CHAPTER FOUR
That afternoon, the hours moved faster for Alec than they had in years. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d been able to work outside with his hands in the company of pleasant, happy, relaxed people. His usual day at the S&W Aviation office was as far from this one as it could possibly be. His customers tended to be high-strung and demanding, rather than mellow. Every hour there were tens of thousands of dollars on the line, instead of hundreds. He wore bespoke suits and thousand-dollar handmade shoes, not jeans and work boots.
And he sure didn’t get to catch glimpses of smiles as pretty as Cordelia’s.
He hadn’t shown up today expecting to pitch in at her garden center, but when customers appeared just as they were about to meet, he’d immediately had his executive assistant cancel his afternoon meetings, then got to work ringing up and loading cars with as many of Cordelia’s plants as he could convince customers to buy.
He was damned good at up-selling the product, if he did say so himself. She made it easy, of course, having taken meticulous care of her broad inventory.
Cordelia made other things easy too. Like fantasizing about doing a hell of a lot more than using his “big, strong hands” to help out with her store. Even in baggy jeans and a shapeless T-shirt with streaks of dirt on her cheeks, she was beautiful. Almost more so in how effortless it was, as if it would never occur to her to waste time worrying about what she looked like, or to try to impress a man. That was the irony that the women in his circle rarely understood—the more you tried, the less impressed everyone was.
He couldn’t imagine Cordelia at one of the glittering fundraisers where he’d spent so many nights during the past ten years. Now that her net worth was in the eleven figures, of course, she would be in high demand.
The urge to protect her from that see-and-be-seen world was as instinctive as the urge to step in to help at her store today.
If Gordon had known her at all—if he’d taken the time to have even one conversation with her, or to visit her store—he would have understood that leaving her half of S&W Aviation was, just as Cordelia had said, the dumbest idea in the world. Not because she couldn’t handle the pressure, but because she’d go crazy if she had to give up her plants and flowers and friendly customers for meetings in airless boardrooms with demanding celebrities.
Alec rarely second-guessed himself. He made decisions with confidence, then stuck with them. Yet something had come over him in his office when he’d balked at presenting his buyout offer to Cordelia—something he didn’t want to look at too closely.
But now that he’d seen Cordelia in her natural environment, he knew he had to do it. He had to set her free.
“The last happy customer is on her way.” At 5:45 p.m., she closed the double front doors that led into the garden center from the parking lot and clicked the lock into place. Her expression was serious as she turned to face him. “I don’t know how to thank you enough for your help today. I usually have someone here with me in the afternoon, but Brian had a test to make up at the university. I honestly don’t know how I would have coped without you. Especially considering I don’t think I’ve ever moved this many plants in one afternoon. You’ll have to tell me your secrets before you go, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to charm my customers anywhere near as effectively as you did.”
Every word from her lips, every gesture, every glance was genuine. It was another thing Alec wasn’t used to. The women he dealt with aimed to entice, to appeal, to reel in and hook. If they said thank you, it was only because they felt they’d earned whatever gift they’d been given.
“I enjoyed myself today.” He was surprised to realize it was no more complicated than that.
“I’m sure you must have had a million more important things to take care of this afternoon. Or even tonight. I’ve got to be keeping you from something, aren’t I?”
He’d been planning on a night at the opera with a leggy blonde he’d met through one of his customers. But he’d already arranged for Tiffany’s to courier over a bracelet along with his apologies. “Nope, I’m all yours.”
Cordelia’s cheeks heated the same way they had earlier when he’d overheard her customer talking about what he could do with his hands. And just as he had then, he found himself wondering what it would take to make the rest of her skin turn that rosy, that warm. A touch? A kiss? Or more?
“Great,” she said, but her voice sounded a little strange. Almost as though she was wondering the same naughty things. “Are you sure you’re still up for talking business tonight?” When he nodded, she asked, “Can I at least feed you first? I’m the world’s worst cook, but I have plenty growing in my kitchen garden for a salad.”
Women rarely offered to cook for him. They were much more interested in being seen at the hottest new restaurant. But even more rare was his offer to cook for them. His prowess in the kitchen was something he rarely pulled out of his hat, and usually only for family. “I’ll take care of making dinner.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You’re offering to cook for me? After running around my store all afternoon helping my customers?”
“One thing I learned from Gordon early on was never to negotiate on an empty stomach.”
Again, he saw that spark of interest in finding out more about her birth father, before she shut it down. “Okay, if you don’t mind cooking in the world’s smallest kitchen, why don’t we head over to my cottage?”
After an afternoon working on site, he was familiar with most of her acreage. The only part he hadn’t explored yet was the back corner with her cottage and private garden. Her home was one story with a bright blue front door and flower boxes at the windows on either side.
“It’s straight out of the illustrated fairy tales I read to my nieces.” Her cottage could be in rural England and it would fit right in. Heck, he was expecting a couple of fluffy bunny rabbits to come hopping by any second now. His contemporary penthouse was the polar opposite of her cottage. Just, he reminded himself, as he was to her.
The gardener and the businessman—they were as different as people could be. Which, he decided, explained the attraction. What man didn’t hanker for a taste of the new, the different? Especially when Cordelia came in such a pretty package and smelled like lavender?
“How many nieces do you have?” she asked.
“None of my siblings have kids yet,” he clarified as she opened the gate and they headed through the vegetable garden that took up most of her front yard. “But I’ve got a ton of cousins with kids. Summer’s ten. The twins, Jackie and Smith Jr., are three. So is Emma. Julia and Logan are both just starting to walk. Aaron isn’t yet one. And a bunch more babies will be born soon, starting with Naughty’s.”
“Naughty?”
He had already pulled out a couple of thick carrots and was rooting around for some potatoes when he said, “Lori’s nickname. She’s a professional dancer in San Francisco, married to an organic farmer who provides produce, cheese, and milk to the local families. You’d like Grayson. And he’d really appreciate what you’ve set up here.”
“Your family sounds huge.”
He paused in his vegetable gathering to look at her. He’d assumed she knew all about him the way other women always did. Not only his net worth, but the fact that his siblings were a brilliant academic, a technology whiz, and a painter; that his father was one of the most famous men the art world had ever known; that his cousins comprised a movie star, a pro baseball player, a race car driver, and more.
He should have known that when it came to Cordelia, his assumptions would all turn out to be wrong, one after the other.
“There are Sullivans all over the world,” he told her.
“Are you close to all of them?”
“Most of us, yeah, we’re pretty tight.”
She took the carrots and potatoes from him so that he could move on to foraging for onions and beets. “You’re pretty much describing my dream life,” she said in a slightly wistful tone. “I mean, my parents are amazing, but they were both only children, so there were never cousins or any extended family. Just the three of us.”
“But you were happy, weren’t you?” He needed to confirm that his friend, his business partner, hadn’t screwed up twice over by passing his kid off to a couple who hadn’t given her everything she deserved.
“I was. Really happy.” As if she could read his mind, she added, “And I would have much rather grown up here than wherever your partner lived.”
He noticed she never said Gordon’s name. But something told him she was still itching for details, no matter how she might deny it. “Gordon had a house in Scarsdale, a loft in Tribeca, and a vacation home in Florida on the beach. I used to think it was strange how he managed to fit in a vegetable garden at each place, even in the middle of New York City. But now I can see it must have been in his blood.”
The same way it’s in yours.
“The strawberries are super ripe right now.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke. “I’ll take these vegetables inside and get a bowl for the fruit.”
He understood not wanting to talk about the parents who had disappointed you. But if there were similarities between Cordelia and Gordon, he still thought she’d want to hear about them. If only to put to rest the questions she surely had.
Alec knew firsthand about how those questions could haunt you. If his mother were here right now, he’d flat-out ask her how she could have done it. How she could have left him and his siblings and his father without even saying good-bye. But just as Cordelia’s father wasn’t around to ask, neither was Alec’s mother. All they’d ever have to go on were clues, hints from what other people told them.
It was frustrating as hell.
For the next few minutes, the two of them gathered fruit in silence. When the bowls were full of strawberries and plums and apples, they headed into the house.
Alec stopped just inside her front door. “It looks the same inside as it does out.”
“I kind of have a thing for flowers.”
That was the understatement of the century. Flowers were everywhere. Pouring over every windowsill, potted plants in corners, vases of cut flowers on every table. “Gordon would have loved your house, your garden. He would have been comfortable here in a way that he never was at any of his own homes.” Alec felt comfortable here too, could easily see his siblings and their mates gathered around the old pine table in the kitchen playing a fierce game of cards. Could see himself there with them too, for once, instead of bowing out due to a business obligation.
Just as she’d ignored his comments about her birth father outside, she said, “Tell me what you need to make dinner and I’ll get it out for you. I’m assuming a sharp knife and a cutting board, which is as far as my culinary skills extend.”
“I’ll also need a frying pan, a couple of mixing bowls, olive oil, salt, pepper, and whatever herbs you’ve got.”
“Herbs are the easy part,” she said, before disappearing to root around in her kitchen cupboards.
There was something oddly appealing about a woman so gifted with a green thumb but who was utterly useless in the kitchen. Yet again, she turned his expectations on their ear.
How else would she surprise him? If he kissed her, would she be as soft, as sweet as she looked—or would she be all heat and desperate lust?
He had to work harder than ever to push the thought away. She’d attracted him from the first, but Alec knew better than to let an unexpected attraction hold sway over his common sense. Anyone who lived in a fairy-tale cottage like this, who surrounded herself with flowers of every color of the rainbow, would want the rest of the fairy tale too. She’d want a doting husband. She’d want little kids chasing butterflies and digging in the dirt outside. She’d want all the things Alec didn’t. He was happy with his fast-paced life. Happy to do what he wanted, when he wanted, with no one to hold him down. There was no way he’d ever risk his happiness by falling into an obsessive relationship the way his father had with his mother.
Soon, Alec had everything he needed to begin their meal. He was chopping onions when Cordelia reached out to flip on the old-school radio on the ledge of the kitchen window. She immediately began to sway her hips and hum along with the music.
The knife stilled in his hand as he stared at her, mesmerized not only by her effortless beauty, but also by the sensuality that he was becoming less and less immune to by the second.
Her cheeks went pink when she noticed he was staring at her. “Was I singing out loud?” Before he could reply, she said, “I can’t help myself. James Taylor is one of my favorite musicians.”
Alec’s arm felt as though it were moving through cement as he reached over to turn off the radio. His heart wasn’t beating quite right anymore either.
“Alec? Is everything okay?” Cordelia was obviously surprised by his behavior.
But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell her that he’d finally realized what she’d been listening to. “Something in the Way She Moves.” The song his father used to sing to his mother. When his mother teased his father about his off-key voice, Alec knew everything was okay for the time being. When she didn’t seem to even hear the singing, that was a bad day.
“I’m just not in the mood for music right now.”
“I should have asked.”
“It’s your kitchen—you didn’t need to ask.” But he didn’t want to talk right now, didn’t want to end up saying more than he should about his aversion to James Taylor’s music. “If you want to take a shower, now’s a good time.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m happy to help with whatever I can.”
“Go.” He belatedly tried to soften the one hard word with a small smile. “I promise not to make your kitchen too big a disaster zone.”
“I’m not worried about that.” Her gaze seemed to add, I’m worried about you. But thankfully, instead of saying it out loud, she simply said, “I won’t be long,” then headed for the bathroom.
His chest tight, he turned his focus back to the onion on the chopping board and worked to block all thoughts, all memories, of his mother. But when the melody of the damned song kept playing on repeat inside his head, he turned the radio back on, found a heavy metal station, and blasted it loud enough that he couldn’t think of anything at all.