But that fact went completely out of her mind when she joined him outside the house a few minutes later.
‘Now, you’re sure there’s no television, Izzy?’ Griffin taunted as he stood beside her, waiting for her to unlock the front door. ‘I would hate to have you proved—economical with the truth.’ He grinned at her mockingly.
One of these days she was going to take great pleasure in wiping that smile right off his—
‘I don’t tell lies, Griffin.’ She clearly stated the correct term for what he was implying, feeling very relieved when they were inside the house, as she found its elegant charm was always soothing to her nerves. Something Griffin certainly wasn’t!
He quirked blond brows. ‘Not even to yourself?’ he murmured huskily.
‘What would be the point of that?’ Angry colour darkened her cheeks as she led the way into the sitting room.
He shrugged. ‘None that I can see. But I’m told a lot of people do it.’
‘Well, I don’t,’ she assured him firmly, preparing to leave the room. Without offering him a drink. He could damn well sit and stew for all she cared.
She knew that the reason she was so annoyed with him—this time!—was that he had touched on a sensitive nerve. She didn’t exactly lie to herself about Griffin—she just didn’t want to probe too deeply into what she felt for him!
‘Need any help in the shower, Izzy?’ he called after her softly.
Dora turned to give him a scathing glance. ‘Save your charm for elderly ladies and star-struck teenagers, Griffin,’ she snapped. ‘It’s wasted on me!’
He dropped down into one of the armchairs, part of a gold-coloured suite that was matched with antique oak furniture. ‘Pity,’ he drawled unconcernedly. ‘No television,’ he conceded ruefully after a brief look round the room.
She gave an irritated sigh. ‘I told you I don’t have one. But you’re welcome to look through the books, if you’d like to.’ She indicated the bookcase that dominated one wall of the room.
Griffin glanced across at the mainly leather-bound books. ‘Your father’s?’
She frowned. ‘Mostly, yes.’
‘Then I would rather not, thanks,’ he rasped dismissively.
Dora shook her head, frowning again as she went slowly up the stairs.
All thought of Griffin’s animosity towards her late father fled from her mind when she caught sight of her reflection in her bedroom mirror.
She looked a fright! Not only did she have paint in her hair and on her clothes, but spots of it all over her face too. No wonder Griffin had been so scathing about her ability to paint; it was a wonder she’d managed to get any on the ceiling at all when there was so much of it on herself!
Luckily the paint—even if it wasn’t the right sort for the job—was washable, and fifteen minutes later, after her shower, she saw an altogether different reflection in her bedroom mirror. Her shoulder-length hair was brushed to a shining curtain of flame, while her black silk blouse and fitted black trousers complemented the slenderness of her figure—which wasn’t too thin, no matter what Griffin might have implied to the contrary. The slight weight loss in her face emphasised her high cheekbones, giving a luminous appearance to the smoky grey of her eyes and a fullness to her curving mouth.
‘Not exactly rags to riches.’ Griffin stood up slowly as she entered the sitting-room. ‘But I understand a little of what Prince Charming must have felt when he saw Cinderella!’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Dora laughed softly, warmed by the admiration in his gaze.
‘To make up for my earlier lack of one?’
He was standing too close again, Dora realised as she had trouble with her breathing once again. ‘Having now seen myself—’ she moved a safe distance away, to be able to breathe ‘—I realise the reason for that.’ She laughed softly. ‘Shall we go and eat?’ she added brightly, suddenly finding the room claustrophobic. And Griffin, with his overpowering personality, was undoubtedly the reason for that.
He took a light hold of her arm as they walked to the door. ‘It’s the way to a man’s heart, so I’m told,’ he drawled.
‘That’s home cooking, Griffin,’ Dora told him dryly, making no comment on his heart—although she was sure most women quickly learnt that he didn’t have one!
Charles had once told her that Griffin had left a trail of broken hearts behind him ever since he’d reached puberty, and from his unattached state now, at thirty-four, he was probably still doing it. She certainly wasn’t naïve enough to believe his charm!
‘Charles reliably informed me that you are a more than capable cook,’ Griffin taunted as they walked to the restaurant.
How strange that he should mention Charles, when she’d just been thinking of him herself. And ‘a more than capable cook’ sounded exactly like something Charles would have said.
Griffin gave her a sideways glance. ‘Did you know that you frown like that every time my big brother’s name is mentioned?’
‘I do not!’ Dora turned on him indignantly, frowning deeper than ever. ‘In the circumstances, it would hardly be appropriate for me to burst out laughing,’ she snapped. ‘After all he is dead.’ She drew in a deeply shocked breath, her eyes wide. ‘I can’t believe I just said that…’ she groaned emotionally, shaking her head.
Griffin picked up one of her hands and tucked it snugly into the crook of his arm. ‘As long as we both realise that it’s an indisputable fact…’ he murmured softly.
Dora gave him a sharp look, not at all happy with her hand being tucked into his arm like this. But the strength of his fingers as they rested on hers warned her she would have great difficulty in removing it.
‘I’m hardly likely to forget it,’ she bit out tautly.
Not that she wanted to forget Charles anyway, but with Griffin popping up in her life all the time, a constant reminder of the past, it was impossible for her to do that even if she wanted to. And move on…?
She felt a frisson of excitement and a certain amount of apprehension when she thought about her future. With no fiancé, and no father, she was completely alone for the first time in her life, with only the shop to direct her actions. And even her ideas for the changes there were a little frightening. If she should fail—
‘Then it’s about time you did,’ Griffin rasped in answer to her last statement. ‘Forget Charles, I mean,’ he added grimly as she looked at him blankly.
In truth, in her quieter moments, when she thought of those brief months with Charles, she often had trouble remembering his handsome features, let alone what the two of them had talked about together. In fact, sometimes their engagement seemed as if it had happened to someone else.
But she wasn’t about to tell Griffin that; he was far too familiar already, without that.
‘Some of us don’t want to forget him,’ she told Griffin calmly. ‘As you would appreciate—if you’d ever been in love yourself.’
She pitied Amanda Adams if Margaret ever succeeded in her plans for her and Griffin—because Griffin wasn’t the settling down type. With any woman.
Griffin came to an abrupt halt, swinging her round to face him in the falling darkness. ‘And just what makes you such an authority on my emotions, Izzy?’ he rasped harshly. ‘Sleeping Beauty still waiting for Prince Charming’s wake-up call?’ he added scathingly.
Dora’s eyes glowed darkly grey. ‘I thought you said I was Cinderella?’ she bit out tautly.
‘Same difference.’ He shook his head disgustedly. ‘They were both naïve!’
‘Well, for your information— I’m not!’ Dora glared at him. ‘Neither am I asleep. Or a beauty. And as for Prince Charming—there is no such thing!’
‘Have you ever tried looking beyond the end of your nose? Or are you—’
‘You’re beyond the end of my nose at this particular moment, Griffin,’ she bit out scornfully. ‘And no woman in her right mind would ever think of you in that— Oh!’ She managed to gasp before Griffin’s mouth came cra
shing down on hers.
It was a kiss without tenderness, and Dora felt the full force of Griffin’s anger.
And then it suddenly changed, still not to tenderness, but to a searing passion that evoked a response from Dora. Her arms went up about his shoulders to stop herself from falling, and she felt as if she might snap in two with the steel band of his arms about her waist.
Finally Griffin pulled away. ‘How’s your sanity now, Izzy?’ his eyes glittered down at her.
She swallowed hard, breathing shallowly. She had never seen Griffin like this before. She had seen him teasing, mocking, dismissively uncaring, but never moved by such anger that he looked ready to explode with emotion. She hadn’t believed he was capable of such heated feelings; he always seemed to give the impression he was totally in control. Of any situation. But he was certainly very angry at this moment.
And Dora wasn’t even sure why. What had been said, by either of them, that hadn’t been said before, many times, to have caused such fury?
She was at a loss to even guess…
‘Healthy enough to decide I don’t want to have dinner with you, after all,’ she answered firmly, able to imagine nothing worse than trying to have dinner with Griffin in this mood. The least she would end up with was indigestion. With Griffin in this unpredictable mood, she wasn’t sure what the worst could be! Besides, she was more shaken by that kiss than she wanted him to even guess at! ‘In fact,’ she continued strongly, ‘I think the whole idea of your helping me is a mistake. So perhaps it’s best if we—’
‘Chickening out again, Izzy?’ Griffin cut in, his anger seeming to have faded as quickly as it had flared out of control.
Her eyes blazed at the taunt. ‘I’m not ‘‘chickening out’’ of anything, Griffin,’ she returned fiercely. ‘You’re rude, and arrogant, and I can do without your help!’
He stood back, his arms folded across the broadness of his chest. ‘Now why the hell didn’t you ever stand up to your father and Charles like this?’ he murmured admiringly, with a humorous glint back in his eyes.
Dora blinked her surprise at that comment, becoming very still as its full meaning sank in. ‘What…?’
‘Because maybe if you had done so, even once,’ Griffin continued huskily, ‘you wouldn’t have ended up as Dora the mouse.’ He shook his head. ‘Of course you wouldn’t have been engaged to Charles, either, because he didn’t want an Izzy, but that certainly wouldn’t have been a bad thing!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Dora shook her head impatiently.
‘I’m talking about the fact—Dora,’ he added pointedly, ‘that you let your father and Charles walk all over you, that you never once rebelled at the plans the two of them made for your future, that never once did you stand up and say what you wanted for your own life.’
‘That isn’t true!’ Dora defended heatedly. Griffin made her sound like a doormat, not a mouse! ‘My relationship with my father was my business,’ she bit out angrily. ‘As were the plans Charles and I had for our future together. And there’s a perfectly good reason why I have no difficulty in arguing against your plans for me—’
‘Yes?’ Griffin prompted softly as she came to an abrupt halt in her dialogue.
She moistened dry lips. She would not back down; she must never back down where Griffin was concerned. Because he was more arrogant than her father or Charles had ever been, than the two of them put together!
‘I loved my father and Charles,’ she told him firmly.
‘Yes?’ Griffin prompted, more sharply this time, his eyes narrowed. ‘Come on, Izzy,’ he taunted as she hesitated. ‘You may as well finish what you started!’
She straightened her shoulders, her gaze defiant now. ‘Isn’t it obvious, Griffin?’ she scorned.
He shook his head. ‘Not to me, no.’
She sighed her impatience. ‘I find no difficulty in standing up to you because I don’t love you!’ she stated bluntly, not knowing what she felt for this man. ‘Now, as I’ve already said, I’ve lost my appetite—’ never more so than now! ‘—so if you will excuse me…’ She turned and walked away, back in the direction of her home.
She knew Griffin would have to come back to the house some time this evening himself; after all, his car was there. But that didn’t mean she would have to see him, she accepted with relief. He could just get in his car and drive away. For ever, as far as she was concerned! He was too disturbing, too—
‘Er—Izzy…?’
She faltered in her step as Griffin called softly after her, stiffening her spine and bracing her shoulders before turning back to face him. ‘Yes?’ she prompted coldly.
‘I’ll call for you at ten o’clock in the morning,’ he told her huskily. ‘Make sure you’re ready,’ he added firmly as she would have spoken.
Part of her was so angry at him still that she wanted to tell him to go to hell, to tell him exactly what he could do with his offer of help. But the other half of her—
She didn’t want to probe into what emotion controlled the rest of her feelings, she was becoming too frightened of what she might find there!
She did know that deep inside her she was relieved that he hadn’t let her just walk away without speaking to her, and from what he’d said she knew that he still wanted to help her.
Besides, his offer of help was the only one she had!
And in ten days’ time she had to re-open the shop, ready or not!
She was also, she realised with dismay, using excuses to explain away her relief that he had stopped her from leaving with this rift still between them…
‘Ten o’clock.’ She gave a stiff inclination of her head before turning on her heel and walking abruptly away. And this time Griffin didn’t try to stop her.
Ten days. She could cope with seeing Griffin for ten days in a row.
Couldn’t she…?
At this particular moment, with her senses still reeling from that kiss, she thought ten minutes would probably be too long!
CHAPTER SIX
‘FOR God’s sake, woman, will you hold the damned ladder steady?’
Dora drew in a sharp, controlling breath, biting her tongue to stop her angry retort, at the same time reaching out and steadying the ladder upon which Griffin stood.
The last five days of having him constantly about, issuing orders and expecting them to be carried out instantly, had been every bit as bad as she had thought they might be!
There was no doubting that Griffin was a hard worker, or that, surprisingly, he knew exactly what he was doing when it came to painting. In fact he had finished the painting last night, and was now on to measuring and fitting shelves.
Oh, yes, he was doing every bit as good a job as he had said he would. And yet…
‘Maybe you’re hoping I’ll fall off the ladder and break my neck!’
She looked up guiltily at Griffin’s mockery, only to look quickly away again when she found herself looking straight into laughing green eyes. She hadn’t been wishing anything quite as drastic on him as breaking his neck—an ankle or an arm would do just as well!
This was awful! She had never had vengeful feelings like this towards anyone before. And yet Griffin—
‘What are you making me for dinner this evening?’
And that was another thing! Although it was very kind of Griffin to help her in this way, she was not only seeing far too much of him than was even moderately comfortable, but he also expected her to feed him every evening once he had finished work for the day.
Good grief, it was almost as bad as being married to the man!
‘What are we having for dinner this evening?’ she corrected pointedly.
Because, as Griffin had pointed out oh-so-reasonably, she had to eat too, so they might as well eat their evening meal together. Waiting for Griffin to arrive in the evening, working together for several hours and then sitting down at her home to share a meal together implied an intimacy between the two of them that simply did not exist. In fact, Dora found
it absolute torture, and her appetite seemed to desert her even before she sat down at the table opposite him.
‘We have steak, Griffin,’ she told him tightly. ‘Which you are going to cook,’ she added with satisfaction. ‘I’m sure you can cook steak better than I can.’ After all, he had to have lived on something when he’d been at home alone in his apartment.
He shrugged, coming down the ladder. ‘Would this be because I mentioned—only mentioned, mind you—that I thought last night’s chicken needed a little more white wine in the sauce?’ He had reached the bottom of the ladder now, standing far to close to her.
So close, in fact, that Dora could feel the warmth emanating from his body…
She stepped back abruptly; even in paint-daubed clothes, old jeans ripped at the knees and a black tee shirt faded and worn, Griffin managed to look completely masculine and attractive.
And he hadn’t just ‘mentioned’ last night that the sauce needed ‘a little more white wine’—he had told her it was tasteless! But her father hadn’t liked rich sauces and exotic meals; he had preferred plain English cooking, whereas Griffin had told her on the first evening she’d made them a meal that the spicier his food was the better he liked it. At least she’d tried, hadn’t she?
‘Not at all,’ she dismissed lightly. ‘I simply thought I could concentrate on the salad and potatoes.’
Griffin grinned at her. ‘Did you ever imagine the two of us would be cooking together?’ he taunted.
Never, came the blunt answer.
After that one evening together at Dungelly Court, Dora had never imagined the two of them would ever meet again, let alone share the cooking of a meal in her home.
And, despite all the work Griffin was now doing for her, she couldn’t help wishing they weren’t about to do so now, either…
‘I don’t think of you at all, unless I absolutely have to,’ she told him bluntly. And it was true; she didn’t dare think about him!
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