That Girl's the One I Love Read Free

them for the fact sheet he must have pulled that trivia from.
    “It’s true.” He shrugged. “I could tell you almost anything you’d want to know about horticulture. I was going to be a farmer when I grew up.”
    Still in disbelief, she laughed. “You. A farmer. For real?”
    Quite solemn, he nodded. “Got three-quarters of the way through Florida A&M, working on a degree in agronomy. Would have made it, too, except my…my old man drank up all the money I’d hidden in the bank for school.” He bit his lip, trapping whatever pejorative term he’d been about to call his father. “I always meant to go back, but once I started playing guitar seriously, I never made it.”
    He continued to stare at the flowers, lost now in some memory of the past, one that obviously hurt him. She changed the subject, wanting to lighten the mood again. “I like this one,” she said, pointing to a bright pink flower identified as oleander.
    “I’d make a different choice. That one’s poison.”
    She yanked her hand back. “Oh, my gosh!”
    He laughed. “Here. Now if this was my greenhouse, I’d give you...” He studied her a minute. “A string of white dendrobium, like little butterflies. You could pin them in your hair, right here.” He reached over to tap her head gently, then his hand slid down her hair to her neck, while he looked into her eyes.
    She felt such a connection that almost without conscious thought she moved a little closer. His hand drew her in, till they stood inches apart, gaze still locked. Her lips parted, as if she intended to speak. Nothing came out. Before she knew it, he’d stepped in to kiss her. Right then she knew they wouldn’t leave each other till the morning.
    He seemed to feel the same way, because after they left the greenhouse at the estate, they went down to the Grove Arcade, looking in shop windows, then out to the botanical gardens, all the time holding hands and talking. If she could have predicted what a “soulmate” might be for her, someone who seemed to share so many common qualities, right down to their favorite peanut butter cup ice cream, she’d have chosen someone like Arran. A man who took no effort to be with. Someone she could really be herself with. No matter what she was wearing, or how her hair looked, or how much she earned.
    It was time.
    When they reached the end of the path at the rose garden, she whispered, close to his ear, “Why don’t you come home with me?”
    He drew back, his eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? You’ve just met me.”
    Another surprise. She’d always believed men were hardwired to say yes any time they were propositioned. Arran was indeed out of the ordinary.
    “I’m sure,” she said. “I’ve even got a couple of Danish in the refrigerator for breakfast. And coffee.”
    “Breakfast, hm?” He studied her a long moment. “Leyla, I don’t want you to think that because I sing in a band means I just use women. I’d never take advantage of you.”
    Now, that could be one hell of a line. Maybe it was. But his eyes were so sincere. She didn’t want to frighten him off, not now. That kiss had promised much more. “Guess I don’t usually stalk guitarists and throw myself at them, either. Does that make us even?”
    He actually blushed. “Hey, I’m the one who asked you to lunch.” He held out his right hand. “Let’s call it a draw.”
    She took his hand and shook it. “Deal.”
    He let go and slipped an arm around her waist, his hold on her possessive. She did the same. “Which way to your place?”
    ****
    In the morning, the sun was high when she woke up to find him gone.
    A magnet held a scribbled note to the refrigerator.
    What a great night! You’re amazing. I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so beautiful sleeping there. Got a call I’ve got to answer—we’ll get together soon.
    He signed with an oversized A.
    Her disappointment that he’d left her faded as she focused on his words. You’re amazing…beautiful. She