I can fiddle with my schedule. We could work on color schemes and treatments.'
'I've got a lot of work.' Savannah pulled open the door, suddenly desperate to escape. 'You'd better handle it on your own. See you around.'
'All right, but—' Regan broke off with a huff when the door closed in her face. She had definitely, and none too subtly, been brushed off. 'And what,' she asked, turning to Rafe, 'was that all about?'
'Don't ask me.' Thoughtfully he ran a hand over his wife's glossy hair. 'That's a spooky lady, darling. Let's go sit down, and I'll tell you about it.'
Chapter Six
When Jared pulled up in front of the cabin, he was puzzled, mildly annoyed, and quite intrigued. It hadn't taken long for word to get to him that Savannah had all but raced out of his brother's house, shrugging off the job Jared had offered her as she fled.
He intended to get an explanation.
Spotting Bryan and Connor in the side yard, he gave a wave. They responded with an answering shout before they went back to the important business of throwing a baseball.
His rap on the door went unanswered, so he walked in without invitation. He doubted he'd have heard one over the screaming rock and roll that shook the cabin. He followed a gut-bursting guitar riff through the kitchen and into an adjoining room.
She was bent over a worktable. The white of the oversize men's undershirt she wore was streaked with paint. Her hair was twisted back in a braid, her jeans were riddled with holes, and her feet were bare.
His mouth watered.
'Hey.'
She didn't look up. A look of fierce concentration remained on her face as she worked delicately with a slim brush dipped in brilliant red.
He glanced around the cluttered room. It had probably been intended as a mudroom, as there was a door leading to the outside. Obviously she didn't need or have time for ambience in her work space, he mused.
The light was full and bright through the windows and showed every speck of dust. The floor was aging linoleum decorated with paint spills. Unframed canvases were propped carelessly against the unfinished log walls, steel utility shelves overflowed with bottles and jars, tubes and cans. He could smell turpentine.
And, with relief, he could see the dented portable stereo that was threatening to split his eardrums. He strode over, switched it off, and almost shuddered at the sudden, exquisite silence.
'Keep your hands off my music,' Savannah snapped.
'Obviously you didn't hear me come in.'
'Obviously, I'm working.' She tossed her brush into a jar of solution, chose another. 'Take off.'
His eyes lit, but he spoke with measured politeness. 'Yes, I believe I will have a beer, thanks. Can I get you one?'
'I'm working,' she repeated.
'So I see.' Ignoring the curse she hurled at him, he leaned over her worktable.
The wicked queen was nearly finished, and her face was terrible in its beauty. Her body was long, elegant, draped in purple and ermine. Her golden crown was as sharp as blades and glittered with wicked-edged jewels. And in her narrow, regal hand, she held a vivid red apple.
'Gorgeous,' Jared murmured. 'Evil to the bone. Is this from 'Snow White'?'
'No, it's from the Three Stooges. You're in my light.'
'Sorry.' He shifted slightly, knowing it wasn't what she wanted.
'I can't work with an audience,' she said between her teeth.
'I thought you used to paint on street corners.'
'This is different.'
'Savannah.' Patient, he rubbed a slight red smudge from her cheek. 'Did Rafe or Regan say something to upset you?'
'Why should they?'
'That's what I'd like to know.'
'They were perfectly polite. Perfectly.' When he only cocked a brow, she huffed out a breath. 'I like your brother, I loved seeing the house. It was fascinating. And your sister-in-law's just adorable.'
It was a woman thing, he realized, and took a cautious step back. 'You've got a problem with Regan?'
'Who could have a problem with Regan? We just wouldn't work well together. And besides, I don't want my art in your office.''
'Oh? Why is that?'
'Because I don't. I had time to think about it, and I decided I'm not interested.' She aimed a cool, level look at him. 'All the way not interested, Jared. So beat it.'
He moved fast. Lawyer suit notwithstanding, she should have expected him to move fast. He had her up from her stool, his hand clamped on her arm, before she could blink.
That didn't mean she couldn't speak.
'I've told you not to grab me unless I ask you to.'
'Yeah, you've told me. You've told me a lot of things.' For the hell of it, he took a firm hold on her other arm and watched her eyes flame. 'Now why don't you tell me what's going on here?'
'I don't have to explain myself to you. You think because I let you kiss me a couple of times, I owe you? I've let plenty of men kiss me, Ace. And I don't owe anyone.'
She'd aimed the arrow well. He felt it hit home, stunned by just how sharp the point was. 'You owe me the courtesy of an explanation.'
'Courtesy doesn't interest me.'
'Fine.' Then he wouldn't let it stop him. He yanked her close and crushed his mouth to hers in an angry, frustrated kiss.
She didn't struggle. Instinct warned her it would be worse if she struggled. Instead, she kept herself stiff and turned her mind off. Cold rejection, she knew, was more effective than heated protest.
But both her body and her mind betrayed her, and she trembled.
It thrilled him—that quick, involuntary shiver, that low, helpless moan. But temper was still sparking through him when he jerked away.
Her face was flushed, her breath fast. He knew by the look in her eyes that she wanted as he wanted. At the moment, that fact only infuriated him.
'I owed you that,' he said tightly. 'Now you can tell me again how much you're not interested.'
She was interested. Interested in having a man look at her, just once, the way she had seen Rafe look at Regan. And, oh, it was demoralizing to realize she had that vulnerable need inside her.
'In a quick tumble, Jared?' In a deliberately insulting gesture, she brushed her fingers over his cheek. 'Sure, baby, when I've got the time.'
'Damn it, Savannah.'
'You see.' She sighed, shook her head. 'I knew you'd take it personally. You're the type. And like I said, that's not my type. You're terrific to look at, and you've got a lot of heat. But—' she lifted a hand, tugged on his tie '—just too traditional and by-the-book. Now, Lawyer MacKade, you know all about the laws against trespassing, the sanctity of someone's home. I'm going to ask you real nice, since you like things real nice, to leave. You wouldn't want me to have to call your brother, the big bad sheriff, would you?'
'What the hell has gotten into you?'
'A dose of reality. Now go away, Jared, before I stop asking nice.'
He'd be damned if he'd beg. Damned if he'd let her see that she'd wounded him where he'd never expected to be wounded. Iron pride chilled his eyes. He turned and left without a word.
When she heard his car start, and the sound of it going down her lane, she sank back onto her stool and shut her eyes.
She gave Bryan permission for his promised sleep-over and enjoyed the noise and bother of two active boys lasting late into the night. She was in the bleachers on Saturday, cheering on her son and his team. And if she
