“I have half a mind not to leave out any food.” With that, Calli opened the fridge, took out the remaining cat food, and scraped the lot into a saucer. “I won’t bribe anyone to be nice to me.” She left the food with Hobo’s water bowl.
Ignoring her comment, Kell fingered his chin. “I wonder if I can sneak into my house to brush my teeth before we leave?”
“Are you going to try? Or do you want a toothbrush? I bought a four-pack.”
“I’m rather keen on the idea of being a sneak.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Are you implying you’ll miss me?”
“Sometimes I wonder if we speak the same language,” she said, holding together the gaping sides of her dressing gown, which appeared to have distracted him.
“I’ll get you to move your car so that I can back mine out. Then I’ll cruise around the block and into my drive from the other direction. If Trent happens to be watching, he will see me coming from the city.”
“So, you don’t want to go to the nursery?”
“Sure I do. But first I want to clean my teeth, shave, and change. By that time, you’ll be dressed and have the Jag hotwired.”
“Do you care what we are going to do at the nursery?”
“Tell me.”
“We’re going to buy pots and potting soil, and then we’ll come back here where you will help me dig up ten standard roses which we’ll then pot.”
“Okay.” He moved to the doorway. “Not the way I would normally spend Sunday, but if that’s what you want to do…”
“They will be the start of your new front garden. When you have chopped back the jungle and improved the soil, we’ll be planting them along your front fence.”
“Sounds good. Come out and shift your car.”
* * * *
Kell strolled into his kitchen. Apparently Trent hadn’t yet hauled himself out of bed, but Kell needed clean underwear and a change of clothes and so he continued on to the bedroom. The sound of the door must have woken Trent, who sat on the side of his camper bed rubbing his fair hair into a matted fluff. He yawned.
“Late night?” Kell asked, searching in his suitcase. He found clean jeans and a red sweatshirt Vix had bought him. She’d said he would look good in red but normally he preferred to look bad in blue. Today, good would do him.
“Not too late. Apparently you got into bed early.” Trent sounded sour.
“Not too early.” Kell grinned. “Did you get lucky?”
“I will not discuss my sex life with you.”
Kell paused. “You’re always wanting to discuss mine.”
“That’s different. Yours is casual. Mine is, well, nonexistent at this stage, but I have met the woman I intend to marry.”
“Emily? Congrats, old chum. It’s always good to have a goal, credible or not.”
Trent rubbed his hair again. “I thought trying to talk her into bed after the first date wouldn’t be the right thing to do. I want to show her I appreciate her first.”
“Good move. That’ll work.”
“Says the king of one-night stands.”
“C’mon. You’ve been my chaperone for the past two weeks. You know I haven’t broken out once. Last night—after a day visiting wineries, I needed a little light relief. But I’ve got a date with Calli today so I had to rush home.”
“A date with Calli?”
“She wants me to dig out her roses.”
“Sucked in,” Trent said morosely. “No wonder she’s so successful at conning blokes. She doesn’t ask you to do a thing and you find yourself offering.”
“She asked me.”
“She must have gotten to you in a weak moment. She’s hard not to like, but that’s her stock in trade. She wouldn’t be any good at suckering people if they didn’t like her first.”
“What on earth are you on about?”
“Gossip. She conned some guy out of all his money. She broke him—sent him bankrupt, and he had to leave the state. It was in all the papers.”
“When did you last read a paper?”
“I can’t remember. Emily told me the story.”
“I would guess it’s complete rubbish. Calli makes sure of paying back any favors. In fact, that’s how she is paying back yesterday’s lunch, if I’ve got this right. I’m digging up the roses for the garden of this house. She will be potting them and keeping them alive until we’re ready to plant, or so she said. Know how much a rose bush costs?”
“No.”
“Neither do I, but she is giving us ten of them already grown. It’s got to be at least a hundred dollars. So, she more than paid for her lunch.” Kell grabbed his clothes and stalked off to the bathroom where he took a quick cold shower, needed because he was aggravated. Then he cleaned his teeth and shaved, surprised that Emily had gossiped about Calli.
So what if the guy, a boyfriend presumably, went bankrupt? More fool he. Anyone in charge of his money knew where every cent went. Kell sure did. He didn’t spend wads on trying to impress women and he didn’t spend much on himself. Instead, he worked hard and saved. As far as he could see, Calli did the same, though he knew something about her living next door was shady. She didn’t act like a woman with a social circle, which was unusual. The part he didn’t like about the story Trent had told him was the part about her boyfriend. He didn’t want Calli to be thinking about another man, who had or had not lost his money and disappeared.
Dressed neatly, and more comfortably clean, he paced back to the house next door. “So, tell me about your last relationship,” he said, spotting Calli in the kitchen as he walked inside her cottage.
“Relationship? So, Emily said something to Trent.” She snatched up a big bag and pushed past him outside.
“Is that why you two weren’t talking yesterday?”
“And I’m not talking about the same thing today.”
“Fair enough, though I would happily tell you about my last girlfriend.”
“I’m sure you would.” She gave him cool glance. “But I don’t want to hear about any of your girlfriends, because you and I don’t have that sort of relationship. We are bed buddies, and that’s all.”
“Not quite,” he said, heading for the Jaguar. “We’re gardening buddies as well.”
“I don’t talk about my private life to my gardening buddies.” She unlocked the driver’s door with a click from a bunch of keys. Clearly she had the keys to everything on the judge’s property. “Driving the judge’s cars around at least once a week is in my contract. He doesn’t want to come home to a dead battery,” she said carefully. “So don’t imagine we’re going for a joyride.”
“As you can see, I don’t mind either way.” He slipped into the passenger side, wishing he could drive the luxury vehicle. Owning an expensive car was his secret dream, but he was years away from owning anything but a tax-exempted work vehicle. “It’s a shame the judge doesn’t own a Ferrari. That’d be better for a trip to the nursery.”
She reversed the car into the turning circle and drove out onto the street. “I don’t think judges drive Ferraris. They need to own conservative cars. The good thing about the Jag is that it’s got a big trunk. We’ll be able to put plenty in it.”
And from there, she couldn’t be drawn about a single personal thing. She told him the names of all the plants he ought to put in his garden, none of which meant a thing to him. He knew a tree, a bush, a flower, and a leaf, and that was about the full extent of his knowledge of gardens. They arrived at the nursery where she wandered around for a while until she spotted a tall guy in work clothes and an army-green hat marked with the nursery logo.
“Gary,” she called in a pleased voice. “I was looking for you.”
Gary, a fortyish redhead with a sunburnt nose, turned. “Calli. Nice to see you. You haven’t been around for a while. Sorry to hear—”
“This is my friend Kell, Gary,” she interrupted. “I’ll be helping with his garden. What I
want is ten recycled pots, plastic. And three big bags of potting soil. Can you do something for trade prices?”
Gary scanned her face. “Sure thing. Hi, Kell. You found a good designer. She bargains like her mother.”
Calli laughed and turned to Kell. “My mother is Greek. She bargains for everything. I only bargain for items to do my job.”
Kell nodded politely, as a client would, and followed her and Gary, grabbed the pots she wanted, loaded the bags of soil she wanted, paid twenty dollars and carried everything back to the car. “I presume that was a bargain.”
“Twenty dollars for ten mature standard roses? That would be more than three hundred if you were paying normal prices.”
“So, what are you going to charge me?”
“You’ve paid the twenty. And you’ll be doing the work.”
“Then I can charge you for the work.”
“And pay yourself.”
“But I’m getting rid of plants you don’t want.”
“Anyone would think your mother was Greek.”
“You don’t look Greek.”
“Ma is Aussie Greek and Far, which is Danish for father, is Aussie Danish. So my blood flows with hot Mediterranean and icy Viking.”
“The combination should make you lukewarm.”
“What do you think?”
“Oh, you’re pretty hot at times.” He laughed. “I might check that out again after I’ve finished digging holes in your garden.”
Chapter 9
“Dig down about this far from the roots.” Calli glanced at Kell who watched, frowning, while she marked the dirt with the shovel. He took the implement out of her hands and edged her out of the way. Clearly, he knew the handle from the blade.
With a sharp thump of his foot, he jammed the blade deeply into the soil and she tried not to watch. A supervised man was one who would do nothing but show off, a trait she had noted during her previous experience of men helping her in the garden.
“In a circle or a square?” he asked with forced patience, the way men did when women gave instructions.
In a voice that made no attempt to bite back, she said, “Either. When you’ve cut the roots, put the shovel under and ease out the bush. Yes, that’s exactly right. Now transfer the plant into here.” She placed the pot near him and he neatly deposited the rose bush where she indicated. She gazed at the sky. Like yesterday, dark clouds loomed and the air smelled damp. The rain yesterday had loosened the soil.
Glad she had help in the perfect weather to move the roses, she slid the first filled pot onto the sack trolley, and pushed the two-wheeler around to the new bags of soil Kell had left near the judge’s gardening shed. She intended to do the same with the following rose bushes and tend to the plants until Kell’s garden was ready.
By the time she had patted the mix around the rose and bumped the trolley back, Kell had deposited two more bushes into pots and was well on the way to filling another. At this rate, she would lose him in ten minutes. Not that she’d ever had him. She had expanded her projected one-night stand a little, but she wouldn’t be letting him into her bed again, not that he had made any sort of interesting suggestion about being there since he had asked about her last relationship, which he clearly presumed was sexual.
Half-offended and half-glad that him having the wrong idea gave her a good reason not to answer, she potted up the next bush, and when she arrived back, he had dug up the lot and dumped them all in their pots.
“It’s a plot,” he said, sounding disgruntled.
“A garden plot?”
“A gardener plot. You’re dawdling back there. The only way to speed you up is to carry all these around to the shed for you.” He put one pot on her trolley and grabbed up two, striding ahead of her to the shed, as if he might be carrying a bundle of feathers.
She wheeled along behind him slightly out of breath from handling one.
While she toiled at filling the three, he carried the rest to her and stayed watching. He stood, hip-shot, as sexy as a man ought not to be. She sweated under leather gloves and the weight of a guy’s tool belt.
She hefted out her secateurs. “I’ll leave the new growth,” she said, glancing up at him, “but I’ll trim them back a little to give them a good chance. I think they’ll all survive. You haven’t done much root damage and roses are hardy plants.”
“They look good in a mass like that. Why don’t you want them?”
“They’re garden plants, flashy outdoors but not much use in vases. They’re plants for the neighbors rather than for the householder. The others I’m planting will be lovely to pick for indoors as well as to brighten up the garden. Your house is edgy, not soft like this house. The icebergs are too regimented here with their upright stance, but they’d be very suitable for your garden.” She thought he wouldn’t understand what she meant but he nodded.
“You’re right. My house is sharp-edged—the points of the roof, and the angles of the windows, and even the diamond patterns on the leadlight, which you will be interested to hear that I have decided to keep.” Grabbing the nearest bag of soil, he upended it into the nearest pot, and then the next and the next until a job that could have taken her another ten minutes was finished in a couple. Clearly, he couldn’t wait to leave.
Trying not to mind, she turned on the hose and wet the soil while he watched, his hands pushed casually into his pockets. He looked eye-catching in the red top, which brought out the bright blue of his eyes. If a scout for a modeling agency saw him, he would make a mint. Each time she glanced at him, she noticed more about him, like his hard firm lips and the way the autumn light caught on his cheekbones and shadowed the tiny cleft in his chin.
“What else do you have for me to do?”
“You’ve saved me half a day already with what you’ve done,” she said reluctantly. The time had come for him to leave. She couldn’t expect him to hang around forever because she had given him a bowl of cornflakes.
“So, this should be my time.” He had a considering expression on his face and he stroked his chin like a villain in a melodrama.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“This should be time you spend with me instead.”
“I am with you.”
“I want to be with you the other way, you know, naked.”
Her insides began to hum. Maybe he hadn’t heard as much about her as she had presumed. Or maybe he had, and he didn’t have a problem with dishonesty. Or perhaps he didn’t believe the story he had heard about her last relationship. She almost held her breath while she decided not to worry either way.
“These plants are for you. It’s my time we’re using, not yours. So, you owe me half an hour.” She crossed her arms, watching the interesting wheels of his mind turn.
His eyes hooded and he offered her an unreadable smile. “I could pay you back, naked in bed.”
She breathed out. “I don’t pay men to be naked in my bed.”
“I’ll have sex with you for nothing,” he said, adopting an expression of mock offense. “You seem to think everything should be bought and paid for, but some things are free.”
“Shh,” she said, hearing the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path. She glanced toward the sound. “Hi, Trent.”
“Calli,” he answered with a nod. His gaze shifted between her and Kell. “I owe you a couple of hours’ work. What can I do?” He plunged his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his expression slightly sheepish.
She rose to her feet, hoping he hadn’t heard Kell say he would have sex with her for nothing, and indicated the dumping ground behind the shed. “Rocks. All these need to edge the paths over there.”
“Do you want to show me where?”
“I owe her half an hour, too,” Kell said, casually eying Trent. “We could get these rocks out of the way today with the two of us working together.”
“Right. Follow me. See the sprayed blue lines over here. This is where I want
the rocks. Later on I’ll lay down some wood chip paths. How was your date, Trent?” she asked him politely.
“Great.” He gave her a wide smile, which he modified into a careful grin. “I have another next Thursday night. Emily works shifts and she waits until her days off for dates.”
“Very wise. The wheelbarrow is in the shed.”
Kell cricked open the shed door and Trent moved inside, grabbing the barrow. The two men crashed rocks into the tray until the tire on the wheel began to flatten, and then followed Calli down the paths she had marked, starting at the far end. She didn’t need to supervise, and she was pleased to see her garden job cracking along so speedily, the roses shifted in time for the new paving, and her paths marked out with stone before the wood chips arrived. So far, her job was running to her planned schedule.
The least she could do was to make lunch for the guys who had been more than helpful—and on a Sunday morning, too—but she had almost no food to spare, as usual, except ham, lettuce, and tomato. Making a quick decision, she gave the Mercedes an outing to the large shopping complex a few blocks away. Being a set of boutique shops for the wealthy, the place was one where she could possibly be recognized, which had kept her away until now, but the tiny local shops stayed shut on the weekends, giving her no other choice.
She parked underground and dashed through the vine-covered arcade to the supermarket where she bought bread, butter, real milk, and another bag of self-raising flour. After she dumped the lot onto her kitchen counter, she went outside and found the guys still laboring away and doing a mighty fine job.
“Wow. There’s nothing like having a cabinetmaker and a screen designer to make rock edgings for gardens. Very artistic.” She narrowed her eyes critically, but the guys had gone to some trouble making sure that the various rock shapes worked together with unlike shapes and sizes mixed. “I’m making lunch. It will be ready in half an hour. Do you want to synchronize watches?”
“Midday,” Kell said, concentrating on the rock he held in his hand. “Right.” He barely looked up at her. Clearly whatever job he did, he made sure he performed perfectly. Her sort of man, in fact. Slap-dash people puzzled her.
Perfect Scents Page 12
