Lynne was right: she should get out and have some fun.
She viewed herself critically in the mirror, twisting and turning to see the back of her new dress. The cobalt-blue colour alone drew attention but it was the cut of it that had her wondering was it a tad too sexy for an engagement party.
High-necked in the front, it swooped outrageously low in the back, secured by two heavy silver chains that started from the back of her neck and fixed to each side. Thankfully it had a built-in bra, otherwise she’d be too nervous to move in it—let alone dance and party. The stretch jersey fabric was ruched and shaped and very figure-hugging.
But Lynne had insisted she wear it to her engagement party, which was to be held at the luxurious harbourside home of one of Keith’s school friends. ‘There will be lots of single guys there,’ her sister had said. ‘Wear that sassy dress and get your mind off that reclusive boss of yours.’
Shelley had protested but Lynne had spoken over her. ‘Don’t try to hide your crush on Devastating Declan from me.’
Shelley had protested that she did not have a crush. And she hadn’t been lying. She had way more than a crush on Declan.
For a passing moment, she wished Declan could see her in this dress. It wouldn’t hurt for him to see she was more than a down-to-earth gardener in khaki work clothes and an old-fashioned homemaker in an apron who baked pies.
Tonight she didn’t want to look in any way like that person. The dress was a start. Now she had to get her hair right. She ended up with a low side ponytail, secured with a glittery holder, that rested over her left shoulder and left her back uncovered.
With such a bold dress, she took more care with her make-up, darkening her eyes, slicking on deep pink glossy lipstick. She usually wore fairly low heels so she didn’t tower over many of the men she met. But her sister’s engagement party was certainly the occasion to christen the silver stilettos she had bought on a whim but had never worn.
She had promised Lynn she would be early. So she wrapped a light shawl around her bare back and shoulders and picked up a silver evening purse.
Cautiously, in her spiky-heeled shoes, she picked her way over the gravel to where she had parked her car in Declan’s driveway. She muttered a curse when she saw there was a car parked behind it, blocking the way out to the street—a new-model luxury coupe that put her ancient 4x4 to shame. Her car was not just second-hand, it was more likely tenth-hand and the other car made it look like every one of its years.
In the weeks she been working in Declan’s garden she had never seen a car parked here except when the cleaners came. Who drove this car?
Cranky that the delay was making her late, she teetered on her high heels around to the front door of Declan’s house. No time to text. She just wanted him to ask his guest to move that car immediately.
Declan answered the door. She lost all the words that she had prepared to politely ask could his visitor help her out and move the car. It was all she could do not to gawk at him in blatant admiration. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive and her knees felt distinctly wobbly. How could she have ever imagined she could talk herself out of her attraction to him?
Declan looked hot in his black jeans and cashmere sweaters. He looked especially hot in those gym shorts. But he had never looked more darkly handsome than now in a more formal charcoal wool double-breasted jacket over a black T-shirt and black trousers, clean-shaven and hair brushed back.
She felt a moment of feminine satisfaction that he was getting to see her in the gorgeous blue dress, looking more womanly than he had ever seen her. Reading other people might not be her greatest skill but she was sure he had noticed.
But who was he so dressed up for—the owner of the coupe? She heard a feminine voice from behind him and her heart fell to the level of her silver stilettos.
A wave of nausea made her want to double over. Declan had a woman there? This man who had said he was closed to any feminine presence in his life? He had lied to her. He opened the door wider, stared at her for a long moment before he seemed to find his voice.
‘Shelley,’ he said, hoarsely, then glanced over his shoulder. Glanced furtively over his shoulder, it seemed to Shelley.
She still couldn’t see who was there—but his action made it very clear he did not want that woman, whoever she might be, to see her.
She gritted her teeth, injected ice into her voice. ‘There’s a car parked in the driveway that’s blocking my car. Could you please ask your guest to move it?’
The voice from behind him called out, ‘Who’s at the door, Declan?’
A woman came into view behind him. She was older, elegant in a simple wine-coloured dress, with her hair cut in a short grey bob and a expression of curiosity on her face. Declan opened the door further.
He cleared his throat. ‘Come in, Shelley. I’d like you to meet my mother. Judith Grant.’ He turned to the older woman. ‘Mother, can I ask you to please move your car as Shelley can’t get her car out?’
His mother! Shelley was so relieved she had to hold on to the doorframe for support. The action made her light shawl slip to her waist. Rather than make a big deal about putting it back on again, she gathered it up and tucked it over her arm. She shivered as the chilly evening air hit her bare back. But was then met by toasty centrally heated air as she took the few steps she needed to take her into the entrance hall.
Declan’s mother took in her appearance with interest and frank curiosity.
‘Mother, this is Shelley Fairhill, my gardener,’ Declan said.
The older woman’s eyebrows rose in such a similar way to Declan’s, it made Shelley smile. She could see the resemblance between mother and son—the same deep blue eyes and lean face. Though the mother didn’t have Declan’s very masculine cleft in his chin.
Shelley put out her hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Grant.’
His mother’s handshake was brisk and firm. Again Shelley felt self-conscious about her callused hands—but they were a badge of honour of her job. ‘Nice to meet you, Shelley.’
Mrs Grant looked accusingly at Declan. ‘You didn’t tell me the gardener who is doing such wonderful work at this place was a beautiful young woman.’
Because he doesn’t recognise me as such, Shelley thought with a pang.
* * *
Maybe because I wanted to keep her to myself, Declan thought. He was finding it difficult to think straight he was so knocked out by the sight of Shelley in a short, tight blue dress that accentuated every curve and showed off her sensational legs. Legs that went on for ever.
Shelley turned slightly to better face his mother. Declan gasped in admiration, which he quickly had to disguise as a cough. The dress was backless and revealed all of the toned, smooth perfection of her back before swooping so low it was practically indecent. The fabric was softly shaped and had some kind of central seam in it so it clung intimately to the gorgeous curves of her bottom.
Was she wearing underwear? He had to swallow very hard. And keep his hands fisted by his sides to stop him from reaching out to her and pulling her close to find out.
If his mother weren’t here, he might have done just that.
His mother addressed Shelley. ‘I’m sorry I blocked your access in the driveway. I had no idea who owned the old workhorse of a 4x4.’
‘It is old but it serves me well and I can keep all my equipment safely in it,’ Shelley said.
Declan sensed the defensive note in Shelley’s voice and in turn felt immediately