Love on the Vine

by Roxanne Smith

  “Just don’t call him a Mexican.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The child-sized blond bimbo managed to figure that out.”

  Oliver stopped suddenly. Frozen, his gaze locked on hers, his brows drawn slightly. A small frown put a dimple in his chin. Slowly, he cocked his head to one side and regarded Kay with undue seriousness. “I don’t think you’re a bimbo.” He let out a soft snort, hooked his thumb toward the drafting table. “How you whipped those guys into shape? Doled out exactly what they needed, when they needed it? I mean, Jasper is a bastard who holds a grudge, and you’ll have a hard time working with him now, but no, I don’t think anyone in this building thinks you’re a bimbo, Kay.”

  For a solid second, she stared. She couldn’t do anything else. Even glancing away to try to hide the pink she knew had to be infusing her face wasn’t an option, because they were hooked together again, her gaze and Oliver’s, like unlucky fish in a tiny pond snatched from the comfort of the water. She wouldn’t call the thing that pinged between them comfortable. Not even a little. It was awkward, and filled her with puzzling feelings, foremost of all was curiosity.

  She wanted to know more about this funny assistant, who didn’t quite seem to fit in with the rest of the crowd at Free Leaf Concepts. She wanted to know where he disappeared to on his lunch breaks, why he’d been close to Damian Roscoe but hardly spoke to anyone else on the design team, yet knew all their peculiarities like he’d taken meticulous notes on the subject. She wanted to know why their gazes kept snagging together, and what he was thinking—if her mind was tumbling, perhaps his was, too.

  Did he wonder where she came from, how she’d secured the job with Free Leaf with such limited experience? Or could be he wasn’t pondering anything deeper than why she took two creams in her coffee instead of three.

  Oliver broke the spell with another soft laugh and stood suddenly, hopping out of the chair with a boy’s careless swagger. “And while you may be on the petite side, who would I be to cast stones, eh?”

  Kay cleared her throat, but couldn’t dredge up a smile. Not too tall, but taller than her... He was actually kind of perfect. Suddenly, Oliver reminded her of another sweet, rakish, devil-may-care boy who’d once said nice things to her. He didn’t say nice things anymore.

  “Thanks for the advice. I’ll make a note.”

  Oliver’s smile turned uncertain. “Yeah, anytime. Oh, and Merit wants to see you. She’s waiting.”

  * * * *

  Oliver had absolutely no reason in his capacity as Kay’s little errand boy to attend the meeting between Kay and Merit. But as her assistant, he was given access. Everyone assumed he was there doing what he’d been told to do. Amazing, the freedom he could manipulate for himself. At least when Kay wasn’t coming up with a thousand reasons to keep him out of her range of sight.

  Tinkerbell, Tinkerbell. She was a problem—a sexy little problem he wanted to bend over the drafting table and try to solve. He blinked the image away. Not good, not good. And the way they stared at each other, like two circling predators sizing each other up.

  He’d come across energy like theirs before, the kind that crackled and leaped like flames, but never quite like this—with a sexual potency that made it nearly impossible for him to break away. Usually, the clash was the product of two minds bent on having the upper hand. Either the snaps and crackles turned into real flames, and shit got burned down, or it eventually grew into a sort of passing recognition, acceptance, and professional respect.

  This was similar, while also being unlike anything he’d experienced, because Kay wasn’t supposed to be this important to his investigation. She should’ve been nothing more than an unexpected speedbump, an easily navigated surprise.

  She’s only a problem if you make her one, Pierce.

  Cappy Don’s warning had been prophetic. Kay definitely had her eye on Oliver now. Too late to stay plastered to the background, sink into the white-washed walls of the hallway when they passed, or stay slightly distanced from her, the way he did everyone else.

  He’d put himself out there, and the reason had nothing to do with his orders from Cappy Don, and everything to do with realizing that Kay was genuinely struggling inside the shell of something that wasn’t her. Not according to her life’s history, anyway. Just where was the effervescent Kay hiding, and would he ever get to meet her?

  Oliver bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t do much else, standing next to Kay in the elevator. Couldn’t slap himself, or chuck a stapler at his own head. He should’ve left her alone, instead of advising her on the more subtle nuances of small office politics. After the way she’d so neatly put three outspoken designers in their place with a few zingers and some unsettlingly on-point insight, he had to acknowledge she’d do fine on her own. Besides, Cappy had asked him to bring her in with a few clues, not make himself her new best bud. And judging by the look on her face after he’d stated the rather obvious, she was probably still looking for any excuse to fire him. Or maybe the stuff that popped and fizzled every time they made prolonged eye contact put her on edge, too.

  For now, he needed to shelve the personal feely stuff and focus on his other professional tasks. He had more than a few reasons to want some time to surreptitiously scout Merit Hollis’s office, and this was one of his few visits his job had granted him so far.

  If he’d only been able to come in a little higher on the totem pole. But Brendan Berkley had been with Merit since the inception of the company. He couldn’t be easily bought and removed from his position. Merit answered only to Mr. Arnell, essentially the creative brain, who spent most of his time squirreled away in his impenetrable office, dreaming up fancy gene-swapping stuff. It wasn’t a stretch Merit could be involved in any dirty activities hiding behind the company’s sleek professional veneer.

  Merit stood when Oliver double-tapped on the glass pane door, gave her a dull smile—really digging into that “nobody” role—and opened it wide for Kay to step past him. He patted himself on the back for only giving her ass the briefest of glances as she sashayed by. She had on a pencil skirt the color of champagne. It flared at her knees, not only giving the impression of a golden mermaid, but accentuating the shape of her hips. She was a tiny package, but undeniably grown.

  “Ms. Hollis, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Kay stuck out her hand, kept her smile demure.

  Merit returned the mild greeting and indicated for Kay to take a seat. Merit’s office was the smallest room on the top floor. Two conference rooms took up massive amounts of space, and of course, Mr. Arnell had a monstrosity of an office, with a ten-foot-long floor-to-ceiling window that gave him a panoramic view of downtown Little Rock.

  Everything in Merit’s office was muted, as if she’d moved in but never finished unpacking. His gaze idly roamed over the fabric-covered walls, paneled like everywhere else in the building. They were mostly barren except for a few large photography shots of rare blooms set in expensive matted frames. The carpet was beige and the desk distressed oak. A mostly empty bookcase held two knickknacks and a small pile of books—all botany related at a glance.

  He peeked at the two women to make sure their attention stayed focused on one another.

  “I hope you’re fitting in well,” Merit was saying. Even the woman’s hair wanted to be taken seriously. It was probably shoulder-length, a dark, caramel brown color, but she curled it into big, fat loops that circled her head like a helmet.

  He let them talk niceties. He had other work to do, besides taking mental pictures of the room and soaking in every detail he could for later sketches.

  The paneled wall coverings all over Free Leaf Concepts intrigued Oliver. They were little more than thin, decorative barriers, manipulated as desire or necessity dictated, like Merit’s fabric-covered panels or the polished plastic in the third-floor labs. Sometimes, they were placed side-by-side, and covered an entire room. In other places, they were installed at random intervals, such as in the
hallway leading from the reception area.

  Or, Oliver suspected, they might be used to conceal things one might want to remain hidden. Like, say, a door.

  He’d made several attempts at dislodging the panels in Amos’s lab, which he thought was probably the last place someone would install a secret swinging panel. Those were practice sessions. He knew how the large pieces fit together, how they attached to the drywall behind them by a series of hooks, and how they appeared flush when properly installed. A quick inspection would tell him if he came across one that didn’t seem quite right.

  Merit’s panels were covered by some thin wool material, and each one looked as secure as the next. He couldn’t put it on paper and sign it, but he was pretty positive every panel in Merit’s office was bolted into place.

  He frowned. Maybe the schematics were wrong. It wouldn’t be the first bad intelligence he’d come across. He cast a quick glance at Kay, who defied everything they’d gathered about her. Could be the blueprints were old and outdated, or a rejected set of plans. He’d kept their discovery a secret from the captain. Oliver wanted to locate the mysteriously hidden room and determine its relation to the investigation before telling the team, which he could’ve easily done by now, were it merely a matter of waltzing into the upper offices and feeling up the walls they like he’d paid them.

  But alas. Not so easy to do. And forget breaking into the place. Any evidence gathered wouldn’t be considered legally obtained. Until Oliver stumbled upon something worthy of a warrant, they were stagnant.

  Besides, they didn’t want to spook Free Leaf Concepts. They might button down their secret operations. They were already hog-tied, in Oliver’s opinion. A whole year he’d been undercover for the LRPD, and he had nothing but personnel documents, easily secured from the second floor, and a secret room he couldn’t prove existed to show for his labors.

  If he only had Brendan’s job. As Merit’s assistant, Oliver would have all sorts of access to interesting places and things.

  Kay and Merit continued with their merry chat. He happened to glance over at the same time Merit’s smile turned harsh.

  She angled her head at Kay as though she were a particularly ugly daisy that had found its way into a prize garden. “Ms. Bing, I delight in your company. I truly do. You’re charming as a buzzy little bee, dear. But if you attempt to fire another one of my staff, I’ll have you gone.”

  Oliver had moved to stand against the wall, so he had a good view of Kay’s profile. Her mouth popped open to respond, and he winced. To his relief and her credit, she shut it immediately. Good idea. He warned her about Merit. But then her mouth was open again, and she was responding, unsmiling and matter-of-fact. Oliver held his breath.

  “I came here to do a job, Ms. Hollis.” In her tone, he detected the faintest hint of a dare—she was calling Merit’s bluff. “When my first interaction is with an assistant who’s a little too comfy with the rumor mill, I assume he isn’t a very good assistant. It’s easier to train someone new than to break old habits.” She shot a dark glance at Oliver, like this was all his fault.

  Merit relaxed a little. She liked direct. She liked honesty. She hated brown-nosing. Shit, she was going to love Kay. Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Oliver almost rolled his eyes. Thank God he didn’t.

  Merit looked at him for the first time, bestowing the kind of proud smile that reminded him of his granny. “Fair enough. Oliver, try not to get fired again. You’ve got to adapt, and you’ve got to be able to do it on a dime. You are a good assistant. If Brendan ever moved on, you’d be an obvious in-house solution for his replacement. We do like to promote from within,” she said to Kay.

  Kay’s smile was forced as she turned it on him.

  “I really am a good assistant.” Outside of the real reasons he was at Free Leaf Concepts, he made a decent shake of job the he’d been assigned. And when he lacked knowledge or expertise, he had a team full of people like Molly to call on for backup.

  Merit stood, a signal the meeting was over. “I think you’re going to make a wonderful addition to our family here, Ms. Bing. I did receive a small complaint from Jasper Jameson, but he’s prone to expectations of favoritism, so I’ll take no action until it proves a significant problem. We keep counselors on retainer. Hiring and firing are rather drastic actions. To hire, we need perfection. Nothing less.”

  Oliver couldn’t help himself. A small grin stole over his mouth at Kay’s stricken expression. Ah, yes. Ye olde padded résumé.

  “Firing,” Merit went on regretfully, her face set with distaste like she’d swallowed something bitter, “is a nasty business. High turnover rates for the company. Extra paperwork for the second floor. Especially an interior designer of some renown, such as Mr. Jameson. Not over a misunderstanding.”

  “You call thinly veiled racism a ‘misunderstanding’? If your policies are to sweep things like that under the rug, I can resign now. I’ll apologize in advance for the hit to your turnover rate.”

  Merit’s face solidified into stone. Her eyes were two shiny polished coins as she glared at Kay. Kay didn’t waver. She stared back, and Oliver waited, his chest tight with an unreleased exhale.

  “Slander is often addressed during counseling sessions, Ms. Bing.” Merit blinked once. Then sighed unhappily. “As are other issues. Since I’ve yet to hear complaints from anyone but Mr. Jameson on this point, I can assume nothing. If one were to cross my desk, I would, of course, take the proper action.”

  Kay nodded, seeming pleased. Oliver ran his tongue over the line of his teeth. Huh. Little girl, big stones. Bigger than he thought. To lay a whopping on people who answered to her was one thing. To call out Merit Hollis on potentially shady human resources dealings? Well, that took an altogether different sort of backbone.

  Merit continued as if nothing strained had passed between them. “I have another meeting with our latest client. I’m most excited to introduce you to Capital Acres, our greenhouse compound. It covers over one hundred acres of land, with houses large and small.”

  Kay’s eyebrows gathered in a puzzled expression. “That’s...extensive.”

  “Not everything we grow is for Free Leaf landscaping,” Merit explained. “We also do independent studies for market analysis of GMO crops, which requires growing and testing our own samples. We’re a trusted source, not one of those in-the-pocket groups. Nobody can buy Free Leaf Concepts,” she declared, her chin high.

  Kay’s mouth turned down. “I had no idea.”

  Merit spread her hands open and smiled. “GMOs may be the future, but so is the legislation that will govern them. We’re a company the public can trust to provide accurate reports on these new crops. We publish our results annually in any number of acclaimed scientific journals. Transparency is crucial to our reputation. Unfortunately, I’m afraid my plan to show you around Capital Acres tomorrow will have to wait for another time.”

  Oliver sparked to life. “I could do it,” he offered a bit too loudly. He cursed himself for his hasty interjection. Real smooth. Both women looked at him like he’d jumped out of a closet and shouted “Huzzah!”

  Capital Acres was the big game, and he’d been a caged lion for far too long. This was his chance, and on better terms than he could’ve hoped for. Kay was so green, she wouldn’t take any of his behavior—like searching nooks and crannies—as particularly out of the ordinary.

  He cleared his throat and dialed back his excitement. “Sorry, I just like getting outside. You know how it is. We’re all here because of a passion for the outdoors. Bringing it inside. And yet, I spend all my time shuffling files.” He shook his head ruefully, laughed lightly. “I’d love to take her, Ms. Hollis. It’d be a pleasure. The greenhouses are always a treat. The things Amos and Tallulah can do, they just blow me away.”

  Kay looked at Oliver like he was shedding a layer of skin before her eyes. She’d seen right through his act. “I did want to meet Tallulah Hadley.” She looked at Merit. “I heard
she’s the arborist, correct? We’re beginning plans for Kind Lotus Spa soon. I’d love to pick Tallulah’s brain.”

  “Oh, all right,” Merit agreed indulgently. Oliver suspected she’d wanted a reason to forgo the tour. If the company had anything illegal growing in Capital Acres, maybe Merit didn’t know about it after all. “You two enjoy a day at the greenhouses.” She smiled warmly at Kay. “See there? Eager to please, willing to jump in to do what’s necessary, a passion for the work we do. Oliver’s a keeper.”

  Chapter 3

  Lab was a relative term, Kay decided. Amos did science-y stuff with a microscope and slides and wore the white coat get-up, but in reality, the third floor was an expansive miniature greenhouse. He tested seeds, then developed and perfected their ideal growth scenarios to learn which resulted in the hardiest, most beautiful, most vibrant blooms. That way, the greenhouse would know how to cultivate the plants when he passed along the finished sample for mass production.

  “Botanist is putting a light hand on it,” Amos explained. He liked to discuss his work, and he held her opinion in high regard, just like Oliver said.

  Kay nodded encouragingly and tried not to let her eyes glaze over. Not that the flowers weren’t amazing. There were just so many of them. She tried to keep track of Amos’s long string of names and descriptions, but it was useless once he started throwing around Latin terms. Her aunt’s florist shop simply hadn’t prepared her for this level of botany.

  “What I do, it’s the real science. The tree surgeon down at Capital Acres, Tallulah, she don’t do what I do. She’s basically a glorified farmer.”

  “Hm,” Kay responded, trying to sound impressed.

  Amos guided Kay through narrow shelves of seedlings planted in rich, fertilized soil, so dark it was nearly black. “Horticulture, you probably heard of that. It ain’t exactly plant breeding, or propagation, which is what I do.” He gave her a toothy grin. “All about making them little plant babies. I started out with lichenology—don’t laugh, that’s a real thing—and then I got interested in mycology, before moving on to orchid-ology. That’s when I started getting into flowering plants. Blooms—they’re at the heart of plant propagation. They ain’t pretty and smell good for no reason, ya know?”