but—’
‘What I mean about one step further is surely we can use each other’s given names now,’ he said as he mounted the stairs and sat her down on the refectory table and examined the sole of her foot.
‘Well, yes,’ Harriet conceded and immediately felt like a broken record.
‘Good. There’s nothing wrong with your foot. You might have a bruise, that’s all.’
‘Thank you.’ Harriet rested her palms on the table and could think of not another thing to say.
Damien Wyatt grimaced. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I seem to have rather bowled you over. Why don’t we go our separate ways for the next couple of hours—I’ve got things to do anyway—then have dinner?’
Harriet licked her lips. ‘I was planning to work.’
‘Say that again.’ Something rather chilly entered his eyes.
She blushed. ‘I...’ But she could only gesture helplessly.
‘Still running away, Harriet?’ he said softly.
‘I...’ She trailed off then gathered herself. ‘There’s nothing to run away from but—’ she hesitated ‘—if you don’t mind pasta you could come here for dinner.’
He looked surprised.
‘What?’ she queried.
‘I guess I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘You may have some preconceived ideas about me that influence your judgement; you obviously do,’ she retorted.
There was a challenging glint in her eyes as she continued. ‘Uh, let’s see.’ And she started to tick off her fingers. ‘Head-in-the-clouds, accident-prone, academic—oh, let’s not forget superior and neurotic. No wonder you were surprised to be asked to dinner!’
His lips twisted and he looked about to reply, then as if he’d changed his mind. He did say, ‘I’ll look forward to it. Around six? I’ll bring some wine. You can stay,’ he added to Tottie, who was looking visibly torn as he walked to the door.
Harriet stared at the doorway for a long moment after he’d disappeared then she clicked her fingers and Tottie came to the refectory table and put her chin on Harriet’s knee with a soulful sigh.
‘You could have gone with him,’ she said as she stroked the dog’s nose. ‘I’d quite understand. He may not appreciate divided loyalties. In fact I get the feeling he’s a hard man with a lot of hang-ups.’
Tottie sat down and thumped her tail on the floor.
Harriet smiled then slid off the table and glanced at the kitchen clock and discovered she only had an hour to shower and change as well as produce dinner.
But when she reached the bathroom, she dropped the towel still wound round her and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply as every sensation she’d experienced from the moment he’d picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to the moment he’d sat her down on the table—and beyond—came to her again.
The easy strength that had made her feel quite light despite her height. The movement of his muscles against her body, the feel of his heart beating against her as her own heartbeat had tripled. The hard wall of his chest that made her feel soft and so sensuous. The pure aroma of man she’d inhaled with delight...
She opened her eyes and stared at herself in something like shock as she thought— this can’t go on!
* * *
It was a hurried shower she took. And she pulled on a pair of grey leggings patterned with white daisies and a white cotton shirt with puffed sleeves. She tied her hair back severely with a pink ribbon and didn’t bother with any make-up, not that she needed any; walking in the sun and swimming in the sea the past few weeks had given her a golden glow.
* * *
‘This is delicious but—correct me if I’m wrong—it’s not pasta,’ Damien said.
He’d changed into a denim shirt and jeans and they sat opposite each other at the refectory table that Harriet had set with blue woven mats, matching linen napkins and one of her herbs in a colourful pottery pot.
‘Changed my mind,’ she confessed. ‘It’s paella.’
‘What’s
‘What I mean about one step further is surely we can use each other’s given names now,’ he said as he mounted the stairs and sat her down on the refectory table and examined the sole of her foot.
‘Well, yes,’ Harriet conceded and immediately felt like a broken record.
‘Good. There’s nothing wrong with your foot. You might have a bruise, that’s all.’
‘Thank you.’ Harriet rested her palms on the table and could think of not another thing to say.
Damien Wyatt grimaced. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I seem to have rather bowled you over. Why don’t we go our separate ways for the next couple of hours—I’ve got things to do anyway—then have dinner?’
Harriet licked her lips. ‘I was planning to work.’
‘Say that again.’ Something rather chilly entered his eyes.
She blushed. ‘I...’ But she could only gesture helplessly.
‘Still running away, Harriet?’ he said softly.
‘I...’ She trailed off then gathered herself. ‘There’s nothing to run away from but—’ she hesitated ‘—if you don’t mind pasta you could come here for dinner.’
He looked surprised.
‘What?’ she queried.
‘I guess I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘You may have some preconceived ideas about me that influence your judgement; you obviously do,’ she retorted.
There was a challenging glint in her eyes as she continued. ‘Uh, let’s see.’ And she started to tick off her fingers. ‘Head-in-the-clouds, accident-prone, academic—oh, let’s not forget superior and neurotic. No wonder you were surprised to be asked to dinner!’
His lips twisted and he looked about to reply, then as if he’d changed his mind. He did say, ‘I’ll look forward to it. Around six? I’ll bring some wine. You can stay,’ he added to Tottie, who was looking visibly torn as he walked to the door.
Harriet stared at the doorway for a long moment after he’d disappeared then she clicked her fingers and Tottie came to the refectory table and put her chin on Harriet’s knee with a soulful sigh.
‘You could have gone with him,’ she said as she stroked the dog’s nose. ‘I’d quite understand. He may not appreciate divided loyalties. In fact I get the feeling he’s a hard man with a lot of hang-ups.’
Tottie sat down and thumped her tail on the floor.
Harriet smiled then slid off the table and glanced at the kitchen clock and discovered she only had an hour to shower and change as well as produce dinner.
But when she reached the bathroom, she dropped the towel still wound round her and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply as every sensation she’d experienced from the moment he’d picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to the moment he’d sat her down on the table—and beyond—came to her again.
The easy strength that had made her feel quite light despite her height. The movement of his muscles against her body, the feel of his heart beating against her as her own heartbeat had tripled. The hard wall of his chest that made her feel soft and so sensuous. The pure aroma of man she’d inhaled with delight...
She opened her eyes and stared at herself in something like shock as she thought— this can’t go on!
* * *
It was a hurried shower she took. And she pulled on a pair of grey leggings patterned with white daisies and a white cotton shirt with puffed sleeves. She tied her hair back severely with a pink ribbon and didn’t bother with any make-up, not that she needed any; walking in the sun and swimming in the sea the past few weeks had given her a golden glow.
* * *
‘This is delicious but—correct me if I’m wrong—it’s not pasta,’ Damien said.
He’d changed into a denim shirt and jeans and they sat opposite each other at the refectory table that Harriet had set with blue woven mats, matching linen napkins and one of her herbs in a colourful pottery pot.
‘Changed my mind,’ she confessed. ‘It’s paella.’
‘What’s
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