Tender Touch. Caroline Anderson
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‘My good idea,’ she flung over her shoulder. Lord, the thought of a bath was tempting. She stripped off her filthy clothes, choking on the dust as she did so, and ran the bath, humming softly. Her hands hurt, and she was tired, but there was something so satisfying about getting to grips with the house.
The bath was wonderful—hot, clean, and gradually her hair became her own again as she finally rinsed out the last of the choking dust.
She could hear the vacuum again, and as she pulled on her towelling robe and wound her hair up in the towel she wondered what he was doing.
She found him in her sitting-room, pushing the vacuum round the dusty floor.
‘It drifted under the door—sorry. I should have thought of that and blocked the gap.’
She laughed. ‘It’s fine by me—it needed a good clean, anyway.’
He turned the machine on and chased her up the stairs with the hose, but in her haste she caught her foot in the hem of her dressing-gown and fell against the steps, winding herself slightly.
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