Worlds Apart (4 page)

Roo never betrayed a confidence. She liked to think she was organized. She made loads of lists. She even had lists of lists. But the word efficient worried her. Roo might make lists but then she lost them. She tended not to think in a linear way, which meant she was easily distracted. It really didn’t take much to sidetrack her—an unusual crack in the pavement that might suddenly open to swallow her, an overflowing litter bin that could contain a rotting skull. Even thinking about being distracted, distracted her. Roo gave herself a mental smack upside the head.

Concentrate.

They wanted someone courteous—she always said please and thank you in a polite voice. Well, unless people were rude, and then she said it sarcastically.

Someone flexible—she could wrap her legs around her neck if she was lying on the bed, and she could stand with her palms flat on the floor without bending her knees. Roo grinned. She knew that wasn’t what was meant, but now she’d seen Mr. Gorgeous, the thought of demonstrating her flexibility appealed.

Someone with integrity. Well, she tried to be honest but sometimes it was better to tell fibs. Kindness above everything else because love comes before the truth. Not that she’d ever been in
proper
love. She thought she had. Lots of times. But if the guy didn’t love her back, then he wasn’t right for her and so she couldn’t have loved him. Any of them.

Probably.

Still hurt though.

Concentrate.

Someone not prone to panic. Yes, well, that could be a problem. The words Roo and panic went together like bread and Marmite. Not that she liked Marmite. Okay, going together like bread and butter was better, though butter was bad for you and she didn’t often eat it. Though she did like it and always picked it if there was a choice between that and some low-fat spread.

Concentrate! What was I thinking about?

Panic.

Well, it didn’t take much to throw her into confusion. She’d been told by numerous teachers and…other people she didn’t want to think about ever again, that she had an overactive imagination. Roo wasn’t so sure about that. Wasn’t that the whole point of having an imagination? You want it to be overactive to make sure you don’t do anything dangerous. Surely she wasn’t the only one concerned about what would happen if an alien spaceship landed in your garden, or if vampires really existed, or if that big dog walking toward you was a werewolf. Play dead or run? Roo had decided she’d climb a tree.

She snuggled deeper into the cushion. She was tired. The chicken costume weighed a ton and her feet ached. She’d had to walk from Ilkley station, down a gentle slope and then up the equivalent of Kilimanjaro before she reached Thorpe Lane. From there it was a hop, skip and a series of jumps over pot holes for at least another half a mile before she’d found the gates to Sutton Hall. It lay at the end of a long, rutted drive and was surrounded by woods. The place looked really old, a bit like the Munster’s House, come to think of it.

Roo might as well have turned round at that point. There was no way she could get here every morning without getting up at the butt crack of dawn. A bus into Leeds and then a train to Ilkley—the cost would cripple her, let alone the time it would take, and then there was the long slog from the station. In any case, Roo had to face the fact that the chance of getting this job was miniscule. But she never gave up on anything without a fight.

As Teddy Roosevelt said, “
Believe you can and you’re halfway there.”

Chapter Three

When Roo opened her eyes, the room was empty. Where was everyone? She wiped her mouth to check for drool and sat up. Had she snored, said something embarrassing in her sleep or—
Oh God
—farted? Roo had no idea whether she did any of those, but she always worried she might, and one of them or all of them could be the reason no boyfriend had ever hung around.

She stood and pulled at the hem of her skirt to straighten the material and drag down a few nonexistent inches. “
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.
”
Thanks, Teddy!
Except if she tugged the skirt too far down, it showed a bare patch across her midriff.
Oh damn.

This was as far from her interview outfit as she could get, but then she’d imagined spending the day as a chicken and had dressed to stay cool. She ought to extract her shoes from the binding of the chicken feet, but it had taken so long to get the damn things to stay in place without them twisting backward every time she took a step, that Roo was tempted to remain barefoot. But then that didn’t look—

“Ms. Smith?”

Roo spun round. The guy with blond hair stood by the door. He was tall, had to be at least six-three. The late-afternoon sun illuminated him from behind and dazzled her, and it rather looked as if he had shimmering wings. She tilted her head to one side to check. No, oh that was disappointing.

He tilted his head to meet her gaze. “If you’d like to come this way.”

Roo straightened. She’d come this way and that way, in fact any way he wanted.
Bad girl
. How could a guy as attractive as him fail to be great in bed? But then maybe he was crap in bed and the good looks were to compensate. That might be true of all good-looking guys. It had been in Roo’s experience. Not that she was very experienced. He stumbled slightly and Roo gulped. Good thing he couldn’t read her mind. Good thing no one could. They’d be very confused.

Too late now to retrieve her shoes, she padded barefoot after the angel down a hallway lined with oil paintings.
Oh boy, are those eyes following me?
Roo suppressed a giggle at the thought of the actual eyeballs jumping off the painted faces and running after her. And why did people look so odd in old paintings? The guys in particular. Like they had a pole stuck up their butt. They never smiled. Roo liked people to smile, which was probably one of the reasons she’d been prepared to dress as a chicken. Life was too short to be sad for long.

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped to stare at a picture of a yacht in rough seas until she heard a quiet cough and turned to see her escort gesturing toward an open door. Roo hurried to catch up, and as she stepped into the room, she stubbed her toe on the raised threshold and fell headlong. A weird yelp burst from her throat and Roo thrust out her hands, but didn’t collide with the wooden floor rushing to meet her. Arms caught her, hauled her upright and steadied her.

“Wow,” Roo gasped. “Good catch. Thank you, Ang…el.”

She’d tried and failed to stop the word slipping out.

He let her go so fast, Roo almost fell again. She lifted her head and looked across the desk at…ah well, this had to be Lucifer. Dark hair, piercing black eyes, lashes longer than they had any right to be—in other words longer than hers—oh, and a wicked smile.
My God, the two of them look like bookends.
And Roo quite fancied being the book.

Very bad girl.

Very, very bad girl.

Very— Oh stop it.

Not that she was going to get the job, but if she did, she’d be far too busy daydreaming about these two to get any work done.

“Please take a seat,” said Satan.

The only seat Roo could see was the one next to him behind the desk so she walked over and sat. His eyes opened wider.
Dear Lord, they really are black.
And she’d kill for his eyelashes. Well, not kill obviously, but—

“That chair,” he said, pointing behind her.

Her cheeks on fire, Roo slunk over to a leather chair turned so its back was to a small desk. How the hell had she missed that?

“I’m Taylor Sutton,” said Beelzebub. “ICU is my company. This is Niall McCarthy. He’s here to make sure no one trips up on the way in.”

Roo laughed and relaxed a little. “Roo Smith. Pleased to meet you.” She jumped up to shake their hands. The heat of Niall’s hand sent tingles racing down her arm. Taylor’s hand felt cool in comparison, but he let go of her as if he’d touched a live wire. Roo returned to her seat, fighting off the urge to run, though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run into their arms or out of the door.

“What’s Roo short for?” Niall asked. “Ruth?”

Roo shook her head.
Darn it, why did he have to ask that?

“Ruby?” Niall asked.

“No.”

Niall frowned. “Rosalind? Rowena? Rona?”

“No.” Well, at least they hadn’t assumed she had a mother called Kanga and a friend called Pooh. At least not yet.

“Rumplestiltskin?” Taylor asked.

Roo laughed and then squirmed. “Roosevelt.”

Both men gaped at her.

She tightened her mouth. She wasn’t going blurt out the sad details of her unfortunate birth and misadventurous childhood. Unless pressed.
Oh God, all right.
As she opened her mouth, a phone rang and saved her. And them.

“Yes?” Taylor snapped.

With that tone, Roo was surprised he had any clients. He really needed someone with a gentle voice to ease the distressing facts out of those desperate enough to hire a private detective. Someone like her. She practiced a few telephone yeses in her head.
Yes? Yeeeesss? Yep? Yip? Yurp?Yarp?

“You should have been here yesterday,” Taylor barked.

Roo glanced around the room to stop herself staring at Niall. It was shabby, cluttered and old fashioned. There were piles of papers stacked on the floor alongside a towering heap of books. The shelves above were largely empty. Taylor’s desk was a huge wooden thing with a computer monitor and a laptop on one side, dirty coffee cups the other.
I’d love a coffee
.
And something to eat.
The last thing she’d eaten had been a slice of bread that morning. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Roo coughed to disguise the sound, but when she caught Niall’s gaze, he was staring at her. She swallowed hard.

“That’s not good enough,” Taylor shouted.

Roo jumped and diverted her gaze from both of them. All she could see through the window were trees, and she wondered if there was a garden. Roo had always wanted a garden, though she knew nothing about flowers. She debated getting up to have a look, but decided it might be rude and stayed where she was.

Eventually the mobile was slammed down with such force, Roo let out a squeak. So much for not panicking.

“Sorry about that,” Taylor said, and smiled at her.

His face crinkled, his cheeks developed dimples and she caught a glimpse of perfect white teeth. Roo almost melted, but not quite. Something about the smile didn’t look genuine, as if he’d practiced in front of the mirror until it was perfect, except it looked too perfect. A smile to get him into women’s pants. She let her gaze drop from his mouth.
Oh fuck.
His lovely neck. His Adam’s apple went up and down. Roo waited for it to move again.

A throat being cleared brought her back to reality and she straightened.

“Why do you want this job?” Taylor asked.

She tried to look discreet, efficient and organized. The flexible could wait.

“Because I’m discreet, efficient and organized.”
What else? Oh yes. “
I’m courteous, I’m integri…integrou…I have integrity and I’m not prone to panic.” She smiled and then let the smile slip. “Well, not unless there’s cause to panic, for instance if I was in the middle of a field and looked up and saw a swarm of pterodactyls—is the collective noun for pterodactyls a swarm?” She shook her head and continued. “Or if I was tied to train tracks and a train was coming, or if I was buried up to my neck in sand and the tide was rising. I might panic then. Panic has its place. The adrenaline spurt can be very useful, particularly if you meet a velociraptor.” Her foot began to tap.

The men exchanged glances.

Drat, did I just say what I think I did?

“How flexible are you?” Taylor asked.

Was that a smirk? “Very.” Roo went for her sultry stare and kept her arms and legs where they were, fighting the urge to show how she could press her thumb back to her wrist. The legs around the neck could definitely wait. “I can start immediately and work whatever hours you like.”
All night would be appealing.

Taylor coughed. “Let’s try again without you repeating the job spec back to me. Why do you want this job?”

Oh bugger.
“I need it. Desperately.” Roo tensed. “No, forget I said desperately. I don’t want to sound desperate. But I am desperate. I’m prepared to do anything. Almost. Well, anything legal. Maybe illegal if you really wanted me to. Though I’d have to think hard about that.”
Shut up. Now.
“I thought working for a detective agency might be…interesting.” Her voice faded to a mumble and she slid down on the leather chair.

“Most of the time it’s boring.” Taylor tapped a pen on his desk like a woodpecker and Roo found her foot keeping time. “I need someone to do the filing, answer the phones, deal with correspondence, book appointments.”

“I can do that.” Roo tried to radiate efficiency, stopped tapping and sat up straighter. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, your telephone manner could do with some work. You’re a bit brusque. The people who call need help, not someone barking at them.”

Taylor stared at her openmouthed.
Ah, too much information.

“Why did you arrive dressed as a chicken?” Niall asked, not a hint of amusement on his face.