asked himself if perhaps he was being played, but he couldn’t figure out her angle. Yeah, this encounter felt...off somehow. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to put an end to it.
He didn’t like games. But something compelled him to find out how this one would play out. He would call her bluff.
“I wasn’t planning to stay long,” he said. “We can leave whenever you want.”
She put her lips close to his ear and whispered, “I can go anytime. But first, I think you should see the garden.”
The song ended and they pulled apart. He had no interest in flowers, but the idea of strolling among fragrant roses with Liz was oddly appealing.
“I love gardens,” he lied. “Lead the way.”
She wobbled a bit on her high heels as they made their way around the enormous pool illuminated by dozens of floating candles. Maybe she’d had one too many martinis. He didn’t want to hook up with her if she was going to regret it. And really, he had no business getting entangled with anyone, let alone a mystery woman, when his life was such a mess...no matter how alluring she might be.
They were just going to look at flowers, he reasoned. They hadn’t reached the point of no return. Either of them could still bow out gracefully.
She took his hand, pulling him along, wanting to go faster in a suddenly childlike way. “It’s the most amazing garden. The Logans’ gardener, Hung Li, is a world-renowned rose cultivator. He has some prizewinning varieties that were developed right here.”
She escorted him off the patio through a fancy gate in a redwood fence. A charming path of flagstones meandered through what had to be an herb garden, given the scents of sage and lavender greeting Hudson’s nose.
“The Logans’ chef, Cora, uses as many homegrown fruits and vegetables as she can,” Liz continued as if she were a tour guide.
Stone benches were scattered here and there, along with pieces of huge marble columns strewn about, an echo of the ancient Rome theme inside the foyer. More statues, too.
He’d heard that Daniel acquired archaeological antiquities from private collectors all over the world, and he’d made provisions in his will for the items to be donated to appropriate museums in the items’ countries of origin.
It took some kind of ego to do that.
They passed an enormous greenhouse, where Hudson caught glimpses of hothouse tomatoes through the windows. Row upon row of empty garden space, waiting to be planted, surrounded them.
Finally they reached another fence, a quaint white-picket affair that called to mind a country garden in rural England. On the other side, a small plot fairly burst at the seams with roses. Houston’s mild winters meant you could have flowers year-round, if you worked at it. Apparently someone here did.
Rosebushes climbed fences and trellises grew out of huge urns and directly from the ground. The garden overflowed with red and pink and white roses, peach ones, yellow ones, roses in colors Hudson had never seen before. Even in the falling dusk, the colors were so vivid they hurt his eyes.
Hudson would be the last person to expect the sight of a bunch of flowers to move him, but the explosion of color took his breath away.
Or perhaps it was the woman standing next to him, whose beauty outshone even the most stunning of these roses.
“See this one?” She pointed to a bright yellow rose with orange-tipped petals. “It’s called Texas Sunrise. And that one over there?” She pointed to a peculiarly shaded purplish-pink rose. “That’s the Houstonian.”
“You sound like you know a lot about roses.”
“Well, I know what I learned on the tour Mr. Li gave earlier.” She winked one long-lashed blue eye at him, and swear to God, he almost swooned.
“What’s that over there?” he asked, pointing to another small, fenced-in area that sported a very different look from the carefully cultivated and pruned roses. Flowering shrubs, trees and vines grew in untamed profusion. A small brass plaque on the gate read Hummingbird Garden.
Hudson quickly realized why. The moment they entered the space, small winged creatures could be spied zooming all about the place, sampling nectar from both flowers and the feeders. There must have been at least fifty of them. Some had bright red throats, the color visible only when they turned a certain direction.
“Good golly.” Liz barely breathed the words, she was in such awe. With that one decidedly unsophisticated expletive, the polish of wealth and privilege dropped away, revealing something of the little girl she must have been.
Tearing his eyes away from the sight of the tiny birds, Hudson chose to look at her instead. Liz’s mouth was open slightly, her eyes bright as her gaze darted around the secluded garden.
One of the little critters stopped midair about six inches from Liz’s face, seeming to look into her eyes in a curious way, then abruptly zoomed off.
She laughed in surprise and delight. “I’ve never seen so many at once.” She kept her voice low, so as not to disturb the hummers. “And I’ve never seen them this close. It’s like we stepped into a magic storybook.” She turned then to look at him, and she must have seen something of what he was thinking—that he’d never been so close to such a beautiful woman, and that her naked sense of wonder was surprisingly erotic.
Hudson felt privileged—as if he’d seen a side of her few ever saw.
Whatever she’d seen in his face, she must have liked it, because when he leaned in to steal a kiss, she didn’t object. She sipped a quick breath before their lips met.
She tasted of the martini she’d recently drunk, and he wondered idly how many she’d had. Only one or two drinks could lower inhibitions. He suspected Liz wasn’t the type who picked up strange men at weddings; then again, he didn’t know her at all.
Her lips also tasted of strawberry lip gloss, and when he ruffled her hair, he caught another whiff of that fruity scent—apple, maybe.
Unable to resist, he placed a series of light kisses along her jawline, then dipped his head to nuzzle her neck, pressing his nose against her soft skin.
Mangos. Her skin smelled like a ripe mango right off the tree, like the ones he’d had in Mexico. The woman was a veritable fruit basket of sensations. Even her breasts reminded him of ripe fruit, and he suddenly realized he had one of them in his hand. Her nipple peaked, pressing against his palm through the silky-thin material of her dress.
Liz moaned, soft and low.
Boisterous laughter drifted from the pool area, reminding Hudson that they were still in a public area, that anyone could happen upon them. He wouldn’t really care, but she might.
“I want to take you someplace more private,” he said, his lips close to her ear.
“Do you live alone?” she asked, not bothering to play coy.
“Yes. But my house is at Lake Conroe.” He didn’t want to drive all the way out there. An amorous mood sometimes had a way of evaporating during an hour on the road. “How about we find an empty room around here somewhere?” Surely some place in this monstrous house
