I thought you’d be in Europe, Jack Brattle. “I mean here.”
His brow went up. “Where did you think I’d be?”
“I have no idea. I thought the house was empty, then I found out it wasn’t. You left your door unlocked, so I—”
“You told me. I’m sorry if I insulted you. Women have—It’s happened before, though not at this house.”
“You have others?”
“Yes.” He started looking her over again, and she got all flustered and a little heated up, when she really wanted to be annoyed and insulted. “And that is a very seductive dress.”
“I was at a party.”
“Where?”
“Malvern.”
“You live in Philly?”
“Yes.”
“Strange way of heading back to the city from there.”
“I got lost, I told you.”
“Yes, you did.” He held her eyes and she controlled her hot and flustered self enough to look back fairly steadily.
Except the second she relaxed her guard, she started thinking about how much she wanted him to kiss her, and how sexy and romantic it would be right here in his twilit hallway. He could back her up against the wall and have his multibillion-dollar way with her.
Mmm.
What would he do if she leaned forward right now and—
Stop it. Just stop. Had she learned nothing about herself and about men in the years since puberty? Not to mention she’d just become outraged when he suggested she was thinking exactly what she was thinking.
“Sorry about that.” He relaxed his interrogation-stare, so apparently she’d passed the test. “I just have to be careful.”
“Why?”
He winked. “Double-O-Seven stuff.”
“Seriously?” She nearly swallowed her tongue. Had she not just been thinking James Bond? And here he was, the legend come to life, though she doubted he was actually doing anything but running his late father’s business. A business, of course, she knew nothing about as far as he was concerned, so she’d play along. “You’re a spy?”
“Not even close. What are we going to do with you?”
She had many ideas by now, none of which she could say out loud. But his abrupt change of subject away from the personal meant this could be a tough interview. “If you’ll point me to a phone I can call Triple A and have my car towed.”
Say no, say no, say no.
“Why don’t you wait until this weather clears? I’m sure Triple A will have its hands full rescuing motorists who couldn’t find conveniently unlocked, apparently deserted houses.”
“If you’re sure…” Stranded in a mansion with a hot über-rich playboy who could make her career? A miracle. Though she had no idea if Jack Brattle actually was a playboy. She could rule out gay now that she’d met him and had been on the receiving end of those eyes. If he was a playboy, he certainly kept his conquests as thoroughly out of the press as he kept himself. Maybe he sold his discarded women into slavery to ensure their silence.
She did think it was odd he wasn’t more disconcerted about his door being left unlocked.
“Are you hungry?” He put a hand to his sadly now-covered stomach. “I’m starved. Hardly got a thing to eat tonight.”
“Were you out?”
“For a while. The forecast convinced me to ring in the New Year at home.”
“Considering the state of my car, you made the right choice. Home would have been a lot simpler.”
And one-eighth the fun.
“Where in Philly is home?”
“Ah.” She glanced pointedly at her surroundings. “A stunning three-room estate above a shoe-repair shop.”
“Location, location, location.”
“So they say. Did you grow up in this…hut?”
“Yes. You never did tell me if you were hungry.”
“Famished.” Another abrupt change of subject. He wasn’t going to make this easy by volunteering long tales of his childhood, was he.
“This way to the kitchen.” He pointed down the hall and curved his other arm behind her as if he were going to touch her, but ohh, not quite. “Or maybe you’ve already been there.”
“I…took a peek, yes. Couldn’t resist. This is so not my life.”
“Don’t assume that’s a bad thing.”
“No?” She turned at the top of the stairs to see his face. Reserved as usual. “Why? Most people would die to—”
“Most people have no idea.”
Billionaire’s Bitter Secret. “Tell me then.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“What do you think I think?” She knew he thought she’d gone too far when he shot her a look and started down the stairs ahead of her. “You think I ask too many questions.”
“You do sound like a reporter.”
“Didn’t I tell you I was one?” She laughed again, ha ha ha, watching him closely, but he only laughed, too, ha ha ha. Wow. Obviously he wasn’t as suspicious as he seemed or he’d have been all over that one. “Just naturally curious I guess.”
He ushered her into the kitchen and turned on subtle track lighting around the tops of the cabinets that lit the room one might almost say romantically, if one was thinking along those lines, but, of course, Hannah wasn’t. She wasn’t going to fall in the blink of an eye for any more toads who happened to be wearing prince’s clothing. Might as well become infatuated with movie actors.
Of course, she did that, too.
“Have a seat.” He indicated a tall stool pulled up to the space-age-looking island in the center of a vast area that would set any chef drooling, then rubbed his palms together. “What do you feel like?”
“Surprise me.”
“Okay. Let’s see.” He narrowed his eyes, looked her up and down speculatively, which made her hope her stomach wasn’t pooching out in doughy rolls. “You don’t look like a peanut-butter-and-jelly woman…”
“Ha!” She put on a deeply offended look. “I’m a prime, grade A, number-one peanut-butter-and-jelly
