eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘The likes of me?’
‘That’s what I said. Are you hard of hearing? Oh, no!’ She gave a cry of dismay. ‘My necklace!’ She turned quickly, her russet cloud of hair swinging around her shoulders. ‘I can’t have lost it.’
Dare sighed. He was tired after driving hours to get here on top of already putting in what felt like a full day at the office, and in no mood to be insulted by some sexy little shrew. ‘What does it look like?’
‘It’s a ruby pendant, on a gold—’
‘This it?’
He reached into the longer grass where it circled a bush. He’d noticed a glint of something before when he’d first rushed over to her and now held a very expensive little trinket in the palm of his hand. He let out a low whistle of appreciation. She definitely wasn’t just the pool girl if this was hers.
Dare flashed a smile. ‘A pretty piece. I’m not sure it goes with the outfit though.’ She stiffened as he looked her over. ‘Might I suggest a string bikini next time?’
‘I wasn’t wearing it,’ she said hotly. ‘It was a gift.’
Dare laughed. ‘I hardly thought you paid for it yourself, baby.’ In his experience no woman would.
She stared at him mouth agape and he supposed he had sounded a touch derogatory but...
‘Did you really just call me baby?’
Yeah, he had. For some reason discovering the necklace had made his mood take another dive. ‘Look—’
‘Listen? Look?’ Her finger stabbed in his direction again. ‘You are one condescending piece of work, darling.’ She stepped forward, her cheeks pink with annoyance. ‘Give me that.’ She reached for the necklace in his hand but Dare reacted instinctively and raised it above his head. She was medium to tall in height but there was no way she was close to his six feet four.
Realising it, she pulled up short, her hands flattening against his white T-shirt to stop herself from falling against him. Her eyes grew wide, her soft mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, and his eyes lingered before returning to hers.
Dare would have said the whole ‘time standing still’ thing was just hogwash, but right then he couldn’t hear a leaf rustling, or a bird calling, his mind empty of everything that didn’t include getting her naked and horizontal as soon as possible.
Instinctively his free hand came around to draw her closer when the sound of yapping at his feet broke the spell. Disconcerted, Dare looked down into the upturned face of an ugly little mutt the size of a cat with its tongue hanging out. He grinned. ‘This the big dog you were chasing?’
The redhead stepped back and threw him a filthy look as she reached for the small dog that danced just out of her reach.
‘Gregory,’ she growled in a warning voice. ‘Heel.’
Dare would have laughed at her futile attempts to stay the dog if he hadn’t been feeling so out of sorts.
‘Here.’ He held the necklace out impatiently as she made to run after the dog. ‘Don’t forget your gift.’
Turning on him with a malevolent look, she snatched the necklace from his hand and took off after the mutt. He doubted he’d have cause to see her again but strangely he found he wanted to.
Shaking his head, he walked back to his bike and shoved his helmet on, dismissing the pool girl from his mind as he gunned the engine and headed to the main house.
DARE PACED BACK and forth in what he surmised was a parlour room inside the grand house. He’d never been particularly good at cooling his heels and finding his grandfather out when he’d first arrived had turned an already grim mood further south. Two hours later it was fair to say it had hit rock bottom. He wondered if it was a tactical move on his grandfather’s behalf because Dare had presumed to turn up unannounced a day earlier than he was expected.
Glancing around the elegant room, he took in the heavily oak-panelled walls dating back to the sixteenth century. Like the bedroom he’d been shown to earlier to ‘freshen up’—which had most likely been code for ditching his leathers—the antique furniture was graceful and well-appointed. Given the state of the rest of the house and grounds that Dare had seen, he surmised that money wasn’t behind the old man’s invitation to his mother. Which left the possibility that he was ill and/or dying.
The thought didn’t stir an ounce of emotion in Dare at all. But the line of oil paintings mounted high on the walls? They were most likely his ancestors, he thought with distaste, and they gave him the creeps. He steeled himself against the unexpected need to search out a likeness. He was nothing like these people and never would be.
It was hard to imagine his mother running around here as a child. The place might be majestic and steeped in history, but it was completely devoid of laughter and lightness. And so alien to his own impoverished upbringing. Not that the wealth of the place bothered him. He could buy it a thousand times over if he wanted to.
He checked his watch, impatient to meet the old man who had unsettled his mother’s world once more. And his own, if the truth be told.
‘I apologise for keeping you waiting, sir.’ The butler who had shown him to his room earlier tipped his head as he stepped into the parlour.
Dare smiled at the man’s cordiality, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Fed up with waiting in his room like a good little schoolboy, Dare had prowled around the house on his own, finally being shown into this room by one of the servants.
‘Forget it,’ Dare said. His quarrel wasn’t with the butler so why make his life harder by being a jerk?
‘May I fix you a pre-dinner drink, sir?’
Dare turned away from a life-sized oil painting of a man in a bad wig. ‘Scotch. Thank you.’
He had no intention of staying for dinner but the butler didn’t need to know that either.
Dare gazed around at the book-lined walls, softly lit lamps, and matching damask sofas. A tartan throw rug caught his eye, the mix of autumn colours reminding him of the pool girl’s glorious mane of hair. She’d been absolutely beautiful, wild and pagan with that long, unbound mane splayed out against the bright green grass, and then she’d opened her eyes and he’d been jolted by the greyish-green hue that reminded him of the Spanish moss that grew on many of the trees back home. The combination was startling. Then there was her skin that had been creamy and, oh, so inviting to touch.
She had reminded him of the angel he and his mother used to place on top of their Christmas tree when he was a child. Her temper, though, had definitely not been angelic and his lips quirked as he recalled how her eyes had shot sparks at him whenever he’d riled her.
Something about her had made him want to get her all hot and bothered, even when she’d insulted him. Not that he had any time for the pool girl, he reminded himself. But still...he had no doubt as to how good those sweet curves of hers would have felt in his arms.
Catching
