He also couldnt help but notice that she smelled.
Guys werent supposed to mention that sort of thing, but smells were Camerons business-and had helped him put away a sizable bank account-so scent tended to be a priority for him. In her case, she wasnt using the kind of perfume that came out of a bottle, but around her neck and wrists there was the sweet, vague scent of fresh flowers-as if shed ambled into a garden with roses and lilac petals and maybe some lily of the valley.
He noticed the delicate scents-which helped him forget that hed also noticed her spanking-orange underpants. Usually he knew a woman just a wee bit better before hed gotten a look at her underwear, but when Violet had been on the counter, trying to wash her foot in the sink, shed pushed up her skirts-no reason for her to have been thinking about modesty since she obviously hadnt been expecting company.
Hell. He hadnt planned on barging in without being asked, either, but when a woman yelled out that she was dying, he could hardly stand on her front porch and wait politely for further news bulletins.
Now, though, she frowned at him. We seem to be in quite an uh-oh situation, she announced.
Hell. He hadnt planned on barging in without being asked, either, but when a woman yelled out that she was dying, he could hardly stand on her front porch and wait politely for further news bulletins.
Now, though, she frowned at him. We seem to be in quite an uh-oh situation, she announced.
That wasnt quite how hed have put it, but he sure agreed. Youd better get your foot up before that sting swells up on you.
I will.
Youre not still feeling sick to your stomach, are you? He wanted to directly confront their obvious problem, but since shed established-incontestably-that she was a hard-core sissy about the bee sting, it seemed wise to get her settled down. He sure as hell didnt want her keeling over on him.
I think my stomachs fine now. It doesnt matter, anyway. What matters is that we have to figure this out. Your being here. What were going to do with you.
Uh-huh. You want me to get us a drink?
Yes. Thatd be great. She sank into a chair at the oak table, as if just assuming he could find glasses and drinks. Which he could. He just didnt usually walk in someones house and take over this way.
Being in the kitchen with her was like being assaulted with a rocket full of estrogen. It wasnt just that she was a girly-girl type of woman, but everything about the place. Cats roosted on every surface-one blinked at him from the top of the refrigerator; another was sprawled on some newspapers on the counter; a black-and-white polka-dotted model seemed determined to wind around his legs. Every spare wall space had been decorated within an inch of its life, with copper pots and little slogans over the door and wreaths and just stuff. From the basket of yarn balls to heart-shaped rag rugs, the entire kitchen was an estrogen-whew. The kind of a place where a guy might be allowed to sip some wine, but God forbid he chug a beer.
On the other hand, he found lemonade in the fridge in a crystal pitcher. Fresh squeezed. The refrigerator was stuffed with so many dishes that he really wanted to stand and stare-if not outright drool. Never mind if she was overdosed with sex appeal. He might get fed out of this deal. That reduced the importance of any other considerationsassuming either of them could figure out how to fix such a major screwup.
I think we need to start over, he suggested. You seemed to recognize my name? So I assume you also know that Im the agricultural chemist from Jeunnesse?
She immediately nodded at the mention of the French perfume company, so at least Cameron was reassured there was some cognition and sense of reality between her ears. But somehow she looked even more shaken up instead of less.
I just cant believe this. I did know you were coming, Mr. Lachlan-
Cameron. Or Cam.
Cameron, then. What you said was very true. My sisters called and written me several times about this. She lifted her bee-stung foot to a chair and accepted the long, tall glass of lemonade he handed her. Im just having a stroke, thats all. The timing completely slipped my mind.
You have twenty acres of lavender almost ready to be harvested, dont you?
Well, yes.
Cameron took a long slow gulp of the lemonade. It seemed to him that itd normally be a tad challenging to forget twenty acres of lavender in your backyard.
Youre supposed to want me here, he said tactfully.
I do, I do. I just forgot. She raised a ring-spangled hand. Well, I didnt just forget. Its been unusually chaotic around here. Our youngest sister, Camille, got married a couple weeks ago. Shed been here most of the spring, working on the lavender. And she left on her honeymoon. Only, then she came back to get the kids.
Boy, that made a lot of sense.
Cripes, I dont mean her kids. I mean her step-kids. Her new husband had twin sons from a previous marriage. And actually since Camille thinks of them as hers, I suppose its okay to call them her sons directly, dont you think?
Cameron took a breath. As thrilling as all this information was, it had absolutely nothing to do with him. About the lavender he gently interrupted.
Im just trying to explain how I got so confused. I started the Herb Haven three years ago, when I moved back home, and its done fine-but it was this spring that it really took off. Ive been running full speed, had to hire two staff and Im still behind. And then Camille needed me to do something with all their dogs and animals while the family was on the honeymoon- I mean, they got a few days to themselves, but after that they even invited the kids and his dad, can you believe it? And then this old farmhouse I try to keep up myself. And then there are the two greenhouses. And Daisywell, you already know my older sister, so you know Daisys genetically related to a steamroller.
Finally shed said something that Cameron could connect to. Daisy was no close personal friend, only a business connection, but hed spent enough time to believe the oldest Campbell sister could manage a continent without breaking a sweat. Daisy was a take-charge kind of woman.
Anyway, the point is, sometimes Daisy runs on-
Daisy runs on? Cameron felt that point needed qualifying. As far as he was concerned, Daisy couldnt touch her younger sister for her ability to talk-extensively and incessantly.
Violet nodded. And I just dont always listen to her that closely. Who could? Daisy always has a thousand ideas and shes always bossing Camille and me around. We gave up arguing with her years ago. When youve got a headstrong horse, you just have to let them run. Not that I ride. Or that Daisys like a horse. Im just trying to say that its always been easier to tune out and just let her think that shes managing us-
About the lavender, Cameron interrupted again, this time a wee bit more forcefully.
Im just trying to explain why I forgot the exact time when you were coming. She hesitated. I also seemed to have forgotten exactly what youre going to do.
Before he could answer, someone rapped on her front door. She immediately popped to her feet and hobbled quickly down the hall. Moments later she came back with her arms full of mail. That was Frank, the mailman. Usually he just puts it in the box at the road, but at this time of year, there can be quite a load-
More news he couldnt use. And before he could direct her attention back to the lavender, her telephone rang. Actually, about a half dozen telephones rang. She must have a good number of receivers, because he could hear that cacophonic echo of rings through the entire downstairs.
She took the kitchen receiver-which enabled her to pet two cats at the same time. Possibly she was raising a herd, because he hadnt seen these longhaired caramel models before. The caller seemed to be someone named Mabel, who seemed to feel Violet could give her some herbal suggestions for hot flashes.
This took some time. Cameron finished one glass of lemonade and poured another while he got an earful about menopause-more than hed ever wanted to know, and more than he could imagine a woman as young as Violet could know. What was she, thirty? Thirty-one? What in Gods name was squaw root and flax seed oil?
Shed just hung up and turned back to face him when the sucker rang again. This time the caller appeared to be a man named Bartholomew. Although she seemed to be arguing with the guy, it was a stressless type of quarrel, because she sorted through her mail, petted more cats and put breakfast cups in the dishwasher during the conversation. A woman could hardly be ditsy to the bone if she could multitask, right? Then she hung up and started talking to him again.
You see? she asked, as if there was something obvious he should be seeing. Thats exactly why its impossible for you to stay. Bartholomew Radcliffe is supposed to be putting a new roof on the cottage. The place where you were going to stay when you came in July.
It is July, he felt compelled to tell her.
She made a fluttery motion with her hand, as if the date were of no import. Clearly there were several things in life that Violet Campbell considered inconsequential-dates, facts, contracts and possibly anything else in that generically rational realm. Because he was starting to feel exhausted, he rested his chin in his hand while she went on.
Thats exactly the thing about July. The roof was supposed to be done by now. Its just a little cottage. How long can it take to put a roof on one little cottage? And Bartholomew promised me itd only take a maximum of two weeks, and he started it way back near the first of June. Only, Ive never worked with roofers before.
And this is relevant, why?
Because I had no idea how it was with them. Today he didnt come because theres a threat of rain. She motioned outside to the cloudless sky. He doesnt come on Fridays because Friday apparently isnt a workday. And then theres fishing. If the fishings good, he takes off early. You see what I mean?
What he saw was that Violet Campbell was a sexy, sensual, unfathomable woman with gorgeous eyes and silky blond hair and boobs that hed really, really like to get to know. The only problem seemed to be the content under her hair. There was a slim possibility she could fill out an application at a nut house, and no one would be certain whether she wanted employment or an inmates room.