"And you'll be the voice of reason?"
"Someone has to be." Victoria realized she was lingering. But the sound of voices from the rose garden was growing more heated, and she really couldn't delay any longer. "I should…" she began, gesturing vaguely in that direction.
"Go save the topiary from motivational enhancement," Sasha finished. "I understand."
Victoria had taken perhaps three steps toward the rose garden when the sky, which had been growing increasingly dark while they talked, finally made good on its threat. The first drops were fat and warm, splashing onto the flagstone path with the promise of more to come.
"Shit," Victoria muttered, looking up at the rapidly darkening clouds.
Within seconds, the drops had become a proper downpour, the sort of summer storm that arrived without warning and turned everything into a waterlogged mess within minutes.
"The greenhouse!" Sasha called over the sound of rain hitting leaves. "Come on!"
They ran together across the lawn, Victoria's sensible work shoes slipping on the wet grass. By the time they reached theshelter of Sir Archibald's orchid house, they were both soaked and breathless.
"Well," Victoria said, pushing wet hair back from her face, "that was unexpected."
The greenhouse was warm and humid, filled with the thick, earthy smell of growing things and moisture. Rain drummed on the glass roof above them, creating an oddly intimate cocoon of sound. Steam rose from their wet clothes, and Victoria was suddenly, acutely aware that they were alone in a very small space.
"Your, um, your father certainly knows his orchids," Sasha said, apparently trying to fill the silence. She'd moved to examine a particularly spectacular purple bloom, water still dripping from her hair.
Victoria forced herself to swallow. "He spends more time with them than with people," Victoria replied, watching a droplet trace its way down Sasha's neck. "Mother says it's because plants don't argue with him about west wing improvements."
"Sensible man." Sasha turned to face her, and Victoria noticed that her sundress was now clinging rather spectacularly to her figure. "Though I suspect there's more to it than that."
"More to what?" She was trying desperately to keep her eyes on Sasha’s face and nowhere else.
"Your father. People don't retreat into greenhouses just to avoid family drama. They retreat because they've found something that makes sense to them."
There was a trickle of water etching over the curve of Sasha’s cheek. Victoria could barely tear her eyes off it. "Is that what you're doing?" she asked. "Looking for something that makes sense?"
"Maybe." Sasha moved closer, ostensibly to examine another orchid, but Victoria caught a hint of her scent, something light and floral that had nothing to do with the greenhouse. "I'vespent so long not knowing what I wanted that I'd forgotten there might be things worth wanting."
"And now?"
"Now I'm starting to think there might be."
There was something in her voice, something in the way she was looking at Victoria, that made the air in the greenhouse feel even thicker, more charged. Victoria found herself taking a step closer, drawn by something she couldn't quite name.
The rain continued to drum overhead, and Victoria was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, how Sasha's lips were slightly parted, how easy it would be to close the distance between them and…
… and kiss her brother's girlfriend. Fake girlfriend, but still. Completely inappropriate, utterly wrong, and exactly what she found herself wanting to do more than anything else in the world.
The realization hit her like a very large stick.
"I should…" she began, taking a step back.
"Should what?"
"I should go. Check on the family. Make sure no one's murdered anyone over the hedge maze situation."
She practically fled from the greenhouse, stepping directly out into the pouring rain rather than spend another second in that warm, humid space with Sasha looking at her like she was something worth figuring out.
The cold rain was a relief against her overheated skin, and she stood in it for a moment, letting it soak through her clothes and hopefully wash away whatever temporary insanity had just possessed her.
Behind her, she could hear Sasha calling her name, but she didn't turn around.
Chapter Eight
