with me? I’ve got a deskful of paperwork needing attention, and anyway, I loathe cocoa,’ she told him pettishly.
‘A glass of wine perhaps, then,’ he suggested.
Kelly started to shake her head, and then for some reason found that she was nodding it slowly instead.
‘This way,’ he told her, directing her further down the hallway and into another room, which was a cross between an office and a study, comfortably furnished with a couple of deep armchairs and a huge desk which dominated the space in front of the window.
‘For Christmas the year before last, Eve rented for me a row of vines in France. The idea is that you get the wine from your own vines and you can, if you wish, take part in some of the preparation of the wine. Surprisingly, it’s rather good...’
‘So you’ll what?’ Kelly asked him. ‘Buy the vineyard?’
An unexpected smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
‘Not this particular one,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s certainly an idea. I wouldn’t have an objection to a life of viticulture and semi-retirement... Tuscany, perhaps, close to one of those unbelievably visually breathtaking medieval towns...’
‘It sounds idyllic,’ Kelly responded enviously, without thinking, and then bit her lip, telling him curtly, ‘Look, I really can’t stay. Paperwork isn’t really my strong suit and...’
‘I understand,’ Brough accepted. His face was in the shadows but there was no mistaking the stiffness in his voice. Quite patently he was angry with her again, Kelly decided, suppressing a soft sigh. So why should she care either what he thought or what he felt? This time, as she headed for the front door, he made no attempt to persuade her to stay, simply opening it for her and formally thanking her for her time.
As he watched her until she was safely inside the car, Brough wondered what on earth had possessed him to reveal that long-held dream of his to her. What possible interest could it be to her, and, more disturbingly, why should he want it to be?
She was an enigma, a puzzle of unfathomable proportions, and he was a fool for even beginning to think what he was thinking about her.
As he went upstairs and switched on the light in his puce-walled bedroom, his glance rested on the neat white line of his bed. He had been lying when he had told her that it was his bedroom he had been inviting her to see and not his bed. Already, with remarkably little effort at all, he could picture her lying there in it, tucked securely beneath its protective sheets as they outlined the warm curves of her body, holding out an invitation which she mirrored as she held out her arms to welcome him.
* * *
E VE HADN ’ T HAD a good night. She and Julian had had an argument, a small altercation which had blown up out of virtually nothing, simply her innocent comment that Kelly was a very attractive and vivacious woman and that she and Julian were obviously very good friends. But Julian had reacted as though she had accused him of some crime, exploding into a rage so intense that he had actually frightened her.
Shocked and in tears, she had run from his flat, ignoring his demands to her to come back as she’d fired the engine of her car, and here she was now, her car parked in the town centre as she walked unhappily along the riverbank, desperately trying to avoid looking at the entwined pairs of lovers enjoying a romantic stroll along the river path.
‘Eve... Eve...’
Instinctively, she stopped as she heard the male voice calling her name, her breath catching in her throat as she recognised Harry hurrying towards her.
‘I saw you as I walked over the bridge,’ Harry told her with a warm beam as he indicated the bridge she had just passed, his smile fading as he saw her miserable expression. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Eve fibbed, but his concern, his sympathy and most of all his sturdy male warmth and reassurance were too much for her already shaky composure, and as she
‘A glass of wine perhaps, then,’ he suggested.
Kelly started to shake her head, and then for some reason found that she was nodding it slowly instead.
‘This way,’ he told her, directing her further down the hallway and into another room, which was a cross between an office and a study, comfortably furnished with a couple of deep armchairs and a huge desk which dominated the space in front of the window.
‘For Christmas the year before last, Eve rented for me a row of vines in France. The idea is that you get the wine from your own vines and you can, if you wish, take part in some of the preparation of the wine. Surprisingly, it’s rather good...’
‘So you’ll what?’ Kelly asked him. ‘Buy the vineyard?’
An unexpected smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
‘Not this particular one,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s certainly an idea. I wouldn’t have an objection to a life of viticulture and semi-retirement... Tuscany, perhaps, close to one of those unbelievably visually breathtaking medieval towns...’
‘It sounds idyllic,’ Kelly responded enviously, without thinking, and then bit her lip, telling him curtly, ‘Look, I really can’t stay. Paperwork isn’t really my strong suit and...’
‘I understand,’ Brough accepted. His face was in the shadows but there was no mistaking the stiffness in his voice. Quite patently he was angry with her again, Kelly decided, suppressing a soft sigh. So why should she care either what he thought or what he felt? This time, as she headed for the front door, he made no attempt to persuade her to stay, simply opening it for her and formally thanking her for her time.
As he watched her until she was safely inside the car, Brough wondered what on earth had possessed him to reveal that long-held dream of his to her. What possible interest could it be to her, and, more disturbingly, why should he want it to be?
She was an enigma, a puzzle of unfathomable proportions, and he was a fool for even beginning to think what he was thinking about her.
As he went upstairs and switched on the light in his puce-walled bedroom, his glance rested on the neat white line of his bed. He had been lying when he had told her that it was his bedroom he had been inviting her to see and not his bed. Already, with remarkably little effort at all, he could picture her lying there in it, tucked securely beneath its protective sheets as they outlined the warm curves of her body, holding out an invitation which she mirrored as she held out her arms to welcome him.
* * *
E VE HADN ’ T HAD a good night. She and Julian had had an argument, a small altercation which had blown up out of virtually nothing, simply her innocent comment that Kelly was a very attractive and vivacious woman and that she and Julian were obviously very good friends. But Julian had reacted as though she had accused him of some crime, exploding into a rage so intense that he had actually frightened her.
Shocked and in tears, she had run from his flat, ignoring his demands to her to come back as she’d fired the engine of her car, and here she was now, her car parked in the town centre as she walked unhappily along the riverbank, desperately trying to avoid looking at the entwined pairs of lovers enjoying a romantic stroll along the river path.
‘Eve... Eve...’
Instinctively, she stopped as she heard the male voice calling her name, her breath catching in her throat as she recognised Harry hurrying towards her.
‘I saw you as I walked over the bridge,’ Harry told her with a warm beam as he indicated the bridge she had just passed, his smile fading as he saw her miserable expression. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Eve fibbed, but his concern, his sympathy and most of all his sturdy male warmth and reassurance were too much for her already shaky composure, and as she
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