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The dog immediately rolled onto his back submissively.
‘Eustace!’ Exasperated, Libby tugged the dog back towards her. ‘You really are an idiot!’
‘I have been called worse.’
‘Not you …’ Libby saw the mocking glint in his deep-set eyes and, fighting a grin, added gruffly, ‘Well, you are, but on this occasion I was talking to the dog.’
Rafael’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile that faded as a car came round the corner.
Libby, aware that she had lost his attention, turned in the direction of his gaze and saw a bright red classic sports car driven with the top down heading towards them at a sedate pace.
The driver waved when she spotted them and slowed.
Rafael did not wave, but it seemed a safe bet to Libby that the woman who parked the car and leapt gracefully from the vehicle was not a stranger.
Libby watched the woman’s progress, envying the voluptuous figure, the length of her legs and her ability to make skin-tight jeans look good. From a distance she looked fantastic, depressingly close to she looked even more perfect.
Libby watched the woman’s fashionable twenties bob swinging in a silky bell around her face and envied the sleekness of a style she could never achieve with her own naturally curly hair.
‘Ra—Oh, God, blood!’ exclaimed the blonde, clapping a hand to her mouth. ‘I feel sick.’
So did Libby. What sort of man kissed another woman while his girlfriend was on her way to rescue him?
‘Kindly endeavour not to be sick.’
She had her answer: the sort of man who spoke to his girlfriend like that, Libby thought, wondering why the woman not only took the harsh advice in her stride, but appeared grateful!
‘Sorry I’m late. I got stuck behind a tractor. Do you think it will scar?’ she wondered, her eyes trained with sick fascination on his injured face. ‘Have you cleaned it? There could be dirt.’
Sensing that his PA was about to go into full OCD mode, Rafael pitched his reply in a tone aimed at defusing the situation before it got out of hand.
When she had a handle on her compulsive behaviour Gretchen was the best PA he had ever had, but when she lost it things could get … interesting. Like the time the cleaning supervisor had rung him at midnight saying he might want to know that his assistant was still there switching the light on and off, unable to leave the room.
In retrospect he could see that the clues that should have alerted him to her condition had been there, he just hadn’t noticed. This did not make Rafael feel good about himself. He expected those who worked for him to go the extra mile and what he expected he should also be prepared to give. One of the first lessons Rafael had learnt was that loyalty was a two-way street.
He had refused to accept her tearfully offered resignation, pointing out that it made no sense to lose the best PA he had ever had just because she felt the need to spend an hour washing her hands.
Instead he had acquired the name of a clinical psychologist who came highly recommended and insisted that she undertake therapy sessions. It had been a good call—they had proved dramatically successful but, as Gretchen said herself, she was a work in progress.
‘The wound has been cleaned,’ Rafael said, pre-empting the production of the cleaning products he knew would be in her car.
Libby opened her mouth to indignantly refute this and found herself on the receiving end of a killer look. She gave as good as she got glarewise and lapsed into tight-lipped silence.
‘And you are not late.’
Gretchen shook her head and glanced fretfully at her watch. ‘I said ten minutes and it’s—’
Rafael cut her off. ‘You are here now.’
‘Yes, I am.’ She flashed her boss a smile and took a deep breath. ‘Thanks. I’ve arranged a tow truck and rung ahead to delay the meeting with the Russians and—’ She stopped and let out a yelp as the Labrador laid a friendly muddy paw on her leg.
Rafael clicked his tongue in irritation. ‘Down!’ The disapproving look that went with the command was aimed at Libby, not the dog. ‘Can you not control that animal?’
‘Not according to you,’ Libby flashed.
A few feet away the tall gorgeous blonde continued to pat frantically at her jeans, making what seemed to Libby like an awful lot of fuss over a tiny amount of mud. The woman had barely glanced her way, let alone introduced herself. They were suited in more ways than one, both beautiful and both incredibly rude, then it hit her—she didn’t even know his name!
‘It is nothing, Gretchen, relax.’
The blonde looked at the hand on her shoulder and gave a gulping gasp, then with one last fretful dab at the invisible speck of dirt lifted her head. ‘I really don’t like the country.’
‘Wait for me in the car.’
And she did.
His ability to inspire unquestioning obedience was obviously not restricted to the canine community, it worked on beautiful six-foot blondes as well.
‘Does everyone jump when you snap your fingers?’ Libby screwed up her nose and gave a pained grimace. ‘I said that out loud, didn’t I?’
Rafael nodded, his lips twitching. ‘The answer to your question is no.’ The redhead did not jump except in the opposite direction—perhaps that was the attraction …? On the other hand it might be the incredible body and the lush lips.
Libby did not need to pretend surprise. ‘You amaze me.’
‘I have that effect.’
Libby’s stomach took a sharp unscheduled dip as the explicit glow in his expressive eyes sent a rush of shameful heat through her body. Molten hot, it settled disturbingly between her thighs.
Libby flushed, her anger at least in part aimed at the weakness that made her respond to him this way.
‘I’m not interested. Maybe you should try and amaze your girlfriend.’
His brows lifted as he encountered the hostility shining in her eyes. ‘Gretchen is my PA, not my girlfriend, and I do not mix business with pleasure.’ He stopped, an arrested look filtering into his eyes as he realised he had just broken the habit of a lifetime and explained himself.
Libby gave an airy shrug to establish she had no interest in his relationship with the blonde whatsoever. The knowing gleam in his heavy-lidded eyes suggested she wasn’t entirely convincing.
‘You shouldn’t keep your …’ she jerked her head towards the red car ‘… PA waiting.’
He directed a frowning glance towards the car; she was right. ‘True.’
‘Don’t let me keep you.’ The words were barely out of her mouth before she gave a contradictory urgent cry of, ‘Wait!’
‘You are missing me already. I’m touched.’
Libby directed an ‘if I see you again in this lifetime it will be too soon’ look at him and pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. ‘Do you have a pen?’
Rafael pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and watched as she began to scribble on the paper.
‘Here,’ Libby said, pushing it at him.
‘What is this—your telephone number?’
‘My name and address,’ she retorted, refusing to react to the mockery in his voice. She glanced towards the damaged vehicle. ‘Send me the bill for the damage.’
Rafael glanced down at the words on the paper. ‘That could be quite a bill.’
‘I pay my debts,’ she told him proudly. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, frowning as he did a visible double take.
‘Marchant? Would that connect you to Marchant Plastics?’
‘My grandfather began the firm and my dad runs it now. Have I said something amusing?’ she asked spikily. ‘What are you doing?’ she added as he screwed up the paper between his long fingers. ‘I mean it—I want to pay for the damage.’
‘I won’t hold you to it, but don’t worry, I have an excellent memory.’
Puzzling over the cryptic parting shot, Libby stood watching as he walked away and got into the car with the beautiful blonde, not once looking back.
Of course he didn’t look back! He had probably already dismissed her from his memory, or maybe he was sharing an amusing anecdote about the incident with his blonde PA—sure, that was really likely.
Eustace sat on the passenger seat with his head out of the window as Libby drove the half-mile down the lane to the chocolate-box roses-around-the-door cottage where Chloe lived.
The short journey did not take long, though longer than it might have had she not felt the need to stop halfway to bury her head in her hands and groan a mortified—You wanted to kiss him; you enjoyed it!
It seemed to Libby as she angled a glance at her refection in the driving mirror that her shame was written all over her face. Chloe was going to know that something had happened the moment she saw her and in her present frame of mind Libby had an uncomfortable feeling she might tell her what it was!
Hand on the ignition key, she paused and dropped her hand, thinking, Maybe not …? It might be an invitation to any passing felon, but a running engine also provided an escape route of the ‘must dash, the engine’s running’ variety. And Chloe was already aware that she was in a hurry home.
Her precautions proved unnecessary as it was Chloe’s husband, Joe, who answered the door. Not really renowned for his sartorial elegance, Joe resembled an unmade bed even more so than normal and the bags under his eyes had acquired company.
Libby’s own problems receded momentarily as she angled a look of sympathy at his exhausted face. ‘Hi, Joe.’
Beside her Eustace saw his master and leapt at him, tearing the lead from her hand in the process.
‘Hush, you’ll wake the baby, hound,’ Joe said, grabbing the trailing lead of the barking dog and receiving a slobbery kiss from the overexcited animal before bestowing a grateful but weary smile on Libby. ‘Thanks, Libby. It turns out I could have picked him up—I got off work early.’
Now he tells me, Libby thought, fixing a smile. ‘No problem.’
Other than discovering I am actually not a nice girl. That actually when it comes to breathtakingly handsome Spaniards I am what is termed easy.
On the plus side, it was good to know your weaknesses. From now on she was going to avoid anywhere where there was so much as a chance of hearing flamenco music.
‘The vet said you can bring him back Tuesday to get the stitches out and to give him these.’ She reached into her pocket and produced a bottle of tablets. ‘Twice a day, I think he said,’ she said, glancing at the label.
Joe took them and pocketed them. ‘Don’t worry, we know the drill—unfortunately.’ Joe ran a hand over his unshaven jaw and seemed surprised to find gingery stubble there. ‘But no more or it’s obedience school for you,’ he warned, patting the animal’s head.
Libby fought back a smile. Poor Joe—designer stubble was not a good look on him. Of course there were some men who would not necessarily look disagreeable with a couple of days’ beard growth.
A few might even look sexy in a slightly edgy, piratical way, she conceded, thinking of one face in particular.
‘How are things?’ she asked, making a conscious and unsuccessful effort to push the face away.
‘A bit … twilight zone, really. I think it’s the sleep deprivation. Chloe’s having a nap. I know she’d love to see you, but you don’t mind if I don’t wake her …?’
Finally banishing the image of a specific dark lean face complete with designer stubble, Libby shook her head and struggled to hide her relief.
‘Not a problem. To be honest I’m a bit tired. I want to get home and Mum and Dad—’
‘Yes, of course!’ A spasm of sympathy crossed Joe’s face. ‘I heard, Libby. I’m so sorry. If there is any—’ He broke off, looking over his shoulder and groaning as the unmistakeable sound of a baby’s demanding cry rang out in the distance.
Oblivious to the alarm in Libby’s expression, he gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Sorry, must go before Chloe wakes up. She’s all in and—’
‘No problem, you go and give my love to Ch—’
‘You’re a pal.’
If Libby had not stepped back the door might have hit her nose. As it was she turned her ankle on the cobbles that ran around the house.
Teeth gritted and ignoring the stabbing sharp pain in her ankle, she retraced her steps, the sound of Joe’s voice amplified in her head above the sound of her feet on the gravel driveway—I heard, I’m so sorry …
Heard what? Sorry about what?
She had to fight the impulse to run back to the cottage, bang on the door and demand that Joe explain himself. However the sound of the dog barking and the baby crying did suggest that Joe had enough on his plate … and anyway she might be misreading what he had said.
She shook her head. Deep down she knew this wasn’t the case. She wasn’t misreading anything or overreacting—she had known something was wrong!
And how did she respond to a potential family crisis? She stopped off to kiss a total stranger on her way home!
The fact the kissing had not been planned did not constitute an excuse in Libby’s mind. It did make it all the more difficult for her to forgive herself for her reprehensible behaviour.
Resisting the impulse to floor the accelerator—she’d already caused one accident today—Libby drove through the village at a sedate pace responding mechanically to the waves she received from several people. Was she being paranoid or had there been sympathy in those waves? It was a small community and everyone pretty much knew everyone—and secrets, forget it, there weren’t any.
She was probably the only person in a twenty-mile radius who wasn’t in the know, Libby thought as she struggled to keep her imagination in check.
She failed miserably. By the time she slowed automatically to negotiate a particularly awkward hairpin bend a mile beyond the village her fertile imagination had gone into overdrive to the point where she felt physically sick.
‘Please let everything be all right.’
Just two hundred yards further was the driveway for Maple House. People who did not know the area frequently missed the turn and drove past. Hardly surprising—it had once been an impressive entrance but, like the house it led to, had seen better days. One weathered stone griffon had fallen off his sentinel perch on the high, once-ornate but now crumbling gatepost. One of the massive wrought-iron gates that had once borne the name of her family home lay propped up against the wall—reattaching it was one of those tasks that somehow no one had got around to—covered by ivy and moss.
Libby did not notice the signs of decay and neglect that might strike a stranger as, her white face set in a pale mask of apprehension, she drove down the potholed tree-lined driveway with scant regard for the suspension of the car she drove.
The sight of the people carrier her brother and his wife had traded their smart sports car in for after the birth of their twin sons two years ago did not encourage optimism.
It was definitely not a good sign. She was glad her brother was here, but she knew that with the imminence of her due date and the problems heavily pregnant Meg had had with her blood pressure during this pregnancy he wouldn’t have left her alone with the twins and made the long trip down from Scotland for anything that wasn’t urgent.
After being away the first sight of the mellow stone of the façade of her home usually gave Libby a sense of calm and well-being. No matter what problems she had the old stone walls had always represented safety and security and a sense of continuity. Those feelings were absent as she stepped out on the gravelled driveway.
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