скачать книгу бесплатно
“Apart from the crowd of splinters having a family reunion in my knee.”
Shallis steeled herself for Jared to make the kind of comment that usually came next. Something along the lines of how lucky it was she hadn’t tripped like this on pageant night in front of the whole of America. She geared up to laugh and politely pretend she hadn’t heard variations on the same joke a hundred times here in Hyattville, on every occasion when she did anything even the slightest bit graceless or messy or natural.
But all Jared said was, “Let me have a look, okay? Got tweezers?”
“I possess tweezers, yes.” Go away. Stop looking at my knee like that. “But I don’t carry them around with me.”
This was another assumption she had to contend with on a regular basis—that she carried an elephant-size makeup and grooming kit in her purse everywhere she went, and did she happen to keep aloe vera tissues/a corkscrew/spare panty hose/a socket wrench set in it, by any chance?
“Mono-brow doesn’t grow back that fast, I guess,” Jared murmured, with such a straight face that it took her several seconds to react with a very unprincesslike snort of laughter. “You don’t look comfortable,” he added.
“I’m not.”
Still thrown off balance by a kind of humor she wasn’t used to, except maybe from Dad, Shallis rotated to a sitting position, and mentally added twenty minutes to her schedule so she could go home and change. The splintery wood had pulled several threads in the fabric of her skirt, and the gray of the porch dust wasn’t an exact match for the gray of the silk.
Since it was an expensive designer suit, she cared about the pulled threads a lot more than she cared about the splinters in her knee. Skin healed. Silk didn’t.
“Let me take a look,” Jared repeated. “Can I remind you that helplessness is considered an attractive quality in a Southern woman?”
“I can do it, thanks. I was an L.A. woman for five years. I don’t do helpless anymore.”
Especially not with you.
“People always wuss out on their own splinters. Splinters need tough love.” She felt the warmth of his breath on her knee, but he didn’t touch her. “None of these are stuck all the way under the skin, from what I can see. I can get them.”
“You don’t have tweezers.”
“We’ve already discussed this.” He looked up from his inspection. “Neither do you.”
“I have nails.”
And a gorgeous French manicure that would probably get as ruined as her skirt if she used her nails to get the splinters out. She’d counted five of them. Too bad. She wasn’t letting Jared’s fingers anywhere near her knee.
He’d gotten the message now, apparently.
Gritting her teeth, she scraped at her skin, pincered her nails and got four of the splinters out while Jared took out a pocket knife—not the kind equipped with tweezers, unfortunately—and used its strongest blade to lever the gap in the floorboards wide enough to pull her jammed shoe heel free.
“It doesn’t look too good,” he said, examining the piece of expensive Italian footwear. “The leather is all scraped.”
She glanced up from her inspection of a section of newly chipped nail polish. “It looks better than my knee.”
“How’re you doing, there? I haven’t heard any ouches.”
“I’m keeping them to myself. The last splinter wouldn’t come.”
“Okay, my turn.”
“I’ll get it out at home.”
“No, let me have a try.” He put the shoe down beside her, rested a hand on her knee before she could make another protest, and told her in a cheerful tone, “This is probably going to hurt.”
“Did you ever consider going into medicine?”
“For a couple of months when I was eighteen, but I dropped the idea pretty fast and took on the traditional Starke family career. Why?”
“Good decision. Because your bedside manner is way off. Ouch,” she added.
“Yeah, can’t help it,” was all he said, still cheerful.
How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways…
He pinched up her skin, scraped, pinched again. Shallis sat back on her hands and closed her eyes. She could hear his breath whistling softly between his teeth and over his firm lower lip. She could imagine the golden glint of concentration in his eyes. His hand was warm—ouch, again!—and confident. His knee pressed into her outer thigh, chafing her skin softly with the fabric of his summer-weight suit.
Focusing on the splinter, he probably wasn’t aware of the contact, but Shallis was. She felt like a traitor to Linnie and Ryan, but even more of a traitor to herself for the powerful and familiar tingle of physical response that built inside her.
He’d dropped the lawyer facade, and he was such a sexy man. A thousand women must have thought so. Chemistry on two legs. A dangerous assailant on at least four of her senses.
But he was the wrong man.
He always had been.
She’d met enough men with the same win-at-all-costs mentality in Los Angeles. And thanks to Linnie’s history with Jared she’d always recognized pretty fast what they were really like underneath the charming, sexy veneer, and that they hadn’t really wanted her, they’d wanted…
Well, take your pick.
Arm candy.
Another notch on their belt.
A passport to the next level of success.
She’d met losers, too, and they could be even worse.
Surely there had to be some kind of middle ground. A man of her own generation who had the same basic qualities as her dad. A man who knew what he wanted but had limits on what he’d do to get it. A man she could be attracted to for his strength and even, yes, his arrogance, but who knew how to laugh at himself, too. A man who hadn’t already proved himself to be a total jerk in the way he’d behaved to Linnie six years ago.
If she was crazy enough to give in to her chemical attraction to Jared Starke she could never say she hadn’t been warned.
She had been warned, so why didn’t this act as the perfect antidote to the delectable poison that was running through her veins?
She had little tingles chasing each other all the way up her legs and, darn it, a red-blooded woman needed a few tingles in her life. There had to be a couple of decent single men in this world who knew how to deliver them. If only she could get this man out of her system first.
“Got it,” Jared said, and his touch evaporated from her knee before she could open her eyes.
She wanted the contact back, and hated herself.
“Thanks,” she muttered, and sat forward again, to inspect what he’d done. There were a couple of pinprick sized droplets of blood forming. Jared produced a clean tissue, pressed it into her hand and stood up, watching her dab the blood away.
“That’s your car out front, I take it,” he said.
“That’s right.”
“Nice.”
“It gets me from A to B.” The European-styled sports car was a part of her pageant winnings, five years old now but still widely admired. In the past, she’d had numerous dates with men who were more interested in the car than they were in her. “I had a few minutes, and I was curious about the house, so I stopped by,” she added.
“Same here. I walked down from Grandpa Abe’s place, in time to see you disappearing round the back.”
“It’s furnished, but do you get the same impression as me that no one’s living here? Not quite sure why the sense is so strong.”
“I know. Just a feeling, but you’re right, it’s definitely there.” He went and peered in the windows, just as she had. His body language was intent and focused. “Something about the stillness,” he murmured.
What was it? It wasn’t the words. It was the delivery.
“And the calendar in the kitchen, still on the February page,” she added. “Do you know any of the neighbors?”
“I don’t, but my grandfather must. I had a closer look at your grandmother’s files this afternoon, after you’d gone, but couldn’t find anything. I’ve tried calling him, but he only has a cell phone up at his cabin, and he has it switched off. So it doesn’t scare off the fish, I imagine.”
Shallis laughed. She kept doing that. He kept saying things that weren’t exactly hilarious, but somehow surprised her enough to tickle her funny bone, purely because they weren’t the same lame beauty queen jokes she’d heard dozens of times before. He was refreshingly different from most men in ways that didn’t really count, and exactly the same as the worst of the species in other much more dangerous ways that counted for everything.
“It’s twenty till seven,” he said. “I’ll try calling him again soon.”
“Oh, it’s that late?” She’d been here almost half an hour. Drive home to her garden apartment, freshen up, change. If anything was going wrong at the hotel…And speaking of cell phones, she’d left hers in her briefcase in the car, so if there had been a catering catastrophe, or something, she’d been out of contact. “I need to get home.”
He nodded. “It’s getting late. And there’s something about this place. It could get spooky after dark. Porch rocker starting to creak when there’s nobody there. Whispering voices echoing down the stairs.”
“Stop!” She went to slip her foot back in the damaged shoe. “You’re too good at creating atmosphere, Jared Starke.”
Various kinds of atmosphere, none of which she wanted.
“Don’t put on the shoe,” he said. He had that husky note in his voice again, that she’d heard earlier today. “Take off the other one and go barefoot. The path around the side of the house is pretty uneven, too, and I think you might have weakened the heel. Can’t guarantee I’ll be able to save you, next time.”
“You didn’t save me this time,” she pointed out tartly, bending a little and lifting her foot to scoop the second shoe off. The soft leather slid across the sensitive skin of her in-step and heel. “You didn’t even have tweezers.”
“True.” He watched her movement, his focus casual yet intent, as if her action with the shoe was significant.
Or sexy.
Her body warmed, as if beneath a row of hot stage lights.
“We’ll be in touch, then, as soon as either of us finds out more about this place,” he finished.
“Yes.” She walked ahead of him, since she knew he was hanging back so she could do so—her knight in shining armor, ready to be there for her if she stumbled.
No.
Not quite.
Ready to ogle the shimmy in her walk, more likely. Shallis hadn’t taken that kind of thing as a compliment since she was seventeen. And she couldn’t believe that she was even the slightest bit tempted to respond to it now.
The slate path felt cool under her feet, however, and she started thinking about the house again. It could be one of the grandest places on the street if it had the right treatment. It was three stories high, with a big round turret on one corner and a steeply sloping roof, made of slate that matched the path. Looking up, she saw that some of the slates were a slightly different color than the majority, as if the roof had been repaired with new stone, not too long ago.
Slate was expensive. A lot of people didn’t try to repair it anymore, just got rid of it altogether and put on a tar or wood shingle roof instead. Someone had cared about this place.
Her grandmother? Gram would have used slate. She wouldn’t have wanted this grand old lady to wear cheap tar when she was accustomed to being coiffed in elegant stone.
“If Gram owns this house, though, why on earth don’t we know about it?”
Turning to ask the question out loud, Shallis almost came to collision point with Jared. He’d about caught up to her, now, ready to head up the street toward his grandfather’s house. They both stopped, managed not to touch, and blurted awkward apologies.
“Can’t answer your question,” Jared said.
They were standing too close, he realized.
Again.
He stepped back, hoping it didn’t look too obvious that he was attempting to get himself safely clear of her space. With any other woman for whom he felt this powerful level of attraction, he would have used the opposite strategy—stepping closer, turning on the charm like turning on garden lanterns on a summer evening.
His history with Shallis and her sister was like the repelling force of two magnets pointing at each other the wrong way, and his questions about his own future and priorities only strengthened that force.
He wasn’t back in Hyattville to get involved in some disastrous, short-lived relationship with a blast from the past that would leave a sour taste in everybody’s mouth. He was here for some space, in order to work out, once and for all, who he wanted to be.
“No, I didn’t expect you to answer it,” Shallis said, cutting in on his thoughts. “If you’ll excuse me, Jared, I have a function at the hotel tonight and I really need to go home and change. But…uh…thanks for your help with the splinter and the shoe.”
“You’re welcome. Talk to you soon.”
He gave a short, careful nod, not too friendly, not too sharp—he hated controlling his every word and gesture this way—and set off along the sidewalk toward his grandfather’s house.
About thirty seconds later, he heard the smooth purr of her expensive car drift past him. They waved to each other again—casual hands, polite smiles—and he wondered what it was going to take for this to get easy.
Go back and erase the past, maybe?
Six years back, to Linnie and Ryan’s wedding, and then another five to the night of Shallis’s sixteenth birthday party, when he’d almost kissed her. That little word “almost” was the only thing that gave him any hope and any self-respect, when he looked back on his behavior that night.
He’d wanted to, and Shallis at that point in her life would have practically fainted with ecstasy in his arms. Yeah, her crush had been as obvious to him as the sweet champagne on her breath, and as innocent and doomed as a baby doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
She wouldn’t have turned him down, even though she wouldn’t have had a clue what was really happening. She’d have gone as far as he wanted, believed everything he said. The sweet-natured seventeen-year-old boy who’d been agonizingly and just as innocently in love with Shallis that year wouldn’t have had a chance.
And Linnie, who’d considered herself just about engaged to Jared at the time, would never have known…unless Shallis herself had told her. Jared would have gone on his merry way, feeling like a winner after an easy victory, as usual.
Two sisters wrapped around his little finger, when he didn’t have serious plans for either of them.
But he hadn’t done it. He’d run his fingers softly through Shallis’s golden hair. His mouth had come within an inch of hers. She’d sighed up at him, her eyes huge and awed and gorgeous, as she waited.
She was young enough to trust him, to have faith in her own feelings, and to believe that Linnie would forgive her such a betrayal, because this was love, and love conquered all.
He didn’t understand how he’d been able to read her layered feelings so clearly, but somehow he had.
Finally he’d muttered, “I can’t do this,” and he’d torn himself away, left with an enduring sense of protectiveness toward Shallis Duncan that he didn’t understand, either.
