She knocked again, noting that his car was there. As she had before, she walked around the side, but he wasn't in the boat this time. With a shrug, she decided she would do what she'd come to do.
She'd already picked the spot, between the water and the house, where the shrub could be seen and enjoyed through what she'd determined was the kitchen window. It wasn't much, but it would add some color to the empty backyard. She wheeled around what she needed, then began to dig.
Inside his work shed, Holt had the boat engine broken down. Rebuilding it would require concentration and time. Which was just what he needed. He didn't want to think about the Calhouns, or tragic love affairs, or responsibilities.
He didn't even glance up when Sadie rose from her nap on the cool cement and trotted outside. He and the dog had an understanding. She did as she chose, and he fed her.
When she barked, he kept on working. As a watchdog, Sadie was a bust. She barked at squirrels, at the wind in the grass, and in her sleep. A year before there'd been an attempted burglary in his house in Portland. Holt had relieved the would – be thief of his stereo equipment while Sadie had napped peacefully on the living room rug.
But he did look up, he did stop working when he heard the low, feminine laughter. It skimmed along his skin, light and warm. When he pushed away from the workbench, his stomach was already in knots. When he stood in the doorway and looked at her, the knots yanked tight.
Why wouldn't she leave him alone? he wondered, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He'd told her he'd think about it, hadn't he? She had no business coming here again.
They didn't even like each other. Whatever she did to him physically was his problem, and so far he'd managed quite nicely to keep his hands off her.
Now here she was, standing in his yard, talking to his dog. And digging a hole.
His brows drew together as he stepped out of the shed. “What the hell are you doing?”
Her head shot up. He saw her eyes, big and blue and alarmed. Her face, flushed from the heat and her work, went very pale. He'd seen that kind of look before – the quick, instinctive fear of a cornered victim. Then it was gone, fading so swiftly he nearly convinced himself he'd imagined it. Color seeped slowly into her cheeks again as she managed to smile.
“I didn't think you were here.”
He stayed where he was and continued to scowl. “So, you decided to dig a hole in my yard.”
“I guess you could say that.” Steady now, annoyed with herself for the instinctive jolt, she plunged the shovel in again, braced her foot on it and deepened the hole. “I brought you a bush.”
Damned if he was going to take the shovel from her this time and dig the hole himself. But he did cross to her. “Why?”
“To thank you for helping me out today. You saved me a good hour.” “So you use it to dig another hole.”
“Uh – huh. There's a breeze off the water today.” She lifted her face to it for a moment. “It's nice.”
Because looking at her made his palms sweat, he scowled down at the tidy shrub pregnant with sassy yellow blooms. “I don't know how to take care of a bush. You put it there, you're condemning it to death row.”
With a laugh, she scooped out the last of the dirt. “You don't have to do much. This one's very hardy, even when it's dry, and it'll bloom for you into the fall. Can I use your hose?”
“What?” “Your hose?”
“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair. He hadn't a clue how he was supposed to react. It was certainly the first time anyone had given him flowers – unless you counted the batch the guys at the precinct had brought in when he'd been in the hospital. “Sure.”
At ease with her task, she continued to talk as she went to the outside wall to turn on the water. “It'll stay neat It's a very well behaved little bush and won't get over three feet.” She petted Sadie, who was circling the bush and sniffing. “If you'd like something else instead...”
He wasn't going to let himself be touched by some idiotic plant or her misplaced gratitude. “It doesn't matter to me. I don't know one from the other.”
“Well, this is a hypericwn kalmianum.”
His lips quirked into what might have been a smile. “That tells me a lot.”
Chuckling, she set it in place. “A sunshine shrub in layman's terms.” Still smiling, she tilted her head back to look at him. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was embarrassed. Fat chance. “I thought you could use some sunshine. Why don't you help me plant it? It'll mean more to you then.”
He'd said he wasn't going to get sucked in, and damn it, he'd meant it. “Are you sure this isn't your idea of a bribe? To get me to help you out?”
Sighing a little, she sat back on her heels. “I wonder what makes someone so cynical and unfriendly. I'm sure you have your reasons, but they don't apply here. You did me a favor today, and I'm paying you back. Very simple. Now if you don't want the bush, just say so. I'll give it to someone else.”
He lifted a brow at the tone. “Is that how you keep your kids in line?” “When necessary. Well, what's it to be?”
Maybe he was being too hard on her. She'd made a gesture and he was slapping it back in her face. If she could be casually friendly, so could he. “I've already got a hole in my yard,” he pointed out then knelt beside her. The dog lay down in the sunlight to watch. “We might as well put something in it.”
And that, she supposed, was his idea of a thank you. “Fine.”
“So how old are your kids?” Not that he cared, he told himself. He was just making conversation.
“Five and six. Alex is the oldest, then Jenny.” Her eyes softened as they always did when she thought of them. “They're growing up so fast, I can hardly keep up.”
“What made you come back here after the divorce?”
Her hands tensed in the soil, then began to work again. It was a small and quickly concealed gesture, but he had very sharp eyes. “Because it's home.”
There was a tender spot, he thought and eased around it. “I heard you're going to turn The Towers into a hotel.”
“Just the west wing. That's C.C.'s husband's business.”
“It's hard to picture C.C. married. The last time I saw her she was about twelve.”
“She's grown up now, and beautiful.” “Looks run in the family.”
She glanced up, surprised, then back down again. “I think you've just said something nice.”
“Just stating a fact. The Calhoun sisters were always worth a second look.” To please himself, he reached out to toy with the tip of her ponytail. “Whenever guys got together, the four of you were definitely topics of conversation.”
She laughed a little, thinking how easy life had been back then. “I'm sure we'd have been flattered.”
“I used to look at you,” Holt said slowly. “A lot.”
Wary, she lifted her head. “Really? I never noticed.”
“You wouldn't have.” His hand dropped away again. “Princesses don't notice peasants.”
Now she frowned, not only at the words but at the clipped tone. “What a ridiculous thing to say.”
“It was easy to think of you that way, the princess in the castle.”
“A castle that's been crumbling for years,” she said dryly. “And as I recall, you were too busy swaggering around and juggling girls to notice me.”
He had to grin. “Oh, between the swaggering and juggling, I noticed you all right.”
Something in his eyes set off a little warning bell. It might have been some time since she'd heard that particular sound, but she recognized it and heeded it. She looked down again to firm the dirt around the bush.
“That was a long time ago. I imagine we've both changed quite a bit.” “Can't argue with that.” He pushed at the dirt.
“No, don't shove at it, press it down – firm, but gentle.” Scooting closer, she put her hands over his to show him. “All it needs is a good start, and then –”
She broke off when he turned his hands over to grip hers.
They were close, knees brushing, bodies bent toward each other. He noted that her hands were hard,
