Possessed by a Stranger (13 page)

After witnessing his
temper, she thought it best to stop her latest game with Garret
Presley. But really, he started this game. On the same auction site
where she bought Louise’s last painting a bidder known as
wolfman
had doubled her
bid on an item. She suspected it was P. Garret at the time and it
was his way of retaliating over the painting. Testing her theory
she placed an item up for auction, something she normally wouldn’t
do. She had her own website to sell items. She just bought things
from other auction sites. On this particular site the seller could
set a base price by placing the first bid, which she did at double
the items value. She knew any experienced antique dealer would
scoff at the price. Low and behold,
wolfman
doubled the bid.
Gotch ya!
Of course, he
won the bid, along with five others she placed on sale. Now, seemed
as a good a time as any, to stop her amusing game, while he was
still unaware … or not.

That arrogant ass thought she was a stalker
and he deserved to be taught a lesson. Since money was his bitch
maybe he needed another bitch to relieve him of the burden of his
first bitch. God, was she feeling bitchy. His uncalled for assault
would cost him a pretty penny before she was through with him.
Hannah hurried to the safety of her cottage, stewing over his
repulsive actions. She would keep a safe distance while retaliating
online.

Garret parked in front of the house not
taking the time to open the garage. He vaulted up the stairs two at
a time. His mother must have heard his car and met in in the foyer
as he opened the door.

“What was that woman doing here?” He demanded
before his mother could speak. She immediately wore her
watch-your-tone face.

“Well, hello to you too. Oh, you mean Hannah
Greer. She’s restoring the cottage at the end of the lane. Pop’s
talked to her for hours today. She perked him right up. You might
want to go see him now, before he goes to sleep. He’s probably worn
out.”

“Was she alone with him?” He was the only one
in this family that cared about his grandfather’s safety. His own
mother allowed a stalker into his home. Shit, now faced with his
mother’s disapproving glare he realized he should have lowered his
voice. His mother stood in her lecture stance with her accusing
finger pointed at him.

“What is wrong with you? You act like she’s
some kind of criminal. I know I told you about her moving back into
the cottage. You or your father never listen to anything I say. You
both pretend to listen and this just proves I have important things
to say. She’s the last of the Abernathy’s. She looks just like her
great grandmother and I think Pops thought she was Louise. I’ve
told you both he’s losing his mind.” She stormed into the sitting
room.

Hannah hadn’t said restoring her cottage
just the Abernathy cottage. That detail should have been the first
thing out of her mouth. Garret bounded upstairs to check on his
grandfather. He would apologize to his mother later. The last of
the Abernathy’s explained a lot, the paintings, the cottage and,
damn it, her reason to talk to his grandfather.

Garret opened his grandfather’s bedroom door.
The nurse left, as usual, to give them some privacy. His
grandfather smiled as soon as he saw him. He regretted not taking
time to come sooner. His grandfather’s physical regression had
escalated dramatically.

“Boy, you should have got here earlier. I had
a pretty little visitor and I might have shared her with you.
She’ll be back tomorrow and you can meet her. You’ll see why we
Presley men fell for the Abernathy clan.” Pops sounded more like
his old self with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“What did she want?” He calmed his voice
while he patted Pops’ frail hand. An ache grabbed his heart knowing
these moments would soon end.

“To learn about her relatives. Your mom
thinks I’m senile because I called her Louise. Abby and I always
called her Louise when we talked. It’s her middle name, Hannah
Louise Greer. She has grown up to be the exact replica of
Louise.”

“Is that all you talked about, her past?” He
hated to question Pops but he wanted answers about Hannah. She
still could have other motives than just her history and he
intended to find them if she did.

“What else would we talk about? If I wasn’t
stuck in this bed, I would have done more than talk. Abby thought I
was too young for her. Now, here comes another Abernathy and I’m
too old. I might have to leave this one to you.” Pops’ laughter
crackled with age.

“That’s the Pops I remember. How are you
feeling today?” Garret sat in the chair beside his grandfather’s
bed somewhat relieved.

“Like a spring chicken. You’re looking good.
I was beginning to worry about you. You looked stressed the last
time I saw you.”

“Everything is going fine. I got rid of the
blood suckers at the foundation.”

Pops’ eyes looked livelier than Garret had
seen in quite a while. Garret filled Pops in on all the family
business. The old man liked to be kept up to date on family
affairs, instead of being treated as if he were already dead and
buried. Garret respected him enough to ignore his failing health.
He talked to the vivid mind of his grandfather that still
functioned inside his decaying body.

CHAPTER SEVEN

By his grandfather’s request, Garret drove to
the end of the lane to Hannah’s cottage. After all, she was in
possession of all four paintings and he wanted to see her again. At
least, now that he knew, she wasn’t after his money. If she wanted
to waste her time trying to locate some hidden gold, it was her
choice. In a court of law, the gold, if ever located, might be
ruled to belong to her anyway.

Garret stopped in front of the cottage. He
exited his car to face his angry nymph. Oh yeah, she was going to
be pissed. As mad as she was yesterday, he might get shot if she
owns a gun. He regretted scaring her but after he explained she
would understand. The situation was almost comical. They both
wanted the paintings because of their grandparents. Their meeting
and their mutual search for the paintings might actually be a
coincidence. Although, she probably wanted the paintings to find
the treasure. He would soon find the answer, if she didn’t kill him
first.

The old cottage he remembered from his youth
was restored. The transformation was impressive. The restoration
must have taken extensive research and a lot of work to look this
good this fast. He should have hired her to do his townhouse as
quickly as she finished this project. He knocked on the newly
varnished door. The pitter patter of footsteps stopped as the door
swung toward him. He stepped back to avoid being slammed by the
heavy door.

Yep, she was pissed. “Are you going to invite
me in?” He ignored her frown and the piercing daggers in her fiery
blue eyes. He had always heard a blue flame burned hotter. He was
about to find out if there was any truth to that old adage.

The last person in the world, Hannah expected
to be standing on her stoop, stood on her stoop as if nothing
happened yesterday. He obviously was void of even a lick of common
sense or arrogantly oblivious to other people’s feelings. Either
way, his unexpected appearance wasn’t welcomed, no matter how
handsome he looked in casual clothes.

“Hell no, I most certainly am not. Maybe, I’m
the one that needs a restraining order. Why are you here? Wait, let
me correct that question. What do you want now?” She saw no reason
to hide her anger now that he was the trespasser.

This was the tantrum throwing Hannah he saw
in the video at the bar. Damn, she was sexy. “I probably deserve
that. I might have jumped to conclusions about your motives. I
wasn’t sure which fortune you were after.”

“Motives? Fortune?” She spat the words as her
body reverberated from the furious stomp of her foot. “Oh my God,
you think I’m after your money. I don’t need or want your money. I
actually work for what I have and I make more than enough to get
by. Believe it or not, people have lives that don’t involve
tricking you out of a piddling of your wealth. There are some
things in life more important than money.”

“And yet you’re holding on to the paintings
for a better price.” Her angry blush matched her red dress. He
ripped her dress off her sexy body with his eyes. He knew what
treasures were hidden under that dress. Treasures he wanted to see,
touch, taste and so much more.

“I’m not going to waste my breath, trying to
explain to you what those paintings mean to me. Those paintings are
a part of my heritage … not yours. They’re not for sale at any
price.” Had he even heard a word she had said? His gaze seemed
distant above the strange grin on his lips.

“Paintings that you think will lead you to a
fortune. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll pay whatever you want for
the paintings. More than any gold you might find. It’s important to
my grandfather and I’m running out of time. Surely, you saw how
frail he’s getting.” He lost track of his goal for a moment. In
trying to raise her temper gauge for his own amusement, he
temporarily forgot the paintings were to please his
grandfather.

“No … They aren’t for sale. You are an
arrogant ass to even think I would sell them. I don’t want them to
look for a treasure that I don’t even believe exists. Why does
everything have to be about money with you? Isn’t there something
of your grandfather’s you want to keep to remember him, other than
his money? What price would you put on that?”

Oh great, now she thought he was a heartless
bastard. That may be truer than she thought but not where his
grandfather was concerned. “I want to remember I fulfilled a
promise. I promised Pops those paintings. He believes in the
treasure and he promised that woman he would solve the mystery. It
all sounds idiotic to me, but it’s his dream. Otherwise, I wouldn’t
give a shit about some paintings.”

“Do you mean Abby, my grandmother?” The
truthfulness in his voice was surprising. She understood him
wanting to please his grandfather. She wondered how far she would
go if the circumstances were reversed. The answer was clear. She
would go to hell and back.

“I guess. I don’t listen to details about
some fairy tale. Can we come to some kind of agreement for his
sake?” His conceding tone prompted her to look closer. There was
weariness in his face along with a slight droop to his shoulders.
Exhaustion had invaded her big strong man.

“I’m not selling them. Let me make that
perfectly clear. What do you have in mind?” She stared into his
eyes scrutinizing every glimmer or involuntary movement. Making a
judgment call with her softening heart could be a fatal mistake.
His eyes spoke of the truth and a great deal of agitation. No,
wasn’t a word that sat well with Garret Presley, tired or not.

“Loan them to him. Or at least let him see
them and tell him you have them. If he knew they were with you it
might be enough.”

She had already decided to show the paintings
to Pops. She planned to bring them to him on her next visit, which
now, may be never. The paintings carefully packed in the trunk of
her car were meant to be shared by people who would appreciate
their meaning. Who better, than someone that knew and loved her
ancestors? Just because Garret was involved, wasn’t a reason to
back out. She glared him a warning. “Wait here.” There was always
the added feature of making him feel like an ass.

She typed a loan agreement on her computer.
After she printed the document she retrieved the paper and a pen.
When she turned to bring them to the door, she bumped into Garret.
Crap, how long had he been standing there? Instead of backing away
from his intimidation tactic, she smacked the paper on his
chest.

“Sign it.” The pen waved from her other hand
as she stood her ground.

Garret placed his hand over hers, which she
quickly slid down, leaving his on the paper. So, she still thought
she had a choice in regards to them. He stretched out the paper to
read. His eyes went from the agreement to her eyes. The fire
radiating out of her eyes raised a fire inside him. He had waited
way too long to relive that night and he was horny as hell after
being tied up with work. His mouth salivated as a whiff of
strawberries infiltrated his nostrils.

The crux of the agreement sunk in to his
preoccupied mind, gripping his attention. She agreed to loan the
paintings to Garret Presley for the remainder of Grant Presley’s
life.

Garret placed the paper on an end table and
read it again away from her as a distraction. “Thank you. This will
make him very happy and will drive my father up a wall. You didn’t
have to have an agreement. I would have made sure you got them
back.”

He signed the agreement, leaving it on the
table with the pen. He was truly thankful this particular headache
was over. If she hadn’t obtained all the paintings he may never
have found them. Now, he could move on to more pressing matters.
The thought of playtime with her was pressing hard against his
shorts.

“I may be overly generous with things I
treasure but I know how to legally protect them. The paintings are
in the trunk of my car. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it
for your grandfather because it’s what my grandmother would want.”
She tossed her car keys up in the air then stomped to her door.

Snatching the keys in mid-air he followed her
to the door. “Are you coming to the house today? Pops is expecting
you.” He walked outside to the stoop.

What in the hell was wrong with this man?
“And give you the pleasure of having me arrested for trespassing? I
don’t think so. You can explain to him what an ass he has for a
grandson.” Hannah shut the door. She watched him from the window
concealed by a veil of creamy semi-sheer curtains. His manly scent
had filled the room. He smelled so damn good.