Читать книгу Perfect Strangers - Laura Martin, Laura Martin - Страница 6

CHAPTER ONE

THE journey had tired Olivia more than she had anticipated. She had been craning her neck over the last few miles, like a child on a day trip to the sea, waiting and watching for that first magic glimpse of the cottage. She smiled to herself. Mad. But then, it was a good sign. It meant that her dream hadn’t palled in the intervening weeks. It meant, surely, that she was still doing the right thing.

She forced herself to lean back in the taxi. The countryside was as wonderful as she had remembered on her fleeting visit a few weeks ago. Still green and lush. The daffodils hadn’t been properly open then. . . now they seemed to be everywhere, so bright and cheerful; yellow bunting welcoming Olivia to her new home.

The taxi driver was youngish with sandy hair. Something about the back of his head reminded her of Paul. Olivia’s eyes rested unseeing on the tanned neck and slightly wavy hair, and for a moment her thoughts spun the one hundred miles or so back to London. This time last week, she thought, I was sitting at my large glossy desk, wearing my high-powered suit, playing executives. Being someone else. Pretending. Trying desperately not to think of Paul as a husband—somebody else’s husband. . .

She had broken her first rule—no thinking about Paul, or London, or the life she had left behind.

Olivia shook herself mentally and focused on the passing countryside, glancing anxiously up at the patchy sky because there were dark clouds looming on the horizon.

‘Do you think it will rain?’

The stocky denim shoulders in front lifted slightly, surprised maybe at being addressed. ‘Don’t know, love; maybe. Those clouds don’t look too promising, do they?’

‘Do you live near here?’ Oliva asked, determined to strike up a relationship of sorts with someone local. That was one thing she had promised herself. Integration with the community. She would be no commuter, living in the country, working in the city—not that she had a job at all now. She took a deep breath. Eight years of working her way up the ladder, reaching the top rung and then throwing herself off into the abyss of unemployment below.

‘No.’

It wasn’t much of a start. The taxi driver swung the rather aged car around a bend too quickly and with not a lot of finesse.

Almost there.

She blinked and the village with its pub and school and tiny shop had been passed. Just a few more minutes and she would see the cottage, her cottage; thatched and quaint, with little leaded windows and roses around the door—well, maybe not exactly roses, she amended swiftly, more likely weeds, but still looking wonderful, still hers. . .

Olivia leant forward and offered the directions, written down by the estate agent on her first visit at the end of March, to the taxi driver. ‘Perhaps it’s best if you look at them,’ she murmured. ‘I never was very good at navigation and there are so many different turnings around here.’

They were travelling along a winding lane with high hedges on either side now. The car was flung around another bend, and then the taxi driver glanced down, just for a second, and in that moment, seemingly out of nowhere, there appeared a large, immaculate black Range Rover.

It all happened so quickly. Olivia, already perched on the edge of her seat with her crumpled directions, was jolted forward as brakes squealed, the car swerved and a slow-motion impact took place. She winced as the side of her face came into contact with the vinyl-covered seat in front and spent a moment or two in dazed disbelief, aware of a stream of curses spewing forth from the taxi driver’s lips.

Olivia released a shaky breath, rubbing gingerly at her sore cheek, and watched miserably as the taxi driver wrenched open his door and marched aggressively over to the other, far more opulent vehicle.

The door of the Range Rover was opening. Tinted windows gave it a somewhat mysterious air as well as keeping out prying eyes, and it was a few moments before the other driver emerged.

What had she expected? A local farmer with ruddy cheeks and a cloth cap? Or maybe an irate woman with a tight perm and strings of pearls swinging angrily over an ample bosom?

Olivia found herself drawing a deep breath. Not this. Definitely not someone like this.

Unexpected exhilaration coursed through her body, as six feet plus of successful, handsome male personified came into full view.

Ignoring the taxi driver, who hovered menacingly, the man bent and without haste examined the damage to his vehicle.

Glossy black hair, ruffled by the chilly breeze, fell over one eye and a large tanned hand smoothed it back from his strong, tenacious face.

Olivia felt a prickle of excitement run through her. She knew she was staring, but somehow she didn’t seem able to help herself. Her eyes wandered over the rust suede jacket, the cream open-necked shirt, resting for a fraction of a second longer on the chocolate-brown corduroy trousers that fitted well enough to define the powerful shape of well-muscled thighs.

If this had been London instead of the Oxfordshire countryside, if she had still been editor of the best glossy magazine in town, she would have got out of the car and offered him a modelling assignment on the spot, any assignment—it wouldn’t have mattered what.

Olivia’s lips twitched slightly; not that he would be the type to accept such a proposition—she recognised strength of character when she saw it—but it would have been well worth the try, if only for the chance of making contact with such a man.

Cautiously she opened the door of the taxi and got out.

‘You were travelling too fast.’

His voice didn’t mar her first impression of authority and power and success. Deep, with a gravelly masculine undertone that brooked no argument. Precise, too. Direct.

Olivia glanced briefly across to witness the reaction of the bullish, red-faced taxi man and then her eyes were fixed once more on the magnificent face.

‘Now just you look here!’ The taxi driver’s tone and demeanour were depressingly predictable. Olivia stood silently, unable to drag her gaze away from the formidable figure, as the driver’s aggressive tone filled the chilly spring afternoon air.

What was wrong with her all of a sudden? she wondered. Had the bump to her face done some real damage? Stop staring like a besotted idiot! she chided silently. You’ve come across a thousand handsome men before! But not like this. Olivia inhaled a breath and tried to steady her breathing. This man was different.

‘You were driving too fast and you know it.’ The slightly hooded gaze was as direct as the words used, the deep voice clipped and assured. ‘This is a narrow country lane, not the M25. Just give me your name and insurance details and quit the bluster. I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you.’ He glanced with irritation at the slight dent in the Range Rover’s bumper. ‘You’re lucky; the damage to my vehicle is negligible, so your bill won’t be too extensive.’

‘I’m lucky? Now wait a minute!’ The flabby face turned a deeper shade of puce. The taxi driver moved forward angrily, and for a moment Olivia thought he was going to lose his temper completely and actually embark on physical violence. A disastrous course of action. Surely he could see that? she thought. One blow from that tall, powerful physique and the pugnacious little man would be laid out cold.

‘You have a passenger, I see.’ The dark, arrogant gaze was flicked in Olivia’s direction. She burned as he studied her face, feeling the flames of awareness rising as if he had touched her, as if. . .as if he had done more than that. Such eyes, she thought. Such presence.

‘Are you OK?’ She saw a slight softening of the mouth, a concern momentarily in the deep, dark eyes. ‘You look a little pale.’

She nodded, conscious of a curious reaction at being addressed directly; exhilaration, rapture, a sudden surge of well-being that made absolutely no sense at all. He was. . .magnificent. ‘Yes. . .yes, I’m fine,’ she murmured. ‘I just banged my cheek a little on contact, that’s all.’

He walked slowly towards her, ignoring the taxi driver, who stood near by with his face set in an angry scowl. ‘Where? Here?’ Shockingly the man, the stranger, raised a hand and placed cool fingers to her face, touching the slightly reddened skin with a gentleness that completely disarmed. Olivia’s pulse began an erratic beat. He smelt wonderful; a mixture of fresh cologne and suede jacket and fresh, clean skin. A perfect combination. A potential feast for all five of her senses.

‘Looks as if there will be a slight bruise. Your face could end up being quite sore.’ His touch lingered. ‘If I were you I’d sue.’

‘Now look here!’

More bluster from the taxi man, but Olivia wasn’t listening, and neither, it seemed, was the stranger. Her eyes rested on the tanned throat, the curl of dark hair visible at the opening of the shirt, as he continued to make contact.

‘What’s your name?’

She tried to still the fluttering in her stomach as intense jet eyes lingered on her face. Feeling like this, juvenile, gauche, unable to identify a million and one other emotions, was unnerving to say the least. ‘Olivia.’ Her voice came out as little more than a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Olivia Hamilton.’

‘Jake Savage.’ His hand fell from her cheek at last and was offered in a greeting that seemed totally natural, totally right, despite the absurdity of the situation. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Olivia, sensing the dry humour in his tone, placed her own hand in his, briefly, silently. ‘And you are?’ He broke contact completely and the dark gaze switched direction, the tone hardening in an instant as the taxi driver was once again put under formidable scrutiny.

‘Oh, no, mate!’ The small man shook his head. ‘No chance! This bang is your fault.’ The taxi driver walked around to the front of his crumpled bonnet. ‘Just look at this! I want your details, your name. This passenger’s my witness. She’ll tell you I wasn’t driving too fast. Won’t yer, love?’

A patronising arm was suddenly being wound possessively around her shoulders. Olivia extricated herself and took a few steps away from the stocky figure. She didn’t see why she should lie to save him. It wasn’t her way; never had been, never would be.

She took a steadying breath. ‘I’m afraid,’ she announced in a clear voice that bore no resemblance to the one she had used with Jake Savage, ‘that I thought you were taking the bends too fast.’ She glanced at the spiteful, angry face and decided to go on. ‘And you certainly didn’t keep to the speed limit when you went through the village.’

She was cursed immediately, the sharp words uttered with such unnecessary venom that Olivia stood shocked, her mouth sagging open a little at the abusive words used to describe her. She tried to think of something to say in return, but before she could utter a single word Jake Savage was gripping the denim shirt and the foul-mouthed taxi driver was being spun away, slammed forcibly against his own crumpled bonnet.

‘Apologise to the lady!’ The voice, low and controlled, was of a man used to being obeyed. Olivia watched in amazement as the taxi driver was lifted bodily by the lapels of his shirt and slammed back down on the car with a thud. There was a moment of tense, shocked silence. ‘Go on!’ Jake Savage’s voice was as quietly menacing as his expression. ‘Do it now before I’m tempted to knock that thick skull of yours off your pathetic little shoulders!’

A hastily muttered apology rang out in the dank, cold air. ‘Now,’ Jake Savage gave the man his freedom accompanied by a look of irritated disgust, ‘get back in this pathetic heap of rust and get out of my sight before I do something that I might regret!’

Olivia stared down at her luggage, dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the road. It was extremely gloomy now. The dark rain clouds overhead were preparing to do their worst. ‘You didn’t get his name or insurance number,’ she murmured, glancing back down the lane, her nostrils prickling at the smell of burning rubber.

‘The logo of the firm he drives for was written all over the car—that will do.’

The reply was terse. Olivia raised her head, pushed back honey-coloured strands of hair from her eyes and looked straight into the disturbingly handsome face. ‘Did you have to manhandle him like that?’ she murmured, still unable to fully accept all that had happened. ‘It. . .it was a little over the top, wasn’t it?’

The firm mouth tightened into a line of disbelief. Arrogant ebony eyes speared her face. ‘You prefer being insulted by a goon?’

‘He seemed pretty amenable before,’ Olivia replied miserably, thinking about her futile hopes of a happy, trouble-free arrival. ‘He was probably just tired. Or maybe he had money worries,’ she added as an after-thought; ‘perhaps he has a wife and any number of children to support and the accident was the last straw—’

‘Stop making excuses for him! He was a foul-mouthed bully and if you can’t see that then you must be particularly stupid.’

Anger flared out of nowhere. Olivia narrowed her eyes and glared. ‘It was your attitude that made him mad. I’m sure if you had handled it a little more tactfully. . .’ There was a pause as he surveyed her. Olivia felt uncertainty growing under the withering gaze and discovered she didn’t like this new phenomenon.

‘I’m not prepared to waste my time arguing with you,’ Jake Savage asserted with crisp authority. ‘Now, where is it you are headed?’ He pulled back the cuff of his jacket and glanced briefly at a silver Rolex. ‘If it’s not too far I may be able to give you a lift.’

‘Just may?’ Olivia drew herself up to her full five feet eight inches and altered her expression to match the formidable chill that was evident in the handsome features now. ‘Here I am, stranded.. in a strange place in the middle of nowhere, due largely to your macho shenanigans! And there’s a possibility that you might leave me here, in the dark!’

‘Macho shenanigans?’ He looked faintly amused, which didn’t help Olivia’s temper any. ‘What are you talking about? I didn’t even raise my voice, let alone my fists. You were insulted, I defended you. Are you now saying you would have preferred it if I’d left well alone?’

Olivia worked hard at putting her executive persona to full use. There was no reason to allow this man to patronise her so effectively; she hadn’t done anything wrong and she’d be damned if she’d allow him to talk to her as if she had! ‘I can handle my own problems,’ she asserted stiffly. ‘I don’t need other people fighting my battles for me!’

The lips curved into an infuriating, mocking smile and Olivia felt her irritation increase. ‘In that case, I’ll be on my way. I’ll use my car phone and order you another taxi—or does that constitute too much help?’

Another taxi? Olivia’s heart sank at the prospect. She watched miserably as Jake Savage strolled over to his Range Rover. ‘I only have to go a mile or so along this lane,’ she informed him stiffly.

He turned back towards her, raising a dark brow in query. ‘Is that a request for a lift?’

Olivia scowled, infuriated with herself, with him, with the whole ridiculous situation. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, in that case,’ ebony eyes lingered on her angry face and there was sudden amusement hovering near the corners of his mouth, ‘how can I refuse?’ He strolled back towards her and picked up a couple of Olivia’s suitcases.

‘Of course. . .I realise the accident wasn’t your fault. . .and if you have somewhere to go. . .’ she murmured, endeavouring to take the sting out of her voice and failing quite comprehensively, as he consulted his watch yet again. ‘I don’t want to disrupt your plans in any way. Maybe it would be best if I waited for another taxi.’

‘You disrupted my plans when the taxi you were in collided with my vehicle,’ he drawled with aggravating superiority, lifting up the back of the Range Rover to stow Olivia’s luggage inside. ‘It’s a little late for apologies now.’

‘I wasn’t actually apologising!’ she retorted sharply. ‘It may or may not have come to your attention, but I wasn’t actually driving the damned taxi!’

Jake Savage looked at her provokingly, his gaze traversing the length of her body with an infuriating lack of speed. ‘I never said you were.’

Attraction and now anger. Before. . .when she had first set eyes on him a hundred and one ridiculous notions had gone through her head, none of which bore thinking about now. Too humiliating, each and every one of them. Images that had shocked and seduced. All of them totally insane, absolutely impossible. . .

Get a grip! she chided silently. You’ve encountered handsome, arrogant members of the male species before—there were thousands of them littered all over London, so why allow this one to affect you so badly?

‘It wasn’t actually my fault, you know!’ Olivia repeated irritably. ‘I was just the passenger, and besides, if you hadn’t have gone over the top the way you did, with the heavy macho bit, I wouldn’t have been stranded and you wouldn’t have had to give me a lift in the first place.’

‘I still don’t.’ Jake Savage turned and looked down at her with eyes that gleamed and an expression that told her to watch her step. He glanced overhead. ‘It’s about to rain. Do you think you could possibly stop talking and pass me up those last two suitcases? If we don’t get a move-on we’re both going to get very wet indeed.’

She was tempted to tell him what he could do with his lift. But that would mean her much longed-for new beginning would turn into even more of a disaster and there was no way she could manage all this luggage on her own. And he was right, she thought, glancing up at the sky; it was going to rain.

The deluge began just as the last of Olivia’s luggage was packed in the Range Rover. The rear door was slammed shut with a curse and dark eyes speared her face. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, permission? Go on, get in!’ he ordered as Olivia attempted to shelter beneath the inadequate folds of her long cashmere cardigan.

The interior was all male; no lipsticks lying around, no boxes of tissues, no stray toys. He wasn’t married, he didn’t have a family, and if he had a woman, which he probably did, he didn’t allow her to encroach on the day-to-day running of his life. Olivia, damp and breathless, told herself all this in a few seconds. Although why it should have been of any importance. . .

‘What on earth have you got in the back there?’ He climbed up and took his seat behind the wheel. ‘The kitchen sink? You must be taking one hell of a long holiday.’

‘It’s not a holiday,’ Olivia replied, averting her eyes from the strong profile beside her as she fastened her seat belt and tried to assume an aura of calm assurance. ‘I’ve come to live here.’

He turned to look at her and Olivia, disarmed and disorientated by the direct gaze, smoothed her damp blonde hair back from her face and wondered what sort of a mess she looked.

‘Just you and your suitcases?’ There was derision again, and a hint of scorn evident in the rugged features, as if the prospect of Olivia settling amongst the local community was not realistic in some way. She was aware of the dark eyes sliding over her figure; her plum-coloured dress and matching cardigan had got more than a little damp and as his gaze lingered she felt as if the outfit was clinging to every contour.

‘Yes!’ she replied. ‘Is there something wrong with that? Look, would you stop staring at me like that?’ she snapped, unable to endure the steady, speculative gaze a moment longer. ‘What’s the matter, have I suddenly grown two heads or something?’

The impassive features didn’t flicker, but then a predatory smile lifted the corners of the finely moulded mouth. ‘No, you’ve still got just the one.’ He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared into life. ‘Interesting,’ he drawled, ‘you don’t like me looking at you.’

‘Was I supposed to?’ Olivia responded sharply.

‘I was just returning the favour,’ he informed her provokingly. ‘You did seem to find it pretty difficult to drag your eyes away from my body earlier on.’

‘Why, you—!’

‘So,’ he continued smoothly, cutting through Olivia’s angry response, ‘where exactly is it that I’m taking you?’

Olivia glanced across at the handsome face. To heaven—or to hell and back? she wondered. The words seared into her mind. She felt suddenly disorientated, shocked by the strength of her reactions to this man, bemused by the intense emotions he seemed to be able to conjure up inside her.

‘Are you OK?’

His eyes scanned her face with thrilling intensity. Olivia looked away, pressing a hand to her flaming cheek. ‘Let me see.’ He reached towards her and tilted her chin. ‘Yes, it’s starting to look pretty sore. Did you bang your head hard?’ he asked, gently twisting her towards him so that he could look into her face.

‘No. . .just my cheek. It wasn’t much,’ Olivia added swiftly. Did he think she was injured, concussed? Maybe she was, maybe that was why she felt so strange. ‘I’m fine, honestly.’

‘Do you have a headache?’ She shook her head, azure eyes fixed helplessly now on the strong, rugged features. ‘Does your neck hurt?’ His hands slid down and she felt his fingers beneath the collar of her dress, pressing gently against her skin. ‘Any pain there?’

‘No.’ She gulped an unsteady breath. ‘I’ve told you. . . I’m all right’

Ebony eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t look all right.’

Silence. A second passed, then ten. The rain was beating on the roof of the vehicle, but she didn’t hear it—neither, it seemed, did he. She saw his look change, recognised the stunned awareness in his face so easily—it was as if she were looking into a mirror, as if he suddenly felt the same way as she. . .

‘Olivia Hamilton.’ Her name was like honey on his tongue. She watched, her clear blue eyes wide with wonder, hardly daring to think about what might happen next. He was moving closer, lowering his head with obvious intent. Olivia found her eyes transfixed on his mouth. Would he kiss her? Would he?

The insistent bleep of the car phone shattered the moment. Olivia gasped a breath and saw amazement flicker momentarily across Jake Savage’s sharply angled features. He released her head and picked up the receiver, looking out through the windscreen into the darkening afternoon. ‘Yes?’

There was a short conversation, but Olivia was hardly aware of what was said.

She glanced across at the strong profile and saw that the phone had been replaced and that he was speaking to her. ‘Where to?’

‘It’s. . .not far from here. Just a mile or so along this road, as I said,’ she informed him slowly. The dark eyes were looking at the road ahead now and she was able to feel more composed. ‘There’s a turning off to the left. You can’t see that much of the cottage from the road, but it backs onto fields. There’s a stream and a public footpath which runs near by and both lead directly into the village.’ She was gabbling, and that was unlike her. She took a steadying breath. ‘It’s called—’

‘I know what it’s called. Honeysuckle Cottage.’

She tried to ignore the challenge in his eyes, but it was too strong, too infuriating. ‘So you live near?’ The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

He threw her an enigmatic look. ‘Not far.’

‘In the village?’

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Not in the village, no. I have a place a couple of miles from here.’ There was a slight pause. ‘So, you’ve decided to buy this quaint little cottage.’ He surveyed her with a curious expression. ‘I wonder why.’

His direct gaze unsettled her, but she fought hard and managed not to let that fact show. ‘I felt like a change.’

‘Some change.’

A silence fell. Olivia looked down at her lap and wondered again if she had made the worst, most foolish decision of her entire life. Hell! What if she had? No job. No friends. She thought of the winter, cold and isolated and desolate.

‘A penny for them? Or are highly paid executives’ thoughts worth far more?’

Olivia glanced up and cursed silently; how did he know the sort of life she had led? Why couldn’t that stupid taxi driver have driven more carefully? Why had she ever had to meet this man? ‘There’s no need to mock!’ she retorted. ‘Are you always this infuriating?’

‘Not often. In fact, I can’t think of the last time I was so tempted. It’s been months. . .years,’ he added quietly.

‘Well, do you think you could cease laughing at my expense?’ Olivia snapped. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

‘It’s been quite a day, I should imagine.’ Dark eyes speared her face. ‘A shock to the system,’ he murmured softly.

Olivia felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. His eyes. His voice. She felt a lurch of awareness kick her in the stomach and worked hard at trying to ignore it. Such a desperately attractive voice. He knew it, of course; men like him always did. ‘I’m looking forward to my new life,’ she declared resolutely. ‘There are masses of things I plan to do!’

‘Such as?’

She wouldn’t tell him. Her ideas for using part of the orchard as a tea garden, and converting one of the outside sheds into a bric-à-brac-cum-junk shop were still only in the early planning stages. He would probably shoot the whole lot down in flames with some clever remark and she didn’t want that—not whilst she was feeling so fragile, anyway. ‘Oh, all sorts of things,’ she murmured vaguely. ‘Once the cottage is how I want it, I’ll be able to view all of my options.’

‘Does one of those options include finding a job?’ Jake enquired. ‘Or are you wealthy enough not to have to worry about that sort of thing?’

‘I’ll be OK for a while. Look, I did know what I was letting myself in for,’ Olivia added, noting the disbelief in his expression. ‘I made this decision. My reasons are sound and...and it’s going to work!’

‘Who are you trying to convince?’ he drawled. ‘So you’ve left London, in something of a hurry, I would say, and you’re here all alone out in the sticks.’

‘Yes. How...do you know that?’

Dark eyes surveyed the long, richly coloured woollen clothes, the large gilt bangle that hung from her right wrist, the expensive rings and professionally styled hair.

‘You’ve got that city look; a pallor that stems from too many hours spent in an air-conditioned office. The superficial gloss from a superficial life,’ he drawled. ‘Let’s just say us country folk can spot it a mile off.’

‘Well, congratulations on your perception, Mr Savage, but surely it takes one to know one—I can’t say I see a great deal of the country yokel about you!’ Olivia retorted angrily.

‘I hide it well.’ He swung the Range Rover around a bend and then took a turning on the right, which led to a tree-lined lane.

Another terse reply. Olivia scowled. God! How she hated arrogant, egotistical males!

‘What exactly did you do in London?’

They were pulling into the driveway now. Olivia pressed the switch for the electric window and felt a surge of excitement rising as she looked at her new home. ‘I was in publishing,’ she murmured, narrowing her eyes against the rain that spat in at her face.

‘And you left? Why?’

‘I don’t actually see that it’s any of your business?’ Olivia flashed.

He shrugged. ‘For some peculiar reason I find myself interested—isn’t that enough?’

Olivia forced a sweet smile that dripped with sarcasm. It was a famous weapon. At work she had been renowned for it. ‘Surprisingly, Mr Savage, no it is not!’ No effect. Olivia exhaled an impatient breath. ‘I happen to be a private and—’

‘Independent woman,’ he finished drily.

Olivia nodded, satisfied that he was at last getting the picture. ‘That’s right.’

‘I would hazard a guess and say that that last quality is extremely important to you,’ he murmured, watching her resolute expression. ‘Am I right?’

‘Of course! Independence and freedom of choice—the most important things anyone can ever possess!’ she declared with absolute authority.

‘You really think so?’

Olivia showed her surprise. ‘Don’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘Just maybe?’ Olivia queried. ‘Only that?’

The attractive mouth twisted into a grim smile. ‘Freedom of choice—it’s not always the easiest of things to acquire.’

Olivia’s well-shaped brows drew together in query. ‘Isn’t it? Somehow I can’t imagine you ever having difficulty in that department!’ she responded tartly. ‘I would hazard a guess and say in your case that precious commodity money is not in short supply.’

‘You believe it all comes down to personal finance?’

Olivia glanced up at the glittering gaze, conscious once more of the derisive edge in his voice. What had she said? Why did he look so aggravated all of a sudden? ‘That has a lot to do with it,’ she murmured. ‘Well, yes, I do, as a matter of fact!’ she added, refusing to be put off by the disapproving vibes that were suddenly emanating from the powerful frame, determined to be perverse. ‘Money brings choice. There’s no question about that. Look,’ she added, angered by the now blatant look of steely dislike, ‘I was ambitious. I worked myself into the ground for eight years, made it to the top. I enjoyed the work, I was powerful, in my own small sphere, but the only solid thing I’ve got to show for it, the only thing that matters at the end of all that hard slog is the fact that I have a healthy bank balance and some good investments. Money brought me here,’ she added firmly, ‘it brought me this change of lifestyle, this pretty cottage in the country. The ability to choose.’

There was a strange, almost dangerous silence. ‘And what if choice is restrained by other limitations, other boundaries? What if you can’t bring yourself to just walk away? What then?’

Olivia frowned. This conversation was getting deep. She wasn’t sure she could handle it. . .she wasn’t sure she wanted to. ‘I. . .don’t understand,’ she murmured, playing dumb. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, I think you do,’ he murmured softly. ‘But it’s easier. . .you prefer to see things clearly—black and white; that’s right, isn’t it? No grey areas allowed?’

‘I try to.’ Olivia paused to consider and realised that this man, who was a virtual stranger, was far too perceptive for comfort. ‘It makes decisions a lot easier.’

Dark brows drew together. ‘Life isn’t always that simple, though, is it?’

Olivia hesitated and thought of Paul. ‘You can make it simple,’ she declared forcibly. ‘You can choose to make it simple.’ She saw the dark head shake in disbelief. ‘Obviously we see things differently,’ she declared. ‘I’m not trying to convert you. You were the one who pursued this line of conversation!’

He glanced across at her. ‘You’re nervous—why?’

Olivia lifted her head and stared defiantly at the assured, handsome face. ‘I’m. . .’ She had been about to deny it—pointlessly, of course, because they both knew she was as nervous as hell. But of what? That was the point. And why? ‘I. . .don’t know you.’ She shrugged awkwardly. ‘And yet I find myself drawn into deep conversations that. . .that disturb me. . .and. . .’ She closed her mouth abruptly and looked out of the car window. Honesty was falling out of her mouth at an alarming rate. What on earth had possessed her to be so frank. . .and to a perfect stranger?

‘And?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She lifted her head and glanced towards her new home. She took a deep breath and savoured the smell of the chill, damp air. This was it, the moment she had been dreaming about for weeks. ‘Honeysuckle Cottage—it’s a pretty name, isn’t it?’

The harsh mouth curved suddenly. ‘If you say so. Although there hasn’t been a strand of the stuff growing there in all the years I can remember.’

Olivia removed her gaze from the arresting profile and watched the windscreen wipers moving back and forth. ‘I’ll grow some,’ she announced.

‘You feel like giving it a try?’

The mocking tone wasn’t lost on her. Olivia looked sharply at the derisive mouth. ‘Is there something wrong with that?’ she demanded.

‘It deserves to be lived in for fifty-two weeks of the year, not just now and then when the flat in London needs decorating, or the weather’s fine.’ he remarked sharply.

Olivia turned briefly, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘I haven’t got a flat in London, not any more,’ she replied, registering the sharp disapproval of her companion’s face, ‘and even if I had, what business is it of yours how I live my life?’

She wrenched open the door as soon as the vehicle came to a halt and jumped down onto the crunchy gravel, conscious that she was in danger of allowing this disturbing man to mar the arrival she had so longed for. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she continued stonily, rummaging in her roomy leather bag for the key. ‘If you’ll just open the back for me I’ll get my luggage and you can go.’

‘Here, take this.’ He reached into the back seat of the vehicle and tossed a large grey raincoat through the open doorway. ‘That wonderful but totally impractical dress is going to be ruined.’ He got out and walked around to the boot. ‘Go and open up and I’ll start bringing your luggage inside.’

‘There’s absolutely no need—!’

He halted her protestations with a look. ‘Go on! Do as I say! I was late before; I’m even later now. A couple more minutes of my time won’t make a lot of difference.’

She complied. For one thing it was too wet to stand outside arguing the toss over whether he should or should not carry her bags, and for another they were heavy and there were a lot of them and she would definitely ruin her outfit in the process.

Olivia ran for the front door. The wooden gate creaked a little as she opened it. Her soft black leather boots brushed against clumps of newly sprouted foliage, which she promised herself she would one day recognise, as she negotiated the narrow overgrown path.

The cottage had been empty for a little while now. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted drifts of blue forget-me-nots and pale yellow primroses and her heart lifted and soared because there were so many days ahead and so much to do.

There was a porch overhead, but it was in need of repair and too old and rickety to afford much shelter from the torrential rain. Dragging her gaze away from the front garden, Olivia thrust her treasured key into the lock and stepped across the threshold into her new home.

It was dark inside. The rain clouds had hastened the spring afternoon towards evening. Olivia searched blindly for a light switch and, unable to find one near the door, groped her way across the room, banging into unidentifiable objects on the way. There had been a few pieces of furniture here when she had last visited; old stuff that would have to be thrown out. Olivia added another job to the list she carried around inside her head as she tried to make her way towards the kitchen; order a skip to cart away all this rubbish, so that the decorators could get started as soon as possible.

Her foot scuffed into something soft, an unseen object on the floor that nearly sent her flying into the wall. Olivia grabbed hold of the back of a nearby chair and turned around to take another look. What was it? An old carpet? Olivia let out a sigh of disgust. For goodness’ sake! There had definitely been no carpet or rug here when she had visited before, she was sure of it. What a cheek!

‘People dumping their rubbish here!’ she muttered crossly, giving the object an irritated push with her foot.

It felt strange. Not a carpet or a rug. A prickle of alarm ran across Olivia’s skin. She took a deep breath and bent down to try to get a better look. Oh, goodness! What was it? Slowly, very slowly she reached out a hand, forcing herself to be brave. It would be a lot better if she could see more; this was like that awful game she had played at a party once, where you had to stick your hand into a bag and feel and try to gess whatever was inside.

Her fingers reached out gingerly and came into hesitant contact with something that felt disgusting; a mixture of fur and a wet, sticky slime.

Olivia gave a shriek, jumped up and half stumbled, half ran for the front door.

She cannoned into Jake Savage, overloaded with cases at the entrance, and clutched onto the lapels of his jacket.

‘Hey! What on earth’s the matter?’

Olivia closed her eyes and allowed herself the brief pleasure of pressing her face against the soft suede jacket. ‘There’s something. . .something horrible in there,’ she declared unsteadily, aware of her heart racing fit to burst, unsure whether it was entirely due to her sudden fright or the fact that she was in such close proximity to Jake Savage.

‘What sort of thing?’

‘I. . . I don’t know. It’s so dark and I can’t find the damn light switch, but—’

‘It’s frightened the hell out of you,’ he finished for her. His voice was calm. ‘Funny how appearances can be so deceptive, isn’t it?’ he murmured softly. She could feel the masculine hardness of his body, the warmth of his breath on her face. ‘Now what on earth made me imagine that the sophisticated Miss Hamilton could handle any situation, no matter how daunting? You’re shaking like a leaf!’

‘I. . . I don’t like the dark very much,’ Olivia admitted unsteadily. ‘But it’s not just that; there really is something horrible. I don’t know what it is, but it felt absolutely disgusting!’

‘OK, calm down.’ The deep voice was soothing and immensely reassuring. ‘I’m here.’ Olivia heard the suitcases fall to the floor and her heart increased its hammering tenfold as she felt the pressure of strong masculine arms around her shoulders. ‘There’s no need to panic.’ Firm fingers moved sensuously in a circular motion. ‘I can still feel your whole body trembling, do you know that?’ His voice trailed to a halt and Olivia sensed the change in him, so that when he spoke again it was no surprise to hear a softer, more intimate note to his voice. ‘Such a fiery character on the outside. . .’ he lifted a hand and tilted Olivia’s chin so that he could look down into her face ‘. . .but not quite so hard on the inside, eh?’

Their souls met and the feeling of knowing assailed Olivia once again. She didn’t understand what was happening, why she should feel this way about a man she had only just met.

She wanted him. Shock coursed through her body at the revelation and Olivia pulled away jerkily. ‘Do you think you could. . .take a look?’

Jake released her without a word, she heard a reassuring flick and instantly the room was bathed in the glare of a naked bulb. They were in a large, pleasantly shaped room. Low beams criss-crossed the ceiling; a big inglenook fireplace dominated one whole wall. Olivia swallowed and forced herself to get a grip, self-consciously taking several large steps away from Jake Savage’s broad frame. ‘It was over there,’ she murmured, hardly daring to meet the probing gaze, ‘behind that old sofa.’

She stayed by the door, watching as he crossed to the place she had indicated. There was a sharp intake of breath and then a sigh. ‘It’s OK, nothing to be frightened of.’ He pushed the sofa out of the way and Olivia tentatively moved forward. ‘Just a battered, bruised and half-starved mutt.’ Jake crouched down and placed seemingly knowledgeable hands onto the matted, blood-smeared fur. ‘Which, surprisingly, is still alive!’ There was a note of triumph in the deep tone. He turned suddenly and she saw the expression of urgency that accompanied it. ‘Hurry! Run out to my car and grab the black case that’s on the back seat.’

‘Right!’ Olivia wheeled around, not pausing to question or consider his order. She gripped his raincoat around her shoulders, dashed out into the pouring rain and returned in less than half a minute with the large black case as requested.

‘You’re a doctor?’ She couldn’t keep the note of surprise from her voice as she watched Jake flick open the case and pull out a stethoscope.

‘Vet.’ He nodded towards the unmoving, furry mass. ‘Pretty fortunate dog, huh?’

Olivia frowned, her eyes switching to the miserable-looking animal on the floor. ‘It doesn’t look very fortunate. You honestly think you can save it?’

He didn’t answer immediately. There was silence and immense concentration as he listened to the dog’s heartbeat. Finally he lifted his head. ‘Looks hopeful. There’s a reasonable beat, considering the state he’s in. He’s weak from lack of food, of course, and there are a couple of bad gashes.’ Jake carefully lifted a back leg and examined a septic-looking wound. ‘This one is pretty nasty. Stopped him from finding anything to eat in the last few days, I should think.’

‘But he looks so. . .so desperate,’ Olivia replied, gritting her teeth as a needle was swiftly filled and injected into the mangy body. ‘How do you think he came to be here?’

Jake lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. ‘Who knows? Maybe he slipped in when your things were being delivered earlier.’ He glanced towards a couple of packing cases that were in the corner of the room. ‘I need some water, hot water. Can you see to it?’

Olivia straightened up, aware of the professional command in his voice. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ He began to roll up his shirt-sleeves and Olivia, despite her determined resolution to be as efficient as possible, found her gaze drawn to the powerful forearms, the strength of his hands as they lowered to examine the dog. ‘Are you going to get that hot water now,’ he enquired sharply as the seconds passed, ‘or do I have to get it myself?’

She turned quickly, cursing her wandering concentration, cursing the fact that this man could make her feel wonderful one moment and totally inadequate the next, with no more than a look and a few crisply spoken words.

By the time she came back into the living-room with a bowl full of warm water, another with hot water in it, a towel and some soap, determined to be Miss Efficiency, Jake had carried the dog over to the sofa. She watched as he clipped away sodden black fur from around several different wounds.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of you lighting a fire, is there?’ Dark eyes flicked across to the large, blackened inglenook fireplace. ‘Only it’s pretty cold in here and this dog needs all the warmth he can get.’

Olivia shivered; her own woollen dress felt decidedly damp from the rain and she was having to grit her teeth to stop them chattering together as it was. ‘I’m not very organised,’ she murmured, frowning at the fireplace. ‘There isn’t any wood or anything yet. I was going to get that kind of thing sorted out tomorrow.’ She paused, glad that she didn’t have to admit that she had never lit an open fire in her life before. ‘But I do have a couple of fan heaters. I bought them specially for the move. They should be in a case upstairs. I’ll go get them.’

The room felt a lot warmer after half an hour or so, not cosy exactly but better than when they had first entered. Olivia had found a couple of bulbs for the wall lights and retrieved a large rectangular rug from one of the packing cases, which she had spread over the bare boards. The dog had been encouraged to eat a special nourishing concoction that had been mixed from a selection of packets carried in the Range Rover.

‘Right. That’s just about all I can do for now.’ Jake Savage flexed his broad shoulders and released a long-drawn-out breath. ‘Don’t worry, he looks a lot worse than he is; he’s going to be fine,’ he added, seeing Olivia’s anxious gaze. ‘He just needs rest and a lot of feeding up now, and daily attention to his wounds, of course. They should heal well, though; he’s a young dog and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t make a swift recovery.’

Olivia smiled her relief. ‘That’s good.’ She glanced down at the sleeping animal. ‘Would you. . .like a cup of tea before you go?’ Olivia made her voice sound as casual as possible, and she glanced up into Jake Savage’s face. He looked tired; it crossed her mind that maybe he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. ‘I realise you’ve stayed far longer- than you wanted to, but the kettle’s just boiled, so. . .’

There was a slight pause and then the lips curled into a brief, unexpected smile. ‘That would be good—thank you. I take mine white, no sugar.’

Olivia released a cautious breath and found that relief was flooding through her. Jake Savage had been tending to the dog for almost an hour and in that time she had become increasingly anxious that once his task was at an end he would pick up his bag and the animal and walk out of her life without another word.

Why? The question raced into her mind. Why did it matter that she might not see him again?

He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that communicated a deeply ingrained tiredness, unthinkingly stretching to his full height of six feet plus, and immediately cracking his head against one of the low blackened beams.

‘Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?’ Olivia winced at the sound of his skull meeting oak and rushed towards him, frowning in sympathy, instinctively reaching up and touching the dark, glossy head. ‘This ceiling is dreadfully low, isn’t it? You’ll have to be careful in future.’

She stilled, her whole being transfixed by the feel of his thick black hair beneath her fingers, by the close proximity of Jake Savage’s powerful body, by her words. She was overwhelmingly conscious of what she had just said—the future? Did she think they had one? Did she imagine she would see this man again after today? Did she want to?

She tried to snatch her hand away, but Jake Savage was far too swift for her. ‘It’s just here,’ he murmured. His large hand covered hers, moving her fingers across his head. Dark, dangerous eyes looked down into her face. ‘Can you feel that?’

Olivia’s fingers came into contact with a raised bump and she nodded. ‘Y. . .yes.’ Physical contact with this man meant she was whispering again, as if the effect of touching or being touched by him somehow diminished the power of her vocal cords. ‘It must hurt,’ she murmured, wishing she had the strength to pull her fingers free, knowing deep down that she didn’t want to.

His gaze was intense, focusing steadily on her increasingly mobile expression.

Olivia swallowed. A stillness settled over the interior of the room. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. There was no confusing this sensation of inevitability. Olivia ran her tongue nervously over her parched lips and waited, catching her breath a little as the dark head lowered very slowly, very deliberately.

This was what she had been waiting for all of her life. She hadn’t been wrong before.

This man called Jake Savage would mean something to her, meeting him, wanting him, loving him.

This was her destiny.