Feet that should have been walking to the café next to the office paused and, before he knew it, he was rapping his stick on the office door, pushing it open into a scene of seeming chaos. In the middle of this chaos, Sophie stood with one hand raked through her fair hair in frustration, peering and frowning at a piece of paper in her hand. Around her, three people appeared to be doing things, though what Theo couldn’t begin to fathom. Two women and a fair-haired man, who looked at him and smiled with good-natured curiosity.
He was already regretting the insane impulse that had prompted his appearance.
He must, he thought sourly, be in need of company even though he had never considered himself the sort of man who craved the presence of other people, especially in the last few months when memories had been the only things to share the space in his head.
‘Soph, you have a visitor.’
From across the room, Sophie glanced up, plucked out of her little world of trying to figure out what the heck this latest scribbled piece of paper was supposed to signify. Another bill? Of sorts? Something that had been returned for a credit that would not be chanced upon any time soon?
It was only when her eyes tangled with Theo’s that she realised how much she had been thinking about him—off and on for four days—and even though she felt nettled every single time he had crossed her mind, she still hadn’t been able to erase the image from her head.
Her skin tingled in sudden awareness of his eyes on her and the impossibly sexy slant of his body as he lounged indolently against the doorframe, taking in the scene in front of him.
‘Oh. It’s you.’ She looked around and introduced him indifferently to Moira, Claire and, of course, Robert. ‘This is Mr Andreou, the man from the cottage. How can I help you?’ Her feet suddenly felt like lead and she translated the heat racing through her body as an angry reaction to the fact that, not content with living in her cottage, he was now invading the privacy of her working space.
She reluctantly walked towards him, aware that all eyes were on her.
‘I was just out for a walk and I thought I’d drop in.’
‘How did you know where I worked?’
‘Saw you here when I arrived, as a matter of fact. You were locking up behind you.’
‘There was no need for you to come here, Mr Andreou…’
‘When do you intend to start calling me Theo?’ he asked, suddenly irritated.
‘Theo. I wrote down my telephone number and left it by the phone book on the table in the hall. I believe I told you that.’
‘So this is where you work…’ He pushed himself away from the doorframe and was confronted by Robert, who offered his hand by way of a more formal introduction.
‘The name’s Robert Bell. Your face looks familiar. Have I met you somewhere before?’
‘No,’ Theo said flatly, ignoring the outstretched hand and moving towards one of the desks on which he perched, while Sophie looked on, mouth agape at the sheer nerve of the man.
‘You probably recognise him from the cover of a book somewhere. Theo’s a writer.’
‘In the presence of fame,’ Robert remarked, grinning. ‘Aren’t you lucky, Soph? You can take his picture and build up a wall of fame over the years! Do wonders for the rental income, you know.’ He moved to sling one arm over Sophie’s shoulder and she eased herself away and towards Theo, now idly rifling through the reams of disorganised paperwork on her desk.
‘You never said what you wanted. Is everything all right with the cottage? Are Catherine and Annie working out okay?’ She snatched the papers from him and dumped them back on the desk.
He had, she noticed abstractedly, great hands. Strong, with long fingers and sufficient dark hair curling at the strap of his watch to make her wonder whether he had hair on his chest or not. She caught herself midway through the treacherous uninvited thought and frowned at him.
‘Fine. The house is beyond clean and the food is beyond good.’
‘Then why are you here?’ Sophie asked bluntly. ‘I have an awful lot of work to get through and I really can’t spare the time for chit-chat.’
Theo looked around him. ‘You do seem to be a bit…overwhelmed here…’
‘Not overwhelmed, just…’
‘Trying to impose order on chaos…’ Robert approached them and clicked his tongue in good-natured reprimand at Sophie. ‘Sophie has inherited all this from her father and…’
‘Do you mind, Robert? I’m sure Mr…Theo…isn’t interested in all of that!’ She tempered the sharpness of her reply with an apologetic smile and gave his arm a brief warm squeeze. All said and done, Robert had been her rock in recent months, sacrificing quite a bit of his free time to help her out, taking her out for the odd pizza when she had been feeling particularly down, always looking on the bright side of things. Yes, they went back a few years, but there was no way that she was going to take him for granted!
‘What sort of job was your father in?’ Theo asked, curious now that she had made a point of trying to steer him away from her boundaries. ‘Was he a doctor?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because the papers seem to indicate a medical bent.’
Sophie’s mouth dropped open and she shut it quickly. She didn’t care what he thought of her, but the gaping goldfish impression wasn’t an attractive one.
‘Dad trained as a pharmacist, if you must know, and after he retired he dabbled here in one or two things…’ Talking about him still upset her and she turned away and walked towards another part of the office where yet more boxes awaited inspection. ‘Now, I really must ask you to leave. I have heaps to do.’ She busied herself with the little bundle of files on the desk.
‘Take a break. Join me for a cup of coffee at the café next door.’ Theo was mildly surprised that he had offered the invitation and he wasn’t at all surprised when she turned him down. ‘There are, actually, one or two things I need to discuss with you about the cottage.’
‘I thought you said everything was fine.’ Sophie looked at him anxiously. From the laborious process of going through her father’s belongings, one thing was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. His assets were heavily compromised. Invoices for supplies of substances she could barely pronounce, never mind recognise, littered the office. There were people waiting by the door for payment. Most weren’t as yet baying, because her father had been a lovable man and had obviously surrounded himself with very loyal and supportive people, even the ones waiting to have their bills met, but her father was no longer around and it wouldn’t be long before the patient waiting turned ugly. No one, owed money, remained jolly indefinitely.
The cottage was his greatest asset and she had to make a go of renting it because she just couldn’t bring herself to sell it.
If Theo wasn’t happy then her bank manager wasn’t going to be happy either.
‘What kind of things?’ she asked with a worried frown.
‘We
