asked himself the same question. He was a stranger around here. An interloper. Someone who would only be here for a short time, whereas this was her home. He didn’t have a right to complain or question her.
Unless she was planning something detrimental to his nephew, he quickly reminded himself. And there was no way of knowing that without acquainting himself with the woman. But that didn’t mean he had to be nice about it. Which was a good thing, because at the moment Jack was feeling anything but nice.
His jaw tight, he asked, “What do you think I’m doing?”
Her brows disappeared beneath a fringe of black bangs. “I wouldn’t know,” she answered curtly.
Disbelief widened his gray eyes, then his lips twisted into a mocking line. “I’m sure you never once imagined you’ve been dealing me some misery.”
Quickly she glanced at Albert, who was still struggling with the G-scale. Then casting her gaze back on her unexpected visitor, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”
He snorted at her innocent response. “Do you realize the noise you’re making over here?”
The man needed kicking in the shins. But with Albert present, she did her best to curb the unladylike urge.
“Would you mind stepping over here?” she asked, gesturing to a grouping of redwood lawn furniture positioned several feet away from Albert. “I don’t want my student distracted.”
Before he could reply, she’d turned and left him standing with his hands in his pockets.
“Look, Miss Holliday,” he said after he’d followed her to the secluded area where several chairs and a table were shaded by an enormous live oak. “I didn’t come over here to sit and have a chat with you. All I want is for you—”
Jack’s words halted as his eyes fell past the full thrust of her breasts and on to the large rounded bulge of her midsection. He’d not been around many pregnant women in his life and the ones he had, he’d not found attractive. But this one—there was just something about her that left him feeling wet behind the ears.
“For me to do what, Mr. Barrett?” she prompted.
He heaved out a disgusted breath. Then biting back the words he really wanted to say, he said, “Last night I didn’t tell you, but I plan to be here for the next few days.”
He hadn’t really told her anything about himself last night, Grace thought. But then, she hadn’t exactly stuck around to ask him. She’d found the man more than disturbing and this evening the feeling hadn’t lessened—in fact, it had intensified.
She couldn’t be certain about his age, but he appeared to be somewhere around thirty-eight or forty. That prime age when a man just can’t look any better. And this man was definitely at his peak, Grace decided.
He had the lean, muscled body of an athlete. His rough-hewn features, coupled with his thick mane of hair and cool gray eyes made him one of the most striking men she’d ever seen in her life.
“Really? So you’ve bought the bungalow from Trent?”
It wasn’t like the boy to lie, Jack thought. At least, he didn’t think so. But then he had to remind himself the Trent he remembered being around had been a teenager. Maybe he’d changed since then. Or maybe this woman was subtly trying to draw information from Jack.
“The place belongs to me now,” he said evasively.
Once again he could see a shadow of disappointment cloud her green eyes.
“I see,” she said quietly. “So that means…”
“Means what?” he urged.
She shook her head, then forced a wan smile to her face. “Nothing.”
For the first time in his life Jack was at a loss for words, making him glad his associates weren’t around to see him. He’d tackled hundreds of hostile witnesses, wrangled words with some of the most formidable judges in the country and never lost his ability to lead the conversation to where he wanted it to go.
But with this woman, words failed him. All he could do was stare and think. And feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. What in the hell was the matter with him, anyway?
“Look, Miss Holliday, I came to Biloxi for some peace and quiet. I didn’t expect to find this.” He jerked his head backward toward Albert and his screeching instrument.
His clipped statement appeared to take her aback and for a moment Jack thought he saw a wounded look in her eyes, as though it pained her that he was being unfriendly. But, hell, that was a crazy notion. She didn’t even know him. It couldn’t matter to her whether he was Mr. Nice or a real jerk.
She folded her arms beneath her breasts. The movement made the mound of baby she was carrying even more evident to his gaze. “Surely Trent told you about me.”
His eyes narrowed. “What about you?” he asked carefully.
She frowned as though she considered his question inane. “That I was a music teacher, of course. And that you might encounter…well that some of the music might spill over onto your place from time to time.”
The idea that she called these boys’ squawking efforts “music” made him want to laugh out loud. But at the same time he’d been expecting her to come out with something much more personal about Trent. The fact that she hadn’t, disappointed Jack greatly. He was anxious to get to the truth. And even more eager to get away from this woman. She bothered him in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.
“Actually, he didn’t tell me anything. I…purchased the property through a Realtor,” he lied. “Yesterday was my first day to ever step foot on the place.”
Her expression said only a fool would buy a piece of property without looking at it first. And it dawned on him that she didn’t have any idea he had money to burn. The amount he’d paid for this little spot on the beach had been insignificant to him.
“Why?”
Jack frowned. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why did you buy this place without looking it over first?”
Impatient with her question and even more with himself because he found her so damned intriguing, he asked sharply, “Do you think that really concerns you?”
She took a seat on the edge of one of the chairs and crossed her sandaled feet. Jack’s gaze was instantly drawn to her toenails, which were painted a rich, lusty red. How the hell she managed to reach them, he didn’t know. But then, maybe she had a man who’d been glad to paint them for her. The idea grated on him far worse than the sound of Albert’s resined bow.
“No. It really doesn’t concern me at all, Mr. Barrett. Just as my music students don’t concern you.”
Slowly he folded his arms against his chest. “I’m sorry, but that’s where you’re wrong. And as for calling that—” he gestured back over his shoulder toward Albert “—‘music’, I think you need to have your ears tested.”
She
