his breath, as if he was pleased with himself.
Smiling, she made her way back to her little room, flung the window open to let in some fresh air and examined the sparse contents of her wardrobe.
Nothing. She needed a shopping trip. Excellent!
Ryan thought he must have lost his marbles. First of all he’d grabbed her like a sex-starved adolescent, then he’d hung on and forgotten to let go of her because the feel of those soft breasts had been enough to curdle the remaining fragments of his mind. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d gone and done what he’d spent all week trying to stop himself from doing, and invited her out tonight.
He yanked the tie off in exasperation. It was too hot to wear a tie. It was too hot to wear anything. It was certainly too hot for the sort of frenzied activity his body had in mind.
He yanked off the rest of his clothes, took a deep breath and got back into the cold shower. That would settle his little friend down, he thought viciously. He was not going to jump her bones on the first date. He was not! No, sir. Or the second.
Maybe not even the third.
Well, OK, the third. Damn. His body had cheered up again, despite the cold water.
He swore as he wrenched the curtain back again and grabbed a towel, just as Evie wandered into the bathroom. ‘I thought you were in bed, sweetheart?’ he said to her, rapidly covering the evidence of his outrageously optimistic libido.
T was. I’m too hot. Daddy, you said a bad word.’
He closed his eyes. ‘I know. I’m sorry, honey. I’m feeling hot too.’ Well, at least it wasn’t a lie. He crouched down and took her hands in his. ‘Want me to read you a story?’
She nodded. ‘Gus is asleep already.’
‘I thought he would be. He was tired after our walk. What shall we read?’
‘Black Beauty,’ she said without hesitation.
He sighed. She was going to be into horses whether he encouraged her or not, he realised. Oh, well, there were worse things. He’d grown up around horses—heck, his brother was a Mountie. It was safer than drugs. ‘OK, Black Beauty,’ he agreed, and they settled down on her bed and he started to read.
Ten minutes later, as her eyes began to droop, the doorbell rang.
‘That’ll be the babysitter. You look at the pictures and I’ll get her to read to you some more.’
‘Why couldn’t Granny come?’ Evie asked as he headed for the door, still clad in just the towel.
‘Ah—I just thought we’d give her the night off.’
‘Are you going out with a lady?’
What the hell did he say to that? ‘Um—in a way,’ he flannelled. ‘I work with her—we’re going to talk about work.’
And he ran downstairs, waiting for a thunderbolt to strike him down for lying to his six-year-old daughter.
The neighbour’s seventeen-year-old daughter eyed his naked chest with interest. ‘Am I early, or are you just late?’ she asked frankly.
He coloured a little. ‘I’m just late. I was reading to Evie. Come in, Suzannah. Would you go up and finish reading the chapter to her while I throw on some things? Thanks.’
He led her upstairs, ushered her into Evie’s room and then shot into his room and grabbed his clothes. There was no time to be selective now. Taupe chinos, cream cotton shirt without tie, blazer, tie in pocket just in case. Wallet. Comb hair—for what it was worth. Shoes—no, not work shoes. Neutral suede desert boots. It was too hot for anything else. Right.
He kissed Evie, checked Gus, told Suzannah he would be back about eleven, gave her his mobile number and ran.
He was late. Ginny checked her watch, glanced once more down the drive towards the main vehicular entrance and went and sat down on a low wall by the door.
Her skirt was fortunately multicoloured and wouldn’t show the marks, but after shopping all day in the hideous heat the last thing she wanted was to stand.
She plucked at the soft, crinkle-pleated cotton of the skirt and wondered if it was as transparent as she suspected with the light behind it. Not that there’d be any light behind it if he was much later.
Oh, well. It was delicate and feminine and made her feel good, and she had a snug vest-top on under a wispy blouse that matched the skirt, the tails tied at her waist. It exaggerated her bust a little too much, but so what? It was her best asset. She might as well use it.
Her fingers plucked at the skirt again. She hoped it looked as good as it felt, and that it would be formal enough for whatever he had in mind.
Whatever it was, she hoped that it included food early in the programme because she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and that had been a rather scratch affair.
A dark blue estate car came into view, doing horrible things to the site speed limit of ten miles an hour, and pulled up right beside her. Ryan jumped out and came over to her, looking rueful and good enough to eat.
‘Sorry I’m late—domestic hiccup. All set?’
She nodded and stood up, and judged her money wisely spent. His reaction was a peach. His jaw sagged a little, his eyes widened and fastened like limpets on her exaggerated bust, and with a conscious effort he dragged his gaze up to her face and cleared his throat slightly.
‘You look—very—um…’ he managed. He closed his eyes and gave a rueful laugh. ‘Sorry. That white coat covers up a lot. You look stunning. I’m stunned. Really.’
She chuckled softly. ‘You’re no slouch yourself, O’Connor.’
He grinned, his equilibrium under control again, opened the car door for her, tucked her skirt in and closed it before striding round and sliding behind the wheel. ‘Right—what would you like to do? Movies or dinner first?’
She pulled an apologetic face. ‘Dinner? I’m starving.’
‘So am I. Formal or informal?’
‘Informal.’
‘Inside or out?’
She laughed. ‘Out, for preference.’
‘Done. There’s a pub that serves excellent food and they’ve got a riverside garden with willow trees. It’s really beautiful and cool too, which has to be a plus.’
‘Just lead the way,’ she said with a smile, and leant back against her seat. He liked the clothes. Good. And he was going to feed her. Life was wonderful.
The pub garden was busy, but as they went outside with their drinks a couple sitting under one of the trees got up to leave and vacated the secluded little spot.
Glad that her skirt wouldn’t show the grass stains, Ginny sat down, wrapped her arms round her legs and propped her chin on her knees. The willow branches hung like a curtain around them,
