I think she’s a marvellous designer.’
‘I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.’ He vaguely remembered Lucia saying that her hard-nosed brothers must understand that mellow furnishings and comfortable sofas were essential if they didn’t expect their guests to live like horses in a barn.
‘I love this!’ Maxie exclaimed, touching one of the hand-painted vases reverently.
He hummed and shrugged, refusing to admit that seeing what Lucia had done through Maxie’s eyes was a surprise to him too. Her final camera shot was one of him. ‘Holly will adore this,’ she assured him confidently. Having checked the image first, she brought it over to show him.
Her scent, her warmth, her physical presence after he’d been so long alone almost overwhelmed him. ‘Let’s draw a line under this,’ he said brusquely, barely glancing at the image. ‘I have things to do.’
‘Of course,’ she said, putting her camera away. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve delayed you, but I was just thinking we could use this room in some of the backgrounds for the album.’
‘Really?’ he said, wanting this over with. But in spite of his impatience his gaze found time to stray to her lips.
‘Settings like these,’ she was explaining, ‘will give such personality and uniqueness to the photographs. And these stone walls are lovely,’ she added, stroking them thoughtfully.
He was more interested in watching those small hands trace the centuries-old stone, until his leg chose to throb a warning that he wasn’t match-fit—for polo or for women.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, mistaking his grimace for a look of disapproval. ‘I must be keeping you.’ Another few moments passed. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he bit out, but his damaged leg called him a liar and dragged as he moved past her to the door. Anger erupted inside him. The fact that Maxie’s breathing had speeded up when he brushed past her only heaped more humiliation on top of him.
‘Don’t worry—I’ll shut the door for you,’ she offered.
Catching hold of the door before she could reach it, he slammed it shut behind them, consoling himself with the thought that he had dealt with more wilful ponies than he could count, and the harder they were to handle at the start the better they pleased him when he finally broke them in.
He seethed all the way to the Jeep. Tossing his cane in the back, he swung in and Maxie jumped in beside him. Her lithe, agile form was another unintentional smack in the face for him, but as she turned to close her door her hair, which had dried into an inky cloud, brushed across his naked arm. He inhaled deeply, dragging in the scent of vanilla and lavender—a delicate and ultra-feminine combination he would never have expected the businesslike Maxie Parrish to choose.
‘Hurry up,’ he blazed as she fumbled with her seat belt. ‘I don’t have all day.’
‘You’ve really been very patient,’ she agreed. ‘I can’t thank you enough for showing me the cottage, and I promise not to take up so much of your time in future.’
He hummed sceptically in reply. She was good at pretty apologies. It remained to be seen how she behaved when he piled on the pressure. It hadn’t escaped him that the faster Maxie worked the sooner she would be out of here—and he could get back to licking his wounds in private.
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