Page 11 of The Sweet Life

“I’m pretty sure the flowers know that you killed them, but if you were talking about the owners of the garden, Liz will know too.”

“I promise. She won’t. ‘Stella d’Oro’ daylilies make up a third of my dad’s garden. I’ll go dig some up and have them replanted before sunrise.”

She glanced from the trampled yellow and gold flowers to the stars glittering in the night sky. It had yet to lighten. “What time is it?”

“Two thirty. I have plenty of time.” He glanced around. “Now let’s get you out of here so no one discovers you’re J.R.” He looked down at her. “You are trying to keep your street-artist identity secret, aren’t you?”

“I am, and I appreciate you…” She waved her hand, indicating him holding her in his arms. “Whatever this is you’re doing.”

His lips twitched. “I was attempting to rescue you from the rosebush, but…” He looked down and winced. “I seem to be making things worse.”

“What flower did you just behead?”

He lifted his foot. “A gerbera daisy. Dad doesn’t have any in his garden, so I might have to steal a couple from the neighbors.”

“Put me down. I know a way out that won’t endanger any more innocent flowers.” He slowly lowered her to her feet, which left her pressed to his side and in danger of taking out more flowers if she moved left, right, or backward.

“Let’s try it this way.” She flattened herself against him, desperately trying to ignore the feel of his hard body pressed against her. The heat and sensual woodsy fragrance emanating off him left her slightly light-headed.

Off limits, she reminded herself as she wrapped her arms around his waist, realizing as she did so that it was a big mistake. She should have let the flowers fend for themselves.

“Are we dancing under the moonlight?” he asked, sounding amused.

“No, you’re walking carefully backward toward the rock so I can get my things, and then I’m leading you out of here.” She placed her bare feet on top of his sneakers.

Glancing up, she met his gaze. She recognized the desire in his eyes. It surprised her. She was six years older than him. She wasn’t hard on the eyes, but she was nowhere near as beautiful as her sister. He rested his hands on her hips before taking a careful step backward. He was right. The slow and sensuous movement of her body against his made it feel like a dance.

He reached out and grabbed her canvas bag off the top of the rock, handing it to her. She looped it over her shoulder and moved to step off his sneakers, but he held her in place. “Youforgot the lantern and a brush, and there’s not enough room for both of us.” He angled his head. “We don’t have time to waste.”

She was about to ask him what he meant when she heard the drone of voices down the lane. “Hurry!” she whispered.

He shuffled her into position.

Hooking the fingers of her left hand into his belt loop, she leaned backward, scooping up the brush and lantern. He groaned, and her gaze shot down the lane as she straightened. No one was there.

She met his eyes, a question in hers.

He cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, very flexible.”

“Yoga,” she murmured, then quietly directed him onto the path she’d taken through the garden earlier. She barely had time to grab her sneakers and his hand before the two men walking down the lane appeared. Gia and Flynn flattened their backs against the house, hiding in the shadows.

“Hey, look at that,” one of the men said, a beam of light illuminating the garden. “It’s one of J.R.’s paintings.”

“J.R.? Like the guy fromDallas?” the other man asked.

“Who?”

“You know,Who shot J.R.?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’m talking about the painting on the rock. Look. It’s the same artist who painted the mural on Surfside. J.R.”

Gia burrowed into Flynn.

“That’s pretty cool,” the other guy said. “Whoever the artist is, they’ve got talent. I wonder why they waste it painting for free?”

The light went out, the men’s voices fading as they continueddown the lane trying to guess her motivation for becoming a street artist.

Before stepping away from the side of the house, Gia leaned forward to make sure that no one else was coming down the lane. “I think it’s safe,” she told Flynn.

---