stable yard. ‘Oily little oik.’
Miranda’s eyes were guilty. ‘I’m sorry if I said anything that has made things difficult for you, Dom.’
‘It’s not your fault! But Liza Reece must want to eviscerate me.’ He paused as a titchy black-and-purple car swept up and halted beside the building. ‘Great,’ he sighed. ‘I think we’re about to find out.’ The sound of the car door echoed around the stable yard and Liza Reece headed towards reception, pink skinny jeans and blue sequined trainers showing beneath her jacket, with no sign of the clinical dark green. She began to smile. Then she saw who it was and stopped dead.
For several seconds, Dominic and Liza gazed at one another. Her eyes widened and he was caught, baked in her gaze. Her soft lips parted. She was hot. Hotter than hot. Hotter than he’d remembered. Imagined. Dreamed … his dream of her working her way up his body floated gently through his mind, and he smiled, forgetting for half a heartbeat that it hadn’t been real.
Warily, she stepped closer, so obviously squaring her shoulders to attack a job that had to be done that he almost laughed as he snapped back to reality. ‘I suppose I owe you an apology for yesterday. Sorry.’
Dominic had seldom heard anyone sound less sorry. ‘I owe you one in return. Nicolas stupid Notten’s just told me he’s asked you to relocate your practice – and I’m afraid it’s all down to me being so outrageous as to ask you out.’
She flushed. ‘He considers the whole thing my fault, not yours.’ With an obvious effort, she added, ‘He has a point.’
‘But he might be prepared to reconsider, now because—’
She made an impatient gesture. ‘It would have happened sooner or later. Things aren’t working that well for me here. Got to go. I have a client at two.’ She checked her watch and started toward the door.
‘Wait!’ he protested. ‘There’s more I have to tell you.’
‘What?’ Her baby-doll blue eyes flicked from him to Miranda and then back to her watch.
‘I think we could usefully exchange information. Is it too much of a cheek to ask to meet you, later?’
‘I’m booked through until nine.’
‘I could pick you up after your last client— Oh, shit. No driving licence.’ He felt his face burn, as if his licence being suspended was his fault. Losing the use of his car had been like losing a limb. He took a breath. Calm, Dominic. It’s not your fault. Work around it. ‘How about I meet you at that pub in Middledip, on Main Road?’
A glimmer of sympathy had dawned in her eyes when he mentioned his licence, or lack of, but her shrug was still ungracious. ‘The Three Fishes? I suppose so.’
He tried his best slow smile, right into her eyes. ‘I won’t mention the word “dinner” in case it triggers your fight-or-flight response, but I’ll be eating. I’m really not shy but I don’t like to eat alone so it would be great if you’d eat, too.’
She didn’t smile back. ‘I noticed you’re not shy.’ A blue Golf whizzed into the stable yard. ‘Here’s my client. See you just after nine.’
It was good to be busy, helping people to relax and seeing the lines and puckers fade from their faces as she set her sensitive fingers to searching out the gritty, bubbly areas of their feet.
After her last client, Liza washed her hands, stuffed her towels into the washing machine and prepared to file the day’s notes. She’d just posted a Newton Faulkner disc into the stereo and opened her filing cabinet when Nicolas slid around the door. She sighed.
He hunched his round shoulders. ‘I’ve been thinking, Liza. I feel bad about blowing up at you, last night. We’re all under a lot of stress.’
Oh, really? She gave him a thoughtful stare. Sweating, fidgeting, Nicolas showed all the signs of a man in a bit of a spot.
He shuffled further into the room. He wore a smile, but his eyes were unhappy. ‘You know I wouldn’t really chuck you out, don’t
Miranda’s eyes were guilty. ‘I’m sorry if I said anything that has made things difficult for you, Dom.’
‘It’s not your fault! But Liza Reece must want to eviscerate me.’ He paused as a titchy black-and-purple car swept up and halted beside the building. ‘Great,’ he sighed. ‘I think we’re about to find out.’ The sound of the car door echoed around the stable yard and Liza Reece headed towards reception, pink skinny jeans and blue sequined trainers showing beneath her jacket, with no sign of the clinical dark green. She began to smile. Then she saw who it was and stopped dead.
For several seconds, Dominic and Liza gazed at one another. Her eyes widened and he was caught, baked in her gaze. Her soft lips parted. She was hot. Hotter than hot. Hotter than he’d remembered. Imagined. Dreamed … his dream of her working her way up his body floated gently through his mind, and he smiled, forgetting for half a heartbeat that it hadn’t been real.
Warily, she stepped closer, so obviously squaring her shoulders to attack a job that had to be done that he almost laughed as he snapped back to reality. ‘I suppose I owe you an apology for yesterday. Sorry.’
Dominic had seldom heard anyone sound less sorry. ‘I owe you one in return. Nicolas stupid Notten’s just told me he’s asked you to relocate your practice – and I’m afraid it’s all down to me being so outrageous as to ask you out.’
She flushed. ‘He considers the whole thing my fault, not yours.’ With an obvious effort, she added, ‘He has a point.’
‘But he might be prepared to reconsider, now because—’
She made an impatient gesture. ‘It would have happened sooner or later. Things aren’t working that well for me here. Got to go. I have a client at two.’ She checked her watch and started toward the door.
‘Wait!’ he protested. ‘There’s more I have to tell you.’
‘What?’ Her baby-doll blue eyes flicked from him to Miranda and then back to her watch.
‘I think we could usefully exchange information. Is it too much of a cheek to ask to meet you, later?’
‘I’m booked through until nine.’
‘I could pick you up after your last client— Oh, shit. No driving licence.’ He felt his face burn, as if his licence being suspended was his fault. Losing the use of his car had been like losing a limb. He took a breath. Calm, Dominic. It’s not your fault. Work around it. ‘How about I meet you at that pub in Middledip, on Main Road?’
A glimmer of sympathy had dawned in her eyes when he mentioned his licence, or lack of, but her shrug was still ungracious. ‘The Three Fishes? I suppose so.’
He tried his best slow smile, right into her eyes. ‘I won’t mention the word “dinner” in case it triggers your fight-or-flight response, but I’ll be eating. I’m really not shy but I don’t like to eat alone so it would be great if you’d eat, too.’
She didn’t smile back. ‘I noticed you’re not shy.’ A blue Golf whizzed into the stable yard. ‘Here’s my client. See you just after nine.’
It was good to be busy, helping people to relax and seeing the lines and puckers fade from their faces as she set her sensitive fingers to searching out the gritty, bubbly areas of their feet.
After her last client, Liza washed her hands, stuffed her towels into the washing machine and prepared to file the day’s notes. She’d just posted a Newton Faulkner disc into the stereo and opened her filing cabinet when Nicolas slid around the door. She sighed.
He hunched his round shoulders. ‘I’ve been thinking, Liza. I feel bad about blowing up at you, last night. We’re all under a lot of stress.’
Oh, really? She gave him a thoughtful stare. Sweating, fidgeting, Nicolas showed all the signs of a man in a bit of a spot.
He shuffled further into the room. He wore a smile, but his eyes were unhappy. ‘You know I wouldn’t really chuck you out, don’t
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