lights situated at the front of the house had clicked on automatically as they’d arrived, but, flustered as she was, Beth had been concentrating on the absurdity of her situation rather than anything else. Now, as she slid out of the Mercedes with his warm hand supporting her, she looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time. A little bolt of electricity caused her breath to catch in her throat. Grey, she thought inconsequentially. His eyes are grey.
‘What’s the name of your dog?’
‘What?’ The cool voice had registered but her scrambled brain hadn’t been able to compute.
‘Your dog?’ he repeated patiently.
She became aware of the barking. Harvey was taking exception to being stuck in the vehicle when they were outside. ‘Oh, Harvey. His name’s Harvey.’
‘I suggest you get ready to reassure him. He’ll be meeting my dogs in a moment and I’d prefer him to be friendly.’
The slight hiccup in her thought processes caused by the piercing quality of the deep grey eyes fringed by spiky black lashes evaporated. ‘Harvey is always friendly,’ she said tightly before she realised it didn’t exactly reaffirm his guard dog persona.
‘Good. Sheba and Sky aren’t.’
The next moment he had opened the back of the estate car and Harvey had jumped down and, before she could ask him what he’d meant, he was turning the key in the lock of the front door. Immediately two grizzly bears—or that was what they looked like to Beth—bounded on to the drive.
There was a tense moment or two, on Beth’s side, while the two dogs circled Harvey, but his wagging tail and lolling grin didn’t falter. Within seconds the three dogs were inspecting each other’s rear ends and introducing themselves. Beth sighed with relief. ‘They’re lovely,’ she said unconvincingly, keeping her eye on the dogs in case they suddenly decided to go cannibal and give Harvey a hard time. ‘What are they?’
‘Apart from being female, I haven’t a clue,’ Travis said easily, clicking his fingers, at which signal both dogs shot to his side and sat down. ‘They were dumped by the side of a road in a cardboard box at five or six weeks old. A friend of mine saw the incident and something made him go back and look inside the box. The vet reckons there’s a number of breeds in there, but who’s counting?’
Whatever their pedigree, Harvey seemed to find the two dogs attractive. Beth noticed he’d gone into macho man mode as he sauntered up to Travis and leered at the two females.
As they entered the house Beth’s first impression was one of space and mellow wood. The large hall was oak floored, as was the wide curving staircase which led to a galleried first floor. The walls were light with several modern paintings providing vivid splashes of colour, and just a small oak table, either side of which stood two upholstered hardbacked chairs, broke the clean lines.
‘I’m sure you’d like to shower and change while I feed the dogs. Has Harvey been fed yet?’ Travis was walking to the staircase as he spoke and his dogs stopped at the foot of it. Presumably they weren’t allowed upstairs.
‘No, he hasn’t. I was just about to give him his food when we got locked out.’ Beth followed Travis up the stairs after telling Harvey to stay. He made no objection, plonking himself firmly in the middle of the two females, where he appeared quite content. So much for the guard dog routine.
The oak floor continued along the galleried landing and, after leaning over to make sure Harvey was still behaving himself, Beth joined Travis where he was standing by an open bedroom door. ‘You’ll find some T-shirts and jogging bottoms in the wardrobe and a guest robe behind the bathroom door,’ he said easily. ‘Make yourself at home. There’s plenty of hot water. When you’re ready, come downstairs and find me in the kitchen. Do you like spaghetti Bolognese?’
‘What? Oh, yes. Yes, thank you.’ Terribly flustered, Beth stepped into the ankle-deep cream carpet of what was obviously a guest room and Travis shut the door behind her, leaving her alone. She gazed around her. The coffee and cream room had definitely been decorated and furnished by someone with minimalist taste, but it was beautiful. She suspected the whole house would be beautiful.
Gingerly, as though she was going to leave a trail of dirt and destruction, she made her way over to the open door of the en suite bathroom, which reflected the colours of the bedroom, and peered into the huge mirror stretching over a pair of basins.
She groaned out loud at the reflection staring back at her. Not only were her pyjamas and slippers the worse for wear, but a large smear of mud—at least she hoped it was merely mud and not what she’d slipped in—had deposited itself on the side of her face. Her hair had dried in a tangled riot in the wind and her make-up free face was shiny where it wasn’t filthy. She looked like something the cat wouldn’t deign to drag in. Not even if it was desperate.
Ten minutes later she felt more like herself. She had found face and body lotion along with shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom cabinet, and once she was clean, moisturised and sweet-smelling everything didn’t seem so bad. After blow-drying her hair into its normal silky shoulder-length bob, she found some women’s T-shirts and jogging bottoms neatly folded in a drawer in the otherwise empty wardrobe. Fleetingly she wondered who they belonged to. His girlfriend, maybe? she thought as she put her own things in water.
Right, time to face him again. She padded downstairs in bare feet, aware that her stomach was jumping with trepidation, which was daft, really daft, but she didn’t seem able to help it.
Once in the hall, she stared about her. Travis had said she should join him in the kitchen but there were several doors leading off the expanse in front of her. Assuming the kitchen was probably at the back of the house, she made her way down the hall towards the furthest door and knocked nervously before she opened it. ‘Hello, it’s me,’ she said unnecessarily.
‘Hi.’ Travis was stirring something on the stove, the three dogs lying at his feet, apparently replete and content. Harvey wagged his tail at the sight of her but didn’t bother to get up. ‘Grab a seat,’ Travis continued, ‘and pour yourself a glass of wine.’
She was conscious of one piercingly thorough glance before he turned back to the stove. That, and the sight of the big powerful body clothed in a black cotton shirt, open at the neck, and black denim jeans was enough to make her all fingers and thumbs as she sat down at the big farmhouse-style kitchen table and reached for the open bottle of wine.
Large though the table was, it was swallowed by the roomy capaciousness of the kitchen. The stone-flagged floor, honey-coloured wooden cupboards and granite work surfaces looked like a blending of old with new but it was very pleasing to the eye. The wine was very pleasing to the tastebuds. Deep red and with aromas of blackcurrant and cherry, Beth found it steadied her nerves nicely.
After several sips she was sufficiently calm to say evenly, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Not a thing. It’s ready.’ Within a moment he had whisked two plates of spaghetti Bolognese over to the table along with a dish of lightly roasted vegetables. Beth’s mouth watered. As Travis sat down he said matter-of-factly, ‘You clean up nicely. More than nicely.’
‘Thank you.’ She knew she had turned an unflattering shade of red and it was annoying. It wasn’t as though she was a stranger to compliments from the male of the species; it was just that this particular male was altogether…disturbing. Which was the last thing in the world she needed right now. ‘And thanks for feeding us,’ she added, indicating
