The Firstborn

“Yeah?”

“What?” she demanded.

“What, what? All I said was, yeah.”

“There is nothing wrong with being an assistant art buyer. I happen to have a degree in art from Wellesley College.” She planted her fists on her hips.

“I never said there was.”

She lifted her chin. “I also have an MBA.”

“Impressive.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Nope. But for someone with two degrees, I sense a little defensiveness about being an assistant art buyer.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Marcus and Eden think I’ve wasted my education, but I’m learning the business. One day I plan to open my own gallery.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Are you an artist as well?”

“No.”

“That was an emphatic no. Did Marcus and Eden tell you that, too?”

Unexpectedly, she giggled. The strangely appealing sound filled the clearing.

“My art teachers did. They tried to be kind, but I’m utterly hopeless. Ms. Sang suggested the only canvas appropriate to my particular talents would be the outside of a building.”

“Ouch.”

Hayley grinned, unabashed. “She’s right. I’ve got a great eye for color and design, and I can spot a marketable piece of art a hundred yards away, but they have trained monkeys with more ability to create art than me.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Definitely. Did you design the front gate yourself?”

“Yes,” he said warily.

“Now that’s genuine, marketable art.”

She made it a pronouncement of fact.

“Why do I feel I should be shuffling my feet and saying, ‘aw, shucks, ma’am’?”

“Did I embarrass you?”

“Hardly. It’s a just a gate.” And a design he’d been working on for months.

“It’s art,” she said flatly.

“I seem to remember a threat to drive your car through some of that same art.”

He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought she blushed again.

“I was annoyed.”

“I remember. Look, I hate to change the subject here, but what are you planning to do tonight if your father isn’t back yet?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Where are you staying?”

Desire tightened his body. “Out here,” he managed to say neutrally. “You’d be welcome to join me, but I only have the one sleeping bag.”

Her eyes widened. Then, surprisingly, she smiled and shook her head, creating fascinating ripples in her long hair.

“Thanks, but I’ve got a nice comfortable bed inside the house.”

“With no electricity and a possible intruder for company,” he pointed out. He wasn’t sure if it was the idea of her going back inside that house alone, or the fact that she didn’t seem to view him as a threat anymore that bothered him the most. He told himself it was the former. He definitely didn’t like the idea of her sleeping alone in that enormous house, even if he did think she’d been imagining things.

“You don’t need to worry,” she said as if tapping into his thoughts. “Someone must be home by now. Marcus goes to bed when the sun goes down. This is a late night for him.”

The ice in Hayley’s tone every time she referred to her father never ceased to surprise Bram, making it hard for him to stem his curiosity.

“Your father might have gone away for a few days,” he suggested. “You said he wasn’t expecting you.”

“Marcus seldom leaves Heartskeep and his precious roses. Not since—” She stopped abruptly. “Anyhow, you don’t have to worry about me. I grew up in that house. I can always lock my bedroom door.”

Brave words, but Bram saw the tiny tremor she tried to conceal. She wasn’t nearly as comfortable with the idea as she wanted him to believe. Despite his determination not to get involved, he wasn’t about to let her do something stupid.

“I’ll go with you,” he stated.

Hayley stilled. He was mollified by her renewed apprehension. She was entirely too trusting for her own good.

“To the house,” he added. “I’d feel better if I had a look around.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t see any letter S on your chest, either.”

Stupid. He shouldn’t have drawn attention to her chest again. Her nipples were clearly raised beneath the thin material of her blouse. He’d been trying not to think about that fact, because it certainly wasn’t due to the eighty-something degree temperature out here. He darn well didn’t want to think about what else might be causing the reaction.

“I appreciate your concern—” she began apprehensively.

“Hayley, if I was going to attack you, I would have done it a long time ago. I’m not into molesting young women.”

Her chin raised a defiant notch. “Just older women, huh?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “You don’t qualify. Now, come on.”