Читать книгу Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 20

Chapter Eleven

Admittedly, Michael and I hadn’t exactly hit it off the first time we met, but I had thought we’d got past that, especially as he’d been the one encouraging me to stay to have dinner with his family at the beginning of the week. Don’t get me wrong, I was under no illusions that I was anything like his “type”, and frankly, as his type nowadays seemed to be of the one-night stand variety, I had no wish to be. But I had thought we’d at least got to a point where, if I turned up outside an appointment time, I might be received with a teensy bit more enthusiasm than the blank look I was now getting.

‘Hi,’ I said, when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything.

Michael gave a start. ‘Please don’t tell me I forgot an appointment? Did we have something arranged for today? I could have sworn I’d put everything we had planned so far in my diary.’ He pulled his phone out from his jeans pocket and began pulling up his calendar.

‘No,’ I said, reaching out to touch his arm and still the frantic searching. ‘You didn’t forget anything.’

Relief flooded his face. ‘Thank goodness for that! I’m pretty sure even having Janey for a sister won’t be enough to save me after another late show.’

‘Let’s not find out.’

‘Sounds good to me. Anyway, come in.’

‘Am I interrupting…anything?’ His previous look had me suddenly debating how wise it had been to turn up unannounced on Michael’s doorstep on a Sunday morning.

‘Such as?’ His expression was pure innocence. I didn’t buy it for a moment.

I tilted my head. ‘I didn’t know if you had a…guest…or something.’

‘Nope. I like to make sure they’re out the door by seven-thirty at the latest, so you’re fine.’

Wow. He had even bigger issues than I thought.

‘Your face,’ he said, shaking his head before turning towards the kitchen. ‘Want a coffee?’

‘Umm. OK, thanks. What’s wrong with my face?’ I said, struggling to unwrap my scarf and pull off my gloves as I followed him. Head down, I didn’t realise he’d stopped and I bounced off him.

His arms quickly reached out, steadying me. He waited a beat and then let them drop. ‘There’s nothing wrong with it. But your expression when you thought I kick out any overnight guests early in the morning was pretty priceless.’

‘Well, I’m just saying it wouldn’t come as a big surprise if you did.’

He paused in his coffee making endeavours. ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?’

‘No! I mean, yes. I mean…that’s not what I meant.’

Michael resumed his task. ‘So what did you mean?’

What exactly did I mean?

‘I…err, I don’t know. Nothing really.’ I kept a lightness to my tone and hoped he’d let it pass.

‘If you think I’m going to believe that Miss Organise And Consider Everything just made an off-the-cuff remark without it meaning something, you’re sadly mistaken. So, come on, spit it out.’

Why had I ever opened my mouth?

He turned and handed over a mug, locking his gaze onto me as he did so.

‘You know, I really didn’t…’ Michael raised an eyebrow and I crumbled. ‘OK fine,’ I sighed. ‘It’s just that, from what I saw, you keep your bedroom very impersonal, which seems a little unusual. But then I remembered something Janey had mentioned about your…penchant for one-night stands, and then you saying about the fact they don’t exactly get a tour of the house…Well, I guess it just wouldn’t surprise me if you were one of those guys who wants a girl to leave as soon as dawn breaks.’

He considered my answer for a moment and then took a sip of coffee, watching me over the rim of the mug.

‘Like I say, you don’t have a very high opinion of me.’

‘That’s not true. But you must admit, it’s not unreasonable that I’d think that, bearing in mind you told me yourself you ushered the owner of that tiny thong out of your house at some ungodly hour the following morning.’

His jaw tightened for a moment. ‘There were special circumstances that time. As I explained to you.’

‘You did. But there are men who would always find a “special circumstance”.’

‘And you consider me to be such a man?’

‘No. Not necessarily. I’m just trying to show you how it might be easy for someone to form that opinion of you, from the information at hand.’

Michael took a deep breath, his expression unreadable. ‘So, if I haven’t missed an appointment, to what do I owe the pleasure today?’

I was pretty sure ‘pleasure’ was an overstatement, considering how I’d just blurted out that I thought he was a cold-hearted shag monkey who kicked his choice of the night out at first light. Even though I wasn’t entirely sure that’s what I did think. To be honest, most of the time he still had me baffled.

‘Well, first of all, I wanted to see how you were feeling, after the accident?’

‘Much better, thanks. Ribs are still a little sore but the rest is pretty much back to normal.

I’d noticed he was barely limping at all and his movements seemed far less stiff than they had done at the beginning of the week.

‘That’s great.’

‘And second of all?’

Hmm. What had initially seemed like a brilliant idea yesterday, and pretty much until I had stepped inside the house, now seemed a little…ambitious. Not to mention awkward.

‘I…’

He fixed me with that look again but I could see the barest hint of a smile teasing his lips. I took a deep breath.

‘I found you a dog.’

His face lost the smile.

‘Kate I told you I’m not interested.’ He turned away.

‘I know you did. I just think if you saw Rooney – ’

‘And I am definitely not taking on a dog called Rooney.’

‘You could change his name. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.’

Michael turned back to face me. ‘You don’t think he’d mind?’ he repeated, bemusement clear on his face this time.

‘Please,’ I said, putting my hand on his arm, ‘please, just come and see him?’

‘Katie I appreciate everything you’re doing. But I won’t change my mind. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey out here.’

I thought of Rooney’s gorgeous face, the joy I’d felt fill my soul at his loping about in the fields as we played, the warmth of his body as he snuggled up to me when I brushed him after washing him off following our walk.

‘OK,’ I said, changing my tactic. ‘Then how about Sunday lunch? I mean, only if you don’t have plans or anything.’

‘Sunday lunch? You and me?’

He sounded a little more incredulous than I might have hoped and I did my best not to take offence.

‘Yes. To celebrate how much you’ve achieved so far with the house.’

He was still just studying me. I shifted under his gaze, forcing myself not to scoot out of there as fast as I could. I just hoped that Rooney appreciated all the embarrassment I was currently going through for his cause. A thought suddenly crept into my brain.

‘It’s nothing…weird. You know, I’m not hitting on you or anything.’

‘I wouldn’t think for a moment that you were. I’ve a far too untidy character to fit into that tidy, compartmentalised way of living that you seem to favour.’

I didn’t say anything. Basically because he was right – -that was the way I lived and it worked for me. It clearly wasn’t something that would work for him but, then again, he had his family around him. The circumstances were entirely different and I wasn’t about to defend myself against him.

‘You’re probably right.’ My hopes for Rooney were fading.

‘I do, however, get the feeling you’re up to something.’ He was looking at me, his head tilted a little, signs of intrigue showing on his face. I could work with that.

I put my hand on my chest and widened my eyes in innocence, which at least brought a smile.

‘So where exactly did you have in mind for this lunch?’

‘There’s a great pub I know. It’s a little outside London, but they do the best Sunday roasts. I think you’ll love it.’

‘OK,’ he said, slowly, apparently still unconvinced that my motives were pure. Although they really were. Kind of.

‘So you’ll come?’ I couldn’t help smiling. ‘Great. We should get going then.’ I made to move towards the door.

Leaning against the doorframe, Michael folded his arms, the action pulling the old T-shirt he wore tighter across his chest. My mind flew back to the other day when I’d seen exactly what was under that shirt. I swallowed and pushed the image away, moving towards the door. But Michael didn’t move. I raised my eyes to find him watching me.

‘What is it?’

‘I’ve got a couple of questions before you drag me out of my nice warm house into the snow.’

‘It’s actually stopped now and they said the roads are clear – ’ I glanced towards the window. Admittedly the sky didn’t look all that promising. ‘ – for the moment, anyway.’

Michael didn’t reply.

‘OK, fine. What are the questions?’ I asked.

‘Are you getting tetchy?’

Yes.

‘No. Is that one of the questions?’

Think of Rooney. It’s all for a good cause. Even though this man drives you round the bend, you know he’d be a perfect match for that dog.

‘Liar. And no. It’s an extra one.’

I took a deep breath.

‘What would you like to ask?’

‘Firstly, it’s Sunday morning.’

‘It is.’

‘So why aren’t you lounging in bed with Conor or Colin or whatever his name is, reading the papers and eating bacon sarnies?’

‘Isn’t that a little personal?’

‘I’m sorry? Didn’t you just ask me if I was doing the same thing when I opened the door?’

‘Not at all. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t disturbing you.’

‘Which you were.’

I dropped my head, feeling that I was on a losing battle here. I ran my hand over my eyes, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I – ’

Michael’s hand caught mine.

‘That’s doesn’t mean to say all disturbances are unwelcome. I’m sorry. I’m not the most sociable these days and I’m a little out of practice.’

‘No, you’re totally right. I really should have called first.’

‘It’s fine, and you’re here now. Which is nice. Even though I’m still sure you’re up to something.’ He let go of my hand.

‘His name is Calum. And he’s out of the country at the moment, working. But to be honest, I’m not one for lounging in bed, reading the papers. They’re too depressing most of the time.’

‘So read something else then.’

‘There’s far too much to do to be lounging around.’

‘Rubbish. It’s what Sunday mornings were invented for. Just don’t tell my grandma. She’s under the impression we still all go to mass first thing.’

‘Really?’

‘Pretty sure.’

‘Wow.’

He smiled. ‘What?’

‘I just wondered how she’s going to react when she finds out her grandson isn’t a cassock-wearing altar boy but a boxer-wearing lothario who lounges around in bed on Sunday mornings, eating bacon sandwiches.’

‘She’ll get over it. More to the point, how do you know my preference for underwear?’

‘I was guessing. You don’t look like a Y-fronts kind of guy. Thank goodness.’

He grinned and I blushed.

‘I mean. Not that it makes any difference to me. Although they do say that it’s more healthy to wear boxers than other, more restrictive, styles of underwear.’

What the hell was I saying? More to the point, why the hell was I saying it? And to Michael O’Farrell of all people?

‘Apparently,’ I added, casually.

‘I appreciate the information.’

Oh God. If a random sinkhole appeared beneath my feet right now, I wouldn’t complain. I waited a moment but nothing happened. It looked like I was actually going to have to deal with the aftermath of my ramblings. Bugger.

‘So, if that answers the first question, what’s the second one?’ I aimed for a nonchalant air, as if I hadn’t just had a conversation with an incredibly gorgeous client about his underwear preferences.

He let out a breath of air in amusement, and shook his head, but did, thankfully, let the subject drop.

‘This pub?’

‘Yes?’

‘It wouldn’t be anywhere near an animal rescue centre, would it?’

Uh oh. Rumbled.

‘That’s what I thought,’ he replied, even though I’d not said a word.

I looked up.

‘Your face said it all.’

I let out a sigh. ‘How come you can do that? I’ve always been pretty good at hiding what I’m thinking and then you come along and keep…outing me!’

He stared at me for a moment and then laughed a deep, rich rumble than spread up from his chest and filled the room.

‘Outing you?’

‘Yes! It’s really annoying.’

‘Why? Because you want to hide stuff from me?’

‘Sometimes!’

‘Too bad.’ He scooped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. ‘Come on. Let’s go and find this pub.’

‘Really?’ My hopes for Rooney suddenly reignited.

He looked down at me, his arm still slung around my shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was soft. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s not too long on the train.’

‘It’s OK. I can drive us.’

I stepped back, forcing his arm to drop. ‘Thank you, but no. I don’t do motorbikes. Not to mention you might be feeling better, but if you think getting back on that thing right now is a good idea, then…’ My eyes widened as Michael put two fingers on my lips.

‘I’ve got a car. We’ll take that.’

I nodded.

He dropped his hand, momentarily looking awkward. ‘Sorry. You were kind of on a roll and I didn’t know how to stop you. I thought about putting my hand across your mouth but figured that might result in me nursing some bruising lower on my body than my ribs.’

‘You figured right. Do you mind driving?’ I asked, changing the subject. I did my best to ignore the rush of warmth I’d felt as Michael placed his fingers on my lips, and that the feel of his touch still tingled on my mouth.

‘Not at all. That way, if the weather turns we can head back immediately, rather than be at the mercy of the trains.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Give me a second to change. I had a clean T-shirt down here somewhere.’ He started hunting around. My gaze landed on a pile of laundry sort of folded near the dryer.

‘Here.’ I picked one off the top and tossed it across to him. ‘We really need to sort your clothes this week. Normally I’d have done that first.’

‘So why didn’t you?’ Michael asked as he yanked his T-shirt off.

I thought it best to turn away this time. If I didn’t know better, I’d call this feeling misplaced lust. Calum had been so busy lately and then with this trip abroad, we’d hardly had any time together. I’d never consider doing anything about it, of course. And I knew Michael certainly wouldn’t. But it was pretty hard for anyone to miss that my client was classically, drop dead gorgeous, not to mention the owner of a body that, should he ever take up going to mass again on a Sunday morning, may have a few nuns rethinking their career choice. I started folding the clothing piled above the dryer whilst I waited.

‘Because,’ I answered, distracting myself, ‘when you first gave me the tour of the house, you clearly didn’t want me anywhere near your bedroom.’

‘You don’t have to do that. You’re off duty, remember?’ I turned back to find Michael dressed in the clean T-shirt and pulling on a baseball cap. ‘You should have told me you had a system.’

‘I adapt things for each client anyway. And for you, I felt that getting your office in order was the best place to start. It would give you a better working environment, and hopefully, would show you what a difference doing the same in the rest of the house would make.’

‘I see. Sneaky.’

‘Call it what you like if it worked.’

He adjusted his hat. ‘It did. Come on.’

Rummaging under a pile of stuff, he eventually located his keys. ‘You know. All this never used to bother me. And now it does.’

‘Good. That means you’ll be even more keen to change it and then keep it that way.’

‘But in the meantime, you’re just adding more frustration to my life.’ His voice had changed and I looked up, meeting his eyes.

‘That isn’t my intention, I promise. And soon it’ll be done and I’ll be out of your hair. I promise. We’re on schedule and you’ve been brilliant, despite your initial misgivings. Honestly, there’s no need to worry. Things will be perfect come Christmas.’

Michael gave a little frown. For a moment he looked like he was about to say something but instead he just nodded, before flashing a brief smile. One I noticed never reached those incredible eyes.

‘Sure. Of course.’

He pulled the door shut behind us and we began walking towards the road.

‘Just down here,’ he said, pointing down the avenue towards a black pickup with the words M F O’FARRELL – ARCHITECT decaled on the side door. It didn’t look like it had seen a bucket and sponge in a while. ‘Sorry about the state of it,’ Michael apologised. ‘One of the jobs I’m working on is a bit out in the sticks.’

‘It’s fine. There aren’t many clean cars around in this weather anyway, what with the snow and the salt. Besides, I’d rather you were driving a dirty pickup than a clean motorbike.’

‘Aah, it’s almost like you care.’

‘Almost,’ I replied, giving a tight smile, but I knew my eyes gave me away – at least with Michael.

He grinned and opened the door, waiting for me to settle myself before closing it and making his way around to the other side. Thankfully the truck’s interior was fairly tidy. Which seemed odd.

‘Uh oh,’ Michael said, as he plugged in his seat belt and caught my glance.

‘What?’

‘Your brain is doing cartwheels.’

‘Oh, sorry. Are you not used to women whose brains do that?’

He raised a dark brow. ‘Ouch! Sharp as a knife, even on a Sunday. What I meant was you have something on your mind and I get the feeling it concerns me.’

‘All right. I was just surprised that your car is quite tidy.’

‘Does that mean it meets with your approval?’

I nodded. ‘It does.’

‘Do I get a gold star or something for that?’ He turned the engine over and flicked on the heated seats, which began emitting their warmth almost immediately.

‘No. You just get the relief of me not telling you to tidy your truck too.’ I wriggled in the warm seat. ‘Ooh lovely! Now that certainly isn’t something the train offers.’

He gave me a little wink and pulled out onto the road, following the directions I gave him.

‘Shall we eat first?’ I suggested as we got closer.

‘Sounds good. That way there’s less chance of long, awkward silences because of the fact I haven’t rehomed this dog.’

I rolled my eyes at him and he smiled.