But he looked horrible! He wasn’t even dressed properly, wearing only a loosely tied dressing robe. He had bloodshot eyes and unkempt black hair, but most appalling was his skin. He was sickly white and soaking wet, with trails of perspiration rolling down his face and dampening his robe. His untidy appearance didn’t stop him from rudely looking her up and down.
“You’re short,” he said.
She straightened. Her height was always the first thing people noticed about her, but rarely were they so rude as to comment on it. “And you are very ill.”
“But not contagious,” he said bluntly. “And I want to see this valuable map. Where is it?”
Maybe he wasn’t contagious, but there was something seriously wrong with him. She took a single step forward and extended the rolled map, then retreated the instant he snatched it.
While he unfurled the map across his desk, she took a deeper look at him, for he was a handsome man despite the sickly pallor, with finely molded features and deep-set eyes. But most fascinating to her was his jaw. It was strong and chiseled, the kind of jaw that spoke of strength and looked like it was accustomed to carrying the weight of responsibility. She loved the way he rubbed it as he scrutinized the map, and his gaze morphed from skeptical to curious to interested.
To her amazement, a slow smile crept across his face. A raspy, weak laugh started, but it was only a single breath, as though he didn’t have the strength to finish it off.
“I love it,” he said. He put on a pair of spectacles and leanedcloser to the map. “Ha! They’ve got the cloves wrong in Malabar. They ship them dried, not green.” He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk. “So you’re the tedious Miss Larkin from the Smithsonian.”
“I am Miss Larkin from the Smithsonian.” It was hard not to smile, for it was obvious he was testing her, but he had no idea who he was up against.
“And you come bearing gifts. Hoping to soften me up.”
“Is it working?”
“Not yet. I’m curious, though. My last letter to you was final, and you have zero chance of changing my mind, so why are you here?” He spoke with no sign of hostility, only genuine curiosity. It made her believe there was hope.
“You wouldn’t respect me if I gave up too easily.”
“What makes you think I respect you at all?” A challenging glint lurked in his dark eyes, and it was oddly intriguing. How could a man be so rude and yet appealing at the same time?
She rose to the test. “As a human being, I am worthy of respect by default. And as one botanist to another, I think you and I should cooperate.”
“I’m not a botanist. I’m a businessman.”
“I won’t hold it against you, Mr. Delacroix. Especially if you don’t hold my association with the Smithsonian against me.”
He took off his spectacles, then mopped his face with a handkerchief before looking at her through bloodshot eyes. “The Smithsonian has been trying for years to get their hands on my vanilla orchid, but this is the first time they’ve sent a woman to try for it. I’ve actually got it quite well guarded, and I’m protective of my plants, so I’m afraid your visit here is going to be fruitless.”
So he knew the value of what he had. “Can you tell me how you managed to keep it alive during transportation?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you could tell me how you are caring for it. As a tropical vine, Virginia must be a challenging environment for it.”
He shrugged and remained silent.
“Come, Mr. Delacroix,” she said. “Science shouldn’t be performed in a vacuum. Why can’t we pool our resources and expertise?”
“Because I don’t trust the government,” he stated flatly. “I know exactly what you would do if I gave you a cutting from my orchid.”
“And what is that?”
“You would slice pieces off to study under a microscope. You’d press the rest of it, glue it onto parchment, and store it away in one of your attics. Am I right?”
Actually, they stored their specimens in metal drawers, but mostly he was right. If the sample was large enough, they might try to reproduce it and establish another vine. But why did he have to be so intrinsically hostile to the entire principle of scientific study?
“The Smithsonian is curious about all forms of plants, which are constantly evolving. Yes, of course we need to collect and preserve samples.”
He nodded to the sunflower brooch pinned to her collar. It was the only jewelry she wore, a reminder of Kansas. “Is that what you specialize in? Sunflowers?”
“My specialty is cereal grasses. All kinds of wheat, barley, and in a pinch, I know a little about millet. I wear the sunflower because it’s impossible not to smile when you see a sunflower.” The corners of his mouth twitched, and she pounced. “See? Even you can’t do it. Just thinking about a field of sunflowers is making you smile. Go ahead, admit it.”
