halo of her long brown hair, stroking a bronzed shimmer along her skin and down the length of her…
“What?” her voice demanded, screeching his thoughts to an abrupt halt like a needle being dragged across a record.
“What? I didn’t say anything,” he said. Embarrassed at being caught in his perusal, his face warmed by the second.
Quickly, she turned her scowl on him and then back to the road. “Were you staring at my legs?”
“What?” He tried to sound incredulous. “No, of course not. I was staring at the speaker in your door.”
“There aren’t any speakers in my door,” she snapped.
“Well, see, that’s why I was staring. I didn’t think there was a speaker, so I was trying to figure out what I was looking at.” Oh hell, he thought. Is that the best I can come up with?
“So that’s the story you’re sticking to?” she asked, obviously not amused.
He thought for all of a second before answering her. “Yes, that’s the story I’m sticking to. Because it’s the truth.”
Grace smiled and chuckled softly without humor. “Okay, Quentin. If you say so.”
He didn’t dare reply. In the interest of self-preservation, he stared unblinking out the passenger window.
Grace all but ran from the car to the front door. She needed to get out of the heat. Not bothering to shut the door behind her, she carefully put the backpack on the table in the foyer, then booked it to the powder room for a towel. She was sweating like a you-know-what in church, in places girls should never sweat. Quentin didn’t have so much as a slight glisten on his upper lip or brow. That seemed to be a constant with him—being calm, cool, and collected. So not fair, she thought.
“You want some lemonade?” Quentin asked, as she approached him in the kitchen, somewhat drier after her quick pat-down. “There’s still some left from our lunch yesterday.”
“Yes,” she said. “I want to stay inside, though. It’s obviously not that hot to you, but I’ve managed to sweat all my makeup off.” She sat at the table in the breakfast nook, going over what happened at the bank, and what Limye had said. As vexation built up more in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t sit still.
Quentin sat across from her. She watched as he continued rubbing at his shirtsleeve. “Hey, I said I could take the heat. I didn’t say I liked it.”
While he took a drink, Grace eyed him. Everything about today unnerved her. Quentin knew what was going on, and that irritated her. “True, but you’re a man. You’re the one that’s supposed to be all sweaty and gross, not me.”
“We could go for a swim,” he suggested.
“Why? So you can ‘not’ stare at my legs some more?”
“I wasn’t staring at your legs!”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What? I wasn’t,” he tried again.
“Uh-huh.”
“Even if I was—but I wasn’t—you won’t have to worry, because your legs will be in the water.” His face split in an I’m-proud-of-myself-for-coming-up-with-that-logic smile.
“You’re right. I won’t have to worry about you staring at my legs at least.”
“Come on, give me some credit. I’ll be a perfect non-staring gentleman, scout’s honor.” Giving her an innocent look, he held two fingers up in the Boy Scout salute.
Trying not to smile, she failed. “Were you really a scout?”
Quentin waggled his eyebrows. “No, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”
“No. It sounded sneaky. I’ll be right back.” Exasperated, she finished the last drink of her lemonade. “I’m going to change.” She set her glass in the sink, then headed for her room. Before hitting the stairs, she grabbed the backpack with Pandora in it from the table in the foyer.
Grace’s bedroom was on the second floor. She kept several swimsuits at her grandfather’s, none of which she particularly cared for. That’s why they were left at her grandfather’s. She never expected anyone of importance to see her in them. Not that she should care what Quentin thought.
Grumbling, she stared apprehensively at the suits spread across her bed. The yellow one-piece was definitely out. She picked that one up and tossed it on the floor. The teeny-weenie hot pink two-piece was absolutely out. She threw that little piece of fabric somewhere in the vicinity of the yellow one. That left the black tankini and the red monokini. She held them both up and decided the red one was best, then tossed the black one on the floor with the other two.
Quickly changing and double-checking the knots she tied at her hips and around