to introduce yourself to the school.”
Looking back at Jonah, Darcy found him grinning. “Go on.” He nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”
Should she give him a hug? With a teacher watching? Did he care? Darcy wasn’t sure.
Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Be safe,” he whispered.
Darcy nodded. “Bye.” She ran up the steps and past Ms. Blakely, who pointed her toward the dining hall. A few girls were still coming down the big circular staircase, so she hustled ahead of them and managed to grab a chair in time. She wasn’t going to be the last to sit or the first to say her name.
No way was she starting out at a new school as a geek!
JONAH watched Darcy disappear, then looked back at Ruth Ann Blakely, standing above him on the steps. The rain had stopped during lunch and she’d taken off her olive-green raincoat, revealing jeans and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt. Though less snug than her breeches, those jeans left him in no doubt about the feminine curves underneath. Without makeup, and with her hair pulled back in the apparently habitual ponytail, she should have been, well, ordinary. Few women, in Jonah’s experience, appeared at their best without cosmetic assistance of one kind or another.
But the trainer’s face looked fresh and natural, as if she’d washed it in the morning’s rain. Her pink cheeks evidently owed their color to fresh air and plenty of exercise. She had to be strong, judging by the way she’d carried Darcy’s suitcases as if they weighed nothing at all. He couldn’t be sure about her eye color, which might be hazel or green, but that zestful spark was unmistakable. There was an air of energy about Ms. Blakely, a vibrancy he’d rarely encountered.
“You can leave now,” she told him. “You’re free.”
She also had to be one of the rudest women he’d ever met. “I’d planned to help Darcy unpack,” he said, keeping his tone level. “Is that possible?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, and the ponytail bounced. “Darcy will manage just fine. It’s her stuff, after all. I’ve got to ask—how did you get all of that in your tiny little Porsche? Did you tie the suitcases on top?”
“I drive a truck when necessary,” Jonah told her, feeling his patience start to shred.
“You mean an SUV, right? One of the big, gas-guzzling fancy models with leather seats and Surround Sound and individual heating vents?”
“No. I mean a six-year old diesel pickup with a dented right rear side panel where I hit a fence post.” He stopped to think a second. “It does have leather seats.”
Arms crossed over her chest, she nodded. “Of course.”
“So could I stay around and take the suitcases away when Darcy’s finished with them?” He hated leaving her alone in this place where she knew no one.
Ms. Blakely descended to stand beside him. “Each floor of the dormitory has a box room where the girls store their luggage. Darcy will put all her bags—and whatever’s in them that doesn’t fit into her room—there.” She gripped his upper arm with one strong hand and gazed into his face. “Really, you can leave. We’ll take care of her.”
Hazel. Ruth Ann Blakely’s irises were a mosaic of green and gold flecks, Jonah realized, framed by thick brown lashes. He read empathy in those jade-and-topaz eyes, maybe even compassion. He was surprisingly tempted to accept her understanding, to trust the reassurance she offered.
Fortunately, he came to his senses in the next moment. “Thanks. I’m sure you will.” Pulling out of her grasp, he ran down the remaining steps and only then stopped to look back. “By the way, we have a meeting tomorrow morning at nine. I’d appreciate your timely arrival. My schedule is rather tight. Since your input is vital to the project, I’d like to get started as early as possible.”
He walked away without waiting for her to respond.
And he pretended not to hear when she said, “Oh, yes, sir, of course, sir, Mr. Architectural Pain in the Rear! Sir!”
Chapter Three
Ruth Ann entered the Hawkridge Manor library at twenty minutes after eight the next morning. She settled herself at the far end of the table from the easel set up for Jonah Granger’s use and set about finishing her cinnamon roll and coffee while she waited.
At eight forty-five, Granger strode into the room. Without glancing in Ruth Ann’s direction, he extracted his work from a carrying case and placed the sheets on the easel. Flipping through them, he changed the order a couple of times.
Ruth Ann grinned to herself. The great man seemed a little nervous about his presentation.
What he didn’t have to be nervous about was his appearance. Today’s V-necked sweater in a heathery green wool, worn over a T-shirt and dark jeans, looked every bit as good as last week’s dressier outfit. The man was incapable of showing up unprepared, unlike Ruth Ann, who had to make a special effort to leave the barn without wearing pieces of hay and smears of horse feed.
She would give him the style points, but she claimed a victory when it came to patience. Twice, he looked at the clock on the wall and verified the time there with his watch, then glanced at the doorway and shook his head. Ruth Ann didn’t doubt he was waiting for her to show up.
The third time he checked the clock, she decided to grant his wish. She cleared her throat loudly, taking great pleasure in his jump of surprise.
“What the—?” He jerked around and saw her sitting at the end of the table, relaxed and grinning. His brows lowered in a frown, almost meeting on the bridge of that arrogant, aquiline nose. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough. You just knew I’d be late, didn’t you?”
“I’m surprised that you aren’t.” He fingered through the drawings once more—regaining control, Ruth Ann thought. “I checked in with Jayne on the way up. She’ll be here as soon as nine o’clock classes start.”
“Exactly what is this meeting about, anyway?”
Paging through a notebook, Granger didn’t spare her so much as a glance. “You.”
The answer caught her unawares. Ruth Ann sat up straight in her chair, letting her boot heels thunk on the floor. “What about me?”
He snapped the notebook closed, put it down, then stepped over to prop one hip on the corner of the table.
“You’re the one with the major objections to the project. You’re the one who would be working in the building I design. Therefore, you are the person who has to be convinced that my ideas for the new stable at Hawkridge are feasible.” The grin he sent her had a malicious edge to it. “Don’t you like being the center of attention?”
“No.” She had lost the upper hand somehow. On her feet, Ruth Ann headed for the door, needing light and air, a chance to think….
Jonah Granger stood at the same moment and moved to block her path. Her momentum brought her right up against him, with her chest pressed into his ribs. His hands closed over her shoulders, vetoing any move to escape.
“You’re
