back a smile as she said, ‘I was pulling your leg about that.’
‘No. Really?’ Sarcasm dripped from his words and the smile spilled across her lips anyway.
‘Yes, really. I need the pool because I’m secretly a synchronised swimming choreographer by trade. I just don’t want it to get out or I’ll have people beating on my door.’
‘Right. Makes perfect sense.’
After a few long, loaded seconds in which the scent of pine needles and late roses mixed with the scent of warm male skin, Hud continued towards her. Kendall swayed back on to her heels.
He reached out to her at the last second. She felt all of her promises to brush off her infatuation melting away with the encroaching heat of day. Of him. Her breath clutched against the edges of her throat.
His hand caressed her shoulder, slid deftly beneath the strap of the too heavy bag, lifted it away from her grasp as though it weighed no more than a handful of feathers. And then he passed, bathing her in a whisper of sandalwood scent, pausing only slightly to throw a quick, ‘Coming?’ over his shoulder before disappearing into the belly of the house.
And if Kendall ever wanted to see her laptop again she had no choice but to follow.
As to finding an opportunity to discover who this Mirabella might be, well, she would just have to remind herself on a minute by minute basis why that was just none of her business.
CHAPTER THREE
THE neat elegance of the outside of the house had given Kendall little indication of the grandeur inside Claudel’s high walls.
Cream wallpaper embossed with pale gold roses drew her through the side hall and into a massive parlour where oak floors were inset with marble friezes in the shape of more roses. The ceiling there was so high she had to crane her neck to see up into the second level, which was bordered with a gallery all the way around. Through arched doorways she spotted hallways leading to rooms and wings in every direction with hints of curling staircases winding up into hidden alcoves. It was huge. Beautiful. Graceful. Like something out of an art history book.
But for all that she detected not an ounce of warmth. Every piece of furniture was covered in white sheets as though the house was closed up and the family still away. Hud’s return had not let any new air into the place.
‘Kendall,’ a dismembered voice said from somewhere to her right. She walked gently so that her clodhopper boots didn’t echo through the lofty entrance.
She soon found Hud in a large room, backlit by bolts of light angling through several arched windows with their gold velvet curtains drawn back. Thankfully he’d added a clean T-shirt to his ensemble. If she’d had to sit there with him shirtless she wasn’t quite sure she’d get through the morning without bursting a blood vessel or two.
She spied her hemp laptop bag at Hud’s feet just before he blocked her view by whipping a large white sheet from a piece of furniture between them. Great swathes of dust came away with the fabric, bathing him in a hazy golden light, haloing his dark curls.
‘No need for all this fanfare,’ she said, then cleared her throat when her voice came out a tad ragged, which had nothing to do with the dust. ‘I’m used to much more simple conditions. I usually work at a second-hand Formica desk beside the kitchen. Or, if Taffy kicks me off the big computer, then with my laptop on my lap in front of the TV.’
Hud curled the sheet into a ball and placed it beside a couch that looked as if it had only just been brought back out into the sunlight for the first time in years itself.
‘That table is second-hand too, you know,’ he said, turning suddenly to face her and catching her staring.
Kendall quickly dragged her eyes away from his and to the table to which he was referring. Bevelled edges, Queen Anne legs, antique as all get out. She looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘I’d hazard a guess my Formica number was never named after, and certainly never owned by, royalty.’
‘You probably have me there.’ He watched her for a further few seconds, a gentle smile warming his face. She gave into a sudden need to breathe deep.
Then, easy as you please, he turned away and she rocked back on to her heels as though he’d had his finger curled into the front of her tank-top and had finally let her go.
Kendall plonked on to the velvet-backed chair behind the makeshift desk, knees together, back ramrod straight, still holding on to her swimming bag, not quite sure what she was expected to do while he set to, pulling more sheets off all the furniture in the room. It did look more welcoming when he was done, and made her feel less like they were little kids trespassing. One less tension to worry about.
Eventually Hud stood surveying the room, hands on hips, chest pushed forward, dark eyes flickering over every detail like a soldier casing an enemy camp. ‘So, this Taffy…’ he said, catching her unawares. ‘That can’t be little Taffy Henderson, can it?’
She blinked and let her pool bag drop to the polished wood floor at her feet with a swoosh. ‘Ah, yeah. Though she’s not so little any more.’
He shook his head. ‘I was sure she would have been living in New York by now, treading the Broadway stage. She was always a little drama queen.’
Kendall laughed out loud despite herself. ‘Ah, no. She is the receptionist for the local accountants.’ After a pause she added, ‘She saves the drama queen antics for when she’s at home.’
His gaze swung sideways to engage hers. A matching smile lit his eyes. Her stomach lurched, skidded and fell over backwards with a splat she felt reverberate through her whole body.
‘Lucky you,’ he said.
‘You have no idea.’
‘So she’s your…’ He let the thought carry on the air between them.
‘Friend. I rent a room in her house. We’ve known one another since we were in high school together. She was a couple of years above me. The rest is a long story.’
‘I have nothing but time,’ he said, ambling towards her.
Her head tilted higher the nearer he came. He was backlit, the hard planes of his face in shadow. And once again she felt a warning thump in the back of her head. Only now she knew it had nothing to do with the fear that came from being alone with a stranger in a secluded place. It came from finding herself alone with him.
‘I used to date her cousin,’ she said, so distracted she didn’t even feel the words until they spilled from her mouth.
Hud’s brow furrowed. ‘Another local? Would I know him?’
‘No,’ Kendall said, running a hand up the back of her neck to negate the sudden tightness constricting her muscles. ‘We all went to school in Melbourne. Taffy stayed with George’s family during the week and his family lived near mine. Anyway, I have about half a dozen articles due back at the paper by three, and a swim to fit in between, so…’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’d completely forgotten that’s the reason you’re here.’
She slid her battered old laptop from its case and with it her ubiquitous red notebook. She turned on her laptop, balanced her fingers over the keys, half the letters long since worn away, and purposely didn’t look at Hud any more.
But, after several drawn-out moments, she couldn’t help herself. Something about this place seemed to have her checking her will-power at the border of the pine forest.
She looked up to find Hud standing in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip, the other running up the back of his neck in a mirror image of her recent action, as though something heavy was bothering him too. His bicep strained against the cotton of his T-shirt, pale denim hung just so off lean hips, and he looked at her. Worse, he looked into her.
As though the well-built, well-tended, protective walls that normally kept her