‘You poor love. I’m sorry. You could use some moral support. If I’d realized you were having a tough time too I’d have put Nick off. But he’s nice. Really. And anyway you two already know each other a little bit.’ Silence from Layla. ‘The wedding? Give him a chance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be good for each other.’
Ophelia sat next to her on the kitchen tiles, her little warm body leaning into Layla’s side. She automatically stroked her head and tousled the fur behind her ears. ‘The thing is with all my other commitments the decorating isn’t going as fast as I’d like. The place is in a mess. What am I supposed to do with him?’
‘Now there’s a question.’ Maggie’s cheeky laugh resounded in her ears. ‘You’ll think of something. He won’t be there long. Just until his face heals.’
She clutched the phone tightly. ‘About that …’ A baby crying cut her short. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Phoebe.’ A second high-pitched cry echoed the first. ‘And there goes Horatio. Listen, I’ll have to hang up. Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. You’ve got your hands full.’
‘Let me know how things go. And if I can help with the Joe situation in any way you just have to say. Could you get away for a few days? We could try and find a corner for you here.’
‘I’ll survive. But thanks. Hug the babies for me.’
‘Take care of yourself.’
With that Maggie’s sparkly voice was gone and Layla was left with the beaten-up brother-in-law to add to her problems. For a few seconds she remained frozen on the cold kitchen tiles uncertain what to do. She’d been planning to spend the morning setting to work on a seaside-themed mural for Phoebe and Horatio. She’d sketched out lots of ideas, looking forward to getting creative.
Putting her best foot forward, she got up and crept out of the kitchen into the living room, quietly gathered up her stuff and tiptoed over to the stairs. Like a shadow, Ophelia went too. But the second Layla set foot on the bottom step it creaked loudly and Nick blinked open his eyes. Flustered, she set everything down again and crossed her arms defensively. The bracelet on her wrist jingled and its clasp caught on a shirt button. All fingers and thumbs, she tugged at it.
‘Red?’ He sat up and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. A lazy, impossibly sexy smile curved his lips. She bristled.
Fabulous. He’s forgotten my name.
‘Good morning,’ she said brightly, trying to sound like she’d fully expected to find a celebrity on the sofa. Putting two and two together she twigged that the appallingly badly parked sports car outside was his. ‘That monstrosity blocking the lane looks like an abandoned vehicle. If you don’t move it sharpish you’ll have the neighbourhood watch brigade after you.’
Nick stood up letting slip the throw that had loosely covered not much of him while he slept.
Not convinced that he wasn’t stark naked, she clapped a hand over her eyes and held up the other one like she was directing traffic. ‘Stop. On second thoughts, it can wait.’ He sank back onto the sofa, and through the gaps between her fingers she saw his smile spread impossibly wider.
‘That thing’s a mid-life crisis waiting to happen. As soon as day-trippers start arriving there’ll be a traffic jam.’ Disgruntled she grumbled her words out and gingerly lowering her hand pointed out irritably, ‘You’re much too young for a mid-life crisis.’
He laughed. ‘Okay I get it. You don’t like my car Red.’ His amused tone rumbled through her, spoilt by the fury that had kicked in when he called her by her hair colour. ‘It’s a rental.’
‘Couldn’t you get a bigger one?’
Ophelia barked enthusiastically and jumped up to lick his face. ‘I’m glad someone’s pleased to see me.’
Maggie and Alex’s wedding had been the first, and last, time Layla had seen him in the flesh, so to speak. And he hadn’t been in a state of undress then. As if, like Ophelia, he’d read her mind, he announced, ‘I’d better put some clothes on.’ The taunting glint in his eyes rattled her. ‘It was raining hard last night. I got wet so I stripped and crashed.’
Her gaze darted all around the room trying to avoid staring. Who knew Maggie would end up married to Hot Vampire Guy? And here was Even Hotter Vampire Guy. Not that she was a fan. She’d wanted to believe Maggie when she’d said he was quite nice really, but she wasn’t convinced. He had a dreadful reputation.
‘If you’ll excuse me I need to get on. I’ve promised to help out at the beach kiosk this afternoon. And I’ve got a shift at the restaurant later. The girl who usually washes up has pulled a sickie and headed off to a festival.’ She gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘Right this minute I’d sell my soul to just take flight like that.’
She briskly pulled the curtains and July sunshine poured into the room. ‘The window’s wide open.’ Wearily she remembered that she’d opened it to get rid of the paint smell, and been so ready to zonk out when she’d finished work on the cottage that she’d forgotten to close it. ‘Please tell me Maggie gave you a key? You didn’t climb in through the window in the night?’
‘She said to knock on your door and ask you to open up, but since I got here at 3 a.m. and a perfectly good window was open there didn’t seem any point.’
‘You broke in?’
‘In theory it wasn’t a break-in since somebody left the window open.’ He fixed her with his gaze and shrugged his strong, smooth shoulders, everything about him golden hues, apart from the marks on his face, strong evidence of his bad boy image. ‘It was late. I didn’t want to wake you from your beauty sleep Red.’
In the bright daylight she took in the bruise that circled his eye more clearly. The skin was livid and dark very swollen. ‘It’ll take more than sleep to make that beautiful, what happened?’ Her hand flew to cover her mouth, not in time to stop her adding, ‘Been in a fight?’
‘It’s a long story.’ Clearly a story he wasn’t about to tell.
Uneasy and annoyed at the intrusion, she walked towards the kitchen. It was uncool not to remember her name. And on what planet did he think it was okay to call a person by their hair colour?
‘Tea?’ She threw the question over her shoulder. ‘Don’t answer, because I’m making tea whether you want me to or not. I need it, even if you don’t.’
‘Tea would be lovely. Thank you.’ His drawl wound through her, making it hard to stay cross.
Layla’s nails tapped out an impatient rhythm on the worktop while she waited for the kettle to boil. Her nerves jangled.
He can’t stay here. He’s in the way. He’ll have to go.
She was in enough bother without a six-foot-something actor hiding out in the cottage while she painted. All she wanted to do herself was hide and paint, and there wasn’t enough room for two fugitives.
She poured hot water into a red polka dot teapot and watched a curl of steam rise from the spout. It wasn’t her call. Maggie had said it was fine – so she’d lump it.
Turning to grab a couple of flowery mugs, her skin prickled as she realized she was being watched. Dressed in jeans and a grey tee, Nick filled the doorframe. Her eyes about level with his broad chest, she tipped her head to meet his distracting face.
‘I’ve moved the car.’
‘Hopefully,