The Firstborn. Dani Sinclair
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I can supply the wine.” His flashlight picked up the built-in wine rack. “I’m not much of a drinker, so I don’t know much about wines,” she confessed. “Do you want to choose something?”
He reached past her with one well-muscled arm. She found herself fascinated by the tattoo on his upper arm as he selected a bottle without hesitating.
“Is that a dragon?”
“Yes. Corkscrew?”
Hayley wondered if the question had bothered him. He didn’t look upset, but then she knew absolutely nothing about the man calling himself Bram Myers. Nothing except the fact that she was strangely drawn to him. Even as she found a corkscrew and followed him back through the house, she wondered if she was making a serious mistake. He paused to scoop up the overnight bag she’d left inside the front door.
“Just in case,” he told her.
“In case what?” she asked nervously.
“In case there really is someone running around in here.”
“Oh.”
They stepped outside and he waited while she forced her key into the stiff lock on the front door.
“At least he didn’t change this lock,” she muttered. “Do you think I should call the police?” How strange that she hadn’t even thought of that until now.
“Up to you. It’s your house, Ms. Thomas.”
“Hayley.”
He inclined his head. “Nice name.”
“Thank you.” She felt disconcerted once again.
“One problem with calling the police is that it will require more than a single officer to search a house this size. By the time a responding officer sends for enough backup to do a thorough job, anyone inside would have slipped away.”
“True,” she agreed, not certain the police would respond if she did call them. “But if someone is in here, they could do all sorts of damage, not to mention help themselves to any number of valuable items.”
The adrenaline rush was fading fast and so was she. Following this man back under the dense canopy of trees no longer seemed like such a good idea.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “You can stay here if you like, but I’m going back to have dinner.”
She followed him off the porch onto the thick carpet of grass. Nervously, she cast a look over her shoulder. A movement caught her eye. She was almost certain a curtain had twitched in one of the parlor windows.
Chapter Two
“Do you still think you saw someone at the window before we left?” Bram asked.
He watched Hayley’s features tighten. She straightened up in his dilapidated old camp chair and faced him squarely.
“Yes.”
He’d assumed she’d been rattled by the dark, spooky house. Frankly, he was. Heartskeep wasn’t a structure he’d want to call home.
“It’s pretty dark. You probably saw light reflecting off the window.”
“What light?”
Good point. “My flashlight?” Her expression told him what she thought of that suggestion. “You should have let me go back inside and check around.”
“No, you were right. The house is too big to search without lights. You could have been hurt.”
“Think so?” Amusement warred with annoyance. Bram watched Hayley shrug as she lifted the paper cup to take another careful sip of wine. She glanced around the clearing nervously. With no moon visible tonight, the setting was perfectly designed to give any smart young woman a case of nerves. The only light came from his camp stove and the citronella candles he’d staked around them to ward off the hungry insect population.
Bram suspected those weren’t the predators that worried Hayley. She was alone with a man she didn’t know, surrounded by trees and the prying eyes of whatever four-legged creatures resided here. If she yelled for help, no one would hear. Only a fool would feel comfortable with the current situation, but he had to hand it to Hayley, she contained her fear well.
Bram felt a stirring of desire and tamped it down quickly. His reaction surprised him. She was undeniably attractive. Her fitted slacks and casual blouse revealed a trim, lithe, enticing figure. But Bram had worked at being immune to any woman’s figure for some time now.
Maybe that was the problem, he thought wryly. Except that it wasn’t her figure so much as something in those wide, doelike eyes that held him enthralled. For all her bold talk, Hayley had a disturbingly innocent sensuality.
She tossed back her head, and he followed the shimmery motion of each golden-brown strand as her hair settled around her shoulders and slid down her slim back. Oh, yeah, she was definitely sparking a reaction in him, yet there was no hint of the practiced tease. Just the opposite, in fact. She was tense and wary and trying not to let it show. He admired her guts, if not her intelligence. The problem was, he didn’t want to be admiring anything at all.
“Feel better?” The question came out more gruffly than he’d intended. Hayley didn’t flinch at his abrupt tone. Her head tipped to one side.
“Actually, I do. Sorry I was such a glutton. I didn’t realize I was so hungry until I started eating. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His social skills might be rusty, but at least he still remembered his manners. “You weren’t a glutton. I’m glad to see you aren’t one of those picky eaters.”
Hayley had polished off her share of the food and now she was working her way through a second cup of wine with slow, careful sips. She didn’t seem to have noticed that his cup stood untouched.
“I know I should feel like a complete pig, but I don’t care. Even if I have to work out an extra hour tomorrow morning, that meal was worth every bite.”
An image of her bending and stretching in some body-hugging outfit was not something he wanted to picture at the moment. As Bram searched for a safer topic he felt the slow crawl of her eyes over his chest. They lingered just long enough to stir the unwanted heat simmering in his loins.
“You know, a look like that can get a woman in a lot of trouble,” he told her softly. Her gaze flew to his face. He was pretty sure she blushed, but she wasn’t the type to be easily intimidated.
“Sorry. I was looking for the cape and the suit with the big S.”
“What?”
“You know. Blue tights, red cape, big red S on the chest?”
He nearly grinned as he caught her meaning. “Sorry, no superhero costumes in my wardrobe.”
“Pity.”
“But I’ll be happy to go back up to the house with you and have a look around just the same.”
She shook her head. He found himself captivated by the shimmer of her hair once more.
“I don’t think so,” she told him. “While that dragon on your arm looks suitably fierce, I doubt it shoots real flames in times of crisis. I’d hate to be the reason you discovered that tough hide of yours isn’t bulletproof.”
For the third time that night Bram found himself wanting to grin. She had a way of catching him off guard with her droll sense of humor.
“What I should have done,” she continued, unperturbed, “was to follow my instincts as soon as I saw your gate out front, and called the police.”
“I didn’t think my work was that bad, but, hey, don’t let me stop you.”
She gazed up at him from beneath her thick eyelashes. “I didn’t mean it that way. Your art is beautiful and you know it. Besides, I left calling