so curious about her—good old-fashioned sexual attraction.
While her mind had been formulating a retreat, her body had been betraying her. Those lovely eyes had darkened further as her pupils had dilated and the rapid pulse hammering at the base of her equally lovely neck were hard and fast clues to what was really going on with her. Add to the fact that she’d swallowed several times—dry mouth, another sign—and had been covertly checking him out… It was a no-brainer.
Evidently—for reasons as fascinating as she was, ones he would have to learn—she didn’t want to be attracted to him. Jeb grimaced.
He felt her pain.
And, courtesy of Ranger Security and the job he had to do, he grimly suspected that they were both about to get even more uncomfortable. He was here for the duration and staying away from her was out of the question.
Because, even if she wasn’t the thief, he didn’t think he was going to be able to help himself.
4
“A H , THERE you are,” Cora said happily, peering through the wrought iron gate. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She frowned. “What are you doing out here? You know this is Marjorie’s private Garden of Contemplation. She’ll pop a blood vessel if she finds you out here.”
“I got special permission,” Sophie told her.
Cora’s carefully drawn on brows furrowed thoughtfully. “I’d never thought to ask.” Looking more than a little intrigued, she lifted the latch and took a tentative step into Marjorie’s forbidden area as though she were trespassing on holy ground. She glanced around, taking in the water garden, flowering plants, shrubs and bird feeders. Water gurgled from a nearby fountain and the tinkling of wind chimes sounded on the breeze.
“Wow, this is nice,” Cora murmured. “So quiet, so peaceful.”
Yes, it was. Or it had been, Sophie thought with a rueful sigh. Much as she loved Cora, Sophie had hidden away here because she’d wanted to be alone. Due to a last minute cancellation—Jeanie Wilson’s vertigo was acting up again—she had an hour between appointments and it wasn’t like she could just dash home and come right back. Wisteria Grove was a thirty-minute drive from Twilight Acres. She’d no sooner get there than she’d have to turn around and come right back.
Better to cool her heels here and wait, but considering the fact that Jeb—when had she started thinking of him as Jeb instead of Foy’s Grandson?—managed to magically friggin’ appear everywhere she went, citing a headache, she’d prevailed upon Marjorie to let her use the garden. If he was going to flirt with her—and she was going to stupidly flirt back—then, clearly, hiding was her only option. She snorted inwardly. Work the knots out, indeed.
Her whole body had become a knot after that little exchange.
At any rate, the director had relented, albeit reluctantly, then purposely shut the curtains across the French doors which led into her office. Honestly, Sophie thought. She hadn’t been interested in spying on her—at least not right now, anyway—she’d just wanted a few minutes to herself, particularly after this morning’s run in with the handsome irritant. She glanced at Cora and swallowed a sigh.
An effort in futility, it would seem.
Seemingly enchanted, Cora flitted from bloom to bloom like a starstruck butterfly. “She must really have the touch,” she said. “Some of these roses are temperamental. And rare,” she said bending down to peer more closely at one bush. She straightened, then turned to Sophie and smiled. “No wonder she won’t let anyone back here. I wouldn’t either, if I was her.”
“You said you were looking for me?” Sophie prompted.
Cora’s eyes rounded. “Oh, right. Yes,” she said, beaming. “Guess what we’re having tomorrow night?”
She couldn’t begin to imagine, but a sense of dread had descended all the same. “I don’t know. What?”
“A dance!” Cora enthused. “Marjorie has given her
While her mind had been formulating a retreat, her body had been betraying her. Those lovely eyes had darkened further as her pupils had dilated and the rapid pulse hammering at the base of her equally lovely neck were hard and fast clues to what was really going on with her. Add to the fact that she’d swallowed several times—dry mouth, another sign—and had been covertly checking him out… It was a no-brainer.
Evidently—for reasons as fascinating as she was, ones he would have to learn—she didn’t want to be attracted to him. Jeb grimaced.
He felt her pain.
And, courtesy of Ranger Security and the job he had to do, he grimly suspected that they were both about to get even more uncomfortable. He was here for the duration and staying away from her was out of the question.
Because, even if she wasn’t the thief, he didn’t think he was going to be able to help himself.
4
“A H , THERE you are,” Cora said happily, peering through the wrought iron gate. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She frowned. “What are you doing out here? You know this is Marjorie’s private Garden of Contemplation. She’ll pop a blood vessel if she finds you out here.”
“I got special permission,” Sophie told her.
Cora’s carefully drawn on brows furrowed thoughtfully. “I’d never thought to ask.” Looking more than a little intrigued, she lifted the latch and took a tentative step into Marjorie’s forbidden area as though she were trespassing on holy ground. She glanced around, taking in the water garden, flowering plants, shrubs and bird feeders. Water gurgled from a nearby fountain and the tinkling of wind chimes sounded on the breeze.
“Wow, this is nice,” Cora murmured. “So quiet, so peaceful.”
Yes, it was. Or it had been, Sophie thought with a rueful sigh. Much as she loved Cora, Sophie had hidden away here because she’d wanted to be alone. Due to a last minute cancellation—Jeanie Wilson’s vertigo was acting up again—she had an hour between appointments and it wasn’t like she could just dash home and come right back. Wisteria Grove was a thirty-minute drive from Twilight Acres. She’d no sooner get there than she’d have to turn around and come right back.
Better to cool her heels here and wait, but considering the fact that Jeb—when had she started thinking of him as Jeb instead of Foy’s Grandson?—managed to magically friggin’ appear everywhere she went, citing a headache, she’d prevailed upon Marjorie to let her use the garden. If he was going to flirt with her—and she was going to stupidly flirt back—then, clearly, hiding was her only option. She snorted inwardly. Work the knots out, indeed.
Her whole body had become a knot after that little exchange.
At any rate, the director had relented, albeit reluctantly, then purposely shut the curtains across the French doors which led into her office. Honestly, Sophie thought. She hadn’t been interested in spying on her—at least not right now, anyway—she’d just wanted a few minutes to herself, particularly after this morning’s run in with the handsome irritant. She glanced at Cora and swallowed a sigh.
An effort in futility, it would seem.
Seemingly enchanted, Cora flitted from bloom to bloom like a starstruck butterfly. “She must really have the touch,” she said. “Some of these roses are temperamental. And rare,” she said bending down to peer more closely at one bush. She straightened, then turned to Sophie and smiled. “No wonder she won’t let anyone back here. I wouldn’t either, if I was her.”
“You said you were looking for me?” Sophie prompted.
Cora’s eyes rounded. “Oh, right. Yes,” she said, beaming. “Guess what we’re having tomorrow night?”
She couldn’t begin to imagine, but a sense of dread had descended all the same. “I don’t know. What?”
“A dance!” Cora enthused. “Marjorie has given her
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