muscles down his sides rippling and she spun away, knowing she shouldn’t be spying on him. She moved too quickly, bumping into the door frame with a resounding thump.
‘Everything all right?’
Caught red-handed, and red-faced, Mia had no option other than to face the music. ‘I’m sorry, I just came for my books,’ she muttered. With a quick scurry across the room, she scooped them up and then turned tail and ran from the room.
Embarrassment and other things she didn’t want to think about lent wings to her feet and she slammed the door to the upper levels closed with a resolute bang and a sharp snick of the key.
Mia rushed to her third-floor hideaway and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to catch her breath. How ridiculous to react in such a flighty, adolescent manner at the sight of a man’s bare back. It had just been so unexpected and other than in films or on the TV, the only man she had seen stripped to the waist had been her husband.
Daniel was taller and broader through the shoulders than Jamie had been—his skin a deep tan where Jamie had been pale thanks to his sandy-haired, blue-eyed Scottish heritage. Not that she was going to start comparing the two men; Daniel was a temporary fixture in her life who would be gone in just a few days and the sight of his skin may have caused a few long-dormant hormones to stir briefly, but it was purely a biological reaction.
She ran her bath, adding a large dollop of muscle soak to the water, and flicked through the paint charts. The original plan for the room had been a warm, sunny yellow but now Mia wasn’t convinced. She scanned the charts and paused on a soft, moss green and tapped the card thoughtfully.
Sliding into the hot water with a grateful sigh she sank down until the bubbles reached her chin. Flicking through the colours, she pictured various combinations in her mind’s eye, trying to find the perfect match for each room in her planner. Her thoughts drifted next to the stacks of furniture out in the barn. She wanted to use whatever she could salvage from the original pieces that had been left in the house when she bought it.
Some had been beyond rescue and they had gone straight to the tip, but there was an oak bedframe and matching dresser that could be brought back to life with a generous amount of beeswax and some serious elbow grease. There was also a heavy wardrobe that didn’t quite match, but might be brought into the grouping with the help of the right wood stain.
Mia dropped the charts on the mat next to the tub and closed her eyes as she rested her head back against the rolled edge of the bath. She let the warm water and her imagination conjure up the perfect room. If the colours she pictured matched a certain pair of stormy-green eyes, she didn’t let her conscious self acknowledge it.
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