Flirtation. Samantha Hunter
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EJB: Charlotte, can you do another reading for me? In person.
CHARLEY: I’d love to, EJ. That would be perfect.
EJB: I understand your concerns, and we could meet in a public place, a café, if you like.
Charlotte sat back, considering. She knew that was the smart thing to do, but she didn’t like the idea of meeting EJ with lots of people around, or reading for him in public, which was bound to be a very personal experience, considering.
Putting her faith in the universe, she flipped another card: The Fool. While she might be foolish to take such a leap, the card generally advised taking a chance, and trusting that things would work out. So she held her breath and took the plunge.
CHARLEY: No, I’d really rather meet you at your house.
She decided, ultimately, that it was safer to meet him at his place, so he didn’t find out where she lived. Also, if the residence looked sketchy, she could just leave.
EJ: Thank you, Charlotte. I have a feeling this is going to be life-changing for both of us.
THE NEXT DAY, Charlotte stepped from the taxi, smoothing her yellow and white pinstriped seersucker sundress and catching her breath at the sight before her. It was the most beautiful house she’d ever seen, with the ivy-covered porch and bursts of spring flowers everywhere.
Its grandness could have been off-putting with the porch’s sturdy columns and iron rails, but everything was wrapped in green and color, the plants were mature and well-tended. No modern landscaping could rival it. This gorgeous old house had known love, nurturing and happy times.
It must also be worth a fortune. She counted the beautiful, multi-paned windows on just the front—twenty-one. Wow. She looked up to the third floor, wondering what it would be like to gaze from one of those windows down on the magnolias that were just past their peak. The grass was green and lush, without a weed in sight. Relatively assured the man she was meeting was probably not an axe-murderer—not that money guaranteed against that, but she was willing to err on the side of her instincts—she waved to the taxi driver and sent him on his way with a smile.
Stepping up on the porch, she pushed the buzzer and waited, heart pounding. The man who would open the door had been sizzling in her fantasies for days, and now she was going to meet him face-to-face. Not one to succumb to nerves so easily, she was virtually vibrating with excitement and anticipation.
Nothing happened. No one arrived at the door. Pushing one curl, damp from the heat and plastered to her forehead, back in place, she hit the buzzer again, this time, holding it down longer, frowning.
Still nothing. Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath. She didn’t believe EJ was the kind of man to stand her up—especially on the porch of his very own home. She decided to look out back.
Sure enough, as she rounded the end of a long, curving drive, she spotted a man working in the yard and caught her breath again.
Oh my.
Standing atop a wooden ladder by the side of a large gazebo, he was stretched tall, wearing only low-slung jeans and a white T-shirt that clung, grooming the very fruitful wisteria that covered the panels of the charming structure. He must be the gardener—maybe he’d know where EJ was.
But Charlotte just stood there and watched for a moment. How could she do anything but? He was gorgeous. His muscles clenched and released as he maneuvered the clippers around the curves of the beautiful vine, taking care not to damage the huge, lavender-blue blossoms.
Watching him work told her more than the man would probably ever suspect. How he gently worked his way around the blossoms, how he made precise cuts.
Heat gathered low in her stomach, and she tried to control the flush that moved up into her cheeks as carnal images flashed through her mind. She was here to see one man, and getting all hot and bothered over another. She shook her head, surprised. It wasn’t her habit to gawk, but as she let her eyes travel up the length of the man’s taut form, resting for a few moments on his narrow, masculine hips and backside, she couldn’t suppress a sharp twist of desire.
She was going to meet EJ looking flushed and bewildered, and she didn’t want to be sending out the wrong signals. They’d acknowledged the spark between them online, and now they had to see if it would fade in real life. She knew she was there for much more than a reading—but if she thought about that too much she wouldn’t be able to take one more step forward.
Time to stop ogling the gardener.
Gathering her composure, she stepped forward, a little more nervous than she had been. The grounds of the house were huge, and she walked slowly through the gorgeous yard where everything was blossoming, eager to burst from the bud. Her body felt heavy and warm the closer she got to the gazebo, and she pushed her hair back from her forehead again. Finally she stopped, trying to control her voice as she observed him close-up.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for EJ Beaumont. Could you tell me where to find him?” She wished her voice wasn’t so breathless, but it was the best she could do.
The clipping stopped and the man turned slowly on the ladder, looking down at her with clear green eyes that warmed as he looked at her. His gaze was as lush as the foliage surrounding him, and she couldn’t look away.
“Charlotte.” Her name escaped from his lips on a husky welcome, his genteel southern drawl softening the consonants and making it sound much more romantic than she’d ever thought it was.
“EJ?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Oh. My. God. The gardener was EJ?
He didn’t step down from the ladder right away, but stayed there, towering above her, taking her in as if he never wanted to stop looking at her. He didn’t say another word, and she started to feel like a bug under a microscope. But then he smiled.
She double-stepped a little, thinking she’d hit an uneven patch in the yard. Either that or this was the first time in her life a man’s smile had literally tipped her off balance. She looked up, dazed, and he smiled even more widely, starting down the ladder.
“Charlotte,” he repeated, as if feeling her name with his mouth, melting her knees in the process. She almost backed up a step, mesmerized and trying to escape his spell, clearly in over her head. But she held her ground, waiting.
She opened her mouth but no sound came out as he walked up close, and took both of her hands in his. His skin was warm from his work, his hands rough but not calloused, his touch welcoming but not inappropriate. Curling her fingers around his was the most natural move in the world, and she lifted her eyes and fell into heaven.
“EJ,” she said again. “Oh. I thought you were the gardener.” She swallowed, catching her breath. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry you’re the gardener—that’s a fine profession and I love gardens, but I am a little early, I have this thing about time, I like to be on time, I hate to be late, so I end up being early all the time, but being early can be just as rude as being late, but…”
She ended her babble, staring haplessly, watching him nod slowly and seriously as if every word coming out of her mouth made absolute sense.
She felt a rush of disbelief and confusion. How could this amazingly hot…stud—it was the only word she could think of—not be taken? How could he not have the woman of his choice in his bed every night? What was he doing getting tarot readings online and standing here with her?
Chasing away the self-denigrating thought, she smiled and looked around the yard, trying to ignore the fact that he was still holding onto her hands.
“I’m not the gardener, Charlotte, I just like to work outside from time to time. This is my family home, though I’m the only one who lives here now. With my work, I spend a lot of time inside at a desk, so I try to get outdoors and do things when I get the opportunity.”
“Your home is gorgeous. I’ve never seen wisteria that prolific.” Thank