Part 26 (2/2)
”Nothing I can't handle,” she snapped. Darn it. How many more bulbs would blow? ”I might as well take out shares in the company that makes those blasted bulbs,” she grumbled. ”It's an old house and dates back to the eighteen hundreds. There's bound to be...problems,” she said, unsure why she was trying to explain the shortcomings of her dilapidated house.
”So get them fixed,” he countered.
If only it were that easy.
”Follow me.” She beckoned to Mac and led him down the hallway and into the welcoming kitchen-c.u.m-dining-and-lounge area, grateful no more bulbs exploded overhead.
Leah knew he followed. She felt him right behind her, just as she'd done when she'd left his office. It was a sensation that was disconcerting and scarily exciting at the same time. Mac Grainger didn't exactly frighten her, though she was uncertain what he really knew or didn't know about Charlee. But she did, however, fear his power and what he could take away.
A coffee, a chat, then she'd see him out. Easy.
Confident she could cope with at least that, she washed her hands at the sink, wiped them on the towel she kept close by and busied herself in the kitchen. She reached for two mugs from a cupboard and, without asking him, tossed a spoonful of coffee into each. ”Sugar?” she queried, holding a sugar bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.
He shook his head.
He stood at the entrance to her tiny kitchen, so close that heat burned off him. Her mouth dried, and she slid her tongue across parted lips, only to catch him watching her like a falcon focused on its prey.
”You don't have to stand guard, Mr. Grainger. I'm not running.”
”Yet,” he answered smoothly.
Nerves spun taut, her fragile control tilted precariously. She directed her attention to the steam rising from the kettle, though her awareness of him burgeoned as she tried desperately to remember what, if anything, Curtis had said about him. Though in truth, her husband's brother had barely rated a mention during their marriage, and while Curtis had been good-looking, charming her easily, Mac doubled the quota in the good-looks department. She peered at him through the wispy steam rising from the kettle.
He was tall, imposing and s.e.xy as h.e.l.l, and even though it shouldn't, her heart did a flurry of flip-flops.
Don't let him charm you, Leah!
The kettle's reedy whistle echoed across the silence, breaking her thoughts, which was just as well. Those sorts of thoughts weren't a good idea, and she chastised herself for even noticing him.
She filled both cups and handed one to him, holding hers with both hands so he wouldn't see them shaking. She walked right past him and back into her tiny lounge and stood beside the rough-hewn table. ”I'm not letting you walk in here on a whim, so you can get that idea right out of your head, Mr. Grainger.” He took a sip from his coffee, his expression unreadable. ”Tough. Curtis asked me to look out for her.”
Leah's heart constricted. ”Why?”
”Because I'm his brother and Charlee's uncle.” Focusing on keeping her voice calm and controlled, she put her cup down on the table. ”And I was his wife. As far as I'm aware, you've never been around, too busy for family. Curtis died weeks ago. Where were you then?” Instead of answering her, he scanned the room, and Leah found herself bristling, knowing what he saw: the faded and peeled paintwork, a tired house in need of repair.
She challenged him with an upward flick of her chin. ”It's not much, but it's mine.”
His gaze returned to her, his mouth severe. ”Not quite.”
”Pardon?”
”Running this place must take a lot of time, energy and money.” He pointed toward her mail scattered on the table. The mail she didn't want to read. Bills she couldn't pay.
”I'm not complaining.”
”Borrowing money, spending it when you know you can't pay it back.” He wagged a finger at her as if she were a spoilt child. ”Tut, tut.” A sting of heat curled across her skin. ”That's not true.”
”I'm no fool. You're Curtis's wife.”
”His widow,” she corrected.
”He said you never had enough money.”
Leah met Mac's gaze full on. Big mistake. He stepped closer. Not so close that he touched her, but still too close, his expression unyielding and full of condemnation.
But it was her reaction to him that scared her the most. The awareness that fired up all over again. She shook her head, willing away thoughts that had no right being there, and backed up.
”I've seen the loan doc.u.ments, Leah. Your signature is quite clear, and according to an interesting conversation I had with Curtis's solicitor, your big problem runs into five digits.”
Leah's shoulders slumped, and Mac bit out a harsh laugh, his tone as arrogant and brutal as the expression he wore. ”Finally, I've got your attention.”
”You have no right to nose into something that doesn't concern you.”
”You're wrong. As Charlee's uncle, I've made it my business. I promised Curtis to look out for his daughter.”
”His... Curtis barely registered her existence.” Mac frowned, but even her uttering the truth didn't swerve him from his self-proclaimed purpose. ”I always keep my promises. Your husband insinuated certain...allegations.”
Her heartbeat skidded to a standstill. ”Rubbish.” But she had to ask. ”About what?”
”That you're not a fit mother.”
Leah threw her hands up, then shoved back the hair that had fallen across her eyes. Her palms were sweaty, and a sticky sheen of nervous perspiration slicked across her pores. ”That's ridiculous. Curtis was sick and not in his right mind.”
”That's your story, but don't worry, I intend to find out the truth.”
Look for these t.i.tles by Now Available:.
Coming Soon:.
Worth It.
Worth the Risk.
Worth the Challenge.
Sometimes you run in to love. Sometimes it runs into you.
Simple Twist of Fate.
2011 The heart takes no prisoners.
Secrets and Seduction.
2011 Jane Beckenham.
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