* * *
Jonas pulled his car round to the front of the restaurant, idling the engine as he waited for Lawrie. Their first day working together was going well. He’d had a productive two hours’ work just then, not thinking about and not even noticing the exposed nape of her neck, her long, bare legs, not at all aware of every rustle, every slight movement.
Well, maybe just a little aware. But they were just physical things. And Cornwall in summer was full of attractive women—beautiful women, even.
And yet during the last two hours the room he had designed, the room that had evoked light and space, had felt small, claustrophobic, airless. How could someone as slight as Lawrie take up so much space?
Jonas looked over at the Boat House impatiently, just as Lawrie emerged through the front door, a carefully blank, slightly snooty look on her face—the expression that had used to mean she was unsure of the situation. Did it still mean that? He used to be able to read her every shifting emotion, no matter how she tried to hide them.
Then one day he simply couldn’t read her at all.
She stopped at the gate, peering down the road, puzzled.
What was she looking for? He half raised one hand to wave at her, then quickly lowered it, leaning on the horn instead, with a little more emphasis than needed. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of amusement as she jumped at the noise and then, obviously flustered, crossed the harbour road, walking slowly towards the car.
He leant across to open the passenger door, sitting back as she slid in, looking straight ahead, trying not to watch her legs slide down over the seat, her round, firm bottom wriggling down over the padded leather, the sudden definition as the seatbelt tightened against her chest.
‘Nice,’ she said appreciatively, putting a hand out to stroke the walnut dashboard as Jonas pulled the low, sleek car away from the kerb. ‘I have to say I hadn’t pegged you as a sports car man. I was looking for the camper van.’
‘Oh, this is just a runabout. I still have the camper. There’s no way I could get a board in here.’
He laughed as she grimaced.
‘You and your boards,’ she said. ‘If they’re that important you should have gone for a sensible people carrier rather than this midlife crisis on wheels.’
‘Midlife crisis?’ he mock-huffed. There was no way he was going to admit the secret pride he took in the car.
Jonas didn’t care too much what people said, what people thought of him, but he allowed himself a little smirk of satisfaction every time he passed one of his parents’ cronies and saw them clock the car and the driver and, for one grudging moment, admit to themselves that that no-good boy had done well.
‘At least this has a real engine in it. I’ve seen that dainty little convertible you call a car. Do you actually put flowers in that holder?’
She shook her head, smiling. ‘You have to admit it’s convenient for parking. But I can see why you like this—she goes like a dream,’ she said as he turned the corner onto the main road and the car began purring up the steep climb. ‘And at least she isn’t red, so not a total cliché! I’m glad that you kept the camper, though. I was always fond of the old girl. What?’ she asked as he slid her a sly smile.
‘I’m glad you’ve finally acknowledged that she’s a she—you’ll call her by her name next,’ he teased.
‘I will never call a twenty-year-old rusty van by such a ridiculous name—by any name. A car is not a person,’ she said with a haughty flick of her ponytail.
But Jonas could hear the laughter in her voice as he deftly swung the car round the corner and along the narrow lanes that led to the hotel, just two coves away.
‘Go on—say it,’ he coaxed her.
It had been a long time since he had seen Lawrie laugh. Judging by the wounded, defensive look in her eyes it was a long time since she had laughed.
‘I’ll help. Bar... Barb...’
‘No!’ But she was definitely trying not to laugh, and there was a dimple at the corner of her lush, full mouth. ‘What about this one? What have you named her?’
‘Nice escape, Ms Bennett. But I will get you to say her name before you leave.’
‘We’ll see.’
The words were dismissive but she still sounded amused. Jonas sneaked a glance at his passenger and saw her face was more relaxed, her posture less rigid.
‘So go on—surprise me. What’s she called?’
‘Ah,’ he said lightly. ‘This baby doesn’t have a name. It’d be disloyal to the camper.’
This time she did laugh—slightly croaky, as if she were unused to making the sound, but as deep and rich, as infectious as Jonas remembered.
‘We wouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of a rusting old van, would we?’
‘I assure her every day that I only bought this to spare her tired old axles, but I’m not sure she believes me.’
‘Nobody likes being replaced by a younger model.’
There was a dark undercurrent to her tone and he glanced at her sharply, but her face was as impassive as ever, the laughter gone as if it had never been, replaced by that cool mask she always put on.
It had been her coolness that had first attracted him—the innocent look on her face as she said the most outrageous things a stark contrast to the noisy beach bums he’d been surrounded by. It had been the unexpected moments when she’d opened up that had made him fall head over heels in love with her—the moments when her mask had dropped and she’d lit up with laughter, with indignation, with passion.
Dangerous memories. His hands tightened on the wheel as he navigated the narrow bends, the hedgerows high beside them as if they were driving through a dark, tree-lined tunnel.
‘I’m glad you’re driving. I’m not sure I’d find my way by road,’ Lawrie said conversationally, as if she were discussing the weather.
As beautifully mannered as ever, Jonas thought.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Coombe End. I can’t imagine it without your parents there—how are they?’
There were a million and one responses he could give to that. Jonas settled for the most polite. ‘Retired.’
Lawrie made an incredulous noise. ‘Retired? Seriously? I didn’t think the word was even in their vocabulary.’
‘It wasn’t. It took a heart attack to make them even talk about it, and a second one to make them do it.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. What are they doing now?’
Jonas’s mouth twisted wryly. Making sure he knew just how much they regretted it. Just how much it hurt to see their profligate son undo all their hard work. Not that any of that was Lawrie’s business. Not any more.
‘Living in a respectable villa, in a respectable village in Dorset, and taking an inordinate amount of cruises—which they mostly complain about, of course. Still, every retiree needs a hobby.’
Lawrie looked at him, concern in the deep grey eyes. Of course she knew more about his relationship with his parents than anyone else. He wasn’t used to that—to people seeing behind his flippant tone. He made damn sure that nobody did.
‘I can’t imagine it—your parents, of all people, taking it easy on cruise liners. How long since you bought them out?’
‘Coming up to four years.’ Jonas kept his answer short, terse.
‘Are they still involved?’
‘Now