“It does me too, but we’ll survive. I’m sorry we’ve been so busy all day that I haven’t had a chance to ask about your date. How did it go?”
Darcy again commented on the amusing film and then shrugged. “Griffin is such a complex individual that I can’t figure out what he’s really up to, so I’m being real careful.”
Christy Joy gestured with a rose-tipped pen. “With Twink and J. Lyle to consider, I’m forced to be cautious, but you don’t have to answer to anyone. You ought to do exactly as you please where Griffin is concerned.”
Darcy pulled up a stool and sat. “It’s not just that he plans to coldly put us out on the street, Christy Joy. The guy’s got more layers than an artichoke, and I’m not sure I want to start peeling off leaves and dipping them in butter.”
“My God, that sounds decadent, but the better Griffin knows you, the more difficult it’ll be for him to screw with Defy the World Tomatoes.”
“Oh, he’s already screwing with something, but I’m just not sure what.” Darcy had thought he might come breezing through there that day with one of his ridiculous requests, but she refused to admit how disappointed she truly was that he hadn’t.
Their work completed for the day, Darcy bid her partner and Twink good night, left her truck parked behind the nursery and walked around the corner to her rented house. Preoccupied, she failed to notice Griffin’s Range Rover until he climbed out carrying a bag from the Emperor’s Palace.
“I had no idea you delivered Chinese food in your spare time,” she called to him.
“Only to you. As I see it, I owe you a dinner. If you’d rather have something else, I’ll go get it.”
Darcy paused on her front steps. “Did you bring their walnut shrimp?”
“Of course. It’s the best thing on their menu.”
“Damn straight,” Darcy swore. “Come on in.”
She wished she had time for a quick shower, but she didn’t trust Griffin not to pick the bathroom lock and climb in with her. With his gorgeous bod all slippery wet, she would drown for sure.
“Just put everything on the table. I’ll get the plates.”
Darcy hurried into her kitchen, but first opened the cupboard where she stored her baking supplies and searched for the pumpkin pie spice. She’d actually used some a couple of years ago to bake a pie from scratch for a friend’s potluck Thanksgiving dinner. The little jar had been pushed to the back, but once found, she quickly flipped open the sprinkle lid and tossed some inside her T-shirt. She felt utterly ridiculous, but she’d been comfortable in George’s choice of clothes, so it was worth a try.
She put the tea kettle on the stove, grabbed plates, napkins and utensils, and carried them out to the round oak table she’d refinished herself. She’d started out in a furnished rental and had bought what she now owned one piece at a time at antique and used-furniture stores. None of it matched, but with so many plants sitting around, she doubted anyone noticed.
“At least I own a table,” she mumbled as she set their places.
“And a fine one it is too. I like your furniture. It has character.”
“It’s a wonder Architectural Digest hasn’t called.”
Griffin slid into a chair. “Perhaps they believe bigger is better.”
Darcy watched his sly smile widen. The man had a killer grin, and she was certain he knew it.
“I won’t touch that one,” she replied.
Griffin laughed. “Yeah, you will. It’s just a matter of time.”
Darcy couldn’t subdue the bright blush flooding her cheeks, so she sat and reached for one of the food cartons. “You want to keep those pretty teeth of yours long enough to eat dinner?”
“I sure do, but Darcy, you’re so awfully cute.”
She opened the container to find the promised walnut shrimp, and her stomach began to rumble in delighted anticipation. “After I’ve fashioned a noose from your black belt, you’ll rethink your opinion.”
“That’s quite an image, but let’s call a truce while we eat. You can talk dirty to me later.”
The whistle of the tea kettle provided Darcy with an excellent excuse to leave the table. “Do the air-headed society chicks you usually date actually get your jokes?” she called from the kitchen.
Griffin waited until she’d brought him a cup of tea to respond. “Like fast cars, I outgrew brainless beauties in my twenties. In the last couple of years, I’ve dated a museum director and a French Olympic champion. What about you?”
Darcy returned to her chair and savored a bite of shrimp while she searched her mind for someone, anyone, even remotely impressive. Unfortunately, she came up empty. “Let’s just say my last couple of boyfriends were employed and leave it at that.”