Whispers of Danger and Love (3 page)

She had heard a warrior’s whoop, and her date suddenly flew through the air and landed on his butt with a surprised
oomph
.

David Larkin stood over him with his fist raised and a fierce scowl on his handsome face. Was he Jack Sparrow or Tarzan that night? David leaned down and jerked her obnoxious date up by the front of his tux, and then, with his other hand on the seat of the boy’s pants, he duck-walked the cowering young man out the door.

Cheryl had been too surprised to react. She jumped up, tugging at her bodice, and ran outside after them in time to see her date disappearing into the distance.

“What did you do!” she screamed at Larkin who stood grinning down at her, his tousled, thick, black hair needing a cut and spilling forward. His chin was covered with a thin bearded growth giving him a rough, ultra-male appearance. She was even more furious at the rapid beat of her betraying heart when he moved closer and touched her cheek, caressing it with a fingertip.

“Don’t you look pretty, sweet little thing.” He tipped her chin up and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. Before she could utter a strongly worded protest, he hustled her toward the street and escorted her into a red pick-up truck, tucking her long dress in afterward. German Gestapo, beast, bully.

“Time you were in bed, little girl. Don’t think you’ll miss that goon. I’ll just see you home.” David had buckled her seat belt and given a satisfied pat to her leg pausing momentarily to caress the silky material. “Nice,” he had murmured.

Firmly closing the door, he rounded the cab, climbed into the driver’s seat, and revved the engine. “Hold on, honey,” he whispered, flashing those strong, super-white teeth at her. He stepped briskly on the accelerator.

“David Larkin, have you lost your mind? What did you do to my date? This is my high school prom, I’ll have you know. You are not welcome to . . . Where have you been? You can’t just suddenly appear and act as if you think you are my father. David! What are you doing?”

She argued and stomped her feet, but he just grinned and drove straight to her house. He walked her to the door and stood looking down at her in the dim glow of a distant streetlight. Spring breezes caressed her shoulders as she stared up at him.

“Pretty little Cher. So sweet. You’re almost grown up, aren’t you? When did that happen?” He tilted her chin up firmly with one hand reaching behind to hold her head with the other. His lips were firm, warm and he uttered a low groan. His arms came around her as he pulled her close, snuggling her firmly against his lanky length, and deepening the kiss. His tongue probed between her lips which parted as if he had taken control away from her. She gasped as his tongue flicked in and out causing alarming sensations in her stomach and sliding down her torso to other warm places. When she thought she would die from the pleasure, he pulled abruptly away.

“David!” she said, reaching up to touch her lips.

He grinned and flashed his strong, white teeth at her. He was a pirate from the far-off seas come to kidnap her with her a willing prisoner. Her head reeled from the excitement.

“Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean for that to happen. You just smelled so good I lost it for a bit. Say hello to your mama and daddy for me. Don’t grow up too fast. Night, night, sweets.” Whistling merrily, David turned and headed toward his truck, giving her a quick salute before he disappeared into the night.

She stood on the steps fingering her wrist corsage, staring at the quickly disappearing taillights of his truck until it turned the corner and was gone. The shock of the night was almost gone as her head was filled only with a kiss from bad boy David Larkin.

It was all over school the next day that she’d been too chicken to stay with her date. Suffering the painful embarrassment only a teenager could feel, she thought she would never forgive David Larkin, but over time, she came to understand he had done her a favor. And she would have likely been assaulted had David not come to her rescue. Her crush on an idiotic football player had ended that night. She’d never confessed it, but she never forgot David’s kiss either. It’d far surpassed the one he had given her on her thirteenth birthday when he laughed and declared he would be the first boy to kiss her.

A louder hum grazed her face and a real hummingbird, a male, his chest blazing an announcement of his ruby-throated name, scolded her for blocking his attempt to sample the nectar of a late columbine. Coming back to the present, she stood, still touching her lips and vowing never to allow Larkin to know he affected her that deeply. It would be a disastrous mistake, and she knew it.

His reputation preceded him. A string of females with various reputations had no doubt enjoyed that super-sized kiss, and she could be nothing special to him. Her head would rule her heart this time. She trailed her fingers gently against a bed of fragrant sky-blue petunias as she found her way back inside. She had work to do and an appointment in an hour or so. Besides, she was too old to have her wits scattered by a kiss from a casual acquaintance. Tell that to my unruly libido, she thought with a sinking heart.

Chapter 3

“I just love those blue flowers. I had the decorator put my new blue couch right up against the window. Could I pick these kinds of flowers and put them there?” The blond woman reached her hand down to fondle a blossom, crushing it between her fingers, and then rubbing them on her sleeve. The sap of a petunia was sticky.

It seemed strange to Cheryl why so many people would touch a plant and then deliberately destroy it by crushing or rubbing the leaves until they turned brown. Some sort of claiming possession? As often as she could she tried to teach the uninitiated how to ‘pet’ a plant without harming it.

“You certainly can pick bouquets when we get you a cutting garden established. Those particular plants would probably not make good arrangements. Petunias have floppy, short stems which makes them difficult to handle in a vase. Let me show you some examples of good cut flowers.”

Cheryl led the buxom blonde through the garden to the back where she had planted a particular bed, an abundance of suitable cut flowers. Zinnias, gladiola, and phlox were in full mid-summer riot. A bed of Asiatic lilies were almost finished.

“Now, these zinnias come in many colors, and you can pick them to your heart’s content. Aren’t they pretty?” Cheryl rested her hand casually on one fiery red bloom with pride.

“Well, yeah, but I liked the blue ones best. The man at the store said my color blue was called cerulean blue. So exciting. It had a shiny finish with these cute little knobby things sticking out. Just exactly the color of those other flowers. How come these don’t come in blue?” The woman stuck out her lower lip and, to Cheryl’s surprise, actually pouted.

“Don’t get your bowels in an uproar, doll. She’ll get you some blue ones, won’t you, Miss Esterbrook?” Sam Toledo snuggled his arm comfortingly around his blond friend and gave her a swift hug. Doll looked at him adoringly and patted him on his bushy head, the rings on her fingers catching the rays of the sun and practically blinding Cheryl. The blonde’s other arm clutched a pink silk bag from which peeked an insignificant bug-eyed dog. At first Cheryl thought it was a stuffed animal until it gave a wheezy cough and shuddered.

Was the puppy cold? He seemed to be either terrified or freezing. Since the temperature outside was reading in the low 80’s she surmised it was the former.

“Pooky here just loves blue flowers,” Doll cooed.

Cheryl wasn’t certain whether Pooky was the boyfriend or the dog. The dog gave a tiny spasmodic bark, and Doll giggled and covered him with kisses. She seemed particularly pleased when its tongue enthusiastically licked her mouth.

Sam Toledo wandered back toward the front of the shop lighting a pungent-smelling cigar as he walked. A stocky man, he was at least a head shorter than his companion. His shoulders were wide as if to compensate for his lack of height. A raspy voice seemed to belong to the rough face which sported a scar on one cheek, a broken nose, and a swath of reddish hair. Cheryl was startled by the beefy size of his hands. Had he been a boxer?

He bit off the tip of the cigar and spit it over into her prize red crocosmias, startling a female hummer who was feasting on the graceful arch of blooms. Cheryl made a mental note to find it later. The only thing more obnoxious than a smoker was one who butted his leftovers into her plants. Her attention was drawn back to Doll, who had tucked her puppy back into his bag.

“Lovey says you’ll come right out to the house and help our gardener. How soon can you be there? I want it all finished in two weeks.” She waved her hand to flash her huge diamonds for emphasis.

Cheryl presumed ‘Lovely’ to be Sam Toledo. So Pooky, the dog, Lovey Toledo, and Doll, the woman. Perhaps soon she could acquire more formal names. She certainly hoped so.

“We’re having a big party, lots of very important people coming. I promised Lovey I would have everything shipshape by then. And I want to have a big bouquet of blue flowers for my vases. You can fix that, can’t you? My friend, Sally, said you can work wonders in the garden. Can you?” A shrewd expression flitted over her face and a hard look came into the blonde’s eyes for a brief moment. Surprised, Cheryl had to back up in her assessment of the woman. Perhaps Doll was a persona she wore for the occasion.

“I can work wonders,” Cheryl said, “but I’m not a magician and I won’t kid you. It may very well take longer than a couple of weeks to accomplish the job. I could move established plants there for a quick fix, but it would be expensive. I don’t recommend it.”

“Lovey wouldn’t want me to be cheap. He wants only the best. You know, like me!” She giggled in a high-pitched voice and gave a tiny wave toward Lovey who smiled back at her.

Cigar smoke hung like a smelly wreath around his head.

“I have some well-planted container gardens,” Cheryl said. “Would you like to see them? We could move them over to your place for the party. It would make up for the size of the new plantings.”

“We’ll be right back, Lovey,” Blondie called out, flapping her be-ringed hand over her shoulder and tripping on spike heels behind Cheryl.

“Pssttt.”

Cheryl whirled around, scanning the yard. What was that? Did the sound come from the hedge? She must have imagined it.

She saw no one. Blondie was cooing to her pup, holding him over an overflowing container of mixed perennials in full bloom. It was one of the containers she was certain could be transported to her client’s property.

“Ppstttttt!”

The sound was accompanied by the rustle of foliage.

Cheryl heard the noise more insistently and finally traced it to the hedge between her yard and that of the detective. She walked over.

“Larkin! What do you want? Can’t you see I’m working?” she hissed into the wall of greenery.

“You should stay far away from those people, Cher,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not nice.” The hedge trembled with his movements, but he stayed well hidden.

“Clients!” she hissed back between clenched teeth. Would he never leave her alone? He was like a tornado that whirled into her life abruptly, tossed her about, and left a wide swath of destruction behind. She steeled her emotions and resolved to never allow him . . .

“Just do as I say, stubborn woman,” he whispered firmly. “I’ll be over after they leave. Just get rid of them,” he demanded, rustling the leaves fiercely.

“I have no intention of doing anything of the sort! Now go away. I’m working.” She stalked away from the hedge and stood beside Blondie who was allowing her tiny dog to attempt to lift a leg into a carefully cultivated speedwell border. It fell over and scrabbled around for a bit in the deep turf trying to regain its balance. Over her shoulder, Cheryl could hear the hedge rustling angrily, but her neighbor kept quiet.

“These pots are very nice. How soon can we get them over to my house?” Blondie paused to croon to her dog that was finally recovered and now sniffing at a lush bed of purple, fragrant catmint. It nosed inside the flowers carefully, then finally reached up and clamped his tiny teeth around one stalk.

“Pooky, Pooky. Come away from that. Those plants could be poisonous to you. Come to Mommy, honey.” Trembling on palsied legs, the tiny yellow dog made his way gingerly like an old man over to his mistress’s side where she quickly scooped him up and stuffed him back into the silk bag. He gave a tiny sigh and seemed to sink into a stupor. An image of the dormouse from
Alice in Wonderland
flashed through Cheryl’s mind and she suppressed a giggle.

Probably tired him out, she thought. Most exercise he’s had all day. She glanced over her shoulder but the hedge remained quiet. Nevertheless, she guided her client through the thick green turf and back to the front of the shop where Toledo awaited. She invited them both inside and made appointments to conclude their business. Lovey Toledo was generous with a down payment, which Cheryl tucked inside her shirt pocket. She tried on a polite smile and waited for them to leave.

“Nothing but the best for my honey,” he said, pinching his girlfriend on the cheek.

Blondie grinned and simpered back at him although Cheryl thought for sure there would be a bruise there later. The lady obviously earned her way.

Cheryl waved them goodbye. She was about to earn her money as well. It would be a definite challenge. Perhaps Honey the Blondie would allow her free rein to do as she thought best. Or perhaps she would look over her shoulder and demand an instant planting of blue cut flowers. Perhaps lisianthus. The Echo species had a very nice blue, which Cheryl thought she could produce from a favorite florist she knew. Otherwise, she would need to figure out a way to plant gladiolas already in bloom. Not impossible, but not desirable and not sure she could produce a true blue either. It was the type of puzzle she enjoyed solving and she was certain she could rise to the challenge.

She wandered back into her shop to write up a plan. This was going to be an extensive job with only two weeks to accomplish a new look. She gave the parrot a few sunflower seeds, and then sat at her desk to sketch.

“I told you to get rid of those people!” Larkin startled her as he burst into the room almost taking her bell off the door. “Have you no sense?” He took her by her shoulders and pulled her up, tipping her chair into a blue ceramic planter filled with a large jade plant. It smashed and scattered soil and buttons of jade leaves across the floor.

“Smack his rear! Awk! Naughty Boy!” the parrot squawked in Nana’s voice.

“Get your hands off me, you beast!” Cheryl shook off his hands and kneeled to rescue her plant. “Look what you’ve done. How many more plants are you going to kill? Turn me loose!” She glanced back at him as he stepped away rubbing his hand against his brow.

“You don’t understand, but you need to listen to me, Cher. Those people are not the sort for you to hang around.”

Cheryl frowned, glaring over her shoulder at him. “Please leave my shop, Larkin. I think you’ve done enough harm for one day.” She continued to gingerly pick through the broken glass, then rose to find a new planter on a shelf behind her desk.

Larkin drew in a deep breath and tried visibly to calm himself. “You’re such a baby, Cher. You always were. Just this one time, will you listen to me? I do know what I’m talking about. You could place yourself in danger if you continue to deal with that man. What did he want, anyway?” He grabbed a trashcan and knelt beside her to pick up glass fragments, dumping them in with unnecessary force.
Clunk! Clunk!

“The same thing most people want from me. Advice about his gardens. What could possibly be dangerous about that? I think you’ve finally lost your marbles, Detective.”

“That big pile of monstrosity up on the hill? I’d of thought it was covered with gravel.” He angrily tossed more broken crockery into the trashcan.

“His blond honey is the one who wants the gardens fixed up. She’s giving me two weeks to have it whipped into shape. It’s going to tax my powers of invention.”

He held out a branch of the jade plant with an apologetic shrug. Cheryl shook her head. The houseplant probably needed transplanting anyway. It was pretty root bound, but she wouldn’t let him entirely off the hook. He slipped back on his haunches and gazed directly into her eyes. She knew what was coming. This was his best friend persona that usually managed to talk her into the worse and most dangerous adventures.

“Sweetheart, please take my advice. I can’t explain just now, but you need to call those people up and tell them you can’t do the work. Pretend you’re sick or something.” He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder.

Her insides shivered with emotion, but she was determined he wouldn’t know what effect he had on her.

“David,” she said, “this is my job. It’s what I do. I’m not always able to choose my clients on the basis of whether they are nice people or not. Sometimes I don’t even like them myself. But they’re paying me good money for my services and I intend to earn it.”

He stared at her, and she wondered briefly why it was that long, gorgeous eyelashes always seemed to be on the fellows.

There was danger, familiar danger, if she allowed herself to sink into those fascinating eyes, chocolate pools of temptation. She stiffened her resolve, vowing she would not fall into his web this time. She stood up abruptly and walked toward the back room.

He stayed on his knees, staring after her for a moment. Then he released a huge sigh, stood, and walked toward the door muttering. “Not once in all these years has that stubborn little girl listened to anything I had to say to her. Not one darn time!”

“I’m sorry about your shiny, green plant,” he called over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to kill it. I hope it gets better.”

The door slammed and all was quiet.

Cheryl stood in the back room tucking yet another stem of the jade plant into a new pot. “Wonder what that was all about,” she said, addressing the mutilated plant. “Oh well, he’s just on another rant. Best to ignore him.”

She was pleased her pulse had quieted all on its own without her having to concentrate as she usually did. She might have a handle on this thing between them after all. She moved over to change the water in the parrot’s dish and to chat in a soothing, low voice.

Ganymede still paced nervously back and forth on her perch, but refrained from the raucous squawking Cheryl dreaded. Nana had loved her bird, but Cheryl considered its care mostly an obligation. Parrots lived long lives and for all Cheryl knew Gany was in her twilight years needing peace and quiet.

A sigh escaped her as she wandering around the shop. She not only missed her wonderful neighbor lady from next door, she missed her grandmother even more. That good lady had sheltered her from the overbearing woman who mothered her, standing between the pressures of a disappointed parent. Cheryl had fled her home and lived almost solely at her grandmother’s. What a fuss her mother had made when Cheryl decided to leave the business world and seek a degree in horticulture and landscaping. Her thoughts drifted back to a pair of chocolate-brown eyes with scandalous long eyelashes.