The House at the Bottom of the Hill (17 page)

She lay back on the bed, the tips of her hair bouncing over the buff-coloured eiderdown in a tangle of fiery red. ‘Come on.’ He took her by the shoulders and moved her across the bed so he could pull the eiderdown up and over her.

She snuggled in, then wriggled, lengthening her body and reaching behind her. ‘My skirt’s too tight.’ She undid the button, unzipped the skirt and wriggled again as she shimmied it over her hips.

Dan looked away. ‘Done?’ he asked as his gaze burnt a hole in the ceiling.

‘Done.’

He looked back and shut his eyes quick-smart, but not before he’d caught sight of her white underwear. Man, what was he doing playing babysitter? He tugged the eiderdown from beneath her legs, pulled it up and over her body and tucked it in at her shoulders.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

Her eyes were scrunched closed and her lips compressed. Something
was
frightening her. He leaned over her, stroked the hair from her brow. It was wispy in his fingers. ‘Go to sleep, Red. You’re safe.’

‘I’m safe. Thank you.’

‘Okay, sweetheart.’

He stayed watching her. After few minutes her breathing evened out to the gentle rhythm of sleep. He pulled the bedroom door to but didn’t close it and made his way to the kitchen. ‘You hear anything, Luce, you bark, okay?’ Now
he
was getting silly. What would the dog hear? There was nothing dangerous in town. Nothing that would harm Charlotte. The loudmouths from the bar would be long gone.

He made his way to the front door, bolted it top and bottom, put the brass chain into its slot and went back to the kitchen. ‘I’m going out the laundry way,’ he told the dog. He didn’t want to be caught creeping out of her front door after midnight.

He pulled the snub on the lock so it would catch when he closed it. He couldn’t bolt it though, and she had this fetish for bolts and locks. He propped the empty rubbish bin against the laundry door. If anyone tried to get in, Lucy would bark, and if he kept his bedroom window open all night, he’d hear her. He’d be down Main Street in two ticks. If anything went amiss. Which it wouldn’t, so why was he getting all concerned and tender about Red?

B
ounty and beautification. Dan took both into consideration whenever he turned a property around, but that had been for profit. Kookaburra’s had good bones and he was looking for more than a quick wave of a decorator’s wand. He was aiming for value. Solid rejuvenation, structural and aesthetic. He’d be living in the place, after all. He’d be holding on to it for the rest of his life.

He unfolded the plans for the renovation and placed them on the bar, smoothing the creases with his hand. He had a strict and meticulous budget he knew he’d be able to stick to—and a contingency in place if he didn’t. He had seven toilets and he had to make a start on the renovations now, before he backed down and lost his nerve.

‘Man,’ he muttered. If it wasn’t only ten o’clock in the morning he’d pull a cold one out of the fridge. He still wasn’t sure how he’d handle the fall-out or the repercussions but he knew he had to make his move soon, before this stupid confidence issue took over his rationale. He wasn’t usually bothered about what others thought of him but the truth was, he was no better a communicator than Charlotte or he would have told the townspeople about his plans, like she had. She hadn’t been frightened of any flak— although she hadn’t known she’d be getting it, which smoothed salve on his battle-damaged confidence. But if he wasn’t careful how he handled things now, he and Red would be bickering over business too.

He’d bought the bar at below market value the same way Charlotte would have with the B&B—there was nothing in town to keep the market buoyed. There would be though, and he wondered if perhaps Red might be able to keep her little B&B going despite the likelihood of the hotel taking most of her business. He hadn’t expected the B&B to sell before his hotel was up and running so hadn’t been concerned about pushing anyone out of the market. Could they get along without being business rivals? Could they be friends, even? Maybe, if she was willing to back down as much as he was. He didn’t want to hurt her business because that would hurt her, not just her plans.

Shuffling one large page over another, he studied the plans showing the pitch and ceiling heights of each of the seven rooms. He looked up from the documents as the door opened, and lost all thought of square metres and plumbing as an electrical current ran down his spine.

Red.

The light from the day outside shone around her, dappled a little because he hadn’t opened the blinds on the front windows yet, hadn’t realised he’d unlocked the doors, come to that, or he’d have been looking through his plans in the back room not the front bar.

She peered at him, but didn’t come in, maybe waiting for him to speak, but his mouth had gone dry. She’d changed from that sassy little skirt she’d shimmied over her hips and down her slim legs last night, was back in her tans and whites.

‘I came to say thanks for taking me home and sorry for your trouble.’ She was using her prim voice. ‘It won’t happen again.’

Her hair was a little damp and looked as though she’d tugged a comb through it quickly after showering. Her skin was a bit pale but that was probably due to her disgruntled frame of mind at having to apologise to him, and nothing whatsoever to do with any vulnerability she
didn’t
feel when around him. Although the veil of uncertainty in her eyes clutched at his heart.

‘Did you hear me? I came in to apologise.’

He smiled at her. ‘Come over here and apologise.’

She glanced at the street behind her, as though expecting someone to creep up on her. ‘What?’ she asked, looking back at him, brow creased.

It didn’t fool him. She was trying her utmost to appear her usual flippant self but it wasn’t working. Not today. ‘I said come over here. I want to hear that apology again.’ He gave her a serious frown. ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble you could have got into? Could have got
me
into? Our reputations are at stake.’

She stepped forwards as though in a rush, then stopped as the door closed behind her with a clunk. ‘I’m really very sorry.’ She looked over her shoulder, maybe wondering if the door had locked behind her and she was stuck with him. Alone with him.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I was joking. Just want a closer look at your bloodshot eyes.’

Her resolve fired up, the clear whites of her eyes shining against the pupils. Ready to run or fight. Dan folded the plans and tucked them beneath the bar. When had he begun to read her so well? Or had he only recently started understanding what had always been in front of him?

‘I’m still joking, Charlotte. Come on over here.’ He beckoned her. She took a step and stopped again. ‘Right up here.’

She walked to the bar, stopped in front of him and pulled in a breath. ‘I suppose there’s a pay off?’

‘Yeah.’

‘All right then.’ She wiggled her fingers at him. ‘I’m ready. Give.’

Cute, but was she really ready? Dan smiled as the adrenaline inside him rose at the expectation of what was to come—the heightened moment before a fight or a tackle, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his blood pumped faster.

‘Sock it to me,’ she said. ‘Do your worst.’

She expected a verbal exercise.

‘I can take it,’ she said. ‘Don’t hold back.’

‘Okay, I won’t.’ He leaned forwards, took hold of her under her arms, pulled her over the bar and hit her mouth with his.

Her hands slapped on the counter to steady herself and suddenly the bar was too wide for him, too much of a barrier. She was braced on it, her waist against it, her feet off the ground but she made no attempt to move from his kiss. He pressed his mouth on hers, prising her lips apart. Holy Jesus, he was kissing Red. She tilted her head, giving him a better opportunity to taste her. Firecracker Charlotte had her tongue against his, soft and gentle, but probing nonetheless, and she wouldn’t get an iota of an argument about it from him. He hadn’t felt sparks like this in—not ever. Electric sparks in his fingers, on his lips, running down the back of his legs.

He broke from the kiss and let her down. She slid to her side of the bar, holding onto it, but she didn’t lose his gaze. Lake-green stillness in her widened eyes. What would she do now? He straightened and put both hands to the counter. What would
he
do now?

She tugged at her shirt, fiddling with the buttons as though they’d come undone. Impossible. The bar had been in the way. If he hadn’t had to keep her lifted with both hands, he might have unbuttoned one or two … or all five.

‘Well,’ she said, unblinking, looking as though he’d sent a volley of flaming arrows her way. ‘Some pay off.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Neither was he—of anything except the current still washing through him. He made his way around the bar.

‘What are you doing?’

He didn’t exactly know, but it was going to involve her mouth.

A car’s engine revved outside. They both looked out of the half-shuttered windows of the doors as the car sped off from the petrol station.

‘He’s going too fast,’ she said. ‘Somebody ought to stop him.’ She marched to the door, away from Dan. ‘It’s a main thoroughfare. Six cars an hour.’

Dan moved until he stood behind her. He studied the top of her head.

‘It’s a drive-carefully zone,’ she said. ‘There are signs everywhere.’ She waved a hand at Main Street. ‘Do you think he didn’t see them?’

Her hair had feather-light streaks of paler auburn in it. He caught the smell of it, freshly washed, and he wanted to put his fingers through it. ‘I think he noticed the signs,’ he said quietly. ‘He ignored them.’

She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Why would he ignore them?’

Dan shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Maybe he was being bullish about things.’

She turned to face him. ‘It’s reckless,’ she said, her gaze a little bewildered-looking. ‘People could get hurt.’

‘Yeah.’ He took hold of her arms.

‘He’s going too fast …’

‘Yeah. But he doesn’t care.’ He pulled her into his chest and lowered his mouth to hers.

Charlotte caught hold of the top of his arms as his mouth got closer. No way was he going to grab her and kiss her like he was in charge. Like
he’d
made the decision. If there was any more kissing to be done, she was in on it as an equal partner. She lifted her face for his kiss as his arms came around her. Their mouths touched, lips already parted. He pressed her to him tightly, tighter still. She wound her arms around his neck. His mouth was heaven. Strong coffee heaven. And his body …

A car horn beeped and they parted. A split second and they were out of each other’s arms, breaths suspended.

He stared down at her but his focus was neither sheepish nor regretful. The shine in his eyes was one she’d seen before—the day outside the beauty parlour when she laughed and caught him smiling at her, as though he’d taken his first look.

‘What did I say to you last night?’ she asked. ‘What did I do?’

‘You said you had a memory like an elephant. Looks like you meant sieve.’

Anybody would forgive her for blushing—she’d been kissed unexpectedly. What woman wouldn’t feel a little heated? ‘I don’t know where the kiss came from, but let’s forget it.’

‘I think it might have been heading our way for a while, don’t you?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t like you in that way.’ Never had. Didn’t want to start now. There was no time to start liking people … men—
Daniel
.

‘So why did you kiss me back?’

Why had she? And why did she want to do it again? ‘That was to put you off. I was about to lift my knee to your groin.’

His studious concentration broke as he smiled. ‘Oh yeah? You think you had a chance?’

‘I did three years of self-defence classes. I could have you on your back in two seconds flat.’ More like one class a fortnight for six months, but she’d put her all into the expertise and exercise the classes offered.

He looked at her, challenging. ‘Go on then. Get me on my back.’

She took a breath. ‘You asked for it.’ She took up her stance, feet apart, weight evenly distributed, elbows bent, hands spread, fingers eased but ready. ‘Grab me.’

‘Be my pleasure.’ He lunged and caught her wrists, bending her arms at the elbow and bringing her captured hands up to her chest in a hammer grip.

He was fast, but this was the reality of being attacked and the calculated responses she’d learned came rushing back. She grabbed his right wrist with her left hand. She twisted his wrist, brought her bent arm up and under his, ready to put an elbow to his face—not that she would do that, but she had to make the move to show him she could hurt him.

Mistake. He pulled from her grip, spun her around to face the door and bear hugged her from behind, his arms firmly around her, pressing hers to her sides. Dammit. She’d gone lax for a second. Lost her ground and her advantage.

‘Not bad,’ he said, his face close to her ear. ‘Next time remember not to lose your concentration.’

She sidestepped to his right, used her knee to smash the back of his and knocked him off balance—but not enough. He righted himself quickly, lifted her by the waist and turned her so fast her feet came off the floor in the spin. When she hit the ground again she was backed against him and he was bear hugging her again.

She twisted to look at him. His eyes were full of those dangerous lights. The ones that danced over her muscles and pummelled them like heavy rain on a rooftop. But she wasn’t finished yet. ‘That first move was a ploy,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got you exactly where I wanted to get you.’

He cocked one eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘From this position, I could flip you over like toast and land you butter-side down.’

He chuckled, low and soft. ‘Now you’re getting sexy with me.’

‘Don’t move,’ she told him as he breathed in, as though ready to make his next move. She tightened her quivering muscles as best she could. During those months of self-defence classes, not once had she encountered a situation where she wanted her pretend, proposed attacker to … pounce her. With his whole body.