Between Duty and Desire by Leanne Banks Page A

to growl. “What is it with women? All or nothing. I call my mother every now and then. I even wrote her when I was overseas and when I was in the physical rehabilitation center. I called her last night and—”
    “Bet she was surprised,” Callie interjected.
    Brock shot her a quelling glance that didn’t appear to dent her challenging, impish expression.
    “Betcha she was surprised,” she said, shaking her trowel at him. “Betcha she didn’t even know where you were calling her from.”
    “And your point is?”
    She wiggled the trowel in a circle as if she were trying to come up with something, but couldn’t. “Nothing really, except you don’t call her as often as she’d like. Did you talk about me?”
    “No. I just asked her what she did to keep going when my dad died.”
    The silence that stretched between them had a sweet quality to it. He glanced up and saw sympathy in her gaze. He usually hated the very idea of someone feeling sympathy for him, especially after all his time in the hospital, but it felt different coming from Callie. He would have to figure that out later.
    “That must’ve been a rough time for both of you,” she said.
    He nodded. “It was. I don’t think I realized how tough it was for her until lately.”
    “So how did she get through? Gardening?” Callie asked with a smile on her face. She shifted one of the flowers into the larger pot.
    “That and some other things,” he said.
    “Do I have these other things to look forward to?” she asked warily.
    “Some. Not all,” he said, thinking that the way she looked at him with her hair partly covering one eye was sexy as all get-out.
    “What won’t I be doing?”
    He felt a ripple of discomfort. “Well, you don’t have a kid, so…”
    She met his gaze again, realization glinting through her eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. I bet you were her biggest motivation for getting up in the morning.”
    “I guess that’s what mothers are supposed to say.”
    She smiled. “I never have understood why guys hate having their moms fuss over them a little.”
    “Because it’s never a little. It starts out small and innocent with her fixing my favorite pie, then it progresses to grilling me about my health, fussing over me eating vegetables, then before you know it, she’s trying to pick out a wife for me and begging for grandchildren.”
    “And by then, you’re choking on your cherry pie,” she said, chuckling. “How are we going to arrange these flowers?”
    He shrugged. “You’re the artist.”
    “With a black thumb,” she added.
    “Okay, these are annuals,” he said, pointing to the flowers next to him. “The ones next to you are perennials. So some of them will come back again next year and some of them won’t.”
    “Kinda like you,” she murmured.
    He could have let it pass, but he was curious. He set down his trowel. “How are they like me?”
    “The annuals are pretty for a season, but they won’t be back next year.”
    “Are you saying I’m pretty?” he teased.
    “I’m saying you’re temporary,” she emphasized, and he couldn’t tell if she was saying it more for him or for herself. “Then again,” she said, instantly lightening the mood with a rueful smile. “They may all be temporary due to my black thumb.”
    He shook his head. “This time is gonna be different. The annuals will last all season and the perennials will be back next year.”
    If he couldn’t be here with her next spring, then at least the damn flowers would, he thought. Now that was insane. Purely insane. Why did he give a rip if these flowers bloomed next year? And he sure didn’t want to be here next year wanting another man’s woman and not having her.
     

    Insisting she wasn’t a joiner, Callie didn’t bite at the club suggestion, even after he read a list compiled by the local newspaper. He subscribed to the local paper for her, figuring it would be worth the cost if she read the comics and just one of them made her