At that moment, the buzzer sounded on his security panel by the front door, letting him know that one of his security guards had let Grace through the gate. Ash had put off having security for as long as he could, but he’d finally relented to having someone patrol the boundary after a journalist sneaked into his garden and took photographs of him meditating on the deck. He’d felt hugely violated when the picture appeared in one of the women’s magazines. He didn’t mind sharing his gift with the world. But he didn’t want to share himself.
“She’s here,” he called to Jodi, walking through the house and opening the door.
Grace pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine. She got out and leaned across to collect her bag and papers from the passenger seat, giving him a beautiful view of her backside. She was wearing a pale pink skirt made of some floaty material that the wind had great fun playing with, showing him her stocking tops before she smoothed it down impatiently.
Oh yeah
. This woman was hot enough to make him hard at twenty paces.
She turned, locked the car then walked across the large, circular drive toward him. A chiffony white blouse peeked from under her cream jacket, and she’d wound the red scarf with the glittery thread loosely around her neck. He felt the usual sweep of relief at the knowledge that he’d been right.
She wore her light brown hair pinned up in a bun again, although the wind had teased some tendrils from the tight knot. They curled around her face, doing their best to soften the furious look plastered across her features and the blaze of her eyes beneath her Tina Fey glasses.
“Hi,” he said, trying to defuse the bomb before it exploded.
She walked up to him and glared, her beautiful brown eyes snapping with anger. “What the hell kind of game are you playing? Are you having me followed? How on earth did you know my scarf was under my bed?”
So angry rather than intrigued, then
.
“You’re welcome.” He stepped back. “Won’t you come in?”
Chapter Four
Grace glared at the man who was smiling at her. He wore dark blue jeans and a sky-blue polo shirt tight enough to show all the muscles on his chest, and he looked good enough to eat.
“You’re like a god,” she said. “That really annoys me.”
He laughed. “Should I apologise?”
“It’s irritating. I’m trying to be cross with you, and you’re standing there like a real, live Viking god. Like Thor, god of the sky and thunder and…” Her voice trailed off.
“And…” His face told her he knew perfectly well.
“Yes, okay, it’s fertility, but don’t go getting any funny ideas. It wasn’t a Freudian slip or anything. Are you going to let me in or what?”
“Come in, Miss Fox. It’s very nice to see you again.”
“The feeling is
not
mutual.” She glared as she walked past him, unwinding the scarf from around her neck and slipping off her jacket.
His hand brushed hers as he took the items from her to hang them on the peg by the front door. The brief touch of his skin sent a bolt of lightning shooting through her, and she jumped, almost dropping her papers. The feeling’s not mutual, hah! Who was she kidding? She’d thought about nothing since the parents’ evening except Ash Rutherford and his stormy-blue eyes, and the way he’d almost kissed her just twenty minutes after meeting her for the first time. Even the fact that his revelation about her scarf had disturbed and concerned her couldn’t stop her brain replaying the words he’d said to her when she’d told him she was terrible at sex
. I am sure that, given the right location, the right encouragement and the right man, you would be exceedingly good in bed.
Was he saying he was the right man? Where was the right location—did he mean somewhere in the house, or, like, the Bahamas? And what did he mean by the right encouragement? Telling her every time she hit the spot? Or having a group of cheerleaders urge her on? She was titillated and terrified at the same time. She didn’t want to be terrified. And she certainly did not want to be titillated. Scenes of a naked Ash Rutherford playing in a continuous loop in her head were not conducive to getting one’s marking done.
“Go straight through,” he said, not commenting on the fact that one brush of his fingers had nearly shot her through the ceiling.
She slipped off her shoes and walked into the lounge. There she stopped. “Oh my God, wow.” She stared in amazement at the room. High ceilinged and consisting mainly of windows, the room was decorated in white and cream, with a soft, cream leather sofa and chairs in front of a huge TV at the front of the house, and a classy dining table and chairs overlooking the huge garden at the other end.
Ash stopped next to her and followed her gaze. “It’s a nice room. Lots of light.”
“It’s magnificent. Are you, like, a millionaire or something?”
He laughed. “I see your talent for saying what’s on your mind hasn’t changed over the last few days.” He walked down the room toward the kitchen she could see off to the left, opposite the dining area. “Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee? Or a cold drink?”
“I’ll have a glass of water, please.”
He smiled. “Sure.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s a very you answer.”
“Water’s good for the skin.”
“I can see that.” He winked at her before disappearing.
Her cheeks grew warm. Heavens, the man had only complimented her skin. How could that make her embarrassed?
“Hey, Miss Fox.”
Grace turned to see Jodi, looking older out of her school uniform, wearing leggings and a tight stripy top. “Hi, Jodi.”
“Sorry about this.” Jodi came forward, clutching a pencil case and a pile of books. She looked disgruntled. “I told him the last thing you’d want to do on your weekend is more teaching, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“He’s paying me,” said Grace, “so I don’t mind so much.”
“I think he wants me to be, like, Einstein or something. I keep trying to convince him that’s never going to happen.”
Grace laughed, walking forward with her and placing her bag on the dining table. “Yes, well, it’s not necessarily about being top of your class. All he wants to do is make sure you pass your Level One, and get your literacy and numeracy, so you have a solid foundation for whatever job you decide to do in the future, even if it’s not something academic. I understand you’re good at art. I’m sure you’ll be very successful at selling your paintings, but it’s a tough world out there, and maybe one day you’ll want a more secure job, if you want to buy a house, for example. You might decide you want to teach art, so you can pass on your skills to young people. And to do that, you’ll need your basic education to be able to get into teachers’ college.”
Ash came back out holding a glass of water with ice and handed it to her. His eyes were warm, and she realised he’d been listening and approved of what she’d said. “Don’t look like that,” she scolded him. “I do have stuff other than insults and random bizarre comments inside my head.”
He smiled, his eyes sliding to his daughter’s. They exchanged a look and Ash gave her a mock glare. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“I haven’t forgotten that I need to talk to you,” Grace said firmly.
“Liv’s coming at five,” Ash said, indicating the clock on the wall. It was ten past three. “I’ll be all yours then.”
Jodi looked up at him and made a gesture with her head toward the kitchen. Ash mumbled something under his breath, turned and walked out.
Grace watched him go, unable to stop her gaze following his butt in the tight jeans. “What’s up with him?”
“Hormones,” said Jodi. “You know what men are like.”
They laughed and sat at the table. “Okay,” said Grace, taking out her pen and starting to leaf through Jodi’s books. “Where shall we start?”
They worked until four and then stopped for ten minutes, going into the kitchen and getting themselves a drink and a biscuit. The kitchen was almost as magnificent as the lounge. Large, tiled, with fitted pine cabinets, it had huge windows overlooking the garden and a beautiful, country-style pine table and chairs. Dried herbs hung from hooks in the ceiling, and the spices in the racks were diverse and looked well used.
“Do you have a cook?” Grace asked, running a finger along the shelf of cookery books.
“God, no. They’re my dad’s. He fancies himself a chef.”
“Oh?” Grace had never met a man in real life who could cook. “Is he any good?”
“Yeah, he’s terrific, actually. He’s hopeless at soufflés, though.”
“Who isn’t?” Grace turned and leaned against the worktop, taking a bite of her chocolate-chip cookie. “What’s he doing now? Does he have an office?”
“Yeah, but he’s probably meditating.”
“Meditating?” Grace stared at her. “Good Lord.”
“What?” Jodi frowned. “What’s funny about that?”
“It sounds a bit…girly.”
Jodi studied her. “There’s nothing girly about it. Meditation calms the mind.” She chewed her biscuit. “It makes it easier for him to connect to the other side.” She said it as calmly as if she were talking about the weather.
“The other side,” said Grace. “Right.”
Jodi tipped her head. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You don’t believe in all that, do you?”
Grace sipped her drink. She might have an internal vetting disorder, but she didn’t want to insult the girl’s father in front of her. “Actually no, I don’t.” She studied Jodi. “You obviously do.”
Jodi shrugged. “I’ve never known any different.”
“How old were you when your father gave up being a doctor and decided to be a medium full time?”
“Nine.” She reached in the biscuit tin for another cookie. “Mum didn’t want him to. They argued about it a lot.”
“That must have been difficult for you,” Grace said carefully.
Jodi studied her half-eaten cookie. “Mum didn’t want to break up with him, but even I knew it was over. The divorce was horrible.”
Grace knew she shouldn’t ask questions, but she couldn’t help herself. “Did you live with your mum at first?”
“Only for a little while. She started drinking, and eventually Dad went to court for custody.”
“Oh, Jodi, I’m sorry.”
“He still feels guilty,” said Jodi. “That’s how she died, you see. She was drunk behind the wheel. But it wasn’t his fault. You have to take responsibility for your own life, you know?”
Grace nodded, her throat tightening for the girl. “What do you think about him giving up being a doctor to be a medium?” she asked curiously.
Jodi shrugged again. “Mum thought he was mad to give up a good job. But you have to follow your heart, don’t you? What’s life about, otherwise? I can see both sides.” She grinned. “But then I’m a Libra. You’re a Pisces, aren’t you?”
“I don’t believe in astrology…” Grace stared at her. “How do you know?”
Jodi shrugged. “And you have Scorpio rising.” Her eyes twinkled. “Do you know what that means?”
“I don’t, and I have no interest in that sort of thing.” Grace studied Jodi irritably. Ten seconds passed before she added, “What does it mean?”
“I’ll let you ask Dad.” Jodi sipped her drink, quite clearly refusing to say more about it.
Grace frowned. “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd, that your dad thinks he can speak to dead people?”
“He doesn’t
think
he can. He can. He shocks everyone with how accurate he is. I’ve watched him do readings. He’s amazing.” She finished her drink and put the glass on the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “You ought to come to one of his shows. He’ll knock your socks off.”
“I’m quite happy for my socks to stay where they are,” said Grace. “Come on, back to work.”
They worked for another forty-five minutes, with Grace helping Jodi with the maths homework she was struggling with, and then moving on to the latest biology unit, trying to bring her up to speed. By the end, Jodi could finally spell “photosynthesis” and give a brief description as to the process, which seemed something like progression.
“That’s Liv,” Jodi said as the security box buzzed. She jumped up and ran to the door. Grace started packing away her things, piling up the books and tucking the chairs under the table. She looked over as Ash’s sister came into the room.
“Hi, you must be Miss Fox.” Liv grinned at her. She was also very Nordic, tall and slim, with slightly lighter blonde hair than her brother, cut into an untidy bob.
“Actually my name’s Grace,” said Grace, casting a wry look at Ash as he appeared in the doorway. He looked relaxed and surprisingly normal. She’d half expected him to appear dressed in a leotard and tights with the “Aum” symbol tattooed on his forehead.
“I’ll start calling you that when you start calling me Ash,” he said. “Hey, honey.” He kissed his sister on the cheek.
“Are you ready to go?” Liv asked Jodi.
“Just need to get my bag.” Jodi sped away.
“So…” Liv turned back to study Grace with interest. “How are Jodi’s lessons coming along?”
“Well, this is only our first. But she’s stopped calling ‘stamens’ ‘semen’, which I’m taking as a step forward.”
They both laughed. Liv’s eyes met Ash’s and they exchanged a smile.