The Father Factor. Lilian Darcy
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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