pulse picked up as a host of X-rated images rushed through her head.
Slam a lid on that, you maniac.
‘I’m not worried,’ she squeaked.
He nodded.
‘And your girlfriend won’t mind me staying here?’ she asked carefully.
‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’
‘Or your w—?’ she began to ask, just in case.
‘I’m single,’ he cut in with a curt snap to his voice.
Okay, so the subject of his relationships was out of bounds then.
She was surprised to hear that he wasn’t attached in any way, though. Surely someone with his money, looks and smarts would have women lining up around the block for the pleasure of his company. Although, come to think of it, based on her run-ins with him so far, she could see how his acerbic temperament might be a problem for some people.
‘Right, I may as well show you your room now,’ Max said, snapping her out of her meandering thoughts. ‘Clearly, you’re not in a fit state to work this afternoon, so you may as well finish for the day.’ He turned and walked out of the room, leaving her gaping at the empty space he’d left.
So that was it then—decision made.
‘Oh! Okay.’ She hustled to catch him up, feeling her joints complain as she moved. Crikey. She was tired. Her whole body ached from sleeping on a saggy sofa and performing on so little sleep for the past few days.
She followed him up the sweeping staircase to the next level and along the landing to the third door on the right.
Opening it up, he motioned for her to walk past him into the bedroom.
She tried not to breathe in his fresh, spicy scent as she did so, her nerves already shot from the rigours of the day.
It was, of course, the most beautifully appointed bedroom she’d ever been in.
Light flooded in through the large window, which was framed by long French grey curtains in a heavy silk. The rest of the furnishing was simple and elegant, in a way Cara had never been able to achieve in her own flat. The pieces that had been chosen clearly had heritage and fitted perfectly with the large airy room. His interior designer must have cost a pretty penny.
Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the original ornate fireplace, which stood proudly opposite a beautiful king-sized iron-framed bed. Fighting the urge to collapse onto it in relief and bury herself in the soft, plump-looking duvet, she blinked hard, then turned to face Max, who was hanging back by the door with a distracted frown on his face.
‘This is a beautiful room—thank you,’ she said, acutely aware of the tremor in her voice.
Max’s frown deepened, but he didn’t comment on it. ‘You’re welcome. You should go over to your friend’s house and get your things now, then you’ll have time to settle in. We’ll start over again tomorrow.’
‘Okay, good idea.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ he said, turning to go.
‘Max?’
He turned back. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m really grateful—for letting me stay here.’
‘No problem,’ he said, turning briskly on the spot and walking away, leaving her staring after him with her heart in her mouth.
Well, she certainly hadn’t expected this when she’d woken up this morning reeking of stale beer.
Sinking down gratefully onto the bed, she finally allowed her tense muscles to relax, feeling the tiredness rush back, deep into her bones.
How was she ever going to be able to drag herself away from this beautiful room when she managed to find a place of her own to rent?
More to the point, was she really going to be able to live in the same house as Max without going totally insane?
Steeling herself to make the journey over to Sarah’s house and pick up her things, she rocked herself up off the bed of her dreams and onto her feet and took a deep, resolute breath.
There was only one way to find out.
IF SOMEONE HAD asked Max to explain exactly what had prompted him to suggest that Cara move in, he was pretty sure he’d have been stumped for an answer.
All he knew was that he couldn’t let things go on the way they were. Judging by her outburst, she was clearly struggling to cope with all that life had thrown at her recently and it was no skin off his nose to let her stay for a few nights in one of the empty bedrooms.
He had enough of them, after all.
Also, as a good friend of her cousin’s he felt a responsibility to make sure that Cara was okay whilst Poppy was away and unable to help her herself. He knew from experience that good friends were essential when life decided to throw its twisted cruelty your way, and he was acutely aware that it was the support and encouragement of his friends that had helped him find his way out of the darkness after Jemima died.
Watching Cara working hard the next day, he was glad she was still around. When she was on good form, she was an asset to the business and, truthfully, it had become comforting for him to have another person around—it stopped him from thinking so much in the resounding silence of the house.
They hadn’t talked about what had happened again, which was a relief. He just wanted everything to get back to the way it had been with the minimum of fuss. With that in mind, he was a little concerned about what it would be like having her around at the weekend. He’d probably end up working, like he always did, so he wasn’t too worried about the daytime, but they’d need to make sure they gave each other enough space in the evenings so they didn’t end up biting each other’s heads off again.
With any luck, she’d be out a lot of the time anyway, flat-hunting or seeing friends.
At six o’clock he leant back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, working the kinks out of his tight muscles.
‘Time to finish for the day, Cara,’ he said to the side of her head.
She glanced round at him, the expression in her eyes far away, as if she was in the middle of a thought.
‘Um, okay. I’ll just finish this.’ She tapped on her keyboard for a few more seconds before closing the laptop with a flourish.
‘Okay then. Bring on the weekend.’ She flashed him a cheeky smile, which gave him pause.
‘You’re not thinking of bringing the party to this house, I hope.’
Quickly switching to a solemn expression, she gave a shake of her head. ‘Of course not. That’s not what I meant.’
‘Hmm.’
