It wasn’t the colour of his eyes which rattled her, however, but the intense dislike she glimpsed in their chilly depths.
For a split second her step faltered, but then she continued on down the stairs, smiling at him and pretending he wasn’t looking at her as if she was his worst enemy.
All the while she was wondering why he was so antagonistic towards her, as well as who he might be.
She’d presumed, when she’d first seen his expensive business suit, that he’d been sent from the bank that had repossessed the house. Now that she could see him better, however, she changed her mind on that score.
He didn’t look like a banker. His thick, wavy black hair was worn too long for that career, just reaching his collar at the back. There was also something decidedly unconservative about his roughly hewn features. If she wasn’t mistaken his nose had been broken at some stage. And there was the hint of a five-o’clock shadow around his strongly squared jaw line.
Put him in less elegant clothes, and one would have thought he did something physical for a living. Physical and dangerous.
A prize fighter, maybe. Or a pirate.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ she apologised politely as she reached the bottom step.
Russell almost laughed. She wasn’t sorry about anything.
Females like her thought the world was their oyster. Of course, being rich and beautiful was a powerful combination. Though possibly, now that her doting father’s financial situation had changed, she would have to rely more on her beauty.
It irked Russell that he found her just as attractive with her clothes on, though that image of her in the nude wasn’t far from his mind. It also irked him that she looked fantastic without any of the artifices that were rich bitches’ stock-in-trade.
Not a single scrap of make-up adorned her lovely face, not to mention her even more lovely green eyes.
Hadn’t he known they’d be beautiful?
Of course, they were her mother’s eyes.
He stared hard at her and tried to see what she’d inherited from her father, beside her natural air of self-containment.
‘And you are?’ she asked coolly as she stretched out her right hand towards him.
‘McClain,’ he ground out, steeling himself as he shook her hand. Touching her in any way, shape or form could be hazardous, so he kept any contact as brief as possible. ‘Russell McClain.’
‘That name rings a bell,’ she said, a delicate frown creasing her forehead. ‘Have we met before?’
‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so,’ she mused aloud. ‘But…’ The frown abruptly disappeared, replaced by a smile which twisted Russell’s gut into a terrible knot. ‘I know who you are now,’ she said with a flash of recognition. ‘You’re the McClain on all those For Sale signs around Sydney. You’re McClain Real Estate.’
‘That’s me,’ he admitted.
‘So you’ve been hired to sell the house.’
‘No.’
She looked taken aback. ‘I don’t understand. If you’re not here as a real-estate agent, then why are you here?’
‘I’m here, Ms Power,’ he said, his mouth curving in anticipation of his moment of triumph, ‘not to sell this house, but to take possession of it. As of an hour ago, it’s mine, along with all its contents.’
Once again, he was denied satisfaction. Because she didn’t look devastated. Just surprised.
‘Goodness! That was quick. Did you get a bargain?’
‘I paid the market price,’ he said somewhat stiffly. Why wasn’t she more upset?
The answer was obvious: because she already knew about the bank’s repossession and probable fire-sale. Why? Because she was still in touch with her doting father.
‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘I would have thought the bank might have auctioned it. But no matter. My only concern is removing my personal things.’
‘Why didn’t you remove them before this?’ he asked abruptly.
‘I would have if I’d known the situation. But I didn’t. I’ve been overseas for the last few months. Although once Mum contacted me and told me what had happened, I flew back straight away. My plane got in first thing this morning. I honestly didn’t think it would cause any trouble if I came here to collect my things. I didn’t mean to stay long, but I was so wrecked after the flight that I couldn’t resist a sleep.’
‘I see,’ he bit out. Now he knew why she hadn’t been in the news lately. She’d been overseas. Probably staying in various playgrounds of the rich and famous: St Moritz, the French Riviera, maybe the Greek islands? Her skin had that warm, honey colour which indicated a life of leisure in the sun.
‘Look, it won’t take me too long to pack what I want,’ she went on hurriedly. ‘I promise I won’t take anything I shouldn’t. The household silver is safe, I can assure you,’ she finished with another of those gut-twisting smiles.
Damn it all, what was it about this creature which entranced him so?
He wanted to hate her, but he was finding it darned difficult.
Russell vowed to try harder.
‘You obviously still have a set of house keys,’ he pointed out sharply.
‘I promise to leave them behind. We could arrange a hiding place.’
‘I don’t think so, Ms Power. I’ll stay till you go. That way you can hand them to me personally.’
Her shrug showed the first trace of irritation. ‘If you insist.’
‘I insist.’
‘It could take me quite a while,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to contact a girlfriend and get her to bring over her car. I have a lot of clothes and only a couple of suitcases.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll wait.’
Her very pretty mouth tightened. ‘You’re being ridiculous, do you know that?’
‘I’m being careful.’
‘I only want what is rightfully mine.’
‘So do I. I’ve paid twenty million dollars for the privilege.’
‘Twenty million! Wow! And there I was thinking you were a greedy opportunist.’
Russell drew himself up to his full six feet three inches.
‘I don’t take advantage of other people’s misfortunes,’ he said, stung by her remark.
‘In that case you should appreciate my situation more,’ she said. ‘And be a little more accommodating. I mean, you’re not moving in here right this second, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Then what’s your problem?’ she threw at him, green eyes flashing. ‘Surely you don’t think I’m going to strip the place bare.’
‘I have no idea what you might do, Ms Power. I don’t know you.’
Her hands found her hips. ‘Then why do you dislike me so much?’
‘I don’t,’ he lied.
‘Huh! I can always tell when someone doesn’t like me, and you don’t like me, Mr McClain.’
‘You’re imagining things,’ he said.
‘If I am, then goodness knows how you got to be such a success at your job. I always thought