Callie Moreau would hate him, too. And that would be that.
A few minutes later, a knock at his door brought his head up. “Yes?”
The door slowly opened and Eunice stuck her head in. “I’ve brought lunch and...Callie wanted a word with you.”
Before Tomas could protest, Callie was in, holding a lunch tray, and Eunice was gone, the door shut.
Callie’s smile looked tentative, but he saw the hint of empathy in her pretty gray-blue eyes. “We had grilled ham and cheese. I brought one for you.”
“I don’t like grilled ham and cheese.”
“Really? I thought everyone loved grilled ham and cheese sandwiches on a rainy day. When was the last time you had one?”
He sat back, memories swirling around him like the mist hitting the big windows. “It’s been a long time.”
She set down the tray on the edge of his massive desk. “Then this is going to be a good day.”
He nodded, turned sarcastic. “In more ways than one, apparently.”
She blushed, fussed with his napkin and water glass. “I hope the weather lets up. I have a lot to do. I love the rain, of course. But I want to make your garden a stunner. I need dry earth and sunshine for that.”
Tomas prayed for rain all day, then changed his mind and prayed for sunshine. He didn’t want her to go, but he certainly didn’t want her stay. “You need to talk to me?”
She nodded.
He motioned to a chair.
After she’d settled her skirt and smoothed her hair, she gave him a direct glance, then produced some papers from the tote bag draped over her arm. “I wanted to show you the grid for the garden. Nick approved everything, but I’d feel better knowing you approve things, too. I’m not used to taking over someone’s garden without their input.”
He waved that notion away. “Nicholas sings your praises. I trust his judgment.”
She flipped her ponytail. “He has to sing my praises. He’s going to be my brother-in-law in two weeks.” Then she sat up in her chair. “You live here. I’d like your input.”
Tomas stared at the sandwich on his plate, the scent of buttered bread making his stomach growl. “If you insist.”
“I do. It’s how I do business, Mr. Delacorte.”
Interesting. Some bite behind all that bright.
“Tomas,” he replied. “Call me Tomas.”
“Well, Tomas, eat your lunch and then we’ll get to work.”
What a bossy woman.
“It’s still raining. Why don’t you call it a day?”
“I don’t melt in the rain,” Callie replied, a sweet shyness seeming to envelop her.
“No, I have no doubt there. I think you thrive in the rain. At least it looked that way to me earlier.”
“I didn’t know you were watching.”
“I didn’t know when I looked out the window I’d find you down there dancing in the rain.”
She pushed the plate toward him, determination taking over her chirpiness. “Eating will get rid of that bad mood.”
“Who said I’m in a bad mood?”
“So you’re like this all the time?”
Tomas thought about that. “Yes, pretty much.”
He was rewarded with what looked like a doubtful but challenging smile. Tomas bit into the thick French bread and tasted the rich white cheddar and the salty ham, the spicy-sweet mustard covered with a ripe tomato from the farmer’s market in town. Then he glanced over at Callie. “This is by far the best ham and cheese sandwich I’ve ever eaten.”
She giggled. “You need to get out more.”
“That’s probably true.”
If he had this woman to entice him, Tomas might become less of a recluse and more of a social human being.
But, he reminded himself, he had not come back to Fleur, Louisiana, to fling himself into a relationship. He’d come back here to prove something to all the people who’d once scorned him and condemned him. And prove it he would, without distraction.
He dropped the sandwich and pushed the plate away, his appetite gone.
What would the lovely Callie Moreau think when she found out the truth about him? When she found out who he really was?
He didn’t want that to happen yet. He could control how much she knew in the same way he controlled everything else in his life.
“Let’s get on with this,” he said in an abrupt tone. “I have a busy afternoon.”
She nodded, shuffled her folded papers and came around the desk. “Here’s the grid.”
Tomas sniffed the floral scent of her perfume while she expounded on everything from Japanese maples to cast-iron plants.
And he wondered why he even cared about the garden in the first place.
* * *
“So that’s how Alma’s gumbo got so famous.”
Callie grinned over at Margie and Eunice. She remembered seeing them at church when they’d come for the first time a few weeks ago, so she felt at ease with them. After lunch, Himself had gone off to take another important call, but the rain kept falling so she was now back in the kitchen. Would she ever get to dig in that garden?
“So what’s it like to work for such a scary person?” she asked, killing time with small talk.
“We like him,” Margie said. She shot a covert glance to the other end of the big house. “He pays well.”
“Okay, that’s good. He’s generous then?”
“Very,” Eunice chimed in. “But we’ve known Tomas for a long time now. That’s why we came to work here. He only asks that we keep things straight and clean. He doesn’t mind us taking breaks. And he told us we could take off anytime we had doctor’s appointments or things like that.” She shrugged. “We hardly know he’s around.”
“Good.” Callie twirled her hair, remembering her time with Tomas in his office. The man couldn’t wait to get rid of her. “So you’re telling me that Mr. Delacorte isn’t really that scary?”
Both women went very quiet. Callie wondered if they hadn’t heard her. “So?”
“Boo.”
She turned to find Tomas standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He’d managed to sneak up on her yet again and while she was talking about him, yet again. When had he managed to walk the whole house without her hearing?
“Oh, hi.” She sat still while Margie and Eunice jumped up and pretended to be doing busy stuff. “Is that rain still out there?” And when would she learn to keep her mouth shut?
“Did I scare you?” he asked, ignoring the rain question.
“No. I mean, yes.” It was time for her to go home.
He gave her the glint look. “Voices tend to echo through this house.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
After the other women beat a hasty exit, he leaned against the counter. “Do I...scare you?”
Callie couldn’t fudge the truth. She was known for her sugar-coated bluntness, after all. “Yes, you do. You’re