Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [30]
“Who’s here?” Rachel-Ann asked by way of greeting, stopping to rub Roofus’s shaggy head. Roofus adored her as much as he disliked Dean, and he rolled on his back happily, a huge puppy enjoying the attention.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a Range Rover in the driveway and Dean’s got someone in the dining room. I can hear the two of them laughing. Has he got someone new?”
“Not exactly. We do.”
Rachel-Ann sat down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve got a guest. He got burned out of his apartment and he’ll be staying with us for a while.”
“Is he cute?”
“Don’t be adolescent, Rachel-Ann,” Jilly said in exasperation. “He’s not your type.”
“Then he’s Dean’s?”
“Not that, either. He’s too much like Jackson—you wouldn’t want to get anywhere near him, no matter how gorgeous he is.”
“Gorgeous?” Rachel-Ann perked up. She’d always had a weakness for beautiful men. Hell, she’d always had a weakness for any man, Jilly thought mournfully.
“Not your type,” she said again.
“Is he yours?” Rachel-Ann leaned over and took the last piece of pizza from her plate.
“How well do you know me?”
“Better than you know yourself, sweetie,” her sister said. “Is this all the pizza we have left?”
“Yup. But you can ask Coltrane where he ordered it from. He’s the one who had it delivered last night.”
“Oh, that one! Why didn’t you say so? A gorgeous man who knows good pizza and has Daddy’s approval?” Rachel-Ann murmured. “What more could a girl ask?”
Her tone was flippant, but Jilly felt her stomach sink. Her brain began its whispering litany of disaster as her stomach knotted.
“Do you have a meeting tonight?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Don’t interfere, Jilly.” Rachel-Ann’s reply was flippant again. “I went to a noon one. Now I’m ready for a little relaxation.”
Jilly could hear the sound of their voices, cheerful, intrusive male voices heading for the kitchen, and the anxiety rose into full-fledged panic. She wanted to take Rachel-Ann’s fragile hand and drag her out the back door. Roofus had lifted his head with a warning growl, recognizing the approach of his nemesis. He disliked Dean, and doubtless a dog of his discernment would hate Coltrane, as well.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested desperately. Roofus looked hopeful, but Rachel-Ann, her intended companion, ignored her, sliding off the table with a faint gleam in her eyes. Jilly remembered that gleam, and her heart sank.
“I want to meet the pizza man,” she said.
Jilly watched in fascination. She’d seen Rachel-Ann do it a thousand times, any time a good-looking man was in her vicinity. Actually he didn’t have to be good-looking—any man got the full, glorious treatment. She was small, frail, almost girlish when she was relaxed, but when a man came in sight she tossed her red-gold hair, squared her shoulders, and a seductive gleam came into her green eyes. She turned from a wren into a peacock within seconds, and by the time Dean and Coltrane entered the kitchen she seemed to glow with sensuality.
Jilly didn’t move, a helpless voyeur at an accident site. Coltrane had a beer in one hand, paying only scant attention to Dean’s lazy anecdote, and his eyes went directly to Jilly, meeting her gaze. And then they swerved over to Rachel-Ann as she positively radiated heat.
It was even worse than Jilly had imagined. It seemed as if Dean broke off his chatter and a sudden silence filled the room, though Jilly supposed it could have been her imagination.
But she didn’t imagine the sudden tension between Rachel-Ann and Coltrane, so intense that she could practically see sparks fly. Even Roofus felt it. He lumbered to his feet, a low growl in his throat, just as Coltrane’s beer bottle smashed on the old slate floor.
Rachel-Ann was used to having that kind of effect on men. Usually she simply turned up the wattage to blistering levels, but this was different. As Jilly watched, Rachel-Ann closed in on herself, going from a peacock to a wren. She slid back on the table,