An Uncommon Sense (3 page)

She stared at him, confused. “You want me to give extra tuition to your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“After I’ve insulted you and told you I think you’re either a complete fraud or a raving lunatic?”

He grinned suddenly, taking her by surprise. “At least you said it to my face. It’s more than most people do.” He sat back with a sigh. “Look, Jodi likes you, I get the feeling she trusts you. She needs someone practical to help her, a no-nonsense person who’ll tell her like it is and make it clear to her she needs to focus on her schoolwork, even if she wants to be an artist. She won’t take it from me after my career turn, and rightly so. It’s my job to tell her to follow her heart. But it would be your job to tell her she still needs to work hard and get her qualifications when the time comes.”

Grace thought about it. She had time to spare and she could do with the extra money. Also, the thought of giving Jodi a little stability in her life appealed to her. Maybe she would be able to get the girl to trust her enough to tell her what the real problem was.

“I can’t promise I’ll keep my opinions to myself,” she said.

His lips curved. “I’m sure she’ll find your honesty refreshing. As do I.”

His stormy-blue eyes met hers. This time, there was something other than amusement in them. Grace’s cheeks grew warm at the sparkle of interest glittering in their depths.

“There’ll be none of that,” she said before she could think better of it.

“Of what?”

“Any funny business.” Her cheeks grew even hotter. “I’ll help you, but it will be purely a business relationship.”

“Of course.” The amusement was back.

“I’m sure you usually only have to bat your eyelids at a girl and she turns into mush, but I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Actually, I beg to differ. I’d known you precisely two seconds and you swooned at my feet.” He winked at her.

“I did not swoon.”

“There was definite swoonage going on. You were practically Victorian.”

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve been called Victorian,” she said indignantly. She patted her bun self-consciously. “Mia thinks I dress too conservatively.”

He ran his gaze slowly down her and then back up again. “On the surface, maybe.”

She frowned, not understanding, then realised when he grinned he was referring to what he’d seen when she’d sat on the floor before him, legs apart. Her stockings and garter belt. And maybe even her black, silky teddy.
Oh God, I hope the teddy was covering everything.
 

“Oh.” Her cheeks burned again. “You
did
see.”

“Sorry, but you were right in front of me—it was difficult
not
to see everything.”

“You didn’t have to mention it. That was extremely impolite.”

His eyebrows rose. “
You’re
giving
me
lessons on being polite?”

She thought about it. “
Touché
.”

Smiling, he tapped her nameplate. “Are you really a Miss? Or is that just school-teacher licence?”

“Are you asking whether I wear nice underwear for a partner or whether I wear it for myself?”

He hesitated. Then he grinned. “Yes.”

“Then just ask, for God’s sake. I hate having to rummage around in people’s words looking for the true meaning behind them.”

He nodded. “Duly noted.”

She zipped up her laptop case. “I’m single. I happen to like pretty underwear.”
 

“So do I. So that’s two things we have in common.” Smiling, he pushed himself to his feet. “We’d better go. I think you’re getting the evil eye.”

Grace looked up, surprised to see they were the last two people left in the auditorium. Professor Michaels was standing in the doorway, tapping his foot impatiently, waiting to lock up. “Oh.”

“Come on. I’ll walk you to your car. It’s dark outside.”

She put the register and pen in her bag, slipped on her jacket and walked with him out of the auditorium, nodding to the professor as they passed and apologising for keeping him waiting.

“Jeez,” said Ash as they went out into the cool night air and walked down to the main road. “What a weird guy.”

“I know. Mia told me I was going to have swear-out-loud sex with the next guy who walked through the door. I was terrified it was going to be him.”

He stopped walking and looked down at her, smiling. “And instead you got me.”

She glanced up. She was five-feet-eight, hardly short for a woman, but he still towered over her. He was like essence of man. She was acutely conscious of the way his shirt sleeves stretched across his generous arm muscles. “You’re not Robert Downey Junior,” she said, a little breathlessly.

He smiled. “No.” His eyes glittered in the light from the street lamp.

“You are gorgeous, though.”

He gave a short laugh. “You really have no control over what comes out of your mouth, do you?”

“Not when I’m nervous. It lands me in heaps of trouble.”

“I kind of like it. I don’t have to worry about what you’re thinking.”

“I can see how that might be appealing.”

They studied each other for a moment. An impish smile gradually spread across his face. “Swear-out-loud sex, huh?”

Her cheeks grew hot. “Mia’s words, not mine.”

“It sounds like an interesting prediction.”

“I don’t believe in predictions.” She swallowed. His eyes had turned quite hot. “Or swearing.”

“You don’t swear?”

“Never.”

“Not even during sex?”

Her eyes widened. “Mr. Rutherford!”

“Yes, Miss Fox?”

“I…” For once, words failed her. He was a man who thought he could speak to dead people. He was certifiable, almost certainly delusional, and quite possibly an outright fraudster.
 

He was also the most gorgeous guy she’d ever met in real life, and the way he was looking at her made her knees go weak. She wrapped her arms around the laptop case as if it were a breastplate that could protect her.

“You’d be surprised how many predictions I’ve made that have come true,” he said, his deep voice husky.

She swallowed. “Well, for a start, Mia made up the stupid horoscope, and she’s usually about as accurate as a stopped watch.” Her voice was faint. “And secondly, there’s no such thing as the ability to see into the future. We exist at a fixed point in time. It’s not possible.” She lifted her chin determinedly.

He smiled. “Even a stopped watch is right twice a day.” His gaze had settled on her mouth.
Ohmygod, he wants to kiss me
.

She gave a little shake of her head. “You’re flirting with me.”

“Am I?”

“Men don’t flirt with me.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“I scare them off.”

He laughed. “Now that I
can
believe.”

“Don’t I scare you?”

He stepped a little closer to her. “Not in the least.”

She looked up into his dark blue eyes. Her skin prickled with his nearness. She
desperately
wanted to kiss him. But she knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t end well. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I’m not your type of girl.”

“Oh? And how do you know what type of girl I like?”

She moistened her lips with her tongue, not missing the way he watched her. “I know. I’m sure you like confident women, who’ve read the Kama Sutra from cover to cover and know massage techniques and own special equipment.”

“You mean like power tools?”

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to be serious. I meant…” How on earth had she got herself into this conversation? She’d only just met the man, for crying out loud. “I mean, I’m sure the women you date are sexy and very good in bed and I’m…not.”

His eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that?”

“I…I’ve been told.” Her cheeks grew hot again.
 

He stared at her. A frown marred his forehead, and something like anger shone in his eyes. Then, gradually, his smile reappeared. “Maybe you just need more practice.”

“I’m a schoolteacher who dresses like she’s stepped out of the Victorian period. How good in bed do you really think I am?”

His smile widened. “Dresses on the
outside
.”

He was talking about her stockings again. She moistened her lips once more. “Silky underwear doesn’t make a woman sexy.”

He gave a small laugh. “Oh, I beg to differ.” He gave her a curious, amused glance. “You are an
exceptionally
sexy woman, Miss Fox. And I am sure that, given the right location, the right encouragement and the right man, you would be
exceedingly
good in bed.”

Chapter Three

“Oh.”

His eyes met hers again. He was definitely going to kiss her.
 

“You’re like Erik the Red incarnate,” she whispered. Six-foot-four of godlike Viking-osity. Her panties were growing damp.

“With slightly less rape and pillaging,” he murmured, lowering his head.

Just then, however, a car went past, startling her out of her trance. She stepped back, shocked at her train of thought.
 

“No!”

He raised his head. “No, what?”

She felt slightly panicky. “I am
not
going to get involved with an Ouija-board-playing, ectoplasm-producing, knock-three-times-if-there’s-anybody-there maniac.”

He put his hands on his hips. “You really
are
right out of the nineteenth century, aren’t you?”

Glancing across the road, she could see Mia’s car parked a little farther down. No doubt Mia had been watching them avidly. “I’m going now.”

He gave a slightly exasperated sigh. “Okay.” He pressed the button on his key at a silver sports car, and its lights flashed. “Are you still happy to tutor Jodi?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t her fault her father was a mesmerizing hypnotist who clearly seduced young, impressionable women.

“I’m guessing you’ll have our address on the school system?”

“Yes.”

“When would be convenient for you to come? Sunday afternoons are good for us. We’re normally back from the shows by then. Jodi goes to my sister’s around five. Would about three o’clock be any good for you?”

“Yes, that’ll be fine.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday, then.” He studied her with a slight smile. “Oh, one thing…my security team will have to do a few background checks. Would you mind telling me your date of birth?”

She shrugged, not seeing any harm in it. “Twenty-sixth of February, 1982.”

“Where were you born?”

She frowned. “The Bay of Islands.”

“Do you know what time?”

“Time? Er…midafternoon. Two-ish, I think. What on earth do you need to know that for?”

“Just one of those silly details they like to know.”

“Okay…” She began to walk away, frowning.

“Grace?”

She turned. “Yes?”

He hesitated, leaning on the roof of the car. He looked at his keys for a moment, as if he was trying to decide whether to tell her something. Then he pushed himself off. “That red scarf you’ve been looking for. It’s under your bed.” He slid into the car, started the ignition and pulled away, giving her one last wave before he disappeared down the street.

Grace watched him go, completely flummoxed by his last comment. Eventually she stirred herself and walked over to Mia’s car, getting in the passenger side.
 

“Hey!” Mia’s eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. “What was that all about? He looked like he was about to kiss you!”

“Did you set me up?” Grace said, confused and irritated.

Mia looked at her blankly. “Eh?”

“Had you talked to him beforehand? Told him…stuff about me?”

“What are you talking about? That’s the first time I’d seen him, in the auditorium. When you sat on the floor and showed him the Ace of Spades. Please tell me you’re not going commando.”

“Mia!”

“Honestly, how on earth can your name be Grace? I’ve never met a less elegant woman.”

“Did you tell him I lost my red scarf?” Grace snapped.

Now Mia clearly thought she’d lost the plot. “What
are
you talking about?”

Grace glared at her, turned in her seat and stared out the window. “Just drive. I need to get home.”

Mia started the car. They didn’t speak as she drove, Mia clearly aware something was up.

As soon as she pulled up outside the house, Grace leaped out and marched indoors.

They shared the house with Freya, a slightly younger woman who was a nurse at the local hospital. Freya worked shifts, but tonight she was in, sitting on the sofa watching TV, eating chocolate biscuits out of the packet. She’d scraped her shiny blonde hair off her face in a clip and wore trackpants with a T-shirt two sizes too big, and she was clearly not expecting visitors. “Hey! How’d it go? Did you…” Her voice tailed off as Grace walked straight past her and down the corridor to her room.