The Butterfly Cove Collection - Sarah Bennett

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of shoving at her hair, as though it hung in her face, even though the pixie crop she sported meant that it never did. He wondered how long ago she had cut her hair and whether the gesture was a hangover from days when it had fallen around her shoulders as in the picture pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen.

      Daniel cocked his head slightly and tried to picture her that way; he loved the short style she wore now as it left her face open and highlighted the sharpness of her bone structure. Her warm eyes dominated her face. Young women often used curtains of hair to hide behind, flipping and fiddling with it in ways that drove a man to distraction, and not in a good way.

      Giselle had long blonde hair that she ironed flat until it hung around her face like a blank, bland curtain. Daniel had hated it. It had been everywhere he looked in his flat: in the shower, in his brush, on every suit he owned. She’d shed worse than a bloody cat.

      Daniel pushed the memory away and reached for one of the mugs on the tray, raising it in toast to Mia before inhaling the steam and taking a quick sip. The brew was strong enough to curl his toes and he took a bigger gulp and enjoyed the pleasure-pain of the slightly too hot burn spreading through his belly.

      Mia bent to place the tray on the floor and his body twitched at the sight of her heart-shaped bottom curving before him. He turned quickly towards the window and stared blindly out at the lashing rain, willing his libido to settle down. Friends, friends, friends, he chanted to himself.

      ‘What about friends?’ Mia said. She took position next to him, clutching her own mug of tea as she surveyed the miserable weather before them. She stood close enough that their shoulders were practically touching and Daniel raised his mug to his mouth, brushing her arm with his, unable to stop himself. He kept the motion ultra-casual, catching his breath when she leaned towards him until her head rested against his shoulder. It was the first time she had initiated contact between them.

      ‘What about friends?’ she asked again and he realised he had spoken aloud before.

      ‘Oh, I was just thinking about my best friend and his brother, you know, wondering how they’re getting on.’ It sounded weak to his ears, but Mia appeared to take it at face value.

      ‘Have you spoken to anyone since you came here?’ Her voice was soft, and Daniel couldn’t quite get a measure on her tone.

      ‘I’ve sent a couple of texts—to my agent.’ He hesitated then took the plunge. ‘To a some-time girlfriend of mine to break it off.’ At least she would know he wasn’t attached, should that information be of interest to her. He rushed on. ‘I also sent an email to Aaron. He keeps an eye on my money and I didn’t want to worry him when I took off. He was the one I was just thinking about actually.’

      ‘Agent?’ She lifted her head, eyes bright with interest. She didn’t mention the girlfriend and he couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. Stupid idiot.

      ‘Umm, yeah, sounds more glamorous than it is, but I’m a professional photographer. Was, I should say, before I burnt myself out and fell off my perch. Wound up on your doorstep, puked in your hedge; you know the rest.’

      Daniel felt his face warm as he remembered the disgrace of his first arrival. What a bloody mess he’d been. He still felt a little rough around the edges and although he’d taken a ton of shots around the house and the barn, he still wasn’t feeling his muse. He was trying to keep a record of progress for Mia and still had it in his mind to put together a bit of a portfolio for her. Another thing he hadn’t mentioned to her. Those things were starting to add up.

      ***

      She studied the man beside her. The oh-so casual mention of an ex hadn’t escaped her attention. Was he fishing to see if she was interested? Should she snap up the bait? Daniel’s warm, masculine presence had lifted some of the self-imposed burdens from her shoulders.

      She wasn’t incapable of making decisions, but having someone to act as a sounding board helped enormously. Especially when that someone bought into her vision of the house, and could see past the wreck it was to visualise the home it would be. He didn’t care what job she gave him to do, in fact he volunteered for the nastiest tasks. He had even fought a heroic battle to finally tame the evil floor sander, for which Mia would be ever grateful.

      It was nice to have someone to cook for as well. It spoke to the nurturing part of her soul and it gave Mia a soft glow of satisfaction every time Daniel smiled or passed comment on the meals she prepared for him. As though he could read her mind, Daniel nudged Mia’s arm gently. ‘Did you bring that shortbread up here to torture me or are you going to share?’

      Mia glanced up into green eyes that seemed to delve deeper than she wanted and she fought the natural urge to duck her gaze away. She watched the dark pupils expand to swallow some of his irises and froze like a rabbit when he leaned in closer. Her eyelids shuttered down and then up as she waited for the brush of his lips and blinked in surprise when Daniel planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. ‘Don’t try and distract me with that limpid gaze, woman, surrender the biscuits!’

      Mia didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved that Daniel had broken the tension of the moment. She huffed a laugh and grabbed the plate of shortbread up, clutching it protectively against her body, her arm shielding the plate. ‘Mine all mine, big man,’ she taunted and then squealed when he closed in on her until she was trapped in the corner of the room.

      Daniel backed her further up, bracing himself over her with a hand planted against the wall on either side of her head. He pressed in closer, hovered over her mouth a moment, and she caught her breath again. Raising his hand, he traced a finger across her brow, down her cheek then lower. He circled the slight indent at the base of her throat. The caress lit her on fire and she longed for him to close the gap between their lips and lay claim to her mouth.

      ‘There are things you can tease a man about, Mia, and things that are no laughing matter.’ She heard the catch in his voice and felt a corresponding shiver at his husky tone. She was right there, primed and ready for him, and every cell in her body called out to him to touch her.

      Kiss me, Daniel. She held the thought in her head as the moment stretched to infinity between them—an impasse neither seemed willing to break. Feeling like her body would explode with tension, she knew she had to do something. Mustering the courage, she urged herself to lean towards him to press her lips to his.

      Daniel moved before she did, running his finger down the centre of Mia’s breastbone. She shuddered again and opened her mouth to speak, to encourage his touch when his fingers suddenly lifted and he grabbed a handful of the shortbread and stuffed as much as he could in his mouth at once.

      She could only gape and clutch the empty plate as he gave her an outrageous wink then backed away towards the window to recapture his tea and wash down the mouthful threatening to choke him. With a glare of mock indignation, Mia spun on her heel and stomped her way back down to the kitchen. Daniel had given her an out, and they both knew it.

      The phone rang as Mia placed the plates on the table for supper, surprising her as few people called other than Richard or Madeline and they had left less than an hour before. They’d finished the beach room finally, and she needed to decide what to do next. Move on to another room, or start the boring, but essential larger decorating jobs like the hallway and first floor landing areas.

      She gave a half shrug towards Daniel as she crossed to answer it, assuming it was one of those ubiquitous PPI sales calls. She lifted the handset to her ear expecting the usual automated voice.

      ‘Eunomia.’ The slightly distracted tone as much as the use of her full name identified the caller.

      ‘Hello, Dad.’ She braced herself. George Thorpe wasn’t one for an idle catch-up.

      ‘I thought I’d better give you a call and let you know that your mother is a bit under the weather.’

      Under the influence more like. Mia bit her lip against the unkind, if truthful thought. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What did the doctor say? You promised me you would take her to see him.’

      ‘Oh,

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