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“Right at this moment, no, but…”
“So the answer is yes,” Griffin posed thoughtfully. “I’m working on it.”
He didn’t appear to be inviting her sympathy, which Darcy would have regarded as ridiculous, but his poignant comment touched her nevertheless. “I’m sorry I knew nothing about your career. I suppose I should have known when I heard you play.”
“You needn’t apologize. No one knows everything. I can’t name a single quarterback with the NFL.”
Darcy conceded that point readily enough, but she hated to waste what could be her only opportunity to find him in a congenial mood. “I can understand why you’d want your own recording studio, but why does it have to be in our building?”
“It’s not your building. It’s mine.”
His voice now rang with unmistakable authority, and Darcy had nothing more to say. “I think I better go.”
“No, stay and watch the sunset with me, and then we’ll talk about the rest of the grounds. They’re in desperate need of your talents, wouldn’t you say?”
He’d offered a tempting lure to keep her there and, instinctively, Darcy recognized a danger that, with tantalizing steps, he might make her bargain away her very soul. If he weren’t an actual blood-sucking vampire, he seemed fully capable of sucking away her last ounce of free will. It was a terrifying thought, and yet she stayed put and watched the sun slowly slip beneath the waves.
As the dusk darkened, Griffin reached for her hand, then stood and lifted her easily to her feet. “This garden is perfect. Thank you. Let me give you the final payment before we make anymore plans.”
Darcy pulled her hand from his before the delicious tingle of his touch overwhelmed her reason. “It might be better if you hired another firm.”
Without touching her again, Griffin drew her along toward the house. “I don’t want another firm, and you can’t afford to turn down lucrative commissions when you’ll need the money to relocate.”
That piece of logic annoyed Darcy no end. “That may be true, however…”
“However what? Would you feel as though you were sleeping with the enemy?”
“Mr. Moore, really, if you think my services will include more than plants, you’re badly mistaken.”
Griffin unlocked the kitchen door, reached in to turn on the lights and ushered her inside. “It’s merely a figure of speech.”
He flashed a wicked grin, and she wondered if any woman had ever found the strength to climb out of his bed. She’d never met anyone like him. A part of her longed to just go for it, but a taunting inner voice whispered, Don’t you dare.
“I’ll be away several months a year,” Griffin confided. “Could you landscape the grounds as your idol would have in native plants that will survive the inevitable neglect?”
“Yes, I’d love to do that, but won’t you have someone here, a housekeeper, butler, some sort of staff to maintain your home?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I should hire someone.” He leaned back against the center island and crossed his arms over his chest.
The remodeled kitchen was aglow in white enamel and stainless steel. There was a commercial-size gas stove, a huge new refrigerator and a complete array of the latest small appliances. There was no sign their owner had made so much as a slice of toast there, however.
Darcy was surprised he’d given such little thought to the lovely home. “What do you usually do?” she asked.
“This is the first house I’ve ever owned. I’ve always lived in hotels, where everything was provided.”
Darcy rested a hip against the counter opposite him. “You’ve never been on your own?”
“Oh, hell, yes. I’ve been on my own for twenty years, but I lived in hotels even when I was married.”
Darcy found that an especially painful bit of news. He was in his mid-thirties, clearly a celebrity in some circles, probably very rich ones, and he’d had plenty of time to marry and divorce. Still, it hurt to think he’d once been another woman’s beloved husband.
“What happened?” she inquired softly.
“With my marriage?” He looked down at the glossy marble floor and paused as though he were weighing how much to reveal. Finally he glanced up.
“Carla and I met at Juilliard. She was also a very fine pianist and, at the time, it seemed a perfect match. But she was even more fiercely competitive than I am. It drove her crazy not to play as well as I do, regardless of how many hours she practiced. Her anger poisoned the relationship. Then, a year after we split up, she married a German conductor and retired to have his babies.” He smiled, but it failed to reach his eyes. “So it all worked out for the best.”
Darcy appreciated knowing the facts, but he’d included only his ex-wife’s emotions rather than his own. “Not if Carla broke your heart.”
