The Wife He Couldn't Forget
Page 18
She kept right on walking, focusing on the uneven cobblestones in front of the wheelbarrow tire, finally stopping at the raised garden bed between two magnolia trees.
“Two foot intervals look right to me,” said Megan, straightening from where she’d dug a trio of holes.
Kalissa focused her attention on the garden bed that stretched along the wrought iron fence. “As long as the evergreens stay properly trimmed, this is going to be stunning.”
Someday, her budget permitting, Kalissa wouldn’t mind dining out here, or even inside. Her gaze darted back to the bank of windows that revealed the elegance of the main dining room.
The man was still staring at her, and she quickly looked away. He was probably just curious about what they were doing—though it had to be obvious. It was also possible he was bored with his dining companion and seeking a distraction.
Despite herself, she covertly shifted her glance to take a look at his date. She was surprised to find he was sitting across from a man. The man looked serious, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. It could be a dull business meeting, she supposed. They were both wearing suits.
“Let’s do it,” said Megan, releasing the rope on the burlap sheet that surrounded the azalea’s root ball.
Kalissa quickly took the other side of the plant, lifting it and then adjusting it to position it in the hole.
Suddenly, a male voice surprised her. “What are you doing out here?”
Megan looked up, and Kalissa turned her head.
It was the man from inside the restaurant, and he was obviously angry. Her first thought was that they had somehow disturbed his dinner. But they weren’t making any noise. Surely planting azaleas wasn’t that objectionable.
She straightened to face him.
“Are you spying on me?” he demanded.
The question took her completely by surprise. “Am I what?”
“You’ve been watching me.”
“Only because you were watching me.”
He gestured to the wheelbarrow and the plants. “What is all this?”
“Azaleas,” said Megan from behind her.
“We’re planting azaleas,” said Kalissa, squaring her shoulders and folding her arms across her chest.
He scoffed a sound of disbelief. “Outside my window.”
“You own the restaurant?” Her question was sarcastic. If he had anything to do with the management of the restaurant, he’d have known Mosaic Landscaping was working here all week.
“I meant the window next to my table.”
“I have no idea who you are,” said Kalissa. “What’s more, I don’t care who you are. If you’ll excuse us, we have work to finish.”
“You have no idea who I am?” There was a note of disbelief in his voice. He jammed his thumb over his shoulder. “And I’ll bet you have no idea I’m having dinner with Pierre Charron?”
Kalissa reflexively glanced at the window. Then she looked straight into the stranger’s eyes. “None whatsoever.”
His steel gray eyes narrowed.
“I’m getting the manager,” said Megan.
“No, you won’t,” said the man.
“Excuse me?” said Kalissa, widening her stance. “You think you can stop us from getting the manager?”
“You’re bluffing,” he told them with conviction. His critical gaze took in her outfit. “You’re not going to want to explain this to any manager.”
“Explain why we’re planting flowers?”
“Explain why you’re trespassing.”
Kalissa searched her brain for an explanation. He’d accused her of spying. What was he doing worth spying on?
“Are you breaking the law?” Perhaps they’d inadvertently stumbled on something to do with a crime or maybe national security. Should she be frightened?
“I can’t believe he sent you.” Then a flash of confusion came into the man’s eyes. His voice lost some of its edge. “Why did he send you? Why would he send you?”
Kalissa extracted a business card from her pocket and held it out. “Mosaic Landscaping,” she said. “See, that’s us.”
Looking suspicious, the man took the card and read it.
“Nice level of detail,” he said, sounding ever so slightly impressed. “But why you?”
She took a stab at answering the bizarre question. “Because I have a diploma in landscape design.”
He drew back. “Are you serious?”
“Completely serious.”
He took a long look at her clothes and her hair. “It still doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense, when you think about it,” said Kalissa.
Her apprehension began to moderate. The man was clearly more puzzled than angry.
He shook his head. “Why send his wife? He wouldn’t send his wife.”
“I’m not married,” said Kalissa.
“Give me a break.”
“Kalissa?” Megan interrupted.
“No, seriously,” said Kalissa. She stripped the glove from her left hand and wiggled her fingers to show him.
“The diamond is probably in your safe.”
“Kalissa.”
“I don’t have a safe.”
Megan grasped her shoulder from behind, stepping closer. “Kalissa, he thinks you’re Darci.”
Kalissa twisted her neck to look at her friend. “What?”
“She is Darci,” said the man.
“Darci,” Megan repeated with a meaningful stare.
“Darci Colborn?” Kalissa asked, the lightbulb coming on inside her head.
“This is ridiculous,” said the man.
Kalissa turned back to him, realizing there was a simple explanation. “I get it. I’m not Darci Colborn. I look a little bit like her.”
“A little bit?” asked Megan.
“The jig is up,” said the man.
“There is no jig, and it’s not up. I’m Kalissa Smith. I can prove it. I have identification.”
He peered at her, and the minutes stretched by. It was obvious his brain was piecing through the situation.
“What have you got against Darci Colborn?” she asked him.
“I’ve never even met her.”
“Then, that’s why you’re confused. She’s quite different than me in person.”
“You know her?” he asked.
“I’ve seen videos.”
“They’re twins,” said Megan.
“We don’t know that,” Kalissa said to Megan.
“You should contact her,” said Megan.
“Shut up,” said Kalissa, having no intention of getting into that debate again, now or in the future.
“This is going to keep happening,” said Megan.
“It’s a fluke.”
“You’re a landscape designer?” asked the man.
“Yes.”
“Your name is Kalissa Smith.”
“Says it right there on the card.”
“And you don’t know Darci Colborn?”
“Didn’t even know she existed until last week. It’s weird, but it’s no big deal.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking like he probably was, even though he was still watching her intently.
“No problem.”
The strength of his gaze sent a shimmer through her chest. He really was an incredibly good looking man. He was tall, fit, and somewhere around thirty. Too bad she was such a mess. And too bad his interest had nothing to do with her personally.
“Can I keep the card?” he asked.
“Do you own a house?” asked Megan, stepping up beside Darci. “Do you have a yard?”
He pocketed the card. “I do. Goodnight, ladies.”
; “Goodnight,” Kalissa automatically echoed.
With a nod, he turned to walk back to the restaurant.
“He was hot,” said Megan.
“He was strange,” said Kalissa, watching his broad shoulders as the glass door opened and then swung closed behind him.
But she had to admit, he was also hot. There was something extraordinarily sexy in his deep voice. Part of her hoped he might actually call. Against all logic, that same part couldn’t help but hope it would be about more than just landscaping.
Copyright © 2015 by Barbara Dunlop
ISBN-13: 9781460382752
The Wife He Couldn’t Forget
Copyright © 2015 by Dolce Vita Trust
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