Others joined them, and someone bumped into them, jogging her against him so that her soft, full breasts pillowed gently against his chest. For a moment she resisted, then with a tiny sigh she settled against him. He nearly trod on her then, because she felt so good, so soft and warm and feminine, that he thought he would make an idiot of himself.
He’d never held her before. Wherever they’d met, under whatever circumstances, he would have remembered if he’d held her…
Then the music stopped, and with what could almost have been reluctance, she moved out of his arms.
‘Can we go now?’ she said, and he realised she’d just been leaning on him because she was tired. It was in her voice, in her eyes, in her whole body.
‘Of course.’ He retrieved her jacket from the cloakroom attendant, settled it round her shoulders and swept her quickly past all the people who suddenly wanted to talk to her.
Then he ushered her to his car and slid behind the wheel, pausing as he clicked his seat belt into place to study her face in the dim glow of the interior light.
‘You’re still mad with me,’ he said, just as the light faded down and switched off so that he couldn’t see her face. She didn’t reply, just sat there, staring straight ahead. He thought she was frowning.
Ah, well. He started the engine and pulled slowly out of the car park, heading for Henfield. She was silent for a few taut minutes, during which he could hear her brain working overtime—searching for the right acidic put-down, no doubt. Then suddenly she spoke, her voice quiet but full of suppressed emotion.
‘What do you want with me?’ she asked tightly. ‘I don’t even know who you are, and you start throwing around outrageous amounts of money for eight hours of me telling you what perennials to put in where!’
‘Don’t you mean telling me where to put them?’
She laughed, a brief gust of cynical humour which was quickly suppressed. ‘Whatever. I just felt embarrassed by the bidding—it all seemed to get suddenly very personal. I began to feel like a—a trophy or something.’
‘How perceptive of you,’ he said softly, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her head swivel towards him. ‘Tim Godbold wanted you. He wanted to be able to say he’d had his garden landscaped by a Chelsea designer. And he had a more personal interest.’
‘Personal?’ she said coldly.
‘Yeah, personal. You know. Oh, come on, Georgia, don’t be naive! He’s not a nice man.’
‘I noticed.’
‘He has a reputation. There are rumours.’
‘Rumours?’
‘An attempted rape case. It was dropped—and the victim suddenly started spending rather a lot of money.’
She went very still. ‘He bought her silence?’
‘There was no proof. It just seemed a rather strange coincidence.’
She was quiet for a long while, and then with what seemed to him either utter foolishness or a great deal of courage, she turned towards him again and said, ‘And you? Are you a nice man? Or are you just a little more discreet?’
He laughed softly. ‘Both. And I really do need your help with my garden. But just to set the record straight, yes, I do have a personal interest in you—I think you’re fascinating, and I’d like to get to know you better. It’s up to you what you want to do about it. Unlike Tim Godbold, I’m actually going to give you a choice.’
She snorted softly. ‘And I suppose I should be grateful.’
‘Don’t force yourself.’ He felt a prickle of irritation. He’d just spent an outrageous amount of money to rescue her from that slimy toad, and if he’d been expecting gratitude, he was obviously not going to get it.
He turned into her drive, cut the engine and looked across at her in the harsh glare of her outside light, his irritation growing. ‘Look, forget anything personal. You owe me a day in the garden. I suggest for both our sakes we get it over with as quickly as possible.’
She stiffened, drawing in a quick breath as if he’d hurt her feelings. Good. About time. She’d given his a fair old battering. ‘OK. When do you want me to look at it?’
‘Did you have a date in mind?’
‘Well—this week or next I’d earmarked for it, really.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Oh! But—I haven’t got a babysitter—’
‘Well, if there’s no alternative you’ll have to bring them with you. There are plenty of people kicking about at home who can entertain them if need be.’ He crossed his fingers, hoping Mrs Hodges wouldn’t have decided to go to town for the day with her daughter.
‘I don’t even know where you live,’ she said.
‘Heveling—it’s easy to find. Here—have a card.’
He pressed it into her hand, all thoughts of kissing her goodnight now flying out of the window along with his tenuous grip on his temper. He leant across instead and pushed open her door. ‘What time tomorrow?’
‘Um—nine?’
‘Fine.’
She looked at him blankly for a moment, then gave him a wary smile. ‘OK. And you’re sure it’s all right to bring the children?’
‘Sure.’
‘OK.’ She got out of the car and paused, obviously struggling with her better nature, then gave him a wry grin. ‘Thanks for tonight.’
He snorted, but chivalry prevented him from driving off until he’d seen her close the front door behind her, then he reversed carefully off her drive and went home.
At least the dog would be pleased to see him!
‘Well?’ Jenny said, studying her with avid interest. ‘Did they sell you?’
Georgia laughed wryly. ‘Did they ever. Jenny, I thought I was going to die. This awful, slimy man and Matthew started bidding for me against each other. I was so embarrassed.’
‘Oh, my goodness. Did it get all terribly personal?’
‘Just a bit. Tim Godbold was all but drooling—’
‘Tim Godbold! Not the Tim Godbold?”
Georgia groaned. ‘Probably. Don’t tell me you’ve heard of him?’
‘Well of course I have! It was all over the papers! He tried to rape that girl—a temp working in his office. Made her work late and tried it on. It all fell flat because she suddenly decided not to testify.’
Which backed up Matt’s story. She suddenly began to feel very grateful to him. ‘Anyway, Matt won, and I’m going to look at his garden tomorrow,’ she said, and glanced down at the card in her hand.
Her eyes widened, and she realised her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut, closed her eyes and opened them again. ‘Oh, Lord,’ she said weakly.
‘What? What is it?’
‘He lives at Heveling Hall,’ she told Jenny. ‘That must be why his name seemed familiar. Oh, blast. He lives at my favourite house in the whole world, and he wants me to tell him what to do with the garden!’
‘Well, that’s great,’ Jenny said, beaming. ‘Isn’t it?’
Georgia thought over all the horrible things she’d said to him, and what she’d since found out about Tim Godbold, and felt sick.
‘I hope so,’ she murmured. ‘I may, on the other hand, have just thrown away the opportunity of a lifetime.’
Saturday