Partners by Contract by Kim Lawrence Page B

going to make it go away? the voice in her head—the one that wouldn’t let up even when she wanted it to—demanded scornfully.
    ‘I thought you were in a hurry?’ Her stomach muscles were twanging like violin strings.
    ‘I am.’
    ‘Then hop off!’ she growled crossly.
    She slumped down weakly onto the bed in relief when Connor unexpectedly did as she requested.
    At least, she told herself, it was relief. It had to be. Only an irresponsible fool would feel a sense of disappointed anticlimax and she was no fool.
    * * *
    ‘Which way do I go?’ she asked when they were both sitting in her car. It occurred to her that for a person who had decided to avoid all unnecessary contact with the man she had a funny way of going about it.
    ‘Back to my place.’
    The troubled line between Phoebe’s brows deepened. His place had a worryingly intimate sound.
    ‘Have you forgotten the way?’
    ‘No,’ she snapped, starting the car, ‘I haven’t. I happen to have an excellent sense of direction. I was just wondering why you couldn’t have brought my gift with you.’
    ‘This way I get to have the pleasure of your company.’
    Phoebe threw him an irritated look and he just grinned back. ‘I’ve a good mind to turn the car around,’ she grumbled.
    About two minutes later she reached a minor crossroad and was in no condition to remember her name, let alone the right fork to take. She’d have taken a ten-mile detour in preference to asking directions from him. Besides, there was a fifty per cent chance she’d be right.
    ‘Good call,’ Connor drawled when she eventually turned left.
    Phoebe pretended not to hear his amused taunt.
    Connor didn’t need any help to get out of the car this time. He’d got a lot more adept with the despised crutches and, though his knee was obviously causing him some discomfort, his physical condition had much improved over the past few days.
    ‘This way.’
    Phoebe was surprised when he didn’t lead her into the millhouse but through a big gate set in an arch around the side of the big stone building. The slate-slabbed pathway behind it led to the terraced slopes of the back garden, not that ‘back garden’ was an adequate description for what met her eyes as she rounded the corner.
    The acre or so of carefully cultivated and attractively landscaped ground leading down to the river came as a total surprise. Phoebe caught her breath and stared admiringly. It was a delight.
    A design as apparently artless as this had obviously taken a great deal of thought, and even at this time of year it was obvious that the grounds were remarkably well cared-for. Either Connor had a horticultural bent she knew nothing of or he had a very good gardener.
    ‘Both.’
    Phoebe started. ‘Pardon...?’
    ‘I enjoy making things grow, and I have the services of a full-time gardener.’
    ‘How did...?’ She didn’t complete the question. Connor had always had an uncanny knack of knowing what she was thinking...at least he had before she’d had something to hide. ‘Where are you taking me?’
    ‘We’re here.’ He negotiated the shallow stone steps leading down to a sheltered area of square flower-beds filled with orderly rows of pruned rose trees, their branches winter bare. The beds in the natural hollow were bordered by a neat low-clipped box hedge.
    Phoebe’s perplexed expression intensified. ‘Where is “here”?’
    ‘Look closer,’ Connor suggested. His back wedged supportively against the wall of the pretty summer-house beside them, he laid his crutches to one side.
    ‘I’m not in the mood for a magical mystery tour, Con.’ Feeling more and more impatient with him for bringing her here, and with herself for coming, she bent lower and negligently turned a label attached to the nearest rose bush over in her hand. ‘Are you going to tell—? Oh!’ Her eyes misted over as she read the tag in her hand. Without speaking, she dropped down onto her knees and turned the next. It said the same