He pulled her closer and she snuggled her head against his shoulder. He could not resist dropping a kiss on her hair, inhaling the fresh, sweet scent of her. It was intoxicating.
‘Tell me more about what the television producer said,’ he asked.
‘Well, the studio is in Sydney but they shoot at gardens all around the country. The producer was really interested when he heard how familiar I was with Victoria. There are some really beautiful gardens in Victoria, South Australia too. I reckon some of my former clients would love to have their gardens showcased. Or just used as a location for me to demonstrate gardening techniques.’ She yawned again and her body relaxed against his. ‘People don’t know...don’t know...about pruning and...and stuff,’ she murmured and her voice trailed into nothing. Her breathing became deep and even and he realised she had fallen asleep.
He held her there for a long time until he started to get sleepy too—blessedly sleepy. Carefully he shifted on the sofa, planning to slide off and help her lie down. ‘No. Don’t want you to go. Stay with me,’ she whispered. He wasn’t sure she was even awake. But he didn’t want to leave her either.
Declan tried to get comfortable but both he and Shelley were tall and the sofa wasn’t long enough. His leg started to cramp.
There was only one thing to do. He got up from the sofa, despite her sleepy protests, then swung her effortlessly into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. He pulled back the quilt and laid her on the bed, her honey-blond hair spilling out over the pillow. She shifted and opened her eyes, though they were unfocused and again he wasn’t really sure she was awake. She held out her arms. ‘Stay with me. Please.’
He would stay just until she fell into a deep sleep—a luxury that had been denied him for too long.
Cautiously, he took off his shoes and lay down next to her. She immediately burrowed close, pressing the length of her body against his.
I’m sorry, Lisa, he said in his mind, feeling as if he was betraying her memory, but immediately had the feeling that she wouldn’t mind at all, that Lisa was giving him her blessing.
He held Shelley close as he in turn drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Declan awoke to morning sunshine filtering through the blinds to find Shelley spooning into his back, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other resting above her head on her pillow.
He was aroused. How could he not be with her breasts pressing into his back, her long, slender legs entwined with his, her sweet womanly scent heady and exciting? He placed his hand on her bare shoulder and she murmured throatily in her sleep as she pressed herself even closer. But it would not be right to stroke her into arousal to wake her by—
He rolled onto his back, gently disengaging her arm. The sunlight picked up glints of gold in her hair and her make-up was smeared dark around her eyes. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed deeply and steadily. He had never seen her look more beautiful.
It was the first deep, refreshing sleep he had enjoyed for two years. He felt deeply content and...he sought to describe the feeling that overwhelmed him as he lay there so intimately close to Shelley, but could only come up with happy.
SHELLEY LOVED EVERYTHING about Declan’s garden and was immensely proud of the restoration work she had done. Spring was taking over—the crab apple tree in a froth of delicate pink blossom, daffodils that had naturalised over many years coming up in golden drifts in the lawn, the scent of daphne replaced by that of old-fashioned white freesias.
The restored dry stonewalls and hedges delineated the concept of separate garden ‘rooms’ that made the space such a delight. She had even uncovered a small kitchen garden with an espaliered lemon tree growing flat against a wall, a rosemary hedge and herbs, including sage, tarragon plus three different varieties of thyme. She would plant annual herbs like basil and coriander if she thought anyone would use them in their one season of growth. Declan? He’d told her he rarely cooked but he might have use for fresh herbs. She must ask him.
In the front of the garden, the climbing rose ‘Lamarque’ was covered in hundreds of white buds ready to burst into glorious bloom—as she had promised Declan it would. Those higher rooms in his house must now be flooded with light and soon the delicate scent of the roses. But would she be here to see it?
The more she worked on the garden, the more she appreciated its design, and the work of the gardeners who had come before her. The original design certainly paid homage to Enid Wilson, which was perhaps one of the reasons she’d been so drawn to it.
But on Sunday morning—the day after Lynne’s party—even though she wasn’t officially working, she decided to spend the morning sorting out the shed.
It was a late start. She’d awoken to the surprise of finding Declan in her bed. Well, technically on her bed and fully clothed—as she was too. She’d only vaguely remembered him carrying her into the bedroom the night before. He’d stayed while she’d cooked him breakfast then he’d gone back to his part of the house.
But before he’d gone he’d kissed her and said he would catch up with her later in the day. She’d been itching to ask when but had resisted. Declan was coming from a dark place—if anything important was going to develop between them, it wouldn’t be overnight. Hope, like the spring garden, had blossomed in her heart.
She’d rebelled at wearing her gardening uniform on a Sunday. After all, it was officially her day off and she was going to fit in a ride with Flynn if she could. And, yes, if she was going to catch up with Declan she’d rather be seen in something other than khaki.
She didn’t want to look too eager, either, so compromised with slim-legged blue jeans and a shirt with fine stripes of blue and lavender. Eye make-up and lipstick for working in the shed? Why not? With her hair in a long plait down her back instead of jammed up under a hat. And her favourite French rose perfume liberally sprayed on her pulse spots.
Over the last weeks she’d managed to get some semblance of order into the shed and turned it into a useful workshop. She’d sorted out many of the wonderful old tools and garden implements. Having a wide, clear workbench made it easier to strike cuttings, plant seeds in trays, change the soil and trim the roots of potted plants and was especially useful in wet weather. But there was a large, weatherproof metal chest she hadn’t yet tackled.
Wearing her sturdy gloves, she’d brushed off the dust and cobwebs from the chest and was just about to force open the rusted lid when she heard the door opening. She turned and her heart leapt in delight to see Declan. He came over and dropped a kiss on her mouth. ‘I’ve come down to give you a hand,’ he said.
Shelley was stunned. Never had she expected that Declan would help her in the garden, the billionaire descending from his tower. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She hadn’t expected the kiss either; casual as it had been, it was a real turning point.
He was wearing jeans and a faded grey T-shirt with sleeves that rolled up to his biceps and showed off his impressive pecs and broad shoulders. She wondered if he had left her after breakfast to do one of his gruelling workouts. He had not shaved and she decided she liked the dark stubble on his jaw, the graze of it on her skin.
‘What can I do to help?’ he asked.
‘I’ll think of something,’ she said.
Shelley could think of a number of things she would like to direct Declan to do. None of them had anything to do with gardening. Just looking at him brought a flush of desire.
But