LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TWO

      FROM his vantage point by the door Gavin watched her. He wanted to go to her, to open her door and help her out of the car, but he forced himself to remain by the door, his smile casually welcoming, while he watched her thoughtfully.

      Laura liked it. He could see that at once without a degree in psychology. It was written all over her face in letters ten feet high.

      He couldn’t stop the smile. He’d felt just the same about the cottage when he’d first seen it, and it was good to share that feeling. He unfolded his arms as she approached and straightened away from the door frame.

      ‘Hi. Welcome to my humble abode,’ he said with a smile, and, pushing the door open wider, he ushered her in.

      She stopped just inside the door and looked round hesitantly, and immediately he saw it with her eyes—bare and rather bleak.

      ‘It’s a bit sparse at the moment,’ he told her hastily. ‘I’ve only been in it just over a week, and it’s taken me all my time to get it clean and respectable. Now I have to work on homely.’

      His grin was wry, and to his relief she answered it, her face softening as she looked round at the clean but almost empty room. ‘It’s going to be lovely. Is there an inglenook in that chimney wall?’

      He glanced across at the blank wall where a fireplace should have been. ‘I expect so. I was going to attack it and find out, but it wasn’t exactly a high priority. I was more concerned with having a kitchen sink that worked!’

      Her smile warmed him down to his bones. ‘I see your point,’ she agreed. ‘Did you have a great deal to do?’

      He gave a little grunt of laughter. ‘Just a touch. I’ll get there, though. Come and see the bits that are relevant to you.’

      He led her through the doorway, ducking automatically now, and turned in time to see her face as she followed him.

      ‘Oh, Gavin, it’s lovely!’ she cried, and he felt his efforts were amply rewarded, just by the smile on her face. The little suite and matching curtains had been in a junk shop, and despite her new baby his sister had washed the curtains and covers for him and helped him put the curtains up. The soft lovat-green carpet was all new throughout, courtesy of the bank, and as he led her up the little winding staircase he found his heart was hammering in his throat.

      For some crazy, absurd reason it was suddenly incredibly important that Laura like the bedroom and want to move into it, to share his home with him, so he could keep an eye on her and look after her and shield her from any further hurt.

      He needn’t have worried. She loved the little room, simply furnished with an old wooden bed frame he had struggled up the stairs with, a simple chest of drawers and an old loom chair with a pretty cushion on it to match the curtains his sister had been about to throw away.

      ‘Oh, it’s lovely,’ Laura breathed. She crossed to the window and looked out, her mouth curving involuntarily as her eyes took in the view over the village to the church in the distance. ‘Gavin, it’s wonderful.’

      ‘Come and see the kitchen,’ he urged, worried now that she might change her mind and run away once she saw the primitive sink and basic plumbing.

      She didn’t. Over supper, a simple salad with fresh, crusty bread and crumbly farmhouse cheddar bought in haste at the farm shop up the road, he told her of his plans for the kitchen, and she agreed, offering suggestions of her own that improved on his ideas and filled him with enthusiasm so that he wanted to start straight away.

      He restrained himself, making her a cup of coffee instead and taking her through into his own sitting-room, now comfortably furnished with one large, squashy chair to accommodate his rangy frame and another, smaller one that Laura looked just right in.

      She kicked off her shoes with a sigh, tucked her feet up under her bottom and wriggled down into the chair as if she belonged there.

      He propped his feet on the trunk between them and watched her over the top of his mug. Lord, but she was lovely. Lovely, tired and still so wary. Why?

      ‘Well?’ he said at last, his patience exhausted. His mouth tipped in a cautious smile. ‘Are you going to come and live here?’

      He avoided saying ‘with me’, although it was at the forefront of his mind and quite a different proposition to the one he had put to her.

      She met his smile with a tentative one of her own. ‘I’d love to—if I can afford it. You haven’t said how much.’

      He halved the figure he had originally intended to ask, and she protested.

      ‘That’s far too little! It’s worth twice that!’

      Which took them back to his original figure. They settled on a halfway point, and as she agreed to it Gavin leant back against the cushions, the tension draining from him at a stroke.

      ‘When do you want to move in?’ he asked after a moment. ‘You can come as soon as you like; it’s ready.’

      Her poor lip was caught between those little teeth again and worried gently. ‘Tomorrow?’ she suggested. ‘If that’s not too soon…?’

      His heart lurched. Too soon? No way!

      ‘That would be fine,’ he said casually. ‘After work?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m on a late—I could bring my things over in the morning. I haven’t got much.’

      ‘I’ll give you some keys now.’

      ‘But I haven’t got my cheque book with me. Don’t you want money up front?’

      He chuckled. ‘Why? Are you going to do a runner with my immaculate furniture?’

      Her smile was worth waiting for. ‘I might—you don’t know,’ she teased, and he felt a lump form in his chest and swell until it nearly choked him. Damn, she was pretty when she smiled like that …

      She set her cup down on the old trunk that served as a coffee-table and got to her feet, clearly reluctant. ‘I must go—my parents will be worrying about me.’

      ‘Ring them.’

      ‘May I?’

      She was very brief—too brief. He didn’t want her to go. She did, however, taking the keys and promising to see him tomorrow at the hospital with a cheque after she had moved in. He escorted her to her car, keeping a distance, and by a huge effort of restraint managed not to hug her.

      As she drove off, giving a jaunty little wave, he went back into the house. Thoughtful, he lowered himself into her chair. It was still warm, and the faintest trace of her fragrance lingered on the air. His fingers meandered absently over the arm, outlining the overblown roses of the print as he looked around the room.

      For the first time since he had bought it, he realised what the house needed to turn it into a home.

      A woman—but not just any woman.

      Laura

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