Finally, he said, “I'm Connor MacKenzie. And this is my house. I thought it was empty. I just flew all the way from California. It should be empty.”
His name registered quickly. At last, something that made sense. “Are you related to Helen and George MacKenzie?”
“They're my grandparents.”
She breathed her first sigh of relief. He wasn't a serial killer. He was related to the cabin's owner.
“I'm Ginger. Why don't you come in.” She tentatively smiled. “Maybe we can start over and I could offer you a glass of iced tea?”
He didn't smile back. “How do you know my grandparents?”
Did he realize that every word out of his mouth sounded like an accusation? Like she'd screwed up all of his big plans when she didn't know him from Adam.
“I'm renting this cabin from them. Didn't they tell you?”
He stared at her for a long moment, and she got the uncomfortable feeling that he was trying to assess whether she was telling him the truth.
“No.”
There would have been a time when a big, strong man of few words like this would have had her trembling and weak-kneed. She would have assumed she was the one in the wrong even when she clearly had it all right.
Fortunately, a lot had changed in this past year. And she, frankly, wasn't in the mood to be pushed around.
“Wait here.” Sixty seconds later she was back with the signed lease. “Here it is.”
He took the document from her and as he read through it, she was able to take a good long look at him for the first time. Golden-brown hair, deeply tanned skin, thickly lashed eyes, a full yet masculine mouth and strong chin, presently covered with a half-day's stubble.
Now that she was no longer worried that he was going to attack her, on an elemental level, her body suddenly recognized his beauty.
His innate power.
Up close, not only was he strikingly handsome, but he was even bigger than she'd first thought. Between the wide breadth of his chest and the muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt, from the size of his biceps and the way his chest tapered down to slim, tight hips, she could feel her breath slowly leaving her body, quickly being replaced with something that felt — uncomfortably — like desire.
It wasn't until several long moments later that she realized he was staring back at her. His eyes were making a lazy path from her face to her partially covered br**sts, then farther down to her hips and legs before slowly moving back up to her face.
Suddenly, she remembered what she was wearing. Or, more to the point, wasn't wearing.
She'd never go out in public without a bra, but here, in the privacy of her own house, she did as she wished. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about having her own place. The freedom to not only do whatever she wanted, but to wear whatever she wanted.
A tank top and cutoff jeans had never been part of her city vernacular. But here at the lake, especially when she was getting down and dirty with her paints, when the thermometer read eighty and the humidity was ratcheting up all day in preparation for a rainstorm, she liked the bohemian feel of cutoffs.
Not thrilled about flashing some stranger — even less thrilled about him taking any surreptitious pleasure from looking at her — she crossed her arms over her br**sts to stop the peep show. But then she realized he hadn't given her the lease back yet, so she had to unfold one arm and reach for it.
The corners of the papers crumpled in his fist. Damn it, he'd already cut into most of her dwindling painting time for the afternoon. She wasn't in any mood for games.
Switching into a stern demeanor that had been known to make billionaires quiver in their Ferragamos when they
“forgot” to give one of her charities the money they'd publicly promised, she said, “Now that you have your proof, I'd very much appreciate it if you'd give me back my lease.”
But this man didn't quiver. He didn't shake. Instead his eyes continued to hold hers and she was almost certain she saw a challenge in the blue depths.
And wouldn't you know it, her heart started leaping around in her chest. She supposed it was some sort of instinctual response to the combination of his devastating looks and the threat that he clearly posed to her perfect summer on the lake.
“Lucky you,” he drawled. “Getting this place all to yourself this summer.”
She was caught off guard by the way his low, rough voice slipped and slid through her veins so seductively. How the hell had he managed to almost make her toes curl on the porch floors with nothing but a few words?
Up until now he'd been hard. Unyielding. Definitely not in a bargaining mood. But now that she'd not only staked but proved her claim, it looked like he'd decided to change tactics by stunning her with the full force of his sensual power.