He linked his fingers again, his blue eyes studying her. “Three years. But we’d got divorced two years before that.”
“Does Jodi have a close female to talk to? Does she get on with your partner?”
He said nothing for a moment. Beside her, Mia coughed, and Grace saw his gaze slide across to her, then back. Amusement filled his eyes, and she realised what he thought she was trying to find out.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” she snapped. “If I’d wanted to know if you were single, I’d have asked you outright.”
He laughed. “You really have a habit of saying what you’re thinking, don’t you?”
“It’s a tic,” said Mia. “It’s a bit like Tourette’s, only without the swearing.”
“Go to the car,” Grace instructed her hotly. “Go on. I’ll be out when I’m finished.”
Mia stuck out her tongue but picked up her laptop. Ash smiled and nodded to her as she walked away, turning his amused gaze back to Grace.
“I really wasn’t asking,” she said, embarrassed now at her outspokenness. “Mia was right—I have this problem where I seem to have no inner vetting device. My mouth says what it wants, and it bypasses my brain completely.”
“It’s okay. I believe you.”
“It’s not that you’re not gorgeous or anything,” she continued hastily, afraid she’d hurt his feelings. “I’m just trying to steer clear of dating anyone who’s vaguely got a screw loose.”
Oh dear Lord. His face was a picture.
She put her head in her hands and counted to ten. I’m going to get sacked. He’s going to report me to Professor Michaels and I’ll be court martialled. Just pretend it didn’t happen. Perhaps he’ll think he imagined it.
She lowered her hands. “Anyway…”
“I’m single,” he said. His right hand played with her nameplate, but his gaze was on hers.
“I really didn’t ask.”
“I know.”
His eyes were steady. He was informing her that Jodi didn’t have a woman at home she could talk to. He was just answering her question—that was all. There was no hidden meaning behind it.
Grace pushed her glasses up her nose and cleared her throat. “It’s quite common for teenagers to feel they can’t talk to their parents, Mr. Rutherford. The important thing is that she’s aware there are other avenues available if she needs them. I can ask our Guidance Department to call her in for an introduction. She may not want to talk, but at least the opportunity is there, and they’re completely confidential.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Please also make it clear to her she can come and talk to me at any time. I always state at the beginning of the year I have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, and my door is always open.”
“She does like you. I think your lessons are her second favourite.” He smiled.
“What’s her favourite subject?”
“Art. She’s an excellent artist. She spends hours in her room drawing and painting.” He sighed. “I’d much rather she be good at something solid like maths or science and get a decent profession behind her, but I’m afraid I didn’t set a very good example where sensible career choices are involved. I can hardly ask her to do what I didn’t—that would be hypocritical.”
Grace studied him curiously. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected from a doctor-turned-medium. She’d thought he’d be melodramatic, artsy-fartsy and arrogant, but he didn’t seem like that at all. He looked more like a doctor, to be perfectly honest—a very tall, sexy, good-looking doctor. No doubt his female patients had queued up at his surgery to get their internals carried out.
“What on earth made you decide to give up your practice for something so…peculiar?” Again, the words were out before she could stop them and he raised an eyebrow. She backtracked. “I mean…it must have been a difficult decision, when you ran a successful surgery, to decide to jack it all in and become a con-artist.” There was a second of silence. “Oh jeez. I’m doing well tonight.”
“I gather from your words that you don’t believe in psychic abilities?”
She laughed. “I’m a scientist, Mr. Rutherford. I don’t see how anyone who has even a semblance of a grasp of the way the forces of nature work could believe in something so…”
He raised an eyebrow and waited for the insult.
“…unusual,” she managed lamely.
He smiled. “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’”
“Shakespeare wasn’t a scientist.”
“No, that’s true.”
She frowned. How could she put this tactfully? “Have you thought about giving it up? The medium thing? And being a doctor again? If it would make Jodi happier?”
He tipped his head. “It wasn’t an easy decision to do what I’ve done. It was something that took years to come to fruition, and I fought it all the way. You don’t think I’d rather be a doctor? Save my daughter all the hassle? Have a nice, normal life? But eventually I felt I had to be true to myself. And that’s what I’d like to give to Jodi—the knowledge that even though it may not be easy, you have to follow your heart.”
His deep voice was captivating, his eyes mesmerising. She blinked and tried to shake off the spell. “That sounds very noble. But…” She bit her lip, trying hard to phrase the question before it came out of her mouth.
“Go on,” he prompted, amused again. “You can say it. I guarantee I’ve heard worse.”
“Do you really think you can talk to dead people?” She couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of her voice.
He turned her nameplate around in his hands. “I’d be a pretty crap medium if I didn’t.”
They studied each other for a moment. He seemed calm and not at all worried by her scepticism. Presumably, he was used to it. “I don’t get it,” she admitted. “You seem so normal.”
“As opposed to…”
“You don’t appear delusional.”
He laughed. “Is that what you think mediums are? Delusional con-artists? We’re either kidding ourselves or out to defraud the public?”
“Pretty much. And since you don’t appear delusional…”
“You think I take advantage of the bereaved, the weak-willed and the emotionally needy. You think I’m skilled at noting small details, or that I do research on people I’m going to read, and I use those details to fool them into thinking I’ve found out intimate things about them. You believe I’m manipulative at best, cruel, heartless and conniving at worst.” His eyes glittered. “You don’t have a very good opinion of me, do you, Miss Fox?”
He’d pretty much summarised what had been going through her head. How had he managed to turn it around so it sounded as if she were so mean? “I don’t know you. You seem like a nice man. I’m sure you were a very good doctor. But I don’t believe in an afterlife, and I certainly don’t believe in a person’s ability to talk to people on the ‘other side’. And therefore, in my head, you must either be delusional or a charlatan.”
They studied each other again. He looked a little sad. Good Lord. How many times could she insult the man in one night? He’d only come in to talk about his daughter.
She looked down and closed her register. “I’m sorry. As I said, I’m very tired, and you caught me on a bad evening. What you do with your life is obviously no business of mine, and I’m sorry I insulted you. You seem like a very nice man, and you quite clearly love your daughter and want her to be happy. Jodi is my only concern—the only thing I can do anything about. I will keep an eye out for her in class and around the school, and I’ll try to help her a bit more with her classwork.”
He put the nameplate down and sat forward, elbows on knees. “Actually, I have a proposition to put to you.”
She blinked. “Oh?”
“I’m looking for someone to give Jodi extra tuition in the basics—English, maths and science. A few hours a week and I’ll pay well.” He named a figure, which was generous with
out being ostentatious. Grace’s eyebrows lifted. “I want someone I know will keep her grounded, someone she’ll trust, who’ll try to help keep her on track.” He studied her. “Would you like to help? No pressure. I’ll completely understand if you say no.”
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?”
An Uncommon Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 1 Page 2
