Nick’s prying eyes, because it didn’t. No more than her extremely short cutoffs kept him from committing her long, perfectly shaped legs permanently to his memory.
The only problem seemed to be her age. Though her manner of speaking and the way she carried herself suggested she was older than she looked, her teenager-type attire and her slightly askew ponytail made Nick suspect she was barely past twenty. Enticing or not, women on the low side of twenty were much too young, even for a thirty-something rake such as he.
Pulling himself out of the pool, Nick wrapped the wet towel around his waist, then wandered into the house, oblivious to the dripping water that trailed across the expensive parquet floors. The last thing he needed to start his weekend off was another irate neighbor. He had left the rat race in Atlanta, seeking peace and solitude in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only to find when he arrived in Asheville that he’d traveled back in time fifty years. The upper-crust socialites who shared his lovely locality had been appalled by his long hair, outraged by his refusal to adhere to their silly rules and dress codes, and mortified by the big Harley-Davidson that had always been Nick’s pride and joy. Now it seemed even his choice of pets didn’t meet with their approval.
From the den, he grabbed the faded polo shirt and jeans he’d worn the night before, then tossed the dripping towel into the sink on the well-stocked wet bar that took up one side of the sparsely furnished room. Droplets of water still clung to his lean, muscular body, but Nick donned his clothes without toweling off, then slipped his feet into a pair of well-worn Birkenstock sandals. After raking his fingers though his sun-streaked hair, he pulled the wet mass to the back of his head, then used a leather strip he pulled from the back pocket of his jeans to secure his hair in a short ponytail.
His first instinct was to throw the irate beauty off his property, but Nick decided maybe it was time he took a more amicable approach where his fellow neighbors were concerned. He had, after all, invested a huge chunk of his financial reserves in the aging estate he now called home. If spreading a little harmony around the neighborhood could give him a reprieve from the scorn he’d been receiving to date, showing his good side might make life in Biltmore Forest a little more pleasant for everyone concerned.
“Stay,” Nick told his unwanted shadow when the frisky terrier followed him faithfully down the hallway to the front door. “It appears you’ve already caused enough trouble for one day.”
MINUTES LATER, NICK found his exquisite visitor propped against the luxury sedan that was sitting in the driveway next to his classic ’47 flat-fender Jeep. Arms folded stubbornly across her chest, she still wore the same surly look on her face. Nick hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, then sauntered down the steps in her direction, wondering if he still had what it took to cajole his agitated visitor into a friendlier mood.
He attempted his most winning smile. “I was just getting ready to fill the espresso machine. If you’ll join me, maybe we can discuss this dog situation over a cup of coffee.”
Lifting her chin defiantly, his visitor glared in his direction. “This isn’t a social call, Mr. Hardin. Everything we need to discuss can be discussed right here.”
“Well at least drop that ‘Mr. Hardin’ crap,” Nick said, trying to get at least one smile out of his attractive guest. “I’m Nick.”
“And I’m what I think you referred to as a vulture on your program several weeks ago,” she replied, ignoring his outstretched hand.
Nick paused, vaguely remembering the incident. But he stifled a laugh when he recalled the entire situation. “Ah, so you’re the attorney who didn’t particularly care for my joke about…”
He watched her aqua-blue eyes immediately turn a shade darker and several degrees colder. “About vultures and lawyers?” she quizzed, finishing his sentence.
Nick grinned in spite of himself. “Hey, I’m sorry you didn’t particularly care for that joke, counselor. But like I told you when you called, you can always tune me out if you don’t like my program.”
“Oh, I’ve tuned you out, all right,” Cassie retorted. “I suspect hundreds of other women who don’t care for your chauvinistic attitude have done the same.”
“Chauvinistic?” Nick moaned, pretending to be hurt. “Hey, you’re way off base on that one, counselor. You see, I’ve always been extremely fond of women.”
“As long as they’re barefoot and pregnant, and know their place, you mean?” she challenged.
Nick flinched. In all fairness, he could understand that his lawyer jokes, and now the incident involving his dog, might be responsible for launching a bumblebee up the legal eagle’s attractive little behind. But he was quickly growing weary of being attacked in his own driveway. Determined to make his snotty visitor vanish as quickly as she’d appeared, Nick deliberately let his coal-black eyes travel over her body with a look that even this uptight attorney couldn’t misinterpret.
And only when she flinched did Nick break his ill-mannered leer.
“Sorry if my appraisal made you uncomfortable,” Nick lied. “But since you’re already barefoot, I was just trying to imagine the pregnant part.”
Cassie gasped and looked down at all ten of her hot-pink polished toes. In her haste to get retribution for the heinous crime Nick Hardin’s dog had committed, she had completely forgotten that she left home looking like some reject from a bargain-basement sale. She hadn’t even realized that she wasn’t wearing shoes.
Clenching her fists to keep from slapping him, Cassie struggled until she finally regained her ability to speak. “If that was meant to shock me, it didn’t,” she huffed. “In fact, that’s exactly the type of statement I would expect from a man like you.”
Raising one eyebrow slightly, Nick grinned. “Hey, I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re standing in my driveway, counselor, I’m not standing in yours. If you find me so offensive, you can always leave.”
His comment brought an even deeper shade of pink to Cassie’s cheeks. “Oh, believe me, I’ll be more than happy to leave once we come to an understanding about the damage your idiot dog…”
“Let’s see. How did you so aptly put that before?” Nick interrupted, bursting out laughing again. “Didn’t you say he accosted…?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Cassie snapped, cutting him off. “But your mutt didn’t assault just any dog. I’m talking about a priceless dog. A dog that would put a dent in any bank account. Even one as healthy as yours.”
She paused then, giving Nick a chance to comment on the significance of her statement. Instead, he remained silent, keeping his eyes fixed permanently on her full, moist lips. The same type of lips he would have preferred tasting and teasing, instead of watching them spout out a bunch of silly nonsense about some famous show dog.
“Since I’m sure you do little else than listen to your own voice on the radio,” Cassie accused, “you obviously failed to read the front page of the Asheville-Citizen Times a few weeks ago when they did a feature story about the local bichon frise who won Best-in-Show at the Westminster Dog Show in New York City.”
“Let me guess,” Nick scoffed, thinking that even the name of the damn dog sounded pretentious. “This…be-shon free-za, or whatever name you called the silly dog, just happens to be…”
“How clever of you to figure it out,” Cassie snapped.
Stalling
