“Traitor,” she hissed.
Hugh gave Captain a scratch on the head. The beast was surprisingly silky. “I’m forgiven then?”
She tossed a pink, stuffed mouse across the room and the animal gave chase, leaving Hugh’s legs untangled. She tipped her head to one side as if considering her options. “For now.”
She gave no quarter. He kind of liked that. For a woman who knew exactly what he was, she certainly wasn’t intimidated. Maybe Didi knew what sort of woman worked for him after all. He grinned. “Good enough. I’ll see you downstairs then.”
She nodded. “Maybe you can give me a tour of the house then. Except for the basement, of course.”
He blinked at her mention of his lab. Stanhill must have said something. He recovered quickly, and smiled. “My pleasure.”
He headed back downstairs with the shocking realization that he actually meant what he’d said. Getting to know the curious Miss Givens might not be the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
Delaney shut the door, then leaned against it, closed her eyes and exhaled the nervousness she’d been tamping down since Hugh had knocked on her door. She was so thankful she’d showered and put on a little makeup before going downstairs. Looking presentable had given her the courage to act exactly the way she thought Annabelle would in this situation, although some of the hurt had been real.
What if Annabelle had found out this guy never really wanted her? Kinda funny to think that here she, Delaney, had been so worried that he was going to send her away, when come to find out, he wasn’t even responsible for bringing her here.
Which maybe explained why the man was kind of an ass. Built like a superhero, stupidly beautiful and, okay, willing to apologize, which was more than she could say for Russell, but still an ass. Speaking of, she hadn’t gotten a good look at Hugh’s backside, but it was probably just as gorgeous as the rest of him. Dark hair, stare-right-through-you ice blue eyes with the body of an Olympic swimmer and a dash of dangerous thrown in on top of his bone-melting English accent. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about the guy…something dark and a little feral.
And undeniably sexy.
Her eyes widened. She’d just moved in with James Bond. That was about as close as anyone could hope to get to a real-life superhero.
It wouldn’t be difficult spending time with a guy like that, but the best part was he didn’t plan on marrying her.
The relief of that coupled with the idea that he wasn’t being completely honest with her about something—maybe whatever was going on in the basement—made her feel slightly better for using his house as a hideout. Not that he owed her any kind of honesty. They’d known each other all of five minutes.
Still, it was a strange way for him to start a relationship with someone who could end up being his wife. If that was even what he was thinking. But he probably wasn’t. He hadn’t invited Annabelle Givens here, after all. If not for his desire to appease his grandmother, he might already have escorted her out the door. To avoid that happening before she was ready to leave, she needed to embrace her role as his prospective fiancée. The best course of action was to be sweet and nice and make him the focus of her attention. Basically, pretend he was a customer she was waiting on at the restaurant. She could do that. All. Day. Long.
Since she’d passed out as soon as she’d gotten into the room, she took a few minutes to fire up her laptop and log on. Captain was busy disemboweling his catnip mouse. She quickly scanned the New York news sites for mention of the shooting. Nothing. Frustrating. She was dying to know what was happening. Okay, bad choice of words.
She closed her laptop. She’d think about it later. Right now it was time to play the potential fiancée. She trotted downstairs, deliberately making her steps heard so there’d be no accidental eavesdropping again. Stanhill was alone in the kitchen, busy with dinner.
He smiled at her. “Master Ellingham is out on the back patio. Just through the foyer and out the French doors in the great room. You’ll see him.”
“Thank you.” She followed his directions, taking her time as she wandered through the house. The decorating was heavily masculine, but reserved and classy. Kind of British hunting lodge meets the Deep South. Each room was more impressive than the next. If Hugh had done the decorating, it said a lot about him. Like maybe she’d misjudged his being an ass based on one comment. Which, considering he hadn’t been the one behind bringing her here, was pretty excusable.
Sheers muted the view through the French doors. She opened them and took a breath. The garden beyond was charming. Very…English in that slightly constrained-but-overgrown-enough-to-look-lived-in sort of way. A few last rays of sun broke through the trees, giving everything a golden glow.