Clever woman, wasn’t she? Reflecting his barb back at him and forcing a fragment of honesty to escape from beneath his veneer. ‘Sure. I get very sick of myself.’ He stiffened. ‘But I know how to escape my own thoughts.’
‘Via rakish escapades?’ Her gaze was relentless.
‘Rakish?’ He chuckled at her old-fashioned terminology. ‘Why not? There are worse ways, I think.’ He cocked his head and challenged her. ‘What are you going to do to escape your thoughts, Ms Prim?’
‘Just because I won’t slither beneath your spell, you say I’m prim. Really?’
She was opting for diversion—setting up another superficial spar to escape answering with actualities. He knew the gambit well, as he’d played it many times himself.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not taking it personally.’ He smiled. ‘Because I don’t think it’s just me—I don’t think you’d slither beneath anyone in any great hurry.’
She tossed her head to the side. ‘Because no one would want me to?’
Actually no, that wasn’t at all what he’d meant. The flash of vulnerability on her face let him know that wasn’t a play for compliments. In fact, he’d scored an unintended foul. The vein of rejection that everyone had apparently ran particularly deep within her. Why? Protectiveness—that rare sensation for him—surged.
‘We both know one guy who definitely wants you to,’ he muttered almost angrily. ‘And there’s no way I’d ever be the only one.’
‘This is what you do, is it?’ she asked. ‘Flatter any female in the vicinity. Is it a compulsion to seduce everyone into liking or wanting you?’
Was that the effect he was having on her? He hoped so. But he realised she didn’t believe he actually meant what he’d said about her. ‘So judgmental, Merle. Why?’
He waited as she looked down at the empty plate before her, hiding her mesmerising eyes from him. Then she glanced back up and he saw a new bitterness in the heat of her rich gaze.
‘I’m jealous of you.’
Surprise silenced him.
‘You swing through life, apparently not giving a damn about anything, yet getting everything you want.’
‘I’ve already told you I work for what I get,’ he pointed out.
‘In business, sure. But in your love life?’
‘Love life?’ He scoffed. ‘I don’t have a love life.’
‘Sex life, then. It comes so easily to you. You have no idea how hard it is for normal people.’ She paused. ‘Shy people.’
That hot wave of protectiveness washed over him again, only this time it was merged with an equally powerful surge of possessiveness. Both feelings were foreign. Both were undeniable. ‘All you have to do is ask, Merle. All you have to do is say yes. Have you ever done either?’
Colour swept over her skin and clued him in to her true status.
‘Never ever?’ His eyes widened. ‘Not to anyone for anything?’
‘I went on a date once.’
‘Once?’ Prim wasn’t the word for her. But something compressed his chest, a premonition of her pain. ‘You were hurt?’
Her attention flashed back to him. ‘Only my pride.’
He was relieved, but that underlying irritative effect she had on him flared up again. ‘So because that happened once, you’ve not said yes again?’
She shrugged dismissively. ‘No one’s ever asked again.’
She’d been ignored? No. His gaze narrowed and he slowly shook his head. ‘Maybe that’s because you work locked away in isolated rooms with only old, dusty things for company. How do you expect to meet anyone if you don’t go where the living are? I bet you’ve never downloaded any dating apps.’
She bet he never had either. Merle shuddered at the thought of trying to make herself sound attractive on an app in twenty words. ‘What would you have me do? Wear a tiny bikini and pout in a profile pic?’
Annoyed by him and by her own wayward thoughts, she stood and carried the plates inside to the kitchen with ruthless efficiency, as if she could wipe this heated awkwardness away like harmless crumbs.
‘Merle—’
‘I’ve something to show you,’ she interrupted. Distraction all the way.
She’d prove to him things from the past were worth preserving. That slightly wicked gleam lit in his eyes again and she had to catch her laugh. She went back down the corridor to the study. It only took a minute to grab the boxes she’d found and bring them back to the kitchen. ‘Look at these—it’s an amazing collection. I think they’re all vintage.’
She put them on the bench in front of him. There were a number of traditional games—chess, snakes and ladders, dice games and puzzles. Glancing up, she saw he’d paled slightly.
‘Where’d you find those?’ he asked gruffly.
‘In a cupboard in the study.’
‘Curious thing, aren’t you?’ His gaze was locked on the games in front of him. Tension bracketed his sensual mouth, stealing away his customary smile.
‘It’s my job to notice interesting things tucked away in dark corners,’ she answered lightly. ‘Someone did a good job of collecting these. They would have been hard to find. Especially in such good condition as this—they’ll be worth a lot. This compendium alone is worth thousands.’ She placed the last antique wooden box down carefully.
‘They weren’t collected for their value,’ Ash said softly. ‘They were my mother’s.’
‘Your mother’s?’
He now reached for the nearest. ‘I thought they were long lost.’ He frowned. ‘Everything else of hers seems to...’
Merle paused, unsure how to respond.
‘All those things in the boxes you’re sorting,’ he added softly. ‘All the art, the books, the collections. They’re all his, right?’
Her heart sank at the hurt in his voice. She’d not meant to upset him, merely distract him. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Don’t be. I’m glad the games are still here.’ A half-smile tugged his lips. ‘She loved a challenge.’
Merle was intrigued. ‘Was she a risk-taker, too?’
‘Oh, she was a player and she liked to win.’
‘So that’s where you get it from.’ Merle glanced up when she heard his choking laugh. She was stupidly pleased to see his smile return.
‘She made a couple of bad bets in her life,’ he said. ‘Her husband being one of them. She had a
