She surfaced from her disquieting thoughts to find that, annoyingly, the clothes she had asked to be placed outside the bedroom door were not there.
Did the man think that he was staying in a hotel?
Did he imagine that it was okay for her to hang around like a chambermaid until he decided that he could be bothered to hand over his dirty laundry for her to do? She didn’t even have to wash his clothes! She could have sent him on his way in musty, semi-damp trousers and a jumper that smelled of pond water.
He obviously thought that he was so important that he could do as he pleased. Speak to her as he pleased. Accept her hospitality whilst antagonising her because he found it entertaining.
She had no idea how important or unimportant he was but, quite aside from the snazzy little racing-red number and the designer clothing, there was something about him that screamed wealth.
Or maybe it was power.
Well, none of that impressed her. She’d never had time for anyone who thought that money was the be all and end all. It just wasn’t the way she had been brought up.
It was what was inside that counted. It was why, although Freddy had not been the one for her, there was a guy out there who was, a guy who had the sterling qualities of kindness, quiet intelligence and self-deprecating humour.
And, having ducked the dating scene for years, she would get back out there...because if she didn’t then this was the person she would be in the years to come, entrenched in her singledom, godmother to all and sundry and maid of honour to her friends as they tied the knot and moved on with their fulfilling lives.
Swamped by sudden self-pity, she absently shoved open the door to the spare room, which was ajar, and...stopped. Her legs stopped moving, her hand froze on the door knob and her brain went into instant shutdown.
She didn’t know where to look and somewhere inside she knew that it didn’t matter because wherever she looked she would still end up seeing him. Tall, broad-shouldered, his body an amazing burnished bronze. She would still see the hardness of his six pack and the length of his muscular legs, the legs of an athlete.
Aside from a pair of low-slung boxers, he was completely naked.
Becky cleared her throat and opened her mouth and nothing emerged but an inarticulate noise.
‘I was just about to stick the clothes outside...’
Without the woollen hat pulled down over her head, her hair was long, tumbling down her back in a cascade of unruly, dark curls, and without the layers upon layers of shriekingly unfashionable arctic gear...
She wasn’t the round little beach ball he had imagined. Even with the loose-fitting striped rugby shirt, he could see that she had the perfect hourglass figure. News obviously hadn’t reached this part of the world that the fashionable trend these days leaned towards long, thin and toned to athletic perfection, even if the exercise involved to get there never saw the outside of an expensive gym.
He could feel his whole body reacting to the sight of her lush curves and he hurriedly turned away, because a pair of boxers was no protection against an erection.
He was staring. Becky stood stock-still, conscious of herself and her body in ways she had never been before. Why was he staring at her like that? Was he even aware that he was doing it?
She couldn’t believe that he was staring at her because she was the most glamorous woman he had ever set eyes on. She wasn’t born yesterday and she knew that when it came to looks, well, a career could not be made out of hers. Alice had got the looks and she, Becky, had got the brains and it had always seemed like a fair enough deal to her.
He’d turned away now, thankfully putting on some ancient track pants her father had left behind and an even more ancient jumper, and by the time he turned back around to face her she wondered whether she had imagined those cool, grey eyes on her, skirting over her body.
Yes, she thought a little shakily. Of course she had. She had stared at him because he looked like a Greek god. She on the other hand was as average as they came.
Should she feel threatened? She was alone in this house...
She didn’t feel threatened. She felt...excited. Something wicked and daring stirred inside her and she promptly knocked it back.
‘The clothes.’ She found her voice, one hand outstretched, watching as he gathered items of clothing and strolled towards her. ‘I’ll make sure they’re washed and ready for you tomorrow morning.’
‘First thing...before I’m sent on my way,’ Theo murmured, still startled at the fierce grip of his libido that had struck from nowhere.
She couldn’t wait to escape, he thought with a certain amount of disbelief.
Something had passed between them just then. Had she even been aware of it? A charge of electricity had shaken him and she hadn’t been unaffected. He’d seen the reaction in the widening of her eyes as she had looked at him, and the stillness of her body language, as though one false move might have led her to do something...rash.
Did rash happen out here? he wondered. Or was she out here because she was escaping from something rash? Was the awkward, blushing, argumentative vet plagued by guilt over a misspent past? Had she thrown herself into a one-way relationship to nowhere with a con man? A married man? A rampant womaniser who had used her and tossed her aside? The possibilities were endless.
She certainly wasn’t out here for the money. That bucket on the landing said it all. She might be living rent free at the place but she certainly wasn’t earning enough to keep it maintained. Old houses consumed money with the greed of a gold-digger on the make.
‘What if it’s still snowing in the morning?’
She was clutching the bundle of clothes like a talisman and staring up at him with those amazing bright blue eyes. Her lips were parted. When she circled a nervous tongue over them, Theo had to fight down an urge to reach out and pull her against him.
‘It won’t be.’
‘If you weren’t prepared to risk my life by sending me on my way, then will you be prepared to risk someone else’s life by asking them to come and collect me and take me away?’
‘I could drive you myself. I have a four-wheel drive. It’s okay in conditions like this.’
‘When I knocked on your door...’ Theo leant against the door frame ‘... I never expected someone like you to open it’
‘What do you mean someone like me?’ Becky stiffened, primed for some kind of thinly veiled insult.
Theo didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. Instead, he watched her, head tilted to one side, until she looked away, blushing. Very gently, he tilted her face back to his.
‘You’re on the defensive. Why?’
‘Why do you think? I... I don’t know you.’ The feel of his cool finger resting lightly on her chin was as scorching-hot as the imprint from a branding iron.
‘What do you think I’m going to do? When I said someone like you, I meant someone young. I expected someone much older to be living this far out in the countryside.’
‘I told you, the house belongs to my parents. I’m just here... Look, I’m going to head downstairs, wash these things...’ Her feet and brain were not communicating because, instead of spinning around and backing out of the room, she remained where she was, glued to the spot.
She wanted him to remove his hand...she wanted him to do more with it, wanted him to curve it over her face and then slide it across her shoulders, wanted him to find the bare flesh of her stomach and then the swell of her breasts... She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, yet he was making her think, and how could that be a bad thing?
She barely recognised her voice and she certainly didn’t know what was going on with her body.
‘Okay.’