Will finished talking with Sonja, noting Katrina’s exit from the room. He’d recognized her. It was easy now that he knew what to look for. She was back in her normal, nondescript clothing, glasses covering her eyes, shy and oddball personality back in place. He wasn’t surprised by that; she’d probably only approached him because she’d been under the influence. He wanted to say hello before he left, anyway, to make sure she’d found her key. He was on his way out the door to see if he could find her when John appeared at his shoulder.
“Thank you again, Will, for stopping by,” he said.
“Sure, no problem.”
“I’d like to stop by this week to take a look at your famous home, if you have the time.”
“Sure, I make a point of getting home early on Friday evening. Would that work?”
“Yes, perfect. Thank you again, Will,” John said, walking away.
“Sure, no problem,” Will said, stepping into the hall and searching for his neighbor.
***
Okay, that should do it, Katrina said to herself. Her hands were some kind of clean now, seeing as she’d washed them three times. Cleanliness was next to Godliness, she’d heard somewhere, reaching into her purse to find her lotion and slowly applying it to her hands. She looked at her watch. Yep, Will should be long gone by now. She’d waited an extra five minutes beyond the meeting’s start time, just to be sure.
She opened the door and looked both ways. No one there. So far, so good, she said to herself as she walked back down the hallway leading toward the conference room. Her footsteps faltered as she took in Will, leaning against the wall a little way down from the door to the conference room.
She inwardly sighed, her hands twitching at the picture of him. She sighed again. He could have had sex with her that night; would that have killed him? He turned to her and remained there, watching her walk to him, a smile on his face.
“So, we meet again,” he said, standing up straight, his smile widening, showing off perfect white teeth. He secured her hand in his strong grip. “I didn’t want to leave without saying hello. I haven’t seen you around much lately. I assume you found your key,” he said, watching her.
“Yep, sure did. Thank you,” she said, her eyes skimming across his face before moving away to a spot just above his right shoulder.
“You’re welcome. I can tell that you’ve recovered,” he said, beckoning her eyes back to his face. She wished she’d worn something nicer, something other than her usual jeans, extra-large T-shirt, and baseball cap.
“Yep,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“That was some New Year’s Eve party. Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.
“Hey, congratulations on your home,” she blurted out, a blatant attempt to change the subject.
“Thank you,” he said, slightly taken aback by the turn in the conversation.
“Oh, look at the time. I’d better get back in there. You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I’m late enough as it is,” she said, pulling her hand from his and walking quickly away.
“Sure,” he said, his voice trailing away, watching her disappear into the room, inwardly smiling. She was not so bold today.
He’d seen embarrassment and discomfort in her eyes just then, and he hadn’t seen her out working in her yard anymore, not as he was used to. He’d given some thought to going over to check on her, but decided against it. She liked him, very much it seemed, and he now knew how much. He liked her, too, in a mostly friendly way. Okay, it was not all friendly; there was a little sexual interest mingled in there, but not enough to act on. She had been funny and interesting that night and different from what he’d originally thought her to be. He headed toward the front of the building, realizing that he’d been standing there lost in his thoughts. He walked out the main door and headed to his jeep pulling his keys from his pocket, recalling Katrina’s earlier behavior. So she was going to try and avoid him, to pretend that night hadn’t happened. He understood the merits of her plan, and he should allow her to implement it, but for some reason he didn’t want to.
***
Thank God for Fridays, Katrina thought later on that week as she made the left turn on to her street, passing Will’s home. He and John were standing in front, John with his hand around Will’s shoulder as if he was Will’s father. What that was about, she wondered, pulling into her drive. She parked and sat for a minute, contemplating her mail. The mailboxes for her street sat directly across from her home. She thought she could scoot across the street and pick up her mail undetected by Will. By all appearances, he and John were deep in conversation, their heads together, Will listening, John talking—nothing new there. She got out of her car and turned to walk across the street.
“Katrina,” John shouted just before she took her first step into the street. She looked up and saw him and Will walking toward her. Groaning under her breath, she walked toward them, deciding to meet them halfway.
“Katrina, I was just discussing the city’s annual gardening competition with Will.”
“Oh,” she said, glancing at Will, who looked smoking hot, as usual. But he had a new look on his face now, one that said he was up to no good.
“Hi, Katrina,” he said, as if they were old friends from around the way.
“Hi,” she responded, not sure what to make of him now, and turned her eyes toward John. She was sticking with her original course, though, and pretending that night had never happened.
“I stopped by to take a look at Will’s incredible home and was surprised to find that he has also designed and landscaped an equally impressive backyard. It is remarkable the continuity between his home and the land surrounding it,” John said.
Incredible, huh, Katrina said to herself, lifting her eyebrows at all the praise and pushing her glasses, which had a habit of slipping, back up her nose. “That’s nice,” she said blandly, looking at Will, who was grinning and waggling his eyebrows at her. She turned away before he could see her smile.
“I was just telling Will about you and your gardening abilities, although the two of you have very different styles,” John said, looking between them. “You should come and take a look at Will’s home and garden.”
“Right now?” she asked, looking around somewhat frantically for a way to escape. It was all Will could do to keep from laughing outright.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to impose, plus I just got home from work,” she said, making herself yawn and covering her mouth. “Long week, you know,” she added.
“It wouldn’t be any imposition,” Will said, that big-ass grin still firmly in place on his face.
“Maybe later. I’ll stop by soon, I promise.”
“Sure you will,” he said, causing her to look back sharply at him. “Stop by anytime. You know where I live. Come see how pretty I am in my natural setting,” he said.
She made a face at him, remembering her words from the night of the party. How sweet of him to hand them back to her, and in front of John, too. She gave him one of her sharpest glares, along with a sugary smile for John’s benefit. He laughed. John looked from one to the other, unsure what to make of them. Katrina started walking backwards.
“I’ll see you later, John. Nice seeing you again, Will,” she said, backing up and turning toward her home, feet moving her away quickly.
The night of the party notwithstanding, Will’s initial assessment of her had been plain and boring. The first time he’d seen her in her yard, she had a bag of something or other slung over her shoulder, looking like a farmer. Her appearance today had not changed that opinion; she was garbed today in plain brown trousers and matching plain top, hair in a ponytail and those nerd glasses back on the bridge of her nose. Brown was not a friend to her skin, and of all of her physical attributes he’d seen the night of the party, her skin had become his favorite. It was a strong, smooth Kahlua, warmth on a cold night. Apparently, New Year’s Eve had made more of an impression on him than he’d thought.
He’d watche
d her pull up a few minutes ago in her little electric car, watched as she looking around, calculating whether she could try and sneak by them. So when John called her over, he’d decided to mess with her a little, ruffle her, finding that he didn’t want her to avoid him. It was easy and so much fun—a twisted benefit for him, he knew—but sometimes twisted worked for him. Most women didn’t ignore him, especially ones that liked him as much as he knew she did. What was the big deal, anyway? There was nothing to be ashamed of, no need to hide.
“So, Will,” John said, pulling him from his musings, “I would like you to give some thought to leading the gardening competition this year.”
“Who, me? I don’t think so,” he said.
“Do you know anything about the city’s annual competition?” John asked, walking back toward his home.
“Not much, just that it requires a year-long commitment, which I can’t see making. I just don’t have the time for that,” he said.
“Hear me out before you turn me down. Our city is the neighborhood garden capital of the country. It’s an effort we gave birth to and encouraged, and, as part of that commitment, we host a citywide competition in two areas, vegetables and flowers. The neighborhoods can enter in either the vegetable or flower categories, separately or in both. We usually enter in both categories, with different leads for each section. The city considers all the entries before inviting the top five designs in each category to participate in the final. You will have nine months from the selection of the final five to complete your garden,” he said, his arm wrapping around Will’s shoulder.
“Some years the city has provided a theme. I believe one year it was gardens with water conservation features. Anyway, all of the entries tailor their gardens around that theme. I have a hunch that this year’s theme will be a perfect fit with you as lead, duplicating your beautiful backyard garden on a much larger scale.”
“I don’t know, John. That sounds like a huge commitment, and I travel quite a bit. I’d have to check my long-range calendar before I could even consider it.”
“Sure, sure,” John said, continuing his explanation of the competition. He was in full-out persuasion mode, walking with Will back to his home. He stood outside talking about the competition for another hour before leaving. It was dark when he left.
Katrina knew how long it had taken because she’d stood at her window watching and wondering what was up with Will. Since when had they become friends? Well, you did have him in your bed not too long ago, her inner voice reminded her. She’d get her mail in the morning. John worked her nerves with his gardening quest, and that was saying something, because she, too, loved all things plants, and Will, well, because she was still avoiding him.
***
The next morning Katrina walked across the street to pick up her mail. Just as she’d opened her box she looked up to find Will pulling up alongside the curb in his jeep, bike secured to the back of it. He hopped out and walked over. Why me, she thought. The other night notwithstanding, she really was okay with the loving him from afar bit.
“And yet again we meet,” he said, reaching into his box, which was located next to hers, and looking over at her. “I think you’ve been avoiding me, Katrina, and here I’d gotten used to seeing you in your yard,” he said, grinning as he took in her less-than-glamorous attire.
“Nope,” was all she could find to say. He was now in his full-on cycling gear, and her mind split between listening to him and trying to take him all in. She scooted closer to him and took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, clean scent of him. She remembered that scent from the other night, and moved over just a little more to take in another lungful.
“Katrina, what are you doing?” he asked, curious as he watched her body shift toward him. She was short, reaching to the top of his chest without her heels, and the brim of her cap obstructed his view of her face, so he couldn’t see what she was doing exactly; he could only hear breathing.
“Me? Nothing. Just taking in the beautiful morning air,” she said, stepping back and looking up into his eyes. “I see you’re going for a ride this morning,” she said, changing the subject.
“Yep, I have this restless streak that needs feeding,” he said, looking down at her, amusement again in his eyes.
“Oh,” she said, returning his gaze. She could be food, yeah, that could work for her, she thought.
“Not that kind of feeding,” he said, apparently reading her mind or what was reflected in her eyes. “But who knows, maybe now that you’re in your right mind and not under the influence, I might give it some consideration.” He gave her a cheeky grin as he unlocked his box, cocky and confident, and pulled the mail from it, some spilling onto the ground.
“You don’t check your mail often, huh?” she said, trying to change the subject again. “Not as often as I should, apparently,” he said, bending down to pick up some of his mail that had fallen.
“Do you need some help?” she asked.
“Like the other night kind of help?” he asked, turning the conversation back around again, just to shake her. She was such an easy mark.
“All right. Enough. What’s with you bringing that up all the time? You turned me down. Even my jumbled head remembers that. I’m sure that night was of no consequence to you, anyway. It’s not your first time bringing a woman home, I know. I’ve seen you in action,” she said.
“Oh, I forgot. Katrina, the one-woman neighborhood watch program,” he said, shutting her up. He shrugged. “I don’t know why, except it’s kind of fun, watching you try to avoid me, trying to pretend nothing happened. It brings out the demon in me. I’ve told you before, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve had too much to drink before. It’s not a big deal. Plus, it was fun, putting you to bed,” he said, moving his eyebrows up and down.
“See what I mean? Let’s forget it. Thanks for bringing me home. Is that what you want? Okay, I won’t pretend anymore that it didn’t happen and you can move on,” she said, looking into his eyes. He placed his stack of mail under one arm and locked his mailbox door with the other. “I’ll think about it,” he said, tugging at the bill of her cap. He chuckled as he walked back to his jeep.
She watched him leave, her hands twitching at the sight of a firm and fine ass over well-toned thighs. She still hadn’t gotten past that night, how he’d felt next to her. She wished she could have persuaded him to do more. She sighed as his jeep started up and he waved a final time to her before turning and driving away.
She was too easy, he thought, chuckling, gazing at her through his rearview mirror; she was uncomfortable, but still interested. Her eyes had told him that. No, Will, he reminded himself again, too close to home. She was out of the ordinary and that’s what had caused this new fascination and interest in her. Or that was at least the way he had chosen to explain it to himself.
***
Later on that evening, Katrina sat perched, as was her custom, on the top back step of her deck, her cell phone in hand, waiting for a call, The Call. In the next five minutes, this year’s gardening competition’s theme would be announced. Katrina checked her watch. Gloria, her friend on the inside, always passed on the news to her as soon as it became available. Her cell rang. Answering on the first ring, she said, “Hey.”
“A World of Gardens,” Gloria said, skipping right to the reason for the call.
“A World of Gardens?” Katrina repeated, puzzled, moving her hand to her forehead. “What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means the gardens in the competition this year will reflect gardening styles found in other countries. It’s our little city’s attempt to go global. As if producing our own vegetables wasn’t a big enough task, and going green wasn’t an even larger additional burden, the city would like to add a little international flavor to the growing list of its attributes,” Gloria said.
“Okay. That so works for what I have in mind,” Katrina said.
“I’m sure, Katrina. You’re always cooking something up in that mind of yours
. Good luck, although I shouldn’t wish you any. You’ve won the last three years; the rest of us would like a chance.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it. Last year’s win was only by five points, and that was closer than it’s ever been. I hope I’m not losing my edge,” Katrina said.
“We’ll see. I’ve got to go; I’ve got other garden junkies to call with the news. See you soon,” Gloria said, and hung up.
“A World of Gardening,” Katrina said out loud, looking over her backyard. She’d designed her space to reflect what she’d hoped one would find in a typical English cottage garden. She loved the abundance of color, the fullness, warmth, variety, and energy she’d found in those gardens.
She had taken only one trip in her lifetime so far, and it had been to England to visit the Queen—not really, just to stand outside the gate of Buckingham Palace to watch the changing of the guards. She and her parents had toured London and the surrounding countryside and she’d fallen in love with the flowers and gardens she’d seen there. Back home she’d tried to replicate those gardens with varying degrees of success. What she wouldn’t give for a wetter climate and less heat.
The competition this year would finally offer her a chance to design something she had so much passion for. She could hardly wait to get started.
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