скачать книгу бесплатно
“I suppose you prefer the term con artist?” She cursed softly. “I can assure you, if you appear downstairs in just that towel, you may give her a heart attack.”
Jamie shook his head, then walked to the end of the bed to pick through the clothes he’d brought along. He grabbed a pair of boxers and stepped into them, sliding them up to his waist beneath the towel. Then he pulled the towel off and draped it around his neck. “I’m here because I needed a place to stay and I didn’t want to go to a motel. Your grandmother kindly offered to rent me her guest house and I accepted. Then she invited me to dinner. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Right. Don’t forget about the land you’re trying to swindle. You probably think that she’s an easy mark, living all alone out here, with no one to watch after her. But I’m watching out for her,” Regan said. “And you’re not going to get a finger on one single dollar of her money or one single acre of her land. Do I make myself clear?”
Jamie strolled to the closet and grabbed one of the shirts he found there. Yanking it over his arms, he cursed softly. “The only thing that’s clear is that you are certifiably crazy.”
“I am not!” she cried.
“If you weren’t crazy, you would politely excuse yourself, and let me get dressed on my own.”
Regan opened her mouth to utter a quick reply, but her answer died on her tongue. “We’re not done with this. Not by a long mile.”
“I look forward to discussing this further at a mutually convenient time,” Jamie said.
“There will be plenty of those,” she said, “since I plan to check up on you for as long as you’re here.”
“Fine!” he said.
“Fine!” she shot back. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Jamie watched her storm out of the room, his gaze taking in a delicious view of her backside. This was an interesting development, he mused. In truth, he was glad to have Regan around. If any of the other family members objected, Regan could provide proof that he was dealing fairly with Celia and that he had no intentions of cheating her out of anything.
Though Regan was dead wrong about his intentions, she was right about one thing. Her grandmother did seem to be excited at the prospect of company. And maybe he did use that to his advantage to get a perfect room in a perfect house on a perfect piece of property. But it was an innocent friendship, and he was expert enough at short-term relationships to make sure no one got hurt.
He finished buttoning the shirt, which luckily fit fairly well, then walked over to the mirror and raked his fingers through his still-damp hair.
Now his interest in Regan Macintosh, on the other hand... He couldn’t say his intentions would remain innocent where she was concerned.
He picked up the dinner jacket Celia had given him and shrugged into it, then headed downstairs, preparing himself for a lively evening with two beautiful women.
When he entered the kitchen, Celia turned and clapped her hands. “Don’t you look debonair,” she said, her eyes bright. She reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I guessed right that you’d be about the same size as Kenneth.”
Regan cleared her throat and Celia glanced over her shoulder at her granddaughter. “Didn’t you two introduce yourselves?” she asked, glancing between him and Regan.
Jamie smiled and shrugged, and he watched Regan bristle at the thought of repeating what had happened upstairs.
“I know who he is, Nana. You told me his name.”
“But there are common courtesies that we observe in this house. Regan, darling, this is Mr. James Quinn. He’d like us to call him Jamie. Jamie, this is my favorite granddaughter, Regan Macintosh.”
Jamie reached out and took her fingertips into the palm of his hand. He ignored the rush of heat that raced through his body. It was a natural reaction, he mused. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and Regan had just seen him half-naked. He drew her hand to his lips and placed a kiss just below her wrist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured.
She watched him intently, her expression one of barely concealed indifference. God, she was a challenge. He felt like a schoolboy, teasing the prettiest girl in class just to get a rise from her.
“Look how good he is at that, Nana,” Regan said. “So smooth. No one does that anymore.” She snatched her hand away. “No one.”
“Regan! Don’t be rude.” Ceci held out her own hand and Jamie dutifully kissed it.
“I’m not being rude. Is it rude to ask Mr. Quinn what his true intentions are here? He seems to have waltzed in and taken over a spot at the table, wearing my grandfather’s dinner jacket. And you seem...bewitched!”
Jamie cleared his throat, more as a warning than an intention to talk. Regan glanced over at her grandmother and noticed the two bright spots of embarrassment on her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Of course you did, darling. I can’t blame you. And I won’t lie. I have been lonely, and it’s been nice for an attractive man to wander into my life and provide a bit of excitement.”
“Nana, you don’t have to—”
“Having Mr. Quinn here has been a refreshing change of pace. But he is my guest and I will decide if and when he leaves.” She clapped her hands together and forced a smile. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I do believe dinner is ready.”
* * *
DINNER WAS A lively affair, reminding Regan of the time before her grandfather had died. She hadn’t seen her grandmother smile so much in years, and it made Regan happy that sparkling conversation with a handsome man was all it took to bring the light back into Ceci’s eyes.
Of course, Jamie did his part, with clever compliments, silly stories and endless charm. And it wasn’t just her grandmother who suffered the effects. He turned his considerable charm in Regan’s direction, as well.
But she could sense that his intentions weren’t so innocent with her. He seemed to take delight in irritating her, and she seemed to be unable to control her temper around him. They were waging a silent battle, jockeying for position, trying to read the other’s next move. And though he’d provided a reasonable character reference for himself, she still found herself wary and on edge.
Maybe it was the fact that he could kiss her wrist and her whole body seemed to go weak. Or he could smile at her and her heart felt as if it were about to leap out of her chest. She couldn’t seem to control her reactions to him, and though fascinating, it was also dangerous.
If she couldn’t control herself, how could she possibly control him? Control was an absolute requirement when it came to her relationships with men. It was the only way to protect herself, the only way to maintain a safe distance.
Regan listened distractedly as he talked about his job and explained the project he was working on and the cottage he planned to build. Habikit. She remembered reading something about his company in a recent issue of the newspaper, but she didn’t remember seeing a picture of him. She would’ve remembered that.
By the time dinner was over and dessert had been served, they’d managed to finish off two bottles of expensive red wine. Her grandmother had nursed the same glass throughout the entire evening, so Regan realized that she and Jamie must have drunk the rest.
She didn’t feel intoxicated, but she did feel pleasantly relaxed. And though her tongue occasionally got tangled, Regan wrote that off to being in the company of a handsome man.
“Would anybody like coffee?” Celia asked.
Jamie pushed back from the table and stood up. “Why don’t you ladies relax and I’ll make the coffee and clean up the dishes.”
“No, no, no,” Celia said. “You’re my guest and I won’t have you doing chores.”
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind helping out around the house,” Jamie said. “I’m sure there are plenty of things that might appreciate a man’s touch.”
Regan was in the middle of taking a sip of wine when he made his last statement, and she began to cough at his blatant offer of sexual favors.
“Are you all right, darling?” Celia asked. Regan waved her hand in front of her face, slowly realizing that the meaning she took from his words wasn’t what he’d intended.
“I’m sorry. I just drank that a little too fast. Let me help with the coffee.”
She and Jamie gathered the dirty plates and silver and headed back to the kitchen.
Jamie stood at the sink and began to rinse the dishes while Regan finished clearing, then she took her place on the other side of him and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.
“I should probably apologize,” Jamie said. “You probably assumed that offer to help around the house had sexual overtones.”
“Really?” Regan said. “No, I didn’t notice.”
Jamie chuckled. “Oh, yes you did. You nearly choked on your wine.”
Regan surrendered a smile. “All right, maybe I did. But you have to admit, your words could be taken both ways.”
“You, my dear, have a dirty mind. And the sooner you realize I’m a respectable man, the easier it will be for us to get along with each other.”
“Why would I want to get along with you?” Regan asked.
“Because I’m endlessly fascinating and I tell a good story.”
“And not because you have an overinflated ego and narcissistic personality disorder?”
“I think if you gave me a chance,” Jamie said, “you’d like me.”
“I’m sure you’ve had a lot of women who have liked you,” she said, “only to get their hearts broken.”
He chuckled softly. “Yeah, you’d think. But that’s not the way it’s worked out. I’m the one who usually gets his heart broken.”
The coffee was finished and Regan set it on a tray along with a trio of cups and saucers, as well as cream and sugar. The moment her grandmother saw the tray, Celia shook her head. “I can’t have any coffee now,” she said. “I’ll never fall asleep if I do.” She slowly got to her feet. “You’ll stay here tonight,” she said to Jamie. “Take the bedroom you got dressed in.” She turned to Regan. “And you’ll be nice. I’ll see you both in the morning. Good night.”
Jamie joined her at the table and they both watched as Celia walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone together.
Regan reached out and poured herself a cup of coffee. She added a good measure of sugar, then took a long sip. Though it tasted good, coffee did little to counteract the wine she’d drunk.
He stared at her from the other side of the table. Regan knew if she looked at him, just simply met his gaze, she’d want him to crawl over the table and kiss her. And she wasn’t ready for that.
“I—I could use some fresh air,” she murmured. “I’ll just be a moment.”
Regan walked through the great room to the tall wall of windows that overlooked the water. She grabbed a red knit shawl from a hook near the door and wrapped it around her head, then walked out into the chilly night air.
A shiver skittered down her spine, but she wasn’t sure it was because of the cold or due to being in such close proximity to Jamie. Her footsteps echoed softly on the wood deck and when she reached the railing, Regan spread her hands out on the rough wood and drew a deep breath. The fresh air immediately cleared her head.
Regan heard the door open behind her and she held her breath, counting his steps as he approached. She shivered again, this time her teeth chattering with the cold.
“What is this thing you’re wearing?” he asked, fingering the fabric of the cape. “You look like Little Red Riding Hood.”
“It’s vintage,” she said.
“And that makes it stylish?”
“Of course,” Regan teased. “And I like the color. Red is one of my favorites.” Her teeth chattered again and she moved away from him. A moment later she felt the warmth of his jacket surrounding her. He’d pulled his jacket open and he stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest, her back pressed against his warm body.
“Better?”
It was better. But it was also more frightening. And more exhilarating. And more confusing. And yet it seemed perfectly natural. “I should probably get to bed, too,” Regan said. “It’s been a while since I’ve had so much wine and I can’t afford to fall asleep at work tomorrow.”
He slowly turned her around in his arms until she faced him. His lips were dangerously close to hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
“I know you still don’t trust me, but you’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you, too. I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “Why don’t we just see where this goes?”
“I think that might be a mistake,” she replied.
Her answer seemed to take him by surprise. “Then I guess we’ll leave it for another time,” he said. “Good night, Regan.” With that he turned and walked off the deck.
Regan released a tightly held breath and it clouded in the cold air in front of her face. Her heart slammed in her chest and she realized how close she’d come to surrender. He was right; she was attracted to him. She had wanted to kiss him. She’d been thinking about it all night. But in the end common sense won out.
Regan slowly smiled. She was strong enough. She could control her emotions when he touched her. Though he still was dangerous, he wasn’t a Superman. He was just an ordinary guy. And if she could call the shots, maybe she could let something happen between them.
Maybe he’d ask again tomorrow. Maybe then she’d say yes.
3 (#ulink_7ebd90e3-e8f5-5347-b4d1-139d0ecd4ea6)
JAMIE LOCKED HIS hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling of the spacious bedroom. Somewhere deep inside the house he heard three chimes announce that it was now three o’clock. He tried to fall asleep, but his thoughts kept returning to the events of the day and the time he’d spent with Regan.
It was hard to comprehend that she was just a few feet away from him, curled up in her own bed and perhaps unaffected by their meeting. Jamie couldn’t say the same for himself.
He threw the covers aside and stood up, then wandered over to the empty hearth.
Outside the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped even lower. He thought of the construction ahead of him. Building in the cold wasn’t impossible, but it wouldn’t be as comfortable. The sooner he got started the better. Now that he had the permits, his next step was to finalize the lease and survey the site. He’d need a day or two to clear the trees that had to come down and then he’d be ready to start building.
Jamie closed his eyes and counted through the days. He could start the footings in about a week and then start construction. That still gave him a few days’ wiggle room in case of bad weather and build problems. His hard deadline was the last day of October.
On November 1, a group of investors were coming from Los Angeles to visit the factory and the cottage model. If they invested, Jamie would get back the money he’d loaned the company. He’d no longer be risking his own future. And the company that meant so much to him would have a much more stable future.
Regan was a complication. She was smart and beautiful and the kind of challenge he enjoyed. And she was a huge distraction. A beautiful distraction with sparkling green eyes and whiskey-colored hair and a spirit that tempted him.
Groaning softly, Jamie turned away from the hearth and walked back to the bed. His stomach growled and the sound immediately reminded him of his childhood, so many empty stomachs and missed meals. Nights spent sleeping in a park or in the backseat of an abandoned car rather than the elegant bedroom of the lakeside lodge.
A soft knock sounded on the door and Jamie looked up. He grabbed his robe from the end of the bed and shrugged into it, holding it closed in front. Then he crossed the room and opened the door. Regan stood outside in the hall, dressed entirely in flannel.
“You’re still awake,” she said. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“Sure. Yeah. I guess I could use something to eat. Or drink.”
“I was headed to the kitchen myself.”
He slipped out into the hallway and followed her down the wide steps to the lower floor. They walked directly to the kitchen, and when they got there Regan opened the freezer drawer.
“My grandmother’s crazy for ice cream, so she usually has six or seven flavors to choose from. Do you like ice cream?”
“Who doesn’t?” Jamie said, choosing the cherry flavor. “I used to dream about it as a kid.”
“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” she said, taking out a carton for herself. “For assuming you were here to take advantage of my grandmother. I looked you up on the internet and your company is real and it’s doing good things.”
“No, you had every right to be suspicious. These days, you never know who to trust. I would’ve done the same thing with my own grandmother.”
“Do you see her often?”
“My brothers and I have Sunday dinner with her at her house once a month,” he said. “And I stop by to mow the lawn or shovel snow occasionally.”
