she returned stiffly. ‘As I’m sure you’re already aware, Mr Dean died some time ago.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘And I left the ouija board in my other jeans. Well, they say possession is nine tenths of the law, so it looks as if we’re going to be neighbours.’
‘But you can’t just—move in and take over like this.’
‘The evidence suggests I can—and I have. So why don’t we work out a co-existence pact.’
Because I don’t want you here, she thought. It’s too lonely—too remote to share with some passing stranger. And because you worry me in ways I don’t understand.
She hurried into speech. ‘You must see that’s impossible. You could be anybody.’
‘On the lines of escaped criminal, rapist or axe murderer, I presume.’ He gave her a weary look. ‘Would you like to see my driving licence—my gold card?’
‘The only thing I’d like to see is you and your boat sailing away,’ Tara said inimically. ‘There’s a marina about six miles upstream. You should find everything you need there.’
‘I think it’s a little premature to be discussing my needs,’ he drawled. ‘Besides, I’m quite contented where I am. And, as I was here first, maybe it’s you that should be moving on. But I won’t make an issue of it,’ he added kindly. ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you don’t play loud music or throw wild parties. I like my peace and quiet.’
For a moment she couldn’t move or speak. Her eyes blazed into his—fire meeting ice. Then, with a small, inarticulate sound, she marched back to the house and went in, slamming the door behind her with such violence that a blue and white plate fell off the wall and smashed at her feet.
‘Oh, hell,’ said Tara, and, to her own surprise and disgust, burst into tears.
CHAPTER TWO
‘MELUSINE.’ Perched on an inadequate pair of steps, Tara held out a coaxing handful of meaty snacks. ‘Come on, darling.’
But Melusine only gave her a baleful glance, and continued to hang on to the precarious safety of her branch.
Tara groaned inwardly. She’d hoped against hope that Melusine would rescue herself somehow, but her pet clearly had other ideas. She wouldn’t climb down, and it was physically impossible for Tara to reach her.
Which left a drive to the village and a phone call to either the fire service or the local RSPCA, she thought despondently.
Nothing, but nothing, was going according to plan.
However, that still didn’t excuse or explain the pathetic bout of crying she’d indulged in earlier, she reminded herself. She didn’t usually walk away from confrontations, or behave like a wimp afterwards.
I handled the whole thing so badly, she thought, as if I’d forgotten every management skill I ever learned. But he caught me off-guard. Put me at a disadvantage.
But now, face washed, drops in her reddened eyes, and a modicum of blusher judiciously applied, she was back, firing on all cylinders. If she could just get Melusine down from this tree...
‘Having problems?’
The sudden sound of her adversary’s voice behind her made her jump. The steps lurched and Tara cried out, grabbing at the trunk of the tree in front of her.
‘Do you have to creep up on me?’ she snarled as she steadied herself.
‘It wasn’t intentional,’ he said. ‘I could see she wouldn’t budge, so I came to help. You need a longer ladder.’
‘Full marks for observation,’ Tara said between her teeth as she descended from the steps. The tatty jeans, she saw, had now been topped by an equally ancient checked shirt with a tear in one sleeve. ‘Unfortunately, this is as good as it gets.’
‘Not necessarily.’
She gave him a caustic look. ‘You have a ladder stashed on board your boat? How unusual.’
‘Not on board,’ he said. ‘But I noticed one earlier in an outhouse behind the cottage.’
‘You certainly haven’t been wasting your time.’ Tara felt cold suddenly. ‘And what about the contents of the cottage itself? Have you made an inventory of those too?’
‘I’ve had a look round.’ He nodded. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never been tempted. Especially,’ he added pointedly, ‘as I believe you have a key.’
Tara flushed, silently damning the kindly but eager tongues in the village. ‘That’s for security purposes. I don’t pry into other people’s business,’ she added, lifting her chin.
Although she had been in Dean’s Mooring, her conscience reminded her. After Mr Dean’s death, she’d helped her mother clear out what little food there’d been, and strip and burn the bedding he’d used. Amid the squalor, there’d been several nice pieces of furniture, she recalled uneasily. Things which could easily tempt someone for whom honesty wasn’t a major factor.
‘Then you must be a saint.’ He paused. ‘But you don’t seem to be working any miracles where your cat’s concerned, so shall I fetch that ladder?’
She wanted to tell him to go to hell, and stuff his ladder where the sun didn’t shine, but discretion suggested a more conciliatory approach. After all, she didn’t want to spend the night at the foot of a tree, wooing an unresponsive cat.
‘Thank you,’ she said unsmilingly.
‘God, how that must have hurt,’ he said mockingly, and set off towards Dean’s Mooring.
Frowningly, she watched him go, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, covering the ground with his long, lithe stride. No matter how grave her doubts about him, she could not deny he possessed a lethal physical attraction. Which was not the kind of thing she needed to notice, she thought, biting her lip.
Her safest course might indeed be to pack up and return to London. Or even go down to Becky’s, she reminded herself without enthusiasm.
But that would leave her parents’ house defenceless, as well as Dean’s Mooring. Knowing that she was there, able to keep an eye on both properties, might prompt him to cut his losses and depart. If, indeed, he was there to steal.
She couldn’t believe he had just stumbled on Silver Creek by accident. On the contrary, he appeared to have done his homework thoroughly.
But the shabby clothes and generally unkempt appearance—at least two days’ growth of stubble, she’d noticed disapprovingly—didn’t match the glamorous cruiser. Unless he’d stolen that too, of course.
People with boats like that tended to enjoy showing them off on the broader stretches of the river. Mixing with others in a similar income bracket. So he must have a reason for hiding himself away in this secluded corner.
All in all, he was an enigma, and someone she could well do without. But he couldn’t be driven away. That was already more than clear.
Maybe
