Garden Of Fantasy

by Karen Rose Smith

  They cleaned up the flour and baking utensils, snacked on the cookies, and played game after game of gin rummy. Finally the boys changed into their pajamas. But as Beth stood at their bunk beds and their wide eyes stared at her with the same worry she was feeling, she knew they didn't want to be alone.

  "Where are you going to sleep?" Roger asked.

  "I haven't thought about it. But I want to be near the phone."

  Jason's eyes dropped to his feet. "Then I guess you can't sleep in here."

  She glanced at Davie's empty bed.

  Roger offered, "When Uncle Nash stays, he sleeps on the sofa bed in the living room. It pulls out."

  "It's next to the phone," Jason added.

  "Why does your uncle stay over?"

  Roger propped his elbows on his knees. "He does sometimes if Dad's out of town more than a couple of days. Or if it's a birthday and we have a party and a sleepover. Our friends think he's fun."

  Her heart flipped over. These boys loved their uncle; Nash returned that love. She couldn't doubt their affection for one another.

  Jason said shyly, "Uncle Nash says the bed is king-size. It has lots and lots of room."

  She knew what Jason was hinting. "Would you two like to sleep out there with me? If it's that big, I'm sure we'd fit."

  The boys' heads bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

  She smiled. "Okay. Maybe if we snuggle together none of us will worry as much or be as lonely."

  "Beth, is Davie going to get better?" Roger asked.

  How could she reassure them when she had doubts? "I don't know. But we're going to say lots of prayers for him and remember the doctors are taking very good care of him. Okay?"

  Beth finally reached Wayne as Jason and Roger unfolded the sofa and gathered pillows from their beds. Later, when she lay awake in the dark, one boy on each side of her, she had time to think.

  Could she have been wrong about Nash? Had she somehow drawn all the wrong conclusions? Had her emotions been in such an upheaval from seeing John, the anticipation of telling Nash about it, and her own fears about trusting again that she'd misjudged him?

  Okay, Beth. Go over it again. First of all, the designs. Had he copied her concept? They'd both studied Osgood's other holdings. They both knew he liked variety. Wasn't it possible the idea of age groups had occurred to them both? She pictured Nash's boards. The individual designs were nothing like hers. Where she had used more environmental influences, Nash planned to utilize statues, props, mechanized fountains.

  Next, Rosenthal's suspicions. Could the architect be a sore loser? How would she feel if the same man had beaten her time after time? Not vengeful, she hoped. But she wasn't Rosenthal.

  The folder. She swallowed hard. Be objective. There had been no "report." Just clippings. An investigator would have given Nash background--where she lived, where she went to school, etcetera. Right? But why hadn't he told her he knew? Did he want her trust that badly? As badly as she'd wanted his the night he'd given it to her on the beach at Stone Harbor?

  How could she know for sure that he was an honest, sincere man? Because he was putting his family before his business.

  Her chest tightened and she felt nauseated. What had she done? She loved Nash. Why had she turned on him? Because she was scared--scared he didn't love her, scared he wouldn't believe her, scared to trust her feelings and her judgment. Because of her fears, she might have lost him. How could he ever forgive her lack of faith?

  She didn't sleep much thinking about Nash, worrying about Davie, trying to decide what to do to prove to Nash she loved him. If he believed everything she'd flung at him, she was in trouble.

  Beth slipped in and out of sleep. When she looked at the clock at six a.m., she scooted to the foot of the bed and didn't wake the boys. She was mixing pancake batter when the phone rang. Practically running, she snatched it up.

  It was Nash. "The fever broke. The doctor thinks he's going to be okay."

  "Thank God."

  Jason and Roger were sitting anxiously, waiting for her to tell them something. She put her hand over the phone. "Davie's better." At their wide smiles, she said, "Go get dressed. I'll talk to you when I'm off the phone."

  "How long will he be in the hospital?" she asked Nash.

  "We don't know. But the doctor said he caught it in its early stage and kids bounce back pretty fast. It could be a week or more."

  "How's Shannon?"

  "Holding together by a thread. She needs Wayne. Did you get hold of him?"

  "Yes. He hopes to be home around three. I told him I'd call if I heard anything else. Nash?"

  "Yes."

  He sounded so tired. This wasn't the time to bring up their relationship. "Never mind. Tell Shannon the boys are fine."

  "Good luck this afternoon, Beth. I hope you get the contract."

  All she could manage was a mumbled, "Thanks."

  ****

  Intentionally, Beth arrived at Osgood's office a half hour early. When she gave her name, his secretary let her go right in.

  Osgood stood. "Two portfolios, Beth? How long will your presentation take?"

  They had moved to a first name basis the evening she joined him for dinner. But that could change momentarily. "I'm not giving a presentation."

  He scowled. "Pardon me?"

  Beth leaned the two leather cases against the side of his massive mahogany desk. "Nash Winchester won't be able to give his presentation. He's involved in a family emergency."

  Osgood removed his glasses and laid them on the blotter. "What does that have to do with you?"

  Pulling herself up to her full height, she swallowed hard. "I told you before that I want to win this contract on merit, not by default. Nash's work is good."

  "So what are you suggesting?" he asked in clipped tones.

  She filled her lungs and realized she was taking the biggest chance of her life. "Listen to the other two presentations, then give the same attention to my boards and Nash's. They'll speak for themselves if you let them. You don't need our persuasive speeches."

  "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" he drawled. "The presentations have a purpose. They give me the dividing edge. All things being equal, I know where to put my money. Understand?"

  "I understand. But this time you'll have to decide on the quality of the work, not on our personalities."

  "And if I tell you that's not the way I do business and if you don't give the presentation, you don't stand a chance?"

  She clutched her purse tightly. "Then I'd say you're cutting off your nose to spite your face, and you might have to settle for mediocre instead of inspired." Had she just said that to Tobias Osgood? A worn out cliche, no less.

  He tried to stare her down, but she wouldn't look away.

  "Are you using my obvious liking for you to twist me around your little finger?"

  Her body tensed and her answer erupted before she had the opportunity to think about it. "I'm using our mutual respect for each other to give everyone a fair shake."

  He appeared to accept her response. "The best I can do, Beth, is think about it. Leave the boards and I'll contact you about my decision."

  At least he hadn't dismissed her suggestion altogether. "Thank you. I'll be waiting to hear from you."

  ****

  By five o'clock, Beth decided she had to take action. Nash hadn't called and she needed to talk to him, to apologize, to tell him she'd submitted his designs to Osgood. When she'd taken them from his office, she wondered briefly if she was doing the right thing, but too briefly to stop her from doing it.

  She called the hospital and asked the operator to connect her to Davie's room. Wayne answered, told her Davie was resting comfortably and Nash had gone home to get some sleep.

  Beth hung up and sighed. She'd thought she'd taken the biggest chance of her life with Osgood. But she'd been wrong. What she was about to do was more of a risk than she'd ever taken.

  She stopped at the grocery store, then drove to Nash's house. Trying
not to make noise, she let herself in, put the bags in the kitchen, and tiptoed up the stairs. She peeked into his bedroom. An overwhelming flood of love washed over her. He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm at his side, the other hanging over the edge of the bed. The sheet barely covered his buttocks and she knew he was naked. What she wanted to do was crawl in next to him. But she couldn't, not until she found out if he could forgive her. And if he couldn't...

  She silently pulled the door closed so he wouldn't hear noise from the kitchen. He'd wake up in a few hours. He didn't need the amount of sleep she did. Beth put the pot roast with potatoes and carrots in the oven, then prepared the pastry for an apple pie.

  Two hours later, the oven was turned to low and the pie's aroma wafted from the kitchen to the living room as Beth tried to concentrate on a magazine. The creak of the door alerted her. She uncurled her legs from under her, closed the magazine, and laid it on the coffee table.

  Nash came down the stairs, wearing a short blue terry-cloth robe. His feet were bare, his expression inscrutable.

  She stood and hoped her throat wasn't too dry for her to speak. How am I going to handle this? she thought wildly. Stay calm. "I made supper. I thought maybe you hadn't eaten since yesterday."

  "I haven't except for a candy bar and more cups of coffee than I want to count." His tone was impersonal, polite. He hadn't moved from the edge of the carpet and his probing green eyes were wary.

  "Nash, I'm...I came to apologize for misjudging you, for jumping to conclusions."

  He released his visual hold on her, crossed in front of her, and sat at the other end of the sofa. "You didn't jump, you leaped."

  Her heart plummeted. He wasn't going to forgive her. She'd never felt so unable to express herself. "I was wrong."

  "What changed your mind?"

  His swift question didn't give her much hope. "You. A man who would give up a major contract to help his sister isn't capable of stealing designs or blackmail."

  "I see."

  She wasn't getting through to him and fear clutched at her throat. Easing down beside him, she resisted the need to touch him. "No, you don't see. I love you, Nash. I love you so much it still scares me. I was afraid of losing you, afraid you wouldn't believe the truth, afraid if I told you about John, everything would change between us. It was never just sex. I'm so sorry--"

  While she was trying to explain, emotions, one after the other, flashed across his face without her knowing what they were.

  Until he interrupted her monologue to pull her into his arms and murmur in a thick, husky voice, "Baby, I love you too." He drew in a shaky breath. "I was afraid I'd never hold you like this again."

  He was holding her so tightly, she could hardly breathe. "You forgive me?"

  Loosening his arms, he leaned back a few inches and looked at her as if she was the most precious person on earth. "You forgave me when I jumped to conclusions about Osgood and you, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "No buts." He rushed on. "Some of your accusations were justified."

  "No, they weren't."

  "Beth, Rosenthal wasn't completely off the wall."

  Her breath snagged for a moment, but her faith in Nash overrode any doubts. "What do you mean?"

  He was watching her carefully for her reaction. "I do try to get to know my competitors, but not through background checks. If I know them and I know their past work, it gives me a better idea how to proceed. When I learned you worked in the D.C. area, I had a friend get me pictures and descriptions of your past projects. He stumbled on to the Winston story. Beth, I never meant to invade your privacy. I was wrong not to tell you I knew."

  A quick pang of remorse flared in his eyes followed by sadness. "I wanted you to love me enough to trust me."

  She'd hurt him by not confiding in him. She knew that now. "Is there anything you want to know...about me and John?"

  He caressed her cheek. "From what you said Sunday, I take it you were friends and he used that for his purposes."

  "Only friends. And the picture..."

  He put his fingers over her lips. "You don't have to explain."

  She kissed their tips and pulled his hand away. "I want to. When the pressures were really getting to John, he asked if he could spend the weekend with us. He only stayed twice. In the photo...we were making breakfast and he gave me a hug." She told Nash about the loan, about John's letter, about her meeting with him on Saturday.

  Nash laid his palms on her cheeks and brushed her nose with his. "You're one special lady."

  Her hands brushed along his lapels until her fingers met his neck. "I think you're pretty special."

  He couldn't seem to stop looking at her, touching her. "I wasn't going to let you go, you know. Not without one hell of a fight." Deep emotion made his voice coarse.

  Her smile wobbled. "You weren't?"

  "No." His hand slid down her neck to her shoulders, his thumbs making erotic circles on her collarbone. "Before all this happened with Davie, I was going to kidnap you after the presentation and persuade you to see reason."

  The lights in his eyes started a tightening in her womb. "How were you going to do that?"

  He leaned toward her and tantalizingly brushed his lips back and forth over hers. "I'd rather show you than tell you."

  His mouth opened on hers. Their tongues touched. Their passion and love exploded into a kiss that rocked them with soul-shaking intensity. Beth was spinning in an erotic whirlpool as their tongues dueled, mated, aroused. Nash made an inarticulate sound in his throat, half groan, half growl. Her hand searched for his belt.

  Before she could find it, she realized the phone was ringing. Opening her eyes, she caressed his jaw and pulled away. "Nash, the phone. It might be Shannon."

  His glazed look of passion was replaced by one of concern. After a clinging kiss, he went to the kitchen. He reemerged a few minutes later with a peculiar expression on his face.

  "What's wrong?"

  He leaned against the doorjamb and stared at her. "You are amazing. That was Osgood. It seems you took him my designs."

  "Are you angry?" she asked anxiously, more worried about that than whether she won the project.

  He looked astounded. "Of course I'm not angry. But how could you give up your opportunity to get the contract?"

  She shrugged. "It wouldn't have been fair."

  Nash shook his head, crossed to her, and took her hands. "How would you like to form a professional partnership? Osgood likes a combination of your designs and mine and wants to know if we'll work together."

  That was more, that was better, than anything she'd hoped for. "Is that what you want?"

  He was close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips. "Working with you would be the icing on the cake."

  Tears glistened in her eyes and one fell down her cheek.

  He brushed it away. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

  "Where are you--" He was up the stairs before she finished.

  When he returned, he held a small box in his hand. He opened it and offered it to her. "Besides a professional partnership, will you consider a personal one? Katherine Elizabeth Terrell, will you marry me?"

  Happiness burst all boundaries inside her. "Oh, Nash. Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

  He took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

  Dinner would have to wait.

  EPILOGUE

  "The Conestoga wagon on the miniature golf course was a nice touch," Beth commented.

  Hand in hand, she and Nash walked the finished but unpopulated grounds of Osgood's resort. Their designs had melded together like their bodies and their lives.

  "Which section is your favorite?" he asked.

  She thought for a moment. "The children's playground."

  He looked as if he'd expected that answer. "You've got great natural instincts. The kids will love the pile of boulders and in-ground sandbox more than dinosaurs."

/>   "What's your favorite?"

  "I'm taking you there." His mysterious smile made her wonder what he was up to. They'd been married for a year and a half. An exhilarating, wonderful, exciting year and a half. She felt closer to him than she'd ever felt to anyone. He liked surprising her almost as much as she enjoyed surprising him.

  Nash led her under the ornate wrought iron arch into the lovers' garden.

  She laughed. "I should have known."

  He shot her a seductive wink and a slow, sexy smile. "I've had a fantasy about this place since we redesigned it. Are you going to help me make it come true?"

  She drew a tantalizing line down his cheek. "We've had nothing but fun making fantasies come true. I'm game." When they loved, they played. He had taken her on adventures to ecstasy sweet and tender, scorching and wild, fast and exciting.

  The May sun slipped behind the horizon as they stopped to read a plaque engraved with an Elizabeth Barrett Browning poem. Nash pulled Beth close and ran his lips up and down the back of her neck.

  She sighed. "If I were any happier, I'd think I'd died and gone to heaven."

  "That's where I want to take you." His voice held a husky tremor she recognized immediately. She turned into his arms and pressed against him. The soft fabric of his jogging pants emphasized his arousal.

  He kissed her with the same ardent fervor that characterized most of their kisses. Curling his arm around her, he guided her through the maze of shrubs to the center of the garden. A white gazebo rose in front of them.

  As Beth stepped closer, she saw a blanket spread on the floor, a bottle of wine, and a basket with a loaf of French bread and wedges of cheese. "What a terrific idea!"

  Nash's grin was broad. "With the resort opening next week, I thought we should baptize it."

  She stepped inside the structure and lifted the wine. "With a bottle of Mosel?"

  He took the bottle, inserted the corkscrew, and pulled out the cork. "Nope. With our love. So all the couples who sit here will feel it and share it."

  She looked at her husband with all the love in her heart. Sitting on the blanket, she realized Nash had put an air mattress under it. "Speaking about sharing love, I'd like to ask you something."