Desert of Desire

  Desert of Desire

  By Wynter Daniels

  Copyright 2012 Wynter Daniels

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  Discover other titles by Wynter Daniels

  Game of Smoke and Mirrors

  Employee Relations

  Emotional Baggage

  Fading Star

  False Pretenses

  Spirit of Seduction

  A word about the author…

  Wynter Daniels lives in Central Florida with her husband of more than twenty years and their two college age children. They are all the slaves of a very demanding cat.

  After careers in marketing and the salon industry, Wynter’s wicked prose begged to be set free. She writes for several publishers including Carina Press, Ellora’s Cave, Loose Id and Red Sage. She loves to hear from readers, but only if it’s good;-)

  Visit Wynter at her website, blog, Facebook or Twitter.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter One

  Eve Mason emerged from the subway station into the gray New York City daylight and strode the two blocks to the Seven Hundred Building. She took the elevator to the fifth floor, exiting directly in front of the offices of Buzz Magazine.

  “Let the stress begin.” She pulled open the glass door.

  Lara, the young receptionist reached over the front desk with several small pink papers in her hand. “Messages, Eve.” She pushed the papers into Eve’s hand. “And Jacoby wants to see you in his office ASAP.”

  Jacoby never wanted to see her. He always seemed just as pleased as she for her to hide in her windowless cubicle all day, every day.

  She leaned into the reception desk and gave Lara her sweetest smile. “I love your top. Is that silk? Great color for you.”

  Lara popped a bubble with her gum and folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want?”

  The sausage biscuit Eve had eaten on the way to the subway sat in her stomach like a five-ton weight. “Why does he want to see me? Am I in trouble? Did I spell someone’s name wrong in my column?” What had she screwed up now?

  Lara shrugged. “He’s pissed about something. Course, that’s his usual Monday morning mood. He knows you’re here. I buzzed him when I saw you get off the elevator.”

  Eve’s smile faded. Great. “I’m going.” She started down the hall toward the double doors all the way at the end. They loomed ahead of her like the gates of Hell. First the rent increase notice slipped under her apartment door, now God knows what at the office. Blood pounded in her ears.

  Richard Jacoby, Editor-In-Chief of the magazine, rarely demanded a face-to-face meeting with any of his staff writers. He usually sent blistering emails or texts to show his displeasure.

  Why her? She was only the editorial assistant for the Around the Town column. Sucking in a deep breath, she knocked on his door.

  “Enter,” he barked.

  She fingered the gold doorknob, almost expecting it to be hot. The door jerked open and she stood face to barrel chest with the boss.

  “What the hell took you so long? Come in, come in. Have a seat. Can I get you coffee or something?”

  Can I get you something?

  He’d never offered her so much as a smile. Something was definitely up. Was he planning to fire her? Oh God. What the hell would she do without the job?

  “No, thank you, sir.” She sat in a plush leather chair opposite his desk.

  He sank into his massive seat and pinned her with his stare, his bushy eyebrows slanting toward his nose.

  She cleared her throat, hoping he’d get to the point so she could make her escape.

  He tossed a manila file folder across the desk. “Beau Calloway. Ever heard of him?”

  Eve racked her brain. Could he be a movie star? A New York socialite? The name didn’t register. “Sorry.” She picked up the folder and opened it. A book cover lay on top. “Soul of the Garden,” read the title over a picture of lush greenery.

  “Best-selling writer. Nothing I’d read, mind you. Something about making flowers grow anywhere or some crap like that.” He leaned back in his chair.

  Eve moved the cover aside and scanned the bio. Author of three best-selling gardening books. She looked at Jacoby. “Is he coming to New York? You want me to cover him for the Around the Town column this month?”

  He shook his head. “Normally, I’d give this assignment to Kim Baker. But as you know, she’s on maternity leave. You won’t go getting married and take off three months to spend time with a baby, will you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fat chance.” The longest term relationship she’d ever had was with the spider plant her mom had given her when she’d moved into her own place two years ago.

  “Glad to hear it.” He shifted in his seat. “This guy’s granted us an interview, which he doesn’t do often. Bit of a recluse. I want a feature story on him.”

  She grimaced. Just what she wanted to do—write a story on some gardening guru. “So, when’s he coming to town?”

  Jacoby sighed. “He’s not. Lives in Sedona, Arizona. Says he hates big cities.”

  “A phone interview? How will we get photos? Is he sending some?”

  He reached behind his desk and grabbed something from the credenza. “Here you go,” he said, setting a digital camera on the desk. “We’ll use some of the publicity shots his publisher is sending over and fill in with one or two of yours. It’s a beautiful place, you know. Ever been out west?”

  “Only as far as Buffalo.” She swallowed hard. Was he trying to tell her she had to go to Arizona? No way. She did local stories only. “Wait a second.” She stood up, ready to tell him what for.

  He held up a pudgy hand. “Siddown, Eve. I know, I know, you don’t fly. But I got nobody else. Go to your doctor and get some nice anti-anxiety pills and then put that cute behind on an airplane. It’s a great opportunity for a newbie like you. I’ll have that pimple-faced intern cover for you here.” He laced his fingers together on the desk. “Plane ticket’s in the folder. You leave Thursday morning. Be at his house at four-thirty, Arizona time. Take the rest of today off. Tomorrow you can start your research. Have a wonderful time. Stay the weekend.” He stared at her for a moment. “Airplanes are safer than cars, honey. Get over it.” With that, he swiveled his chair toward his computer and started hitting keys. “That’s all. Thank you.”

  Eve grabbed the camera and left the room with the file folder clutched against her chest, her head in a daze. How could he do this to her? She ought to refuse.

  Yeah, right, and lose my job.

  With a stack of credit card bills and college loans, she couldn’t afford a minute without a job. The last time she’d spent more than three hundred words on a subject was when she wrote for her college newspaper four years ago. And flying? After a horrendous flight five years earlier she’d promised God if he got her safely to the ground, she’d never set foot in another airplane as long as she lived. How could she break a promise to God?

  * * * * *

  Eve’s flight approa
ched the runway three days later at Grand Canyon Flagstaff Airport. Her knuckles had turned white and she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore, not after clutching the armrest for three straight hours even though the ride had been smooth. The moment they touched down she let out the breath it felt as if she’d been holding the entire flight.

  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 climbed up her neck and face. “I’m sorry. 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.” Those 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?”

&nb
sp; 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 lives 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.”