She knew the watch on his wrist cost lots, so did the shoes, while the tee shirt was one of those priced ten-times too high just because of the label. He was definitely someone who held the cards in his hands.
‘I want to buy it,’ he said bluntly.
Yeah, definitely the owning kind.
‘It’s not for sale,’ she answered equally bluntly.
He held her gaze for a moment, then dropped to look at the puddle on the floor between them. ‘Where’s the owner?’
Roxie’s spirit hardened. ‘You’re looking at her.’
His unfairly long lashes swept up and the deep, dark eyes studied her again—surprise had widened them.
‘You don’t believe me?’ she asked.
‘Well, you don’t look …’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind.’
She knew what he’d almost said. He thought she looked too young to own a house? How old did he think she was? Clearly not much older than a schoolgirl. Did he think she was the teen cleaner? Great. But she was no kid, she was twenty-two and she’d cared for this house almost single-handedly for the last five years. Not that she was going to get all indignant and ram that down his throat, no matter how much his assumption annoyed her. And, yeah, underneath that, she smarted because this one-thousand-per-cent man-in-prime didn’t see her as a capable adult, or a woman.
The unfairness of the situation riled her. This was her house, but he was standing in her bathroom with the upper hand, having rescued her from a mortifying moment. But she hadn’t needed rescuing; she’d have been fine. She was always fine. And wasn’t it just so typical that the one time in her life she met a spectacularly good-looking man, she had to be looking like a scruffy kid?
If only she had shoes on to give her the slightest chance of looking him straight in the eye—statement shoes, like six-inch stilettos. Instead she had to crane her neck to meet that focused, but depressingly impassive, gaze. She opted not to, instead walked as coolly as she could into the lounge. Not that easy when her heart was hammering faster than when he’d frightened the screams out of her minutes before—he really was something else.
‘The house will never be for sale,’ she said, aiming for polite but firm. ‘I’m sorry you’ve fought your way through for nothing.’
‘Not for nothing.’ He followed her. ‘I’ve always been curious about this place. If you don’t mind, I’d love to take a look around it.’
She couldn’t really say no when he’d just helped her out, albeit in dispassionate passing-medic style. So she nodded and spread her hands wide. ‘It’s known as the Treehouse. The reason is obvious.’
He walked into the middle of the large room, his gaze raking it with a wide sweep. ‘It certainly is,’ he said softly.
His obvious appreciation of it helped her forgive him—just a little—for not seeing her as an equal.
‘Why are you renting it out?’ he asked as he walked closer to inspect some of the detail carved into the picture rail.
‘I need the money,’ she answered honestly.
‘You’d get a swag of money if you sold it.’
‘I’m never selling it. I’m not worried about securing a tenant,’ she lied.
Those dark eyes studied her again briefly, then his attention shifted to the room’s features again. ‘It’s unique.’
Yeah. It wasn’t a modern, floor-to-ceiling windows kind of place. And it wasn’t big. Instead it really was a Treehouse—in one corner, an ancient, solid oak grew through the floor—both a support structure and design feature. Light poured in from the cleverly placed skylights, the windows were like frames for the beautiful living landscape of the park. The house itself was all hand-carved, polished wood. Built with the love, sweat and blood of her grandparents and, just as they’d put everything they had into the house, they’d put that same level of time, love and energy into her. Until illness had turned the tables and she’d become the carer for both them and the house. She was never letting it go, but she had to have some adventures now or she’d end up staying for ever and never moving forward. It was time to fly free—but she’d keep the nest to come back to.
‘Most people love it,’ she answered him. The few people who’d seen it in recent years had. ‘My grandfather always said there was nothing like natural beauty.’
The dark gaze rested on her again for another moment. ‘He was right.’
Roxie stared back. A frisson of something spiked her goosebumps all the more—he was talking the house, right? He’d turned away from her so she could no longer see his eyes—and they were unreadable anyway.
‘How long do you want a tenant for?’
‘Six-month lease initially, ideally a year,’ she spelt out her fantasy. In truth, she’d take what she could get.
He walked to the far corner, where that beautiful gnarled tree literally grew through the floor. But Roxie’s attention was totally swallowed by him. His back view was almost as good as the front—the masculine vee of broad shoulders and slim hips reinforced that impression of strength again. She swallowed as heat flushed through her. It was definitely time to move out and explore some of the world—some men of the world. She’d clearly been waiting too long when she was this affected by the first she’d come across in ages. He put a palm on the trunk, his fingers smoothing over the bark. She remembered the feel of that palm on the side of her face. Her face now burned.
He turned suddenly. ‘I’ll sign up for a year.’
Her eyes bugged and she momentarily forgot his hot factor. ‘You don’t even know what the weekly rent is.’
‘Doesn’t matter. And I want first right of refusal if you do ever decide to sell it.’
He hadn’t even seen the rest of the house, only the living area, but sometimes the house had an almost magical effect on people. For her it was a tranquil sanctuary—though not with him in it, he’d brought in an electrical charge that put her on edge. But she needed a tenant and if he was serious about a year’s lease, then she had to get over that edge.
‘There are a couple of things you don’t know.’ She felt it only fair to warn him, even though her heart was pumping even more crazily now with the prospect he was going to solve her financial problems.
‘Conditions?’
She nodded. ‘You won’t have access to the garage or the little flat above the garage.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Someone’s in the flat?’
She nodded.
His expression hardened.
‘While I’m in town, I’ll be living there,’ she rushed to explain. It wasn’t some random person he’d not met and she’d stay well away from him. Only her explanation didn’t make him relax; if anything he tensed all the more.
‘You’re not usually in town?’ he asked sharply.
‘I’m
