Straddling the Line(6)

Which intrigued her, because he’d carried that perseverance into his professional career.

And look at his success now.

He’d finished his phone call, so she stepped into the sunroom. When he spotted her, he stood.

“Oh, hey, did you get unpacked?”

“Yes.”

“Is your room okay?”

“My room is fantastic, thanks.”

“Great. Have a seat.”

She took a seat across from him in one of the cushioned chairs.

“There’s some iced tea and water in the pitchers,” he said, motioning to two glass pitchers on the nearby table. “Would you like something?”

“Tea would be wonderful.” She started to get up, but he stopped her.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What? No servants hovering nearby to do that for you?”

“Uh, no. I’m pretty sure I can take care of this part by myself.”

“But you have a chef.”

“Yeah.” He took a drink out of his glass, then set it down. “Hammond used to work for the Rivers organization in concessions. He’d always been a big fan, and all the players liked him a lot. A couple of years ago he reached retirement age, but he and his wife Lyla still have a mortgage to pay off. Plus they’re raising two of their grandkids because . . . well, because of some private circumstances. When I heard about that, I hired him on to help here at the house. He’s a hell of a cook. Wait till you taste the steaks.”

What a story, and what a surprise. “You’re quite the humanitarian, Trevor.”

Trevor gave her an enigmatic smile. “I like good food, and like I said, Hammond can cook the daylights out of anything. I think I got the better end of the deal.”

He was modest as well. He didn’t want to appear the hero. She didn’t know what to make of that. “That was very nice of you.”

Trevor just shrugged, and she felt awful for thinking him living the rich and privileged life, when he’d just given an old man and his family a decent break.

She had a lot to learn about Trevor. And she needed to stop prejudging him and start using her investigative skills in the way she’d been taught.

She wished she’d brought her laptop down with her so she could make some notes.

It was time to put her game face on and get to work.





THREE





“SO TELL ME, TREVOR . . . WHY THIS HOUSE?”

Trevor could tell Haven wanted to make this an interview, that she wanted to get down to business right away. Maybe that was a good thing—at least for her. She seemed at ease, which he was happy to see.

“Why that question? And is it a professional question, or a personal one?” Trevor asked.

Her lips tilted. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned back in the chair. “I liked all the trees. And all the space. Plus the pool. There was plenty of space to do everything I wanted. I didn’t grow up with a lot of room, so just having that freedom to wander makes me happy.”

She stood, went to the window, and looked out over the back of the property, before turning back to face him with a smile. “I can see that.”

How had he not noticed her in college? She was beautiful. She’d always seemed pissed off at him when they were in school together. Then again, she’d been forced to tutor him, and he knew damn well he hadn’t been an easy student.

He’d been too preoccupied with football, and with trying to pass his classes by the skin of his teeth so he wouldn’t lose his scholarship. Haven had been nothing but a means to an end for him. He hadn’t thought of her as a desirable young woman. She’d been his salvation, and he’d used her in that way. Besides, she was Bill’s daughter, and that had made her strictly off-limits.

But now? Now . . . ah, hell. She was still off-limits. He owed Ginger—and Bill—and it was his duty to get Haven fired up. And not in a sexual way.

But damn, as she stood there, her posture perfect, her legs outlined in those tight pants she wore, he realized how much time he’d let get away without really getting to know her better.

And now—now they were working together, which meant he couldn’t cross that line.

Or he shouldn’t, anyway. That wasn’t what she was here for, and she sure as hell wasn’t interested in him that way. She’d made that clear in college, and the two of them had butted heads ever since. He was surprised she’d agreed to this assignment, but he saw that as a good sign. So had Ginger, when he’d told her.

But when had his body ever cooperated with his mind? He found her attractive, especially now. She’d grown her raven hair out some. She always used to wear it very short. Now it framed her face, the breeze coming in through the open windows blowing strands of it against her cheek. She’d taken off her sunglasses, giving him a look at her beautiful blue eyes. But they weren’t normal blue. They were . . . what was that color again? He couldn’t remember.