Teenagers…

Jessie’s flush faded. Teenagers…How old did he take her for, for heaven’s sake? She drew herself up to her full five feet five inches and her brown eyes glared.

‘I’m twenty-seven,’ she snapped.

He shrugged. ‘Fascinating, I’m sure.’ The man’s cold gaze raked Jessie’s slim form, from her filthy sneakers to her dust-caked face. His disdain only seemed to increase. ‘If you’re speaking the truth-’ his tone suggested such a thing was as plausible as the moon being made of cheese ‘-then I suggest you’re too old to be crawling round my property on what, I must assume, to be some sort of infantile game. Now collect this Harry-or whoever it is you’re calling-and get the hell out of here. Now!’

Harry…

‘Harry’s a dog,’ Jessie managed.

‘You brought dogs onto my property?’ The man looked as if he was preparing to explode in fury. His fingers whitened on the gun and Jessie blenched. What on earth had she got herself into?

‘I didn’t bring him…He’s not my dog and I can’t find him,’ she stammered, striving desperately for calm.

The man visibly fought for self-control. His leather-booted foot stirred the ground, like a bull before a charge, and his face was cold as ice.

‘So you didn’t bring him? He’s not your dog but you’re looking for him,’ he said coldly. ‘I see.’ He raised his gun slightly. ‘Then I suggest you leave my land now-and let me do the looking.’

The gun’s slight movement was so suggestive that Jessie blenched. He wouldn’t shoot Harry…

‘No!’

Instinctively Jessie’s hand reached out to the gun and held on hard. She pulled it towards herself, swinging the point away from her body.

The man didn’t release it. He stood like stone, immovable.

‘Are you playing games with me?’ the man said slowly. The foot had stopped its movement. He stood rigidly, his hand locked on the gun and his cold eyes staring down at her. Jessie had never felt such anger-such a blaze of hostility…