Chapter Five #2
Delia stared through the library window and quivered with anticipation.
Little Miss Foster was going down today, and Delia was going to watch.
Her plan had worked to perfection. Choosing the afternoon of Rhett’s arrival back in Jupiter had been a no-brainer.
His secretary had been more than happy to share Rhett’s travel plans with Delia.
Talking her father into creating some sort of paperwork snafu for Foster’s head grower had required some wheedling on her part.
Thank goodness, her daddy’s bank handled Rob Shaw’s trust fund.
Her devious plan also counted on a little luck.
She’d assumed that with an order as large as hers, either the head grower or the sales manager or the owner must supervise the delivery.
She guessed that with Shaw out of the way and a sales manager being the logical one to remain behind, Foster would become the delivery girl, and Delia had guessed right.
If Foster hadn’t made the delivery, Delia would have come right out and told Rhett where she bought the plants and who owned the nursery. This way would be so much more fun.
She giggled as she peered between the slats in the library shutters. The blonde’s hair looked sweaty and stringy, pulled back in a loose ponytail with plenty of strands flying free. Her clothes, arms, and even one cheek were smudged with the nice, dark potting soil nurseries loved so much.
The little slut thought she was Cinderella hobnobbing with the rich and famous of Jupiter Island, but this would be Delia’s coup d’état.
Rhett was due to arrive home any minute to find his grubby little gardener and cast her out on her lying derriere.
Delia would remain innocently oblivious, reading her novel in the library and waiting to surprise Rhett with his housewarming gift.
His little hussy couldn’t even point fingers since she didn’t know Delia was here.
Delia had been careful to stand well back from the door when the deliveryman rang the bell.
Another bit of luck that the slut had remained in the truck and not come to the door herself.
Delia had even used her middle name on the purchase order in case the slut came across the document and grew suspicious.
Delia hugged herself. This was all so perfect, and she had a front row seat, just waiting to console Rhett. She even planned a few new moves she had learned from Raoul to complete Rhett’s resurrection from his recent gutter playground.
~ ~ ~ ~
Lily gaped at the two-story frescoed ceiling in the foyer when she and Jason carted in the sleeved Chamaedorea and Phoenix roebelenii palms.
“Whoa!” Jason said, his eyes as wide as hers probably were.
Head back, she stared up and could only nod.
Jason’s tug on the cart brought her head back down. Flanked by Doric columns, the grand staircase with its banisters of slick polished mahogany rose majestically on the left side of the fabulous foyer.
They wheeled their cart to the open arch beyond the staircase and entered the most enormous living room she had ever been in, far larger than her entire house, and large enough for a full bar, a grand piano, and enough room left over for three living rooms.
Decorated with two enormous couches, a handful of chairs and chaises, and a ten-foot flat screen TV on the wall, the living room still managed a comfortable, lived-in appeal.
Three sets of French doors led out to a breathtaking terrace with an Olympic-sized pool on the north end, and a separate pool house beyond.
She realized now the mansion sat on a promontory for she could see the tops of the dunes from the terrace as well as the ocean beyond.
“It doesn’t make me jealous to see something this big and fancy,” Jason said, matter-of-factly, “because only a handful of people in Florida can afford a house like this.”
Lily froze.
It couldn’t be.
“Come on, Lily, get a move on,” Jason prodded, pulling two palms from the cart and arranging them according to the plan. “We’ll set ‘em in place first and then unsleeve everything at the same time. Easier to clean up that way.”
“Sure.” She nodded and grabbed two palms off the cart. “Did the lady say who her friend was? The friend who lives here?”
There was no mailbox out front. Lily had checked when they drove in.
“Nope. She just said the gift was for her dear, dear friend who had just redecorated the lower level. If this is redecorated, I’d sure like to see what it used to look like.”
Lily placed her palm trees where he pointed and retrieved two more. Rhett didn’t seem the redecorating type though he was surely one of the handful of people Jason mentioned who could afford this house.
This friend must be a woman, and Lily was worrying for no reason.
Still, she wanted to finish and get out.
The fewer Jupiter socialites she met right now, as the real Lily Foster, the better.
At least until she could come clean with Rhett.
They wheeled their cart to an enormous dining room, then to an over-sized kitchen and eat-in area, and back to the truck for another load of plant material.
“Slow down, Lily,” Jason ordered, as she tugged the cart up the sidewalk, “or you’ll dump the whole cart. We’re ahead of schedule.”
“Sorry,” she said and slowed at the side ramp to the front door.
The architect had planned ahead and designed a side ramp to cart oversized accoutrements into the house.
She glanced in the gilt-framed foyer mirror on the way past and inwardly groaned.
She looked dirty, wrinkled, and frazzled and would need every minute she had allotted to get ready for her date tonight.
~ ~ ~ ~
Rhett cursed at the I-95 traffic under his breath and steered his Navigator into the far left lane behind a Mercedes SUV. Garrett often chided him for driving himself around and claimed, “Billionaires have drivers, and you should too. Especially since you get so mad in traffic.”
He almost smiled and would have if he wasn’t so mad at the traffic.
He hated traffic, yet enjoyed the freedom to drive himself around, which created quite a conundrum.
He didn’t like depending on others and wanted to be free to get up and run when the mood hit, especially those nights when he couldn’t sleep and went to the office to work at three in the morning.
He couldn’t very well wake some poor chauffeur in the middle of the night to drive him.
He put on his blinker and eased back to the middle lane when the occupants picked up speed.
Garrett also thought he needed a sports car, or four.
Rhett chuckled. He had been too poor for too long to blow his money on things he didn’t need or want, and his Navigator suited him just fine, traffic and all.
What he needed now was to get home and get cleaned up before his date with Lily.
He still had a few phone calls to make, and he limited his calls while driving.
He wanted to call Lily again, but that was stupid.
He had already called her once, and she didn’t need to know he was completely besotted with her.
At least not until he had a good idea where he stood with her.
His best-laid plans to come to his senses about Lily while in London had gone awry.
Instead, he had missed her more as each day ticked by.
He groused again at the traffic. Palm Beach International Airport was close to home, but the wreck near Palm Beach Gardens made the half-hour trip take well over an hour.
The 706 exit lay just ahead. He honked and changed lanes, impatient to get free of the snarled traffic.
Once off the interstate, he took a detour through Yacht Club Estates and approached Jupiter Island from the south.
His nerves eased the closer he got to his home.
He reached his entrance drive and hit the brakes.
What the hell?
Delia’s Jaguar and a delivery truck were parked outside his house.
What was that woman up to now? He clenched his jaw at the disruption in his schedule and squeezed the SUV around the truck.
Bloom & Grow stood out in bright green letters on the side.
That was the nursery where Garrett bought his specialty trees, the nursery where he met Lily.
Something about that delivery truck felt off.
His fingertips suddenly tingled, and he white-knuckled the steering wheel.
Ever since childhood, that strange tingling always forecast a moment of doom or gloom—a beating from his drunken uncle, a pop quiz in school, a construction accident.
The list went on and on, but the tingling had never ever been wrong.
He punched the remote button for his garage door and rolled the Navigator inside. Abandoning his luggage for the moment, he swiftly strode through the back door into the kitchen and down the hall. Up ahead, Delia smiled from the open library door.
“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to sound casual rather than angry at the invasion.
“I wanted to surprise you with a housewarming gift, darling.” She slid a palm up his chest, and he grabbed her hand to hold it still.
“I’ve lived here for three years, Delia.” He heard the edge in his voice. Not exactly nice when she just told him she brought a gift, but she caught him off-guard. To say nothing of her history of buying friends and boyfriends alike.
“Yes, but you just redecorated, so it’s like a brand-new house.” Her hand still captive, she eased closer until her breasts pressed against his chest.
“How did you get in?”
“I still have my key,” she said, her voice turning sultry.