He chuckled softly, shaking his head ruefully. ‘Still no chance of my becoming egotistical in your company!’
‘Did you think that might have changed?’ she challenged tartly.
Griffin shrugged. ‘One can live in hopes.’
‘Not over that particular point,’ she told him firmly. ‘Now, do you still need me to hold the ladder for you, or can I get on with some things on my own?’ She quirked an auburn eyebrow at him, a flush to her cheeks after this latest verbal exchange.
Griffin’s expression softened as he looked at her. ‘You know, Izzy, you really—’ He broke off as the telephone began to ring. ‘I know this is probably a silly question,’ he murmured slowly as he looked about them speculatively, ‘but where the hell is the telephone?’
Every surface was now covered with dustsheets after Dora’s previous efforts with painting had ruined one bookcase where the dustsheet hadn’t covered it sufficiently. And, like Griffin, Dora didn’t have any idea where they had put the telephone, the desk where it usually sat having been removed completely from the room.
‘I think we had better try to find it,’ she muttered as the telephone continued to ring persistently, and started to lift the dustsheets to look beneath.
Griffin grimaced. ‘Isn’t seven-thirty a little late for a customer to be ringing?’ He was looking under the dustsheets too now.
‘How would I know? I’m not usually here at seven-thirty!’ Dora came back impatiently, still looking for the ringing telephone.
‘Good point,’ Griffin conceded self-derisively. ‘I— Aha,’ he announced triumphantly as he pounced on the misplaced telephone. ‘Classic Bookshop.’ He spoke clearly into the receiver before Dora could get to it. ‘Hello? Hello!’ he said impatiently. ‘Classic Bookshop,’ he repeated more firmly. ‘Look— Damn it,’ he swore, looking accusingly at the receiver before replacing it back on its cradle. ‘They hung up.’ He scowled.
‘It happens,’ Dora dismissed, moving the telephone to where they would be able to locate it again more easily. ‘Obviously a wrong number.’
Griffin frowned. ‘Or someone who just didn’t want to talk to me. I haven’t messed things up for you, have I?’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘By answering the call?’
‘I told you, it was probably just a wrong number.’ Dora shrugged dismissively. ‘Anyway, you were polite enough, so I can’t see it being a problem—’ She broke off abruptly as she realised what Griffin was asking her.
And the answer to his question was no. She had been out with Sam for a drink or a meal a few times, but certainly not on a regular basis, and there was no romantic relationship there, only companionship. So even if Sam had been the caller, there was certainly no reason why he should have abruptly ended the call when Griffin had answered instead of her.
Nevertheless, she could feel the embarrassed colour enter her cheeks as Griffin continued to look at her.
‘So I have messed something up for you by answering the call,’ he murmured slowly. ‘I thought you told me there wasn’t anyone in your life just now?’ His eyes were narrowed accusingly.
Dora thought back to that conversation she had had with him over a month ago, when he had delivered her wedding invitation. ‘As I remember it, I didn’t actually answer that particular question,’ she returned dryly. ‘We were side-tracked into talking about my father’s death,’ she recalled heavily.
‘So we were,’ Griffin rasped. ‘So who is he, this mystery man who hangs up the telephone when another man answers his call? More to the point—why isn’t he the one here helping you with all this work?’ He scowled darkly.
He was obviously far from pleased at the thought of her having a man in her life, Dora realised. Not that it was any of his business anyway, she thought resentfully; she could have a dozen men in her life if she felt inclined to do so! Well…maybe a dozen was a little excessive, she acknowledged ruefully, but just because she had been engaged to Griffin’s brother, that didn’t give him the right to make comments on her private life! She didn’t dare even mention his!
She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Who he is can be of no interest to you—’
‘I think I would rather be the judge of that,’ Griffin put in grimly.
‘Where my private life is concerned, you have no right to be the judge of anything,’ she returned tautly, grey eyes flashing him a warning. Griffin had always been able to make her angrier than any other person she had ever met! ‘I’m no longer a candidate for membership of the Sinclair family,’ she dismissed, ‘so, if you don’t mind, I’ll be the judge of my own friendships!’ She was breathing hard in her agitation.
Griffin gave her a considering look. ‘I saw this film once, where the female lead totally lost her temper with the hero; then he told her how beautiful she looked when she was angry, and before you knew what was happening the two of them ended up in bed together…’
Dora stared at him. What on earth was he babbling on about?
‘I wouldn’t even think about trying that with me,’ she gasped, as the penny dropped. ‘And I might remind you that you are the one who insisted on helping me out here—’
‘Only because you were making such a damned mess of it on your own.’ He scowled again. ‘Where’s this other man been for the last five days? Where is he now?’
She shrugged unconcernedly. ‘Probably at the hospital. He’s a doctor,’ she explained, before Griffin could make any other assumption about her previous statement; he had a habit of twisting things and conversations to his own advantage!
‘A doctor?’ Griffin echoed disgustedly. ‘You certainly know how to pick them, don’t you, Izzy? One man dedicated to the advancement of his political career, and now this one, who’s probably just as dedicated to medicine! Don’t you think it would be nice to have a man dedicated to you for a change?’ His eyes gleamed deeply green as he looked at her.
Her mouth twisted scornfully. ‘That doesn’t happen in this day and age—’
‘Of course it does.’ He snapped his impatience. ‘It’s just a question of finding the right man!’
‘And just how can you be so sure that Sam isn’t that man for me?’
‘Sam—is that his name?’ Griffin bit out hardly. ‘Well, if Sam were the right man for you, Izzy, you wouldn’t have spent most of Saturday and Sunday with me, or the last few evenings. Or is it a question of while the doctor is busy working at the hospital, the mouse is busy playing?’ he grated disgustedly.
Dora gave a heavy sigh, shaking her head. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about Griffin. Sam is a busy doctor, and we see each other when we can.’ She had gone too far in this conversation now to explain the ‘relationship’ actually only consisted of three meals together, that, pleasant as Sam was, she certainly wasn’t even close to being in love with him. Besides it really was none of Griffin’s business; he didn’t talk to her about Amanda Adams, either! ‘And I’m not playing; this is damned hard work!’
‘Tell me about it,’ Griffin muttered. ‘Hell, I can’t believe— Why the hell didn’t you tell— Oh, to hell with this!’ He threw up his hands disgustedly before climbing back up the ladder, seeming unconcerned by the fact that it swayed precariously as he did so. ‘A coffee would be nice, in about fifteen minutes,’ he called down abruptly, before resuming his painting, pointedly ignoring her now, it seemed.
Yes, sir. Very good, sir. Three bags full, sir!
Dora was so angry at his peremptory tone that she was shaking with the emotion. What on earth was wrong with the man? Did he think that because she had once been engaged to his brother there should be no other men in her life?
No, she was sure he didn’t think that… Hadn’t he told her weeks ago that in the same circumstances Charles would have replaced her long ago? Would probably be married to her replacement by now.
She looked up at him frustratedly, at his back firmly turned towards her as he continued the fixing of the shelf. She had thought of Griffin as an enigma when she’d first met him t
wo years ago, but he was even more of one now. In fact, Dora didn’t feel she understood him at all. His mood swings were completely unpredictable, as well as being, to her mind at least, illogical.
She hardly noticed the time passing, muttering to herself as she worked, and none of it complimentary to Griffin. She would be glad when the work here was finished and he disappeared again.
‘It’s one of the first signs, you know…’
Dora spun around at the sound of Griffin’s voice so close to her ear, only to find him standing right next to her, a mocking smile curving those sculptured lips.
His bad humour of a short time ago certainly seemed to have disappeared—and transferred itself to her, Dora realised. ‘What?’ she snapped irritably.
‘Talking to yourself.’ He grinned unconcernedly in the face of her scowling expression. ‘One of the first signs of insanity,’ he explained.
‘I’m not insane, Griffin,’ she bit out impatiently, straightening away from him; he was far too close again. ‘Mad, perhaps—but only angrily so. I suppose you want that cup of coffee now?’
He inclined his head. ‘If it’s not too much trouble…’
Dora gave him a scathing glance, putting her tape measure down where she would easily be able to find it again. ‘When has causing trouble—in whatever form!—bothered you, Griffin?’ she challenged. Trouble was his middle name!
He followed her through to the small kitchenette at the back of the shop. ‘I—’ He broke off as the telephone began to ring for the second time in half an hour. ‘Want me to get that?’ he drawled derisively, his gaze innocently wide.
She didn’t even qualify his question with an answer, going back through the shop to answer the call. ‘Classic Bookshop,’ she recited impatiently, very conscious of Griffin as he stood in the doorway watching her.
‘Dora?’ Sam realised pleasantly. ‘I haven’t caught you at a bad time, have I? I did telephone the house first, but when there was no reply I remembered you’d mentioned having some work done at the shop…’
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, glancing up to find Griffin had moved further into the shop, that he was at this moment unashamedly listening to her end of the conversation as he leant against one of the larger bookcases, his arms folded casually in front of his chest.
‘Sam!’ she greeted him warmly. ‘How nice to hear from you!’
‘It has been a while,’ he acknowledged ruefully, and Dora was easily able to visualise his pleasantly handsome face. ‘But I realised you needed a little time to yourself after your father died. How are things?’ he added gently.
‘Fine.’ At least they would be if it weren’t for the infuriating Griffin!
‘I wondered if you felt like coming out for a meal?’ Sam suggested lightly. ‘We could catch up on all our news.’
In Sam’s case, unfortunately, that usually consisted of him talking endlessly of work and the hospital. But that had never really bothered her too much in the past; it had meant she wasn’t required to do too much talking herself!
She glanced across at Griffin, turning quickly away again as he arched one eyebrow in enquiry. ‘That sounds lovely, Sam,’ she accepted lightly. ‘When did you have in mind? Tomorrow?’ she repeated as he answered her, again glancing at Griffin. She saw he had now moved out into the middle of the shop, his hands held out pointedly at the half-decorated shop. ‘Tomorrow would be lovely. Thank you, Sam,’ she answered him firmly, determined not to be agitated by Griffin. ‘I’ll expect you about seven-thirty.’ She rang off abruptly.
Griffin hadn’t moved when she looked up again, his expression mildly scornful now. Dora gave him a questioning look.
He shrugged. ‘I think you should have played a little harder to get,’ he told her wryly.
She drew in an angry breath, that burning colour back in her cheeks. ‘That isn’t necessary where Sam is concerned,’ she told him tartly, and meant it; Sam was at best a friend, and she knew that was all she was to him too. ‘Is that how it’s worked for you all these years?’ she challenged Griffin. ‘You’ve played so damned hard to get that every woman simply gave up in the end and went away!’ she added scornfully.
To her annoyance, Griffin just smiled. ‘Oh, I’ve allowed myself to get caught occasionally,’ he murmured throatily. ‘Very enjoyable it was, too.’
Dora’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘You’re such a—’ She broke off, breathing heavily in her agitation.
Part of the reason for her agitation, she realised, was the fact that Griffin could talk about that part of his life so casually. It was nothing to do with her, anyway. She should just feel grateful, after the temptation he had put before her two years ago, that she wasn’t on his list of past conquests!
‘Such a…?’ he prompted, his softly green gaze unblinking.
Dora was the one to look away. ‘A gentleman doesn’t talk about past relationships,’ she snapped.
Griffin laughed softly. ‘Is that what Sam told you?’
She drew in a harsh breath. ‘Hadn’t we better try and get some more work done? After all, we won’t be doing any tomorrow evening,’ she added pointedly.
An evening away from Griffin’s disturbing presence; it would be worth spending an evening in Sam’s not-so-stimulating company just to escape Griffin for a few hours!
‘And whose fault is that?’ Griffin muttered as he moved the ladder and disappeared behind one of the heavy bookcases. ‘So much for the urgency to get all this work finished in time.’ He continued to complain, no longer in sight, his voice sounding slightly hollow. ‘Sam calls and invites you out—and you just drop everything!’
‘Not everything, Griffin, I can assure you’ Dora contradicted dryly; she simply didn’t feel that way about Sam.
‘I suppose that’s something,’ Griffin muttered irritably.
Dora laughed softly, relaxing slightly. She couldn’t help herself. Griffin sounded so disgusted by the whole thing. And, considering the bachelor life he’d enjoyed all these years, his attitude was more than a little hypocritical.
At least, it was the life he had led. No doubt living with his mother, and her marriage plans for him, had curbed all that!
‘How are you enjoying living at home now, Griffin?’ she called out, holding back a smile when all she could hear was his muttered expletives. ‘Sorry?’ she prompted with feigned innocence.
‘I said,’ Griffin bit out caustically, his voice still hollow as it came from behind the bookcase, ‘enjoyment doesn’t come into it! Even painting and building shelves here is preferable to going home,’ he added disgustedly. ‘My mother becomes more impossible to live with every day!’
‘Nice to know I’m useful for something,’ Dora called back tartly, inwardly wondering just how successful Margaret had been so far in matchmaking Griffin with Amanda Adams. But Griffin never mentioned the other woman, and Dora was damned if she would ask him how things were going in that direction!
Griffin made no reply to this comment, and so Dora turned her attention to varnishing the rail a carpenter had installed yesterday. The rail cordoned off a section at the back of the shop that she intended turning into an area where customers could sit and browse through books while they enjoyed a cup of coffee. It was an idea she’d read about, from America, and it seemed to work very well, making choosing books more enjoyable for the customer.
It was just one of those changes she had told Griffin about. Another one was to increase the choice of books available. She simply didn’t have her father’s expertise when it came to classic books, and certainly wasn’t qualified to restore them as he had done, and so she had decided, if she were to continue to run the shop at all, it had to be done her way. It was the only way.
Dora gave a puzzled frown as she heard the bell ring over the shop doorway as the door was opened, and then shut again. It was almost eight o’clock at night. Who on earth—?
She was glad Griffin was so close at hand, swallowing hard before looking apprehensively over the t
op of the railing she was working on.
Margaret!
Her apprehension didn’t lessen in the least from knowing her unexpected caller wasn’t a burglar, but Griffin’s mother! She hadn’t seen Margaret since the wedding, eleven days ago—but the memory of her last conversation with Margaret had stayed with Dora. As had the animosity the older woman had shown her.
What on earth was Margaret doing here, of all places?
More to the point, was Griffin, working behind the bookcase, aware that his mother had just walked into the shop?
‘Margaret,’ she greeted in a loud voice, hoping to alert Griffin, wiping the varnish off her hands with a cloth as she did so. ‘This is unexpected,’ she understated, glancing nervously towards where Griffin was working undetected.
‘Griffin has already left, I see.’ Margaret wasted no time in niceties, having glanced around the shop and seen it was apparently deserted apart from Dora. Tall and slender in a black suit and cream blouse, Margaret gave Dora an icy look. ‘I telephoned here earlier.’ She answered the surprised look on Dora’s face. ‘I believe I am more than capable of recognising my own son’s voice!’
Sam hadn’t been that first caller. When the second telephone call had come, and it had been Sam, she had assumed, as had Griffin, that he had to have been the first caller too…
But it had been Margaret. And the reason she had rung off without identifying herself was that she had known it was Griffin who’d answered the call!
Griffin’s car, like Dora’s, was parked at the back of the shop, which was probably why Margaret hadn’t seen it. And why the other woman had assumed—wrongly!—that Griffin was no longer here!
Dora moistened her dry lips. ‘What can I do for you, Margaret?’ she prompted warily; as far as Margaret was aware, there was no reason to be even remotely polite to Dora tonight…!
The older woman strolled further into the shop, looking about her critically before answering. ‘I believe I have already expressed my—wish,’ she bit out coldly, ‘that you stay away from Griffin. A wish, judging by Griffin’s presence here earlier this evening, that you seem to have totally ignored,’ she added hardily, her eyes narrowed to steely slits.
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