‘Perhaps she was taking him for a walk?’ suggested Matt mildly, but Fliss only made another impatient gesture.
‘In her nightclothes?’ she demanded scornfully, and Matt gave a lazy shrug.
‘Why not? You apparently do aerobics in yours.’
Fliss felt the colour flood into her throat. ‘In my own kitchen,’ she retorted indignantly, and his lean mouth tilted in an incredibly sexy grin.
‘OK,’ he conceded. ‘That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. But it’s true, isn’t it? You did tell Amy you couldn’t take her to the beach.’
‘I might have done.’
Matt waited a beat. Then, he said, ‘I wondered if you’d allow me to take her out.’
‘You?’
Fliss was taken aback and it showed, and Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘Yeah,’ he said flatly. ‘I knew it was a crazy idea, but I had to run it by you.’ He half turned. ‘Forget it. I’ll see you Monday morning at the usual time—’
‘Wait!’ Fliss didn’t know what possessed her, but she couldn’t let him go like this. ‘I—let me think about it, at least.’
Matt paused, and eyes dark as sin impaled her with a sceptical look. ‘What’s to think about?’ he asked. ‘You hardly know me. I know that. You don’t know if you can trust me. Like I said, it was a crazy idea. Why don’t we both forget I ever mentioned it?’
Fliss shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well—for a start, because I do think I can trust you.’
‘Thanks.’ His tone was dry.
‘I mean it.’ Fliss sighed. ‘But Amy had no right to involve you—’
‘If you say so.’
‘—and I’m sure you have better things to do than take a nine-year-old to the beach.’
‘Ah.’ He was sardonic. ‘This is your way of letting me down gently, right?’
‘Wrong.’
‘But you’re going to say no, anyway,’ he persisted harshly. ‘Why don’t you just come out and say so?’
‘If you must know, I’d already decided to take her myself,’ said Fliss defensively, and she saw the way his mouth turned down at this news.
‘Yeah, right.’
‘I mean it.’ She gave a helpless shake of her head. ‘Why would I lie?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I’m not lying,’ she protested. ‘If you don’t believe me, why don’t you come with us?’
It was one of those moments when the air in the room practically shimmered with tension. Matt was obviously taken aback by her words and Fliss was wondering how much deeper a hole she was going to dig herself. Dear God, she didn’t want to spend a whole day with him any more than he wanted to spend the day with her. Dammit, why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?
‘What’s going on here?’
Her father’s appearance in the doorway seemed like the last straw. She had hoped Matt would have said his piece and disappeared before her father came down, but now George Taylor was staring at their visitor with wary eyes. He’d recognised him, of course. How could he not? And he was characteristically suspicious as to why Matt should be standing in his kitchen.
In fact it was Matt who took the initiative. ‘Mr Taylor, I presume,’ he remarked easily, putting out his hand to shake the other man’s as if he’d never expressed any reluctance to speak to a member of the Press. ‘Matt Quinn. I’m the new owner of the Old Coaching House.’
‘I know who you are Mr Quinn,’ said Fliss’s father stiffly, obviously as taken aback by Matt’s cordiality as Fliss was herself. Then his gaze turned to his daughter, and his lips tightened. ‘I suggest you go and put some clothes on, Felicity. I’ll entertain our guest.’
Fliss rolled her eyes. ‘Dad—’
‘It’s OK,’ said Matt, before she could say anything more. ‘I’ve got to go and finish my breakfast and lock up the house.’ He met Fliss’s gaze with apparent unconcern. ‘I’ll leave your daughter to explain that I’m taking her and your granddaughter out for the day.’
Fliss didn’t know which of them was the most shocked, her or her father. But rather than wait to see how she was going to handle it, Matt arched a challenging brow in her direction and headed for the door.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he promised blandly. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Taylor.’
And with that, he was gone, and Fliss was left to face her father’s undoubted irritation. The door had scarcely closed behind Matt before he snapped, ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on between you and that man? Why would he think he had the right to come here at—’ he consulted his wrist-watch before continuing—‘at seven-thirty in the morning? Has he been here all night?’
Fliss’s jaw dropped. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘What’s ridiculous about it? I didn’t hear a car, and you’re hardly dressed to receive visitors.’ His lips pursed with annoyance as he viewed her attire. ‘And couldn’t you buy yourself some nightgowns? What must he think, finding you wearing men’s underpants to sleep in?’
‘They’re boxers,’ Fliss corrected him shortly. ‘And they’re very comfortable, actually.’
‘No doubt.’ Her father sniffed. ‘Well? What’s all this about?’
Fliss expelled an exasperated breath, but before she could answer the door opened again and Amy and Harvey bounded in. ‘Is it true?’ the little girl demanded as Harvey raced wildly about the room. ‘Are we really going out with Quinn? He said we were. He said you’d said we could all go to the beach.’
‘Amy—’
‘I think your mother’s taken leave of her senses,’ retorted her grandfather dauntingly. ‘I never approved of her going to work for that man, but getting you involved as well—’
‘I didn’t get Amy involved,’ protested Fliss quickly, not prepared to be blamed for something that really wasn’t her fault. ‘It was Amy who let Harvey into Matt’s garden.’
‘So it’s “Matt’s” garden, is it?’ Her father was scornful. Then he turned to his granddaughter. ‘Is this true, Amy? Did you let Harvey out?’
Amy hunched her shoulders. ‘I might have done.’
‘Either you did or you didn’t.’ Her grandfather regarded her sternly. ‘You know that was a very naughty thing to do, don’t you? Harvey could have run away, or got knocked down. Anything.’
‘No, he couldn’t,’ muttered Amy sulkily. ‘He was safe enough in the garden at the big house.’
Her grandfather gasped. ‘So, you admit you deliberately released the dog in Mr Quinn’s garden?’
Amy looked mutinous. ‘He didn’t mind.’
‘How do you know that?’ Fliss’s father was angry now. ‘You hardly know the man.’
‘I do, too.’ Amy was defiant. ‘I spent all yesterday morning talking to him.’ She took a breath and then added staunchly, ‘He likes me.’
‘Does he?’ George Taylor turned back to his daughter now. ‘Why wasn’t I told about this?’
Fliss sighed. ‘About what?’
‘About Amy spending the morning with that man,’ stated her father