programme about this year’s summer flavours, and had asked Cat to take her ‘little darlings’ out for an hour. Cat loved picking them up, loved the titbits of Jessica’s life that she was given, allowing herself to fill in the gaps. She knew that Jessica was ‘most definitely’ staying in Fairview, but had yet to establish what had made her change her mind – if it had anything to do with a certain dark-haired man. It was none of her business, but she couldn’t help trying to join the dots.
Did they know each other? Was Mark the reason for Jessica’s recent enthusiasm? Did Mark just have a flirtatious nature? Cat had been told on many occasions that her curiosity only ever got her into trouble, but it was a switch that was set permanently to on. And while she kept telling herself that she was only looking out for Jessica, it had been a long time since a man as attractive as Mark had shown an interest in her. If she discovered that they were only friends, or didn’t even know each other, what possibilities did that open up?
She left number nine, strode out into a bright, blustery morning and drank in the elegant terrace, the verges which were a sea of delicate primroses, the wide pavements drying quickly after the night’s rain. As ever, Cat slowed her pace as she reached number four. It was a rented property and didn’t look as polished as Elsie’s or Jessica’s houses or the boutique bed and breakfast at number three. The paint on the windowsills was cracked, and the front steps were beginning to crumble at the edges, but the front door was a bright, seaside blue with a gold number ‘4’. As she approached, a sleek-looking Audi pulled up outside, and the object of her curiosity climbed smoothly out of the driver’s seat.
Mark opened the back door and Chips bounded up the front steps. Cat found herself coming to an automatic halt. She’d been right, at least, about where he lived.
‘Cat,’ he said, folding his arms and leaning against his car, amusement in his barely-there smile. ‘The Cat who loves dogs.’
‘It’s Catherine, actually. But my friend Polly said that – that Cat was easier.’ Mark didn’t need to know that her best friend had given her the nickname because she was so endlessly curious. ‘How are you?’
He was wearing dark jeans, sturdy boots and his leather jacket, this time with a dark grey scarf wound tightly round his neck. It looked incredibly soft. Cat had daringly decided to embrace spring and dig her royal blue bolero jacket out of the closet. She was feeling the wind at her throat as a result.
‘Good, thanks. I’ve just taken Chips to the cliffs above the lighthouse. Lots of grass to run on, incredible views, clear, fresh air.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘Do you ever go there with your dogs?’
‘No, I don’t have a van, and it’s too far to walk.’
‘And dogs falling off cliffs is harder to recover from than dogs up trees?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘The park does provide fewer obstacles.’
‘But today you’re dogless.’
‘I’m on my way to Jessica’s. To take her dogs to the risk-free park. Do…do you know her?’ Chips barked from the porch.
‘Who?’ Mark frowned. He took a step closer to her, and Cat could smell his aftershave. It was subtle, it smelled expensive. Cat swallowed.
‘Jessica Heybourne. She lives at number one. I thought you might have bumped into her.’
He was staring at her, his lips curved into a smile. ‘I just need to let Chips in, hang on.’ He climbed the steps, unlocked the door, waited as the collie raced inside, then turned to face her. ‘I don’t know many people in Fairview, I’ve not been here very long.’
‘Right.’ Cat couldn’t ask him again without it sounding obvious. ‘But you like it?’
Mark nodded and descended the steps. ‘It has many plus points, many striking views. Lots of things to recommend it. Primrose Terrace seems like a great place to live. Are you near here?’
‘I’m at number nine,’ Cat said. ‘It’s a very friendly road. I know Elsie at number ten, the owners of the bed and breakfast seem lovely, and of course there’s Jessica.’
‘Of course,’ Mark said. He took Cat’s upper arm and pulled her towards him. Her breath caught in her throat until she heard the pushchair rumble past and a woman calling ‘thank you’. But by then her face was inches from his, and her stomach had discovered it could do somersaults. Never mind her finding out if Mark was being unfaithful to Jessica, she was about to be the unfaithfulness. ‘We’re blocking the pavement,’ he said, not taking his eyes from her face.
‘We should move.’ She stepped backwards, swallowed and put what she hoped was a breezy smile on her face. ‘I have to go and pick up the Westies.’
‘Do you ever think about things that aren’t dog related?’
‘Of course,’ Cat said, ‘lots of the time, but this is—’
‘What about right now?’ He raised an eyebrow, and Cat found herself looking at his lips. The half smile, the jawline. She was thinking about his lips, and what they would feel like pressed against hers.
‘I’m thinking about…’
‘What?’
Her mind had stopped cooperating.
‘Those big brown eyes are like saucers,’ he said. ‘You’re panicking.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You really can’t think of anything else, can you?’ He looked satisfied, as if he’d proved his point.
Cat folded her arms. ‘I wasn’t thinking about dogs, actually.’
He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear. ‘I know.’
Cat gawped and Mark looked away as a car started further up the terrace. When he turned back, his smirk was firmly back in place. ‘So it’s going well, the dog walking?’
She knew he’d thrown her a lifeline, but she was too flustered to do anything but take it. She was on much safer ground with dogs.
‘It is. It – it’s better. Disco’s getting bigger, she’s lots of fun still, but not quite so haywire, and I’ve been working out schedules, planning the walks around size, number and type of dogs. Squirrelgate was a one-off.’ It was true. She’d sat down with Polly and drawn up a rota – there weren’t enough dogs to fill it yet, but Cat could do three walks a day, two at weekends when the demand was less, and shouldn’t run into any more problems if she spread out her clients efficiently.
‘Glad to hear it. Although I’m not too disappointed you were having a bad day when I found you.’
‘Do you take pleasure from other people’s misfortunes, then?’
‘Only if it means I can rescue them.’
‘Are you a wannabe Superman?’ Cat knew where this was going, and was trying to work out if she liked it or not. She was kidding herself – of course she liked it, but should she like it? She had never been a cheater, and if Mark and Jessica were together…
‘I think Superman was less picky about who he rescued. He was an all-round, genuine superhero.’
