it turned out well doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Or maybe you’d just like me to take care of your banana for you and get out of your life, like your other girlfriends?”

  His mouth opened but no words came out.

  “We had something special, Griffin, but as I told you before, until you quit pasting Sheryl’s face on any woman who cares about you, you’re just going to keep warding them off and being alone.”

  “I don’t—” He cut himself off.

  “Yes, you do. Then when they leave just like she did, you can tell yourself you were right after all not to get too close.”

  “The psychology major strikes again.”

  Brilliant comeback, Griffin. Guaranteed to make her stick around and go all warm and fuzzy on you.

  “No, just a woman,” Tessa retorted. “A woman who thought you might be able to drop that sword of yours and quit fighting long enough to get some joy out of life.”

  His sword? “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s your card, you know. The King of Swords. But if you’re not careful you’re just going to end up falling on it and living the rest of your life with a permanent injury. Is that what you want?”

  The King of Swords. Now he’d heard everything. “You’re not bad with a sword yourself. Are you having fun ripping me to pieces?”

  His gut hurt, as if someone really had stuck something sharp under his heart. But was she doing it, or had he been doing it to himself all this time, and she’d just prodded a self-inflicted wound? Just how much pain could a man take before he realized something had to change or there would be no hope of healing?

  “It’s my job to tell the truth,” she reminded him. “You should know that by now.”

  He did know it. And he’d come to depend on it, hadn’t he, during their investigation. Why should he expect that she’d be any different now, when the case was over?

  “The truth is a tough pill to swallow,” he finally admitted.

  “But isn’t that what you spent your whole career looking for and trying to prove? So I bring it to you in a package that looks different. Maybe it has a few pieces missing. It’s still the truth.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  She gazed at him, this woman who loved color and her car and the wind off the ocean. Who dealt in mysteries he couldn’t understand the way he did with evidence and witnesses. Who lived with zest and perpetual optimism. Light to his darkness.

  If he had to give that up again, he didn’t think he’d survive.

  He stepped across the gap that separated them and pressed her up against the counter where his coffeemaker stood, still without its carafe.

  “Let me answer my own question,” he said. “I believe in you. And you’re right—I’ve been using Sheryl as an excuse to not get involved.”

  The sparkle was back, and so was the dimple. Giving in to temptation, he bent his head and kissed it, taking time to savor the softness of her skin. “And now?” she asked, a little breathlessly.

  “And now the King of Swords wants to put the damn thing away.”

  “He can’t retire it forever, you know,” she told him, and wound her arms around his neck. “But he can ask the Queen of Wands to help him out. She has some practice at it, being royal and all.”

  “Is that what your card is?” he asked. “The Queen of Wands?”

  She nodded, and her hair brushed his cheek. “I’m fire, you’re air. I’m the body and the senses, you’re the intellect. But we’re both royal, both used to bearing our own burdens. A pretty good pair, really.”

  “And I suppose she’s psychic, too,” he teased.

  “No, but she is confident about her abilities.” She pressed her lips to the sensitive spot just below his ear. “And she’s very, very sexy.”

  “Really.” Goose bumps tiptoed down the side of his neck, and his body responded with a leap of enthusiasm. “Well, since I’m the intellect, you’re going to need to prove that to me.”

  “Take me to the royal bedchamber and I will,” she commanded, and the wattage of her smile warmed him right to his toes.

  “That will be my pleasure,” he said, and obeyed.

  Epilogue

  “THE NEXT TIME I say I’m getting mar
ried, just shoot me, all right?” Linn Nichols gave Tessa and Griffin a hug and sank onto the couch that Tessa was already plotting to have replaced. Linn looked around. “Hey, nice place. I see you’re going to keep my sister in a style to which she’ll become accustomed.”

  “Nice to see you, too.” Griffin started a pot of coffee, placing the new carafe on the burner with what Tessa considered unnecessary care. “They treating you well at CLEU?”

  Linn nodded. “The job is fine. Arresting importers is keeping me sane. Want to know what’s happened now?” She glanced at Tessa in appeal.

  “The store can’t order our dresses.”

  “No.”

  “Kellan’s mom can’t do the flowers.”

  “No, she’s fine. You should see their house. It looks like a florist convention.”

  “What, then?”

  Linn paused for dramatic effect, then announced, “The parish hall where we’d booked the reception burned to the ground last night, and took part of the church with it.”

  “My God.” Griffin sat on the edge of his recliner. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, but they think it was arson. The sheriff’s office is on it.”

  “Gosh. Maybe it was one of Kellan’s ex-girlfriends, out for some revenge.” Linn glared at her, and Tessa regretted the quip. This was not funny.

  “Do you have any idea how long it took me to find that location? It never occurred to me to have my team do periodic surveillance on it on the off chance there would be arsonists.”

  “With two weeks to go, you’re going to have to elope,” Tessa said firmly. “I hear it’s all the rage now.”

  Linn sighed. “I can’t elope. I’ve already sent two hundred and fifty invitations. If you guys ever decide to get married, take your own advice and call me when it’s over.”

  Tessa looked up to meet Griffin’s warm gaze, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. They hadn’t talked about anything as serious as marriage, much less eloping, but deep in her heart was the knowledge that Griffin was in this for the long term. And so was she.

  The furniture, however, was not. Tessa gave the couch the evil eye. Just wait. Your turn is coming.

  “So what we need to do is find you another place to have your wedding,” Griffin said, turning his mind to his favorite leisure activity—problem solving.

  “I’ve called everyone in three counties and unless I want to do it in the municipal park after the one o’clock Little League game, I’m out of luck.”

  An idea struck Tessa and she tingled, like the triangle does in an orchestra when it’s tapped by a musician. “Are you opposed to doing it outside?”

  “All the nice gardens are booked. That’s why we went to Plan B, renting the parish hall.”

  Tessa stood up and went to find her purse. “I have an idea.”

  “An idea? What do you know about weddings? Tessa?”

  She found her purse under Griffin’s big bed, where she’d dropped it after being ambushed this afternoon and threatened with handcuffs until she agreed to make love for a solid hour. Still smiling at the memory, she retrieved her cell phone and punched in a number as she walked back into the living room.

  Jay Singleton picked up his private line on the second ring.

  “Tessa! Good to hear from you.”

  “And you. Say, is it true what I read in the paper? That Trey Ludovic is marrying that romance novelist who’s worth a couple of million?”

  Jay laughed. “It’s true. She’s ten years older than he is and about ten times smarter. The guy didn’t have a chance. I don’t have to tell you that Mandy introduced them at the Master’s tournament at Pebble Beach.”

  “Mandy is the master.”

  “It took about a week, but Christina managed to get over it. She’s starting at UC Santa Rita soon, so she has a lot to keep her mind occupied.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “So, what can I do for you? Is that Mustang of yours broken down on the highway? Need a lift?”

  “No, we have a more serious breakdown.” Swiftly, she told him about Linn, glancing at her sister as she did so. “So how would you feel about hosting the wedding of the century on your beach, with a reception on the lawn afterward? I know it’s a lot to ask, but you wouldn’t have to do a thing. The flowers and food are taken care of, and the band are all friends of ours, so they’re portable. All we need is the real estate.”

  “Done,” said Jay simply. “A week next Saturday, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “No problem. I’ll tell Mandy right away. Let your sister know I’d be happy to have her and her wedding party as my guests the night before, too. God knows this house is big enough for an army.”

  “My gosh, Jay, that’s awfully generous of—”

  “Hey,” he reminded her, “I’ve done this four times. I know how it is. Mandy will be delighted. It’ll give her an excuse to zoom up to Neiman Marcus and buy a new dress.”

  “Jay, I take back all the bad things I ever said about you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you and the Wall Street Journal. See you in two weeks.”

  “Take care of yourself.”

  “And you.”

  Tessa snapped her cell phone shut and beamed at Linn, who was looking as though a flash bomb had gone off in her face. “All set. A wedding on the beach, just like I always wanted. When you send the revised invitations, tell the two hundred and fifty people to wear comfortable shoes. Or maybe even none at all.”

  She crossed the room and parked herself on Griffin’s good knee. He wrapped his arms around her while Linn struggled to speak.

  “That was Jay Singleton,” she said at last, as if corralling all the facts and pinning them down would help her take it in. “I’m going to have my wedding at his estate.”

  “Yup.”

  “Jeez, Tessa, what do you do for an encore?” Linn stared at her, her eyes lit with the dawning realization. To-do lists were probably dancing like sugarplums in her head.

  Griffin squeezed Tessa around the waist. “I don’t know,” he said in a tone laden with mock warning, “but the next time she plans a wedding, there had better not be two hundred and fifty people. Think about the security I’m going to have to come up with.”

  She looked deep into his eyes. “What next time? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He smiled at her. “You’re the sensitive. You figure it out.”

  She closed her eyes in mock solemnity and cupped his face as though it were a crystal ball. “Hmm. I see sunlight in your future. I see a backyard with a banana tree that has miraculously come back to life. I see six or seven people and the mysterious absence of a ring bearer.”

  “Is that all you see?” Griffin asked softly.

  She opened her eyes and gazed into the craggy, worn face she loved. “I threw the cards this morning, for real,” she said.

  “And what were they?”

  “The King of Swords and the Queen of Wands. I think the universe wants me to know that the waiting is over.”

  “I could have told you that,” he said, and pulled her closer for a kiss.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5943-4

  SEX & SENSIBILITY

  Copyright © 2005 by Shelley Bates.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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