surrounding greenery. The teenager inside had been wearing a similar outfit, and Nick assumed it was a uniform of sorts. Her head was bent over the clipboard she held but she looked up, as if sensing his approach.
"Nick. What are you doing here?" Her smile was pleasant but there was an unmistakable wariness in her eyes. Join the club, he thought ruefully. He felt more than a little wary himself.
"I'm here as Harry's emissary. He said you asked him to look at some trees."
Kate's laugh held a touch of exasperation. "He was supposed to come himself. I want him to have some input into what I'm doing. It is his property, after all."
"I don't think Harry's much for gardening," he said apologetically.
"That much is obvious from the condition of the gardens at Spider's Walk."
There was a disapproving edge to her voice and
Nick grinned. "When he hired you, he said that you looked like you'd have him hauled off by the plant police, if you could."
"If there was such a thing, Yd be able to send him up the river for life." She sighed and gave him a questioning look. "Do you want to look at trees?"
Nick knew she wouldn't protest if he said no. They might have agreed to forget the past but it was always between them—a faint thread of tension that could be ignored but not erased. Truthfully, his interest in trees was about on a par with his interest in the sex life of South American tree frogs. There was no reason to say yes and some very good arguments for saying no.
"I live to look at trees," he said, and called himself seven kinds of fool.
The large trees, in their wooden boxes, were in the far comer of the nursery, set against one wall of an old bam, which was now used for storage. Kate was acutely aware of Nick as she led the way between the rows of plants. He was wearing the familiar uniform of faded jeans and T-shirt. The fabric of the black T-shirt molded the solid muscles of his shoulders and clung lovingly to the width of his chest, making her vividly aware of his size and sex.
Why was she always so conscious of how big he was? she wondered fretfully. Gareth was nearly as tall and every bit as broad-shouldered. So why did Nick always look so very large?
"The place looks great," Nick commented. "When I was a kid, half the town used to come out here every spring to gawk at the wisteria when it bloomed."
"They still do. For the last couple of years, we've had a sale and the PTA sells lemonade and cookies as a fund-raising project. It's done very well for us. Last year, a news crew from L.A. came out to film a segment on it."
"I bet they couldn't resist making a comment about finding 'a little slice of Eden right here in California.'" Kate smiled at his dead-on imitation of a commentator's manufactured enthusiasm.
"They did say something along those lines."
"They always do." He shook his head and one comer of his mouth curved in a sardonic smile. " Any time something happens here that's big enough to make it into the news, they can't resist making some comment on the town's name. If it's bad news, they look solemn and say something about violence striking even in Eden.' If it's good news, they talk about finding Eden right here in California. For a couple of weeks, smog-crazed Los Angelenos drive out here to take a look at the place. They eat at a quaint little cafe, drive around gawking at the genuine farms and then scuttle back to the city."
"That's pretty much what happened last year,"
Kate said, smiling at the accuracy of his description. "We did a booming business for a couple of weeks, though."
"It's good for business," Nick agreed. "When I was a kid, the cafe on the comer down from the library was called Selma Ann's because Selma Ann Carver owned the place. But she changed the name to Eve's because she figured the tourists would love it. She was right."
"Is that why half the items on the menu have apples in them?"
"Yep." Nick nodded. "When I was about twelve, one of the local farmers grew the biggest
"Nick. What are you doing here?" Her smile was pleasant but there was an unmistakable wariness in her eyes. Join the club, he thought ruefully. He felt more than a little wary himself.
"I'm here as Harry's emissary. He said you asked him to look at some trees."
Kate's laugh held a touch of exasperation. "He was supposed to come himself. I want him to have some input into what I'm doing. It is his property, after all."
"I don't think Harry's much for gardening," he said apologetically.
"That much is obvious from the condition of the gardens at Spider's Walk."
There was a disapproving edge to her voice and
Nick grinned. "When he hired you, he said that you looked like you'd have him hauled off by the plant police, if you could."
"If there was such a thing, Yd be able to send him up the river for life." She sighed and gave him a questioning look. "Do you want to look at trees?"
Nick knew she wouldn't protest if he said no. They might have agreed to forget the past but it was always between them—a faint thread of tension that could be ignored but not erased. Truthfully, his interest in trees was about on a par with his interest in the sex life of South American tree frogs. There was no reason to say yes and some very good arguments for saying no.
"I live to look at trees," he said, and called himself seven kinds of fool.
The large trees, in their wooden boxes, were in the far comer of the nursery, set against one wall of an old bam, which was now used for storage. Kate was acutely aware of Nick as she led the way between the rows of plants. He was wearing the familiar uniform of faded jeans and T-shirt. The fabric of the black T-shirt molded the solid muscles of his shoulders and clung lovingly to the width of his chest, making her vividly aware of his size and sex.
Why was she always so conscious of how big he was? she wondered fretfully. Gareth was nearly as tall and every bit as broad-shouldered. So why did Nick always look so very large?
"The place looks great," Nick commented. "When I was a kid, half the town used to come out here every spring to gawk at the wisteria when it bloomed."
"They still do. For the last couple of years, we've had a sale and the PTA sells lemonade and cookies as a fund-raising project. It's done very well for us. Last year, a news crew from L.A. came out to film a segment on it."
"I bet they couldn't resist making a comment about finding 'a little slice of Eden right here in California.'" Kate smiled at his dead-on imitation of a commentator's manufactured enthusiasm.
"They did say something along those lines."
"They always do." He shook his head and one comer of his mouth curved in a sardonic smile. " Any time something happens here that's big enough to make it into the news, they can't resist making some comment on the town's name. If it's bad news, they look solemn and say something about violence striking even in Eden.' If it's good news, they talk about finding Eden right here in California. For a couple of weeks, smog-crazed Los Angelenos drive out here to take a look at the place. They eat at a quaint little cafe, drive around gawking at the genuine farms and then scuttle back to the city."
"That's pretty much what happened last year,"
Kate said, smiling at the accuracy of his description. "We did a booming business for a couple of weeks, though."
"It's good for business," Nick agreed. "When I was a kid, the cafe on the comer down from the library was called Selma Ann's because Selma Ann Carver owned the place. But she changed the name to Eve's because she figured the tourists would love it. She was right."
"Is that why half the items on the menu have apples in them?"
"Yep." Nick nodded. "When I was about twelve, one of the local farmers grew the biggest
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