‘I’ll call the agency on Monday morning. They’ll find something soon enough. I’m not fussy.’
‘Clearly.’
‘I can’t afford to be fussy,’ she told him. ‘I have to pay the rent and bills and they keep coming every month, whatever I do.’
‘You could get a proper job. Settle down instead of flitting from one appalling office to the next.’ She was obviously bright and good with people. There was no reason Luke could see why she shouldn’t be in a decent job.
Fliss sighed. ‘You make it sound so easy.’
Luke shrugged. ‘Works for most people.’
‘For you?’
‘It’s different for me. I’ll be training horses for the rest of my life. Can’t get more settled than that.’ And if it wasn’t exactly the fulfilment of his boyhood dreams, it was near enough.
‘Gosh. What does your wife think about that?’ Fliss had twisted round in her seat to look at him directly, with wide, faux-naïve eyes.
Subtlety was nowhere in this woman’s repertoire. Luke slid his eyes round to meet hers. ‘My wife?’
She smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Or your girlfriend?’
He shook his head. ‘No wife. No girlfriend.’
‘Boyfriend?’
Luke’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Hadn’t she been paying attention at all when he’d kissed her earlier?
‘You might want to keep your eyes on the road,’ Fliss murmured, wondering if she was about to push her luck too far.
Luke swore and wrenched the steering wheel sharply to the right, so that the car avoided the overhanging tree on the bend in the lane by mere inches. Fliss let him grind his teeth for a bit and mutter under his breath.
When she decided he’d had long enough to recover, she continued. ‘Me either. No wife, no girlfriend, no boyfriend. Isn’t that a coincidence?’
‘Husband?’ he asked swiftly, and then shut his mouth tight as if he wished he hadn’t said it.
‘None of those, either.’
‘Good,’ he told her savagely. ‘I’d hate to think of some poor guy having to deal with you every day for the rest of his life.’
‘Oh.’ Just because Fliss’s dreams didn’t include settling down into married life didn’t mean she wanted to be rejected quite so bluntly.
Luke’s reached a hand across to take hold of Fliss’s. He squeezed it gently. ‘I’m sorry. That was unpardonably rude of me.’
She pulled her hand away from his. ‘How much further is it to the station?’ They’d left the town behind some minutes ago and were now driving along a leafy country lane.
Luke looked at her in surprise. ‘Oh, damn. Sorry, I must have got distracted. We’re almost at my house. You’d better come in and I’ll call you a taxi.’
He turned off the road onto a long gravelled drive that curved around bringing them to a halt in front of a large Georgian farm house. Huge pink and blue hydrangeas tumbled over the short flagstone path to the front door.
‘Give me your shoes.’ Luke held out his hand.
‘They won’t fit you,’ she warned, holding onto her precious Manolos.
‘I have superglue.’
Fliss looked at the shoes consideringly. ‘No, still won’t fit.’
‘To mend them.’ He reached over and picked them out of her lap. ‘Are you coming?’
She jumped out of the car without thinking. Her bare feet hit the gravel drive and sent her hopping. ‘Ow!’
Luke grinned at her discomfort. ‘Want me to put you over my shoulder again?’
She scowled back at him. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘I’m sure you will.’
‘Wait there.’ Luke disappeared into the depths of the house, still holding onto her shoes.
Fliss looked around her with unrestrained curiosity. Luke’s home bore all the signs of having been loved and lived in for generations. There were huge, high ceilings and walls which must have been painted a deep red years ago but now had faded patches showing where pictures had been rehung. A richly patterned rug had been chewed at the corners and showed threadbare in the middle. The umbrella stand contained an eclectic assortment of croquet mallets, ancient wooden tennis racquets, hand-carved walking sticks and something Fliss thought might be a jockey’s whip. On the side table sat an old-fashioned telephone and a large pile of unopened post that Fliss automatically began to flick through. A lot of boring circulars and bill. No telltale handwritten pink envelopes.
‘Woof!’
Fliss grinned. If Luke had a dog, he couldn’t be quite as stiff-upper-lipped as he liked to pretend.
‘Woof, woof!’ She followed the noise and lifted the latch on a heavy oak door to let an over-excited spaniel out of the kitchen. The bundle of shiny chocolate and cream curls barked and licked and jumped up with excitement, giving the lie to his dark soulful eyes with faint streaks of false tears. He was adorable. Fliss automatically fell to her knees and started to play.
‘I see you’ve met Benjy.’
Fliss extricated herself from the spaniel’s clutches and smiled up at Luke. ‘He’s gorgeous.’
‘He’s a nuisance,’ Luke said dryly. From the way Benjy was ecstatically jumping up around his owner’s knees, Fliss decided she could safely dismiss this comment. ‘Come through here.’
Fliss followed Luke into a cosy, if somewhat shabby, sitting room. He strode over to an old-fashioned desk where he switched on a bright lamp and started to examine her broken Manolo.
‘Is there hope for it?’
He didn’t look up. ‘You’re blocking the light.’
‘Sorry.’ Not remotely sorry, Fliss left Luke to it while she wandered over to the mantelpiece which held a series of family photos in heavy silver frames. She picked up the oldest one – a wedding photo. ‘Are these your parents?’
Luke didn’t answer.
Fliss brought the photo over to the desk so that she could look at it in the light. ‘You look like your mother.’
‘Hmm.’ Luke pushed the broken heel back into place and held it firmly for the glue to go off.
‘It’s the cheekbones. And the eyes. She’s very beautiful.’
Luke exhaled a long breath. ‘Yes, she was.’
Fliss glanced at him. His gaze was fixed on her shoe, but his lips had tightened and his eyes were cold.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, though this time she meant it. ‘Was it recent?’ She’d spotted pictures of Luke as a teenager with both his parents on the mantelpiece.
‘A year ago,’ he told her, through gritted teeth. ‘She left a year ago.’
‘Left?’
Fliss wanted to know what had happened but Luke pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘These need to stand for an hour or so. I have to go and check on things at the yard.’ Apparently that discussion was closed.
‘Oh. Well…’ Fliss was about to suggest she make a cup of tea. And if that gave her a chance to rummage through Luke’s kitchen cupboards, she wouldn’t object.
‘You’re coming with me,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m not in the habit of leaving strangers alone in my house, no matter how cute they are.’
‘Cute?’ Fliss raised an eyebrow.
He gave an exasperated sigh and gestured towards a door in the hall. ‘There are piles of wellies in the cloakroom. You should be able to find a pair that vaguely fit.’
Luke brought her a soft old sweater to put on over her dress and a thick pair of striped socks to go inside the wellies.
‘How do I look?’ Fliss asked, putting out her arms and doing a twirl.
‘Ridiculously adorable.’
She laughed. ‘Cute
and
adorable. You want to watch out, Luke Caldecott. A girl might start to think you fancy her with that sort of talk.’
Luke gave her a warning look. ‘I told you…’
‘No more kissing. Don’t worry, I remember.’
‘Good.’ He called Benjy up with a whistle and opened the door for Fliss.
‘I just don’t remember you giving me a reason,’ she murmured as she brushed past him.
Chapter Three
The blue dress had never been long, but somehow, the old jumper Luke had given her made it shrink to an almost indecent height on Fliss’s thighs. And although the wellington boots she wore came up almost to her knees, from Luke’s point of view, they only served to draw attention to the rest of her deliciously curvy legs.
She was adorable.
Ridiculous, but adorable and Luke walking a few steps behind her, couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t stop remembering how it had felt to have her lips working their magic against his. Couldn’t stop wanting to touch her again. And more.
One hour to show her round the yard while the glue set on her shoes and then he’d call her a cab and be done with her. If he still had the tiniest shred of self-control he would. Otherwise, he might just drag her up to bed and set about removing the ridiculously sexy combination of his clothes and hers that she wore.
‘This way,’ he told Fliss curtly, careful not to brush against her as he went past into the stableyard. ‘Hold onto Benjy’s leash and don’t do anything stupid.’
She gave a mock salute. ‘Yes, sir!’
He smiled but said, ‘I’m serious. These horses are worth a lot of money and incredibly highly-strung. This isn’t the Pony Club.’
Fliss shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know, I was never in the Pony Club.’
‘You’ve never ridden?’
She winked at him. ‘Well, I’ve never ridden a horse.’
Luke gave a rueful grin. He’d walked into that one. ‘Touché.’
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted to a woman in this way. Maybe never. Luke prided himself on his self-control around beautiful women. He didn’t do wild, uncontrollable lust. He didn’t have unsuitable affairs with impulsive girls. He had brief, casual flings with women who knew the score from the start and who were as unlikely to get emotionally involved as he was.
There was nothing controlled about his response to Felicity Merrick. The tilt of her head, the twitching smile on her lips, the sparkle in her eyes all made him want to fling caution to the wind, throw her over his shoulder again and take her up to his bed.
One night, he decided grimly. He could allow himself that. Curiosity would be satisfied and then he would be able to let Fliss Merrick go without a second glance.
One night was all he was prepared to give her, though. Anything more was just too dangerous. Luke had seen exactly how much damage one high-maintenance woman could do to a man and his career, and there was no way he was going to fall into that trap. Luke had seen his father utterly broken by a lifetime of trying to please his mother. And for what? For her to run off with a younger, richer model after almost thirty years of making their lives a misery.
When he’d told Fliss that his mother was beautiful, he’d meant just that. She had been incredibly beautiful once, but all her natural good looks had disappeared under the regime of cutting, tucking, and plumping. The last time Luke had seen her, he’d barely recognised her.
At least his dad was free of her now. He had a moderate pension and a nice little semi on the other side of Newmarket where he was enjoying retirement with a newfound enthusiasm for life.
It had been just the spur Luke needed. He’d been working all hours in the city for almost ten years and was more than ready to come home. A few judicious property investments had come good, and Luke was able to put up the cash injection needed to turn Orchid Park Stables around.
With a young, energetic trainer at the helm, several prestigious owners had been persuaded to send their horses to Orchid Park and Luke had begun the task of building a reputation based on his own abilities. Today’s winner, Chrysanthemum, was by far the classiest horse in his string. Luke was in the habit of talking down the horse’s potential, in case it backfired, but he knew they had as a good a chance at this year’s Derby as he could ever hope for.
It would make his name and cement the reputation of his yard. Success bred success in racing – owners would be queuing up to fill the empty stalls of which there were still far too many at the moment.
Ogling a pretty girl who cared more for her designer shoes than the safe running of a race was not going to fill them.
‘Here.’ Luke wrenched his gaze away from Fliss and nodded towards the horse in the first stall. ‘Land Girl. Two year old filly. She’ll have her first outing in a few weeks time. Bags of speed but temperamental.’
Fliss walked up to the dark horse. ‘That’s the prerogative of beautiful women, isn’t it darling?’
Luke shot her a glance but Fliss’s attention was fixed on the filly. He let out his breath. ‘Hold your hand out flat and give her these.’
‘Polos?’
‘Try it.’
Land Girl eyed Fliss beadily but the scent of the mints was too tempting. One swoop of her tongue lifted the sweets, and with a quick crunch they were gone. She nudged Fliss’s hand, asking for more.