Page 5 of Seeds of Malice

"I know who your dad is."

"You do?"

Amusement fills his expression. "Yeah. He's the most talented botanist we could find."

I can't help but swell full of pride. My father is talented. I admit, "Yeah, that's him."

"And why are you staying inside on this nice day?" Dax questions, crossing his arms so his biceps bulge, straining against his white T-shirt sleeves.

I glance around the messy house at the chaos. "These boxes aren't going to unpack themselves."

"Surely you can have some fun?" Dax asks.

"Nope! I've got to get this done."

"You should come swimming. It's hot after all, and the weather won't hold up forever," Dax points out.

I glance out the window into the sunshine. It would be nice to swim, but I shake my head. "I'm sorry. I can't. I have to unpack. I don't want to leave this for my father. He's got enough to do."

"Are we overworking him already?"

"Oh, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant?—"

He holds up his hand and chuckles. "It's okay. We have a huge estate here. I understand if he's overwhelmed."

"He's not. My father wouldn't get overwhelmed. He's a professional," I insist.

Dax looks even more amused. "I'm sure he is."

"He is," I boldly declare.

Dax steps even closer, and the scent of his cologne fills the air. I swallow hard. My mouth turns dry and then waters. I lick my lips, and Dax's clear gaze darts down to study my tongue. The heat burns my cheeks hotter. I ask, "Is there something else I can help you with?"

He tilts his head. "How old are you, Ivy?"

"Eighteen."

"Senior in high school?"

I shake my head. "No, I graduated. I'm going to college this year."

Dax chuckles again. "Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Of course I know. This is my estate. I know everything that goes on here." His gaze drifts down my body and then rises to lock on mine.

I stay quiet. I've never had anyone look at me like that. I'm curious if he's interested in me, but the idea is absurd. Men like Dax Carrington don't give girls like me a second thought. He's sophisticated, wealthy, and a tad arrogant.

I'm boring compared to him.

He declares, "I believe we're going to the same school."

"We are?" I ask in surprise. I figured he was at least twenty-five.

He nods. "Yes, I'm a senior at Clifton University. You're a freshman, correct?"

I tilt my head. "Why are you asking me these questions if you already know the answers?"

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