She looked surprised, then shyly shook her head. Glancing at Mr Jones, who had accompanied them, then back to Alexa, she waited.
‘Would you like Mr Jones to stay with you?’
She nodded.
‘OK, but he mustn’t sleep on the bed, only on the floor beside the bed. All right?’
She nodded again.
‘Shall I leave the door open?’
She nodded.
Holding back the covers, she helped her in, covered her up, and kissed her goodnight. There was tension in the small body. Tension and worry. Well, that made two of them, didn’t it?
Forcing her own worries to the back of her mind, she perched on the edge of the bed and gently stroked Jessica’s soft blonde hair. ‘When you wake up,’ she continued gently, ‘your uncle will be here. And if you need anything, or if you feel frightened in a strange place, just call me. I’ll be just out there. All right?’
She nodded.
‘Goodnight, then, dar...er, Charlie.’ She smiled.
She watched television whilst she waited for Stefan to arrive, and didn’t take in any of it. She began to feel more and more nervous, which was stupid. He wasn’t a stranger, for goodness’ sake, just someone she didn’t know very well. She didn’t know his likes, his dislikes... All she did know with any certainty was that they had nothing in common. He was a scientist. She was a cook. Or had been. She couldn’t be one now. Not professionally at any rate. The accident had robbed her of the two vital senses necessary for being one. The senses of taste and smell. Not that Stefan knew that. Not that it mattered, she supposed. But then, he didn’t know very much about her at all. He knew about David, of course... Well, no, he didn’t even really know about that. He thought David had been her lover, and he hadn’t. They’d had a relationship, but they hadn’t been lovers. Always cautious in her dealing with men, she had wanted to wait until she was sure. With a grim smile, she wondered why being right should hurt so damned much.
Feeling restless, nervous, she heard a car and stopped to listen. Heard it stop. A few minutes later there was the gentle closing of a car door, and footsteps across the icy pavement.
She turned off the television, took a deep breath—and went to open the door. To her husband.
CHAPTER TWO
BIG. Much bigger than she remembered in his thick overcoat. Powerful. Devastating.
And she was attracted to him.
Staring blankly, she felt the knowledge hit her with the force of a brick. Not just friends. Not someone she liked, but someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
And he only wanted a wife for a year.
‘Alexa?’ he frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Wrong?’ she echoed faintly, and then realised that she was still staring, behaving like a fool. ‘Nothing,’ she denied quickly.
‘Only we’re letting all the cold air in,’ he pointed out.
‘Oh, yes, sorry.’ She hastily let him in—and the small lounge shrank alarmingly. Alexa wasn’t a short girl, but he made her feel so, made her feel suddenly inadequate.
‘You look terrible,’ he observed quietly. But then he always spoke quietly.
‘Thank you.’
He didn’t smile—why should he? She knew she looked terrible. Did he find it offensive? The way she looked? Certainly he’d behaved differently towards her after the accident. Some men found ugliness offensive. David, for example. Perhaps that was why he had left...
‘Why are you still wearing your hat?’
Jerking up her hand, she felt it, self-consciously tugged it off. ‘I’d forgotten I had it on.’ Avoiding his eyes, because she didn’t think she could bear to see what she thought she might see there, she asked foolishly, ‘How have you been?’
‘Busy.’
‘Oh, is that why you didn’t...?’
‘Ring you regularly? Keep in touch?’ he completed for her. ‘No.’
‘No?’ she queried weakly.
‘No. I didn’t keep in touch because I didn’t want to be told you’d changed your mind... Have you?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
But she might have done—if he’d rung. ‘Mind the light fitting!’ she called urgently as he walked towards the fire, and he halted, turned his head slightly to survey the offending globe that hung below the height of his head. Moving round it, he continued towards the armchair, put down the large leather holdall and suitcase he was carrying.
Mr Jones slunk mournfully under the chair.
Mr Jones never slunk under the chair. Mr Jones liked everybody. Except, obviously, her husband.
‘He came with the house?’
‘No,’ she denied awkwardly. ‘Someone asked me to look after him—and they never came back.’
‘Ah.’
‘If you don’t like dogs I can...’
‘What? Get rid of him? Don’t be so defensive. Jessica asleep?’
‘Yes. Can I get you a cup of tea?’
‘Coffee?’
She grimaced, shook her head. ‘Sorry, I only have tea.’
‘Then tea will be fine. I’m sorry I shouted at you.’
‘What?’
‘On the phone. I was concerned.’
‘Oh, yes. It’s all right.’ Feeling awkward, unnatural, she murmured, ‘Why don’t you take your coat off? Make yourself comfortable?’
‘Thank you. How has she been?’ he asked as he removed his bulky overcoat and looked frowningly round for somewhere to put it.
Hurrying forward, she took it from him and laid it across the back of a chair. It weighed a ton.
‘She’s been fine. As good as gold. No trouble at all. I’ll go and make the tea.’
Almost running into the kitchen, she felt despair wash over her. She couldn’t be attracted to him, she thought in panic. Not sexually. He was a friend. Had always been a friend. They had a light-hearted, sometimes flirtatious, relationship, but never anything more. It wasn’t now, she assured herself. She was run-down, vulnerable, that was all it was. And yet never, ever in her life had she had trouble making conversation with people. She’d never had trouble making conversation with Stefan! So why now? It was ludicrous. But he was different, wasn’t he? Somehow, he was different. Quieter. His voice flatter. She’d known him in Romania, in her restaurant, and he’d always been gentle, humorous. Sad after his sister’s death, of course, but not... Had he guessed? Seen from her face?
Then she jumped like a startled deer when he walked up behind her. He couldn’t get in the kitchen because it was too small, but he successfully blocked the doorway, making Alexa feel ever so slightly claustrophobic. And frightened. He obviously registered the alarm on her face, because he retreated slightly, gave her room to breathe.
‘The house was only made for little people,’ she excused.
‘Yes.’
‘And don’t say I should have stayed in the hotel.’
‘I wasn’t going to.’
He frowned, rubbed long