Savage Awakening(2)

       

He drew back, setting his coffee down on the pine-blocked table behind  him. But as he moved to check on the bacon, he heard the footsteps again  and a sick feeling of apprehension invaded his stomach.

There was no one there. He would have seen a shadow cross the window if  anyone had really walked past. Which meant? Which meant what?

Swearing, he moved to the door and, flicking the lock, he yanked it  open, all in one fluid motion. And disturbed a young girl who was  squatting down beside what looked like a rabbit hutch, feeding dandelion  leaves into the cage.

He must have frightened her, he thought, his own feelings of relief  flooding his system with adrenalin. But it was good to know he wasn't  losing his mind as well as his-

He severed that thought and forced a rueful smile to his lips as the  girl got hurriedly to her feet. Sufficient unto the day, he quoted  grimly. He was alive, wasn't he? And sane? Which was definitely a bonus.

'Who are you?'

The words caught him unawares. That was his question, he thought, half  resenting her presence of mind. She was looking at him as if he was the  intruder, and he gave a rueful shake of his head.

'My name's Quinn,' he said, humouring her. 'Who are you?'

'Um-Nancy,' she answered, after a moment. 'Nancy-Drew.' And then, before  he could comment on her name, a frown creased her childish features.  'Do you live here?'

'I do now,' said Quinn drily. 'Is that a problem?'

Nancy shrugged. 'No,' she conceded, but she sounded less sure of herself now. 'That is-you don't have a dog, do you?'

Quinn grinned. He couldn't help himself. 'Not at present,' he replied, considering it. 'Do you like dogs?'

'I do.' Nancy sounded doubtful none the less. 'Grandad has a dog. A retriever. But he's very naughty.'

'Who, your grandad?'

Quinn couldn't help himself and Nancy gave him a reproving look. 'No!'  she exclaimed impatiently. 'Harvey. He used to chase Buttons all around  the garden. He was terrified!'

'Harvey?' asked Quinn innocently and Nancy's face took on a suspicious stare.

'Buttons,' she corrected him. 'You're teasing me, aren't you?'

Quinn sighed. 'Just a little.' He paused. 'Who's Buttons?'

'My rabbit,' said Nancy, squatting down again and pointing to what Quinn  now saw was a cage, as he'd thought. 'Mummy said I ought to find  another home for him. So I did.'

Quinn suspected her mother had not meant in someone else's garden, but  he didn't say anything. Instead, he hunkered down beside her and saw the  white nose of what appeared to be quite a large rabbit nuzzling at the  wires of its cage.

'This is Buttons,' went on Nancy, performing the introduction. 'Isn't he sweet?'

'I guess.' Quinn knew nothing about rabbits so his opinion was limited. 'But isn't his cage rather small?'

'Mmm,' Nancy agreed. 'That's why I used to let him out. But as I said-'

'Harvey chased him,' Quinn finished for her and Nancy nodded.

'He doesn't realise that Buttons is frightened of him.'

'Well, dogs chase rabbits,' said Quinn matter-of-factly. 'It's what they do.'

'So-can he stay here?' asked Nancy quickly, and Quinn got abruptly to his feet.

'I-maybe,' he said slowly. 'If your mother approves.'

'Oh, she doesn't know,' said Nancy airily, standing up, too. Then, more anxiously, 'You won't tell her, will you?'



Fliss had opened her mouth to shout Amy's name again when she saw her.  The door to the Old Coaching House was open and a man was standing on  the threshold talking to her daughter.

A relieved breath escaped her. She hadn't really been worried, she  assured herself, but you heard such awful stories these days about  children being abducted and Amy was only nine years old.

Nevertheless, she didn't approve of her coming here without permission,  even if Amy was naturally familiar with the place. She'd accompanied her  mother often enough during school holidays and the like and she knew  the grounds almost as well as her own garden.                       
       
           



       

But that didn't alter the fact that things had changed now. Old Colonel  Phillips was dead and, although she hadn't heard about it, the Old  Coaching House had apparently been sold. To someone Amy didn't know,  Fliss reminded herself, quickening her step. How many times had she  warned her daughter not to talk to strange men?

The man became aware of her presence before her daughter did. His head  turned and she got a swift impression of a hard, uncompromising face  with dark, deeply tanned features. He was tall, that much was obvious,  but there didn't appear to be an ounce of spare flesh on his leanly  muscled frame.

He looked-dangerous, she thought fancifully, not liking the conclusion  at all. He looked nothing like the people who usually retired to  Mallon's End, and she wondered why someone like him would choose to buy a  house in such a quiet, unexciting place.

She got the distinct impression that he would have preferred to cut  short his conversation with Amy and close the door before she reached  them. But something, an unwilling acceptance of his responsibilities-or  common decency, perhaps-persuaded him to at least acknowledge her before  he made his escape.

For her part, Fliss was more curious than anything else. As she got  nearer, she could see that he was younger than she'd imagined; possibly  late thirties, she guessed, with very short dark hair that added to his  harsh appearance.

But for someone who looked so menacing, he was absurdly attractive.  Goodness! Fliss swallowed a little nervously, feeling butterflies  fluttering in her stomach. Who on earth was he?

'I-I'm sorry,' she began, deciding an apology was in order. 'If my daughter's been troubling you-'

'She hasn't,' he said, his voice low and a little hoarse, and Fliss saw  the way Amy's shoulders hunched in the way she had when her mother  embarrassed her.

'Oh, Mum!' She grimaced, casting an impatient look in Fliss's direction. 'I'm not a baby, you know.'

Fliss reserved judgement on that one. In her opinion Amy was still young  enough to warrant the anxiety she had felt at her disappearance.

'I've been looking for you,' she said, deciding any chastisement could wait until later. 'Didn't you hear me calling you?'

Amy shrugged now. 'I might have done,' she said airily, but Fliss  wondered if it was only her imagination that made her think her daughter  was looking slightly uneasy now. What had been going on, for heaven's  sake? What had this man been saying to her?

'Well, why didn't you answer, then?' she demanded, before allowing their audience a slight smile. 'I was worried.'

'I'm sure Nancy didn't mean to cause you any unnecessary distress, Mrs  Drew,' the man broke in abruptly, and if Fliss hadn't been so shocked by  the name he'd used, she'd have realised there was an increasing  weariness in his harsh tone. 'No harm done.'

'You think not?' Fliss couldn't let it go. She looked down at her  daughter. 'Amy? Did you tell this-gentleman-that your name is Nancy  Drew?'

Amy flushed now. 'What if I did?'

Fliss shook her head. 'I don't believe it.'

The man breathed heavily. 'I gather that's not her name?'

'No.' Fliss tried to control her temper. It wasn't his fault, after all. 'It's Amy. Amy Taylor. Nancy Drew is just-'

'Yeah, I know who Nancy Drew is.' He interrupted her drily. 'Way to go, Nancy. Solved any exciting cases lately?'

Amy pursed her lips, but she reserved her anger for her mother. 'Now see  what you've done!' she exclaimed. 'You've made me look silly in front  of Quinn!'

'Quinn?'

Fliss's eyes moved to the man again and glimpsed the spasm of  resignation that crossed his face. 'Matthew Quinn,' he agreed flatly.  'I've bought this place.'

'Oh.' Fliss wondered why he seemed so reluctant to tell her that. 'Oh,  well-good,' she murmured. 'I hope you and your-er-family will be very  happy here.'                       
       
           



       

'I don't have a family,' he replied in that harsh, abrasive voice that Fliss found as sexy as his appearance. 'But thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

Fliss managed a polite smile and then caught her lower lip between her  teeth. Would this be a good time to explain why Amy felt she had a right  to enter his garden at will? Maybe he would need a housekeeper, too. If  he didn't have a wife …

'Come on, Mum.' Amy caught her arm now and attempted to pull her away. 'It's nearly time for school.'

'Is it?'

Fliss's brows narrowed. Since when had Amy been so eager to go to  school? Her suspicions resurfaced. What had she been doing? What had  this man been saying to her that she didn't want her mother to know  about?

Her eyes returned to his dark face, but when he met her gaze with a cool  appraisal she was forced to look away. Her gaze dropped down over his  tight-fitting T-shirt, over drawstring sweat pants that couldn't hide  the impressive bulge of his sex, the powerful length of his legs. And  bare feet. Her skin prickled. He must have just got out of bed.

Had Amy awakened him?

And then she saw the box-like structure that was wedged beside the  doorstep and comprehension dawned. The compulsive-if unwilling-awareness  his hard male beauty had had on her disappeared beneath a sudden wave  of frustration.