Desert of Desire (2 page)

She easily negotiated baggage claim then hurried to the curb to grab a taxi. She handed the driver Calloway’s address.

“Sedona?” The man scoffed. “That’s an hour away, lady.” He turned around and curled his lips into a snarl.

Like she couldn’t handle an irate cabbie. Ha! She was a New Yorker. “Buddy, I got the dime if you got the time. You want to chit chat or you want to drive?”

The man’s brow lifted, and after a long moment, he shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

She
settled into the seat and called the phone number Jacoby had given her.

“Calloway residence,” a man answered.

Eve cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Calloway?”

“No. Who’s this?”

“Eve Mason, Buzz Magazine. I’m on my way there from Flagstaff. Mr. Calloway asked that I let him know when I’d be arriving.” She looked out the window and watched the city disappear. Suddenly lush, green mountains lined the road.

“I’ll let him know.”
Click.

She held the phone away from her ear and stared at it. How rude. She shook her head and returned the cell to her purse.

The car passed a roadside stand with tables full of glittering jewelry and two dark-skinned women with long jet-black hair.
Not dark-skinned like her, definitely not of African decent like she.
One wore a cowboy hat.

“Hey.” She leaned toward the driver. “Were they Indians? I mean Native Americans.”

“Yeah. They sell crafts along this stretch. Beaded stuff, turquoise and coral pieces set in silver. I got my wife a real pretty necklace for her birthday a few weeks back. Got a great deal.”

“Hmm.” She thought about asking him to stop. Her
mama
liked that sort of jewelry. Every time she bought her parents anything, they complained their Miami Beach condo was too small. She brushed the idea from her mind.

Soon the landscape dramatically
changed
. The thick green forest turned thinner then gave way to a barren desert with yellow-orange rocks. As they drove, orange intensified to red and the rocks grew to massive stone towers. Huge boulders perched precariously atop smaller ones. The vast expanse of desert was like nothing she’d ever seen. Some of the stone monoliths had stripes, horizontal bands in various shades of pink, brown and crimson. It all took her breath away.

Soon a town appeared. Shops, restaurants and galleries lined the hilly road. “Is this it?” she asked.

He nodded. “I never get tired of looking at this place. Beautiful, ain’t it?”

“Incredible.” She looked at the back of his head. That accent sounded familiar. “You’re not from here, are you?”

He chuckled. “Nah. Brooklyn. Me and the wife came out on vacation ten years ago. Couldn’t bring ourselves to leave.”

Sure, it was beautiful, but to leave the excitement of the greatest city in the world
to live in the sticks? No way.
“Don’t you ever miss New York?”

“We go once a year to visit the grandkids. But Flagstaff is home now. You see the canyon yet?”

“Nope. Probably won’t have time.”

He snorted. “Lady, you can’t come here and not see it. It’ll change you.”

What did that mean?
A few miles past town, the cab turned into a driveway and stopped in front of a high stone wall. Native stone, judging from the color.

The driver retrieved her suitcase and carried it to a wrought iron gate. Eve thanked him and gave the man a generous tip on top of the fare. As the cabbie drove away, Eve rang the buzzer next to the gate. She heard a door open.

Then a short, stocky blond man appeared. “Are you Eve?”

She nodded as she looked him over. He wore a floral print Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts with a dishtowel tucked into the waistband.
Definitely gay.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Calloway.”

He unlocked the gate and pulled it open as he chuckled. She only saw three teeth in his whole mouth. “I’m not Mr. Calloway.” He extended his hand, palm down. “I’m Kelly.” His handshake felt like a damp rag.

Okay, maybe he was Calloway’s lover.
“So nice to meet you, Kelly.” Pulling her suitcase inside the door, she set it in a corner of the foyer and followed him to a
large living room
.

“Are you staying here? I have the guest room made up.” He lifted a hopeful eyebrow.

She shook her head. “
I have a reservation at the
Beau
Rock Inn. I came straight from the airport.”

“Oh.” He motioned toward a toffee-colored couch then left the room.

Eve dropped her purse on the sofa, taking in her surroundings. Brown stone tile covered the floor and fireplace surround. The walls and ceiling were white with rough-hewn wood beams every few feet. The décor was dramatic yet sparse. She turned toward the glass sliders and sucked in a breath.

The open doors let in a warm, dry breeze that carried the aromas of a million flowers. A
winding stone
path
disappeared into
endless greenery, dotted with purple,
yellow, red and orange blooms.
Drawn by the garden’s amazing beauty, she stepped outside, wide-eyed, and surveyed the landscape. She ventured a few steps down the
walkway
and heard the sound of running water. A dozen more steps and she
came upon
a fountain, ten or twelve feet around with multiple levels. Stone pots overflowing with the most unique flowers she’d ever seen flanked the base. A silver-leafed vine climbed a trellis behind the fountain. The red blooms reminded
her
of miniature umbrellas. She reached out and touched one, fascinated by its delicate beauty.

“Star Glory.” A man’s deep voice floated through the air.

Eve jumped,
her heart stuck in her throat.

A very tall
white
man with broad shoulders and
dark
hair stepped out from behind the trellis. “You must be Eve Mason.” He offered his hand. “
Beau
Calloway.”

She shook with him and heat climb
ed
up her neck and face. “I’m s
orry. The garden…it’s so lovely…
” Looking up into his pale blue eyes, her heart calmed, seemed to stop beating.

“It has that effect on me too.” T
hose eyes sparkled with warmth.

She drew a deep breath. “Kelly showed me in. I hope you don’t mind. The doors were open.”
He
didn’t seem gay. Not at all.
But wasn’t Kelly his lover?

He gestured for her to continue on the path. She walked a few steps as she took in the flowers. “It’s amazing that you can do all this in the middle of the desert.”

“All the plants are native. Most need little water and even less care. I love that about the desert. It requires so little of you and gives back so much. Probably the opposite of a place like New York.”

She turned around to face him
. “What do you mean?”

He dropped his gaze. “Nothing. I stay as far as I can from big cities.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You can keep them.”

She wrapped her arms around her body, afraid they’d started out on the wrong foot. “I left my tape recorder inside, in my purse. Mind it I get it?”

His eyes
captured
hers. “Have we started the interview? I hadn’t realized. Let’s go into the living room then.” He strode toward the house.

Eve wanted to stop him, couldn’t bear to leave the oasis.
But more than that, she didn’t want to be far from the man.
What the hell? She’d never been attracted to any white guys. What was so different about him?

He turned around and lifted an eyebrow as if he was waiting for her to say something.

“Right. The interview.” She followed him inside and sat on the couch.

“Flight go all right?” he asked, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m not a happy flyer. Would you believe I take the train from New York to Florida every Christmas to visit my folks?”

When he smiled, faint lines fanned out from his eyes, making him even more handsome. “The trick is to make people come to you.”

A
zing
of awareness shot through her every time the man smiled.

Get hold of yourself
, girl
.
Beau
Calloway is a gay gardener who li
ves in Arizona, for God’s sake.

“How wonderfully controlling of you.” She took her tape recorder from her purse and set it on the table.

“Not at all. I’d prefer not to have anyone come. This interview is something my agent insisted I do.”
His gaze skimmed her body and heat bloomed in her belly
. “Now I’m glad she did. I had no idea Buzz Magazine had such lovely reporters.”

Could she be developing a crush on a less available man? Stick to business. She pointed to the recorder. “Do you mind?”

He shrugged. “You’re the pro. I’ve only done a couple of these. One after each of my book releases.”

She depressed the Record button and donned her reporter hat. “Let’s discuss the title of your latest book. “Soul of the Garden sounds almost spiritual. What does that have to do with gardening?”

A wide smile split his face
and made him even more handsome
. “Everything.”

Eve knitted her brow
. Interviewing celebrities and socialites was so much simpler than authors
, who always seemed so complex
.

“Making things grow, knowing nature always has the upper hand, watching seedlings you’ve nurtured turn into incredible works of art is one of the most spiritual experiences I’ve ever had. You’ve never grown anything, have you?”

She shifted in her seat. “I have a spider plant.”