Baby and the Boss. Kim Lawrence

many jobs to be had on mountainsides.’

      ‘But…Huw, he has one?’

      ‘His family’s land adjoins Dad’s farm,’ she replied shortly, uncomfortable at the probing nature of his questions.

      ‘I can’t see you as a farmer’s wife.’

      Nia wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he did see her as. She saw no reason to correct this shaky interpretation of the information, either. In one way Huw’s family were farmers, they did own vast tracts of hill land and also a tidy bit of much more profitable lowland pasture and woods. The estate had at least a dozen tenant farms and a beautiful manor house with gardens that were open to the public on bank holidays.

      These days the estate, which Huw ran, was almost a hobby, most of the family’s money came from some very clever investments in the leisure industry. If she had still been engaged to Huw and wearing his ring, not the one she’d inherited from her grandmother, Huw might indeed have been unhappy about her decision to move to London. As it was, he probably felt relief.

      She gave a quick glance over her shoulder at the sleeping baby—happily, he was still dead to the world—just as Jake slowed down to pass several people on horseback. It really was getting worryingly rural.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me your brother lived in the back of beyond?’

      ‘If I had, would you have come along?’ He glanced coolly at her indignant face. ‘Exactly.’

      ‘I’ll miss my train. Not that you’d care,’ she added wrathfully. ‘Just so long as you’re getting your own way.’

      ‘You think I want to spend my afternoon with a crying baby and a…’ He broke off suspiciously abruptly and continued in a reasonable voice she didn’t believe for an instant. ‘If you miss your train tonight you can have Monday off.’

      ‘And a what?’ she said in a dangerously quiet voice. ‘A baby and a what?’

      ‘Secretary.’

      She gave a dismissive snort that went a bit wobbly because he was negotiating a rough bone-shaking mud track. ‘That wasn’t what you were going to say.’

      ‘I thought better of it,’ he admitted frankly as he drew up in front of a small but picturesque cottage. ‘I have a healthy respect for red-headed tempers. Here we are,’ he added unnecessarily. ‘No signs of life that I can see,’ he concluded gloomily after his initial inspection.

      Nia followed his lead and clambered out of the car. ‘I know you don’t like redheads,’ she shouted at him. Hearing the childish sound of her waspish accusation, she winced.

      Jake’s initial sharp glance held surprise and then, as she watched, amusement pulled at the corners of his mouth. Whilst he was still watching, she lurched inelegantly as one heel slid on the slippery cobbled surface. Go on, girl, give him something to laugh properly about, why don’t you?

      ‘Farmer’s daughter did you say?’

      Nia caught her breath and her balance. ‘I thought I was dressing for the office today,’ she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

      ‘Is that what you call it?’ His eyes ran comprehensively over her pale green, soft faux silk skirt and matching blouse, they dwelt on the perilously high heels she wore.

      ‘What,’ she asked, her bosom swelling with indignation, ‘is wrong with my clothes? First my hair, now my dress sense. Is there anything about me you do approve of?’

      An expression flared in his eyes before the ebony lashes fell in a concealing cloak. ‘Did I say I didn’t like red hair?’

      ‘You implied it,’ she countered, annoyed that she was acting as if it mattered to her—which, of course, it didn’t.

      ‘It might be better if you take those things off—the shoes,’ he added as she continued to stare up at him.

      ‘I knew that,’ she countered. He wouldn’t be asking her to take off anything else, would he? Reluctantly she did as he suggested. Without the benefit of heels she had sunk back down to way below his shoulder height again.

      ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked when she didn’t fall into step beside him. ‘Do you want me to carry you?’ he enquired with offensive sarcasm.

      ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ Her voice held an extra acid sharpness to compensate for the bizarre route her imagination had taken.

      She’d have walked across hot coals before she’d have admitted her sweaty palms and shaking knees had anything to do with the image of herself being lifted effortlessly by strong masculine arms—when you considered the person the masculine arms were attached to it made her derangement all the more serious!

      ‘What?’ He gave her an impatient look.

      ‘The baby.’

      In his urgency to find his brother that small but all-important detail had for a second slipped his mind. At the crisp reminder, he lifted a harassed hand to his brow. His eyes went automatically to the occupied back seat and Nia saw his shoulders square both mentally and physically.

      ‘Or do you intend leaving him outside in the car?’

      ‘If you’re not too busy scoring points, do you think you could bring in some of that paraphernalia?’ he asked, nodding to the inevitable clutter that accompanies infants as he lifted the baby carrier clear of the car.

      Nia resisted the temptation of having the last word and followed him into the picture-postcard cottage.