Читать книгу Forever His Darling - Sarah Randall - Страница 8

Chapter One

“You’ve done what!? Tell me you’re joking!” Matt yelled, spinning around to face his younger sister., burning his tongue and dropping the spoon on the floor.

Pip glanced up at him from her laptop as she sat at the large table in the middle of the kitchen. Her eyes were wide with innocence behind the modern thick framed glasses but that old trick wasn’t going to work on him this time. She’d gone too far and he was angry; Tired and angry.

“Here,” Mrs Henderson thrust a glass of water into his hands; expertly maneuvering him away from the Aga and her bubbling stew. “I agreed to let them use Melville House to do a fashion shoot. It’s for Alix Anderson, the famous designer. He’s launching his new country wear range and using Anastacia as the model. It’s a no brainer Matt, it’s so exciting, I thought you’d be really pleased. I know I am!”

He bit on his lip hard, putting a halt to his planned volatile response as he watched Pip do a little jig in her chair. It had been a long time since his little sister had seemed happy and excited about anything. Since the summer, she’d agreed to take on more responsibility and assist Henry with the stud farm and house management. In reality Matt was still making all of the important day to day decisions, but he felt that Pip needed something to fill her time until she decided whether or not she was going back to university in Leeds to finish her business course. Which of course she was, she just needed to come to that conclusion on her own..

Clearly, he’d missed out on making this decision. It would certainly have been a “no brainer” to him…"No way in hell" would’ve been his standard reply to such an enquiry to use the house. Peace and tranquility were all he was interested in nowadays. He wasn’t about to let himself or his family become the focus of village tittle-tattle ever again.

Such requests weren’t unique. He’d frequently received pleas from film companies and the like to use the house and its grounds for film sets depicting a romantic, bygone era… films which were utter twaddle.Their mother had always put them off with one excuse or another, fearing upheaval to the house and village, and he’d simply followed her sensible stance. Generous financial enticement didn’t sway Matt; he didn’t need the money.

“Why the hell would you agree to it?” Matt held his arms out wide in question, accidentally spilling some of the water on the floor in the process and muttering a curse.

“Well duh, it’s Anastacia for goodness sake. And I did try to speak to you about it.” Pip rolled her eyes at him as she reached for a tube of Smarties next to her computer. “And I told them that they’d have to make a huge donation to your charity, so you see, you can’t possibly object, can you Matt?” she said, a pleading look on her face.

He narrowed his eyes; bemused as she tipped the Smarties out on the table and proceeded to pick out all the orange ones and pop them one by one into her mouth.

He shook his head at her weirdness before continuing. “But it’s our home, Pip, and when the hell did you try to tell me about it—wait, just wait,” he added with his hand in the air, “who’s coming?” He moved towards Pip and tried to dislodge George from beneath his feet. “George, bed,” he demanded, pleased that at least someone was listening to what he had to say as George trotted off to his bed obediently.

“Anastacia Harper, the top model,” both women giddily exclaimed in unison and laughed at each other.

Matt turned to Mrs Henderson. The woman had been the housekeeper at Melville since before he was born and liked to think of herself as his second mother. She was just as important to him.

“You know who this woman is?” raising his eyebrow at her.

“Of course sweetie, who doesn’t?” she responded, before turning back to the Aga and busying herself seasoning her stew. “Well, apart from you,” she called back over her shoulder.

Pip mumbled around the rest of the Smarties she was munching her way through, “Honestly Matt, you need to get your head out from those horses’ butts and keep up to date with what’s going on in the world. Here, catch.” Pip threw him the fashion magazine perched on the kitchen table. “I tried to talk to you about it a couple of weeks ago but you and Henry were in with the horses so I made an executive decision.”

“Pip, I hardly think that keeping up with fashion and the celebrity gossip can be classed as—”

Matt caught sight of a tumbling waterfall of vibrant red wavy hair framing a stunning pale oval face with a smattering of cute freckles on a pert nose,, vivid eyes as green as the fir trees in the forest surrounding Melville staring straight at him from the page of the magazine. A detached but beautifully refined look on the temptress’s face. It was a heady combination. He swallowed and paused for breath, acknowledging that perhaps he should pay more attention to the celebrity news.

He allowed his eyes to trace further down the page and acknowledge the rest of the photograph. It was obvious that this woman was not the traditional stick thin model usually favoured. No, this photograph showed off an hourglass figure through the black evening dress. She definitely had curves in all the right places, reminiscent of a Hollywood starlet from the 1950’s. Curves a man could no doubt spend hours worshipping and wow, that hair. He tentatively touched the page, running his fingers over her shoulders, imagining what it would feel like to run his hands through that hair and then grab a fist-full at the nape of her neck, forcing her to look up into his eyes, before seeking the comfort of her lips. He would later try to convince himself that the action had been entirely subconscious, but it was an argument even he wasn’t claiming to win. What it would feel like to make this woman lose control and scream out in ecstasy? He felt a long-forgotten stirring in his groin and quickly slammed the door to that emotional rollercoaster firmly shut. Getting involved or even interested in another woman was so not in his plan, but perhaps he did need to start thinking about satisfying his more basic needs, which had apparently decided to come out of hibernation, stretch languidly, and show interest in a certain Jessica Rabbit like redhead.

He suddenly became conscious of the fact he’d been staring at the page for a while and quickly cleared his throat and nonchalantly dropped the magazine back on the kitchen table. Christ, he hoped neither of them had seen him trailing his finger over the magazine. He hadn’t had such a reaction to a woman in a magazine since his father had given him some interesting reading in his mid-teens…and he was embarrassed now by his reaction. In his defence, he decided that the photo was most likely cleverly edited as was the norm nowadays. No-one would look that good in real life.

“Besides,” Pip continued, seemingly unaware of his peculiar interest in the magazine, “it will be exciting for the village and excellent PR for the Stud and your children’s charity. Things could do with being shaken up around here, don’t you agree Mrs H? You need to come out of that hibernation or whatever it is you’ve been in since what happened with Emily I—”

Matt’s head shot up and Pip cut herself off at the no doubt thunderous scowl on his face. “Don’t ever mention her name in this house again Pip,” he growled at her, but he winced inwardly as he saw his sister flinch and it angered him even more that that woman still had the power over him to warrant that reaction.

Thankfully Mrs Henderson swept away the lingering tension.

“Oh yes dear. I was telling Beatrice and Phyllis at the shops the other day all about it and you know how they like to spread the news. The whole village knows about it by now. Maybe that designer chap would donate something for us to raffle off at the charity ball on Saturday night.”

Matt choked, spitting out the last gulp of water he had just taken to quell his burning tongue. “What do you mean? How long are they going to be here!?” he gasped, still coughing up his lungs.

Mrs Henderson slapped him on the back and mopped at him with a towel whilst tutting something about his manners. He wasn’t listening.

“Erm well,” Pip stuttered, casting her eyes down to her computer. “They said that they needed to stay for a couple of days, you know to, erm, make sure that they get all the photos they need and go out on location around the grounds, and it was all dependent on the light and weather and what not, I wasn’t really listening, so I, you know, said that they could all stay at the house overnight. It’s not as though we haven’t got the rooms,” she rushed nervously.

“Here, taste again,” said Mrs Henderson, bringing a spoon filled with her stew up to his mouth. “Better?”

Matt sipped at the spoon. “Hmm, yeah, that’s delicious.” he agreed, handing the spoon back and turning his attention to Pip, crossing his arms over his chest, but bringing one to rub at sore eyes; gritty from lack of sleep.

“You do remember that Jumal will be here any day. His foal is due in the next couple of days’. What the hell is he going to think is going on with a fashion designer and his posse running wild at the house?” He dropped his hand back to his chest and let out a sharp breath before continuing. “We’re the most prestigious Stud farm in England and he’s going to think he’s landed at some sort of celebrity house party. I know he’s a mate but he’s still a bloody Sheik, Pip. I just can’t believe—!” He shook his head and rubbed at his temples to try to stave off the headache which was developing at a fast pace.

“Jumal is coming? When? Why didn’t you say?” Pip asked anxiously.’

Matt smirked at her. “Oops, I must have forgotten to mention it. Not nice, is it?” he tormented, raising a brow.

“Ha bloody ha. Anyway, stop stressing Matt, Alix and Anastacia will have left before Jumal arrives to view his baby horse.”

“Foal, Pip, it’s called a foal, not a baby horse,” he said, shaking his head again in exasperation.

“Anyway, you need to get her from the airport because she lands in just under an hour, and take that picture with you so you recognise her”.

Matt didn’t think he could forget that face. She’d be the one surrounded by a group of suck-ups dangling on her every word while she pouted and posed for pictures, no doubt flicking that wild hair around her shoulders as she soaked up all the adoration. He briefly pondered whether this model would be the stereotypical spirited redhead with fire in her belly…? His brain finally decided to re-engage and take control over his wandering thoughts.

“What? Why?” His attempt to grab a freshly baked shortbread biscuit from the table was foiled by Mrs Henderson as she smacked his hand away.

“You’ll spoil your tea.” The woman was as swift as a ninja, quicker than his judo instructor!

He pointed at Pip. “But she’s just worked her way through a whole tube of sweets!”

She tutted at him. “Now, now Matt, you’re not a child, although you are as grumpy as a teething toddler at the moment.”

He scowled at Pip as she stuck her tongue at him ’before she continued. “Well I told them that we’d collect her from the airport and as head of our family it should be you. Besides, do you really trust me to drive your Range Rover after what I did to your Porsche?” She tilted her head to the side. Good point.

“Anastacia is flying in directly from Rome due to some mix up or another, er, the bad weather actually I think, and the rest will arrive later today from London. I’ve arranged for an executive mini bus to collect them.” She waved her hand at him urgently. “So you’d better get a wiggle on brother, before this bad weather sets in.”

Matt sighed heavily. He was so damn tired and just wanted to fall into his bed…not that he would actually get any sleep.

“Pippa, this conversation is not over,” Matt grumbled as he grabbed his battered but favourite Barbour coat and car keys.

“Oh and you need to pop into a supermarket and grab some sparkling Perrier water on your way,” she shouted over her shoulder.

“What?” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling in defeat, no longer able to gather the energy to get angry.

“Anastacia’s agent emailed a rider list and the only thing we couldn’t get in the village was Perrier, so you need to grab some. Oh and don’t forget your phone.”

Matt caught his phone and pocketed it.

“I updated it for you. You’re welcome.”

He stared coldly at his sister, mentally counting to ten before he dropped the keys to his Range Rover back on the table and grabbed the keys to the Stud’s twenty year old land rover, used to ferry around bedding hay and feed and other necessities. It was most certainly not what the haughty America’s Top Model or whatever she was, would be expecting. He gritted his teeth at the thought of his quiet life being invaded by a woman who was no doubt a shallow, fame-obsessed wannabe accompanied by her equally annoying sycophantic entourage.

“George, come.” Matt patted the side of his leg and whistled.

He cursed to himself and absently raked his fingers through his hair; crossing the snow covered driveway towards the truck wondering how his day could go any further downhill and deciding that he’d simply stay out of the way—out of the house if necessary. Pip’s timing couldn’t be any worse: one of his ’mares was showing signs of an imminent delivery and his experience told him that she faced a potentially difficult time. The last thing he needed was a group of pompous big city dwellers who’d create nothing but upheaval and shine an unwanted spotlight upon his home.

***

Mrs Henderson and Pip stared at the snow cloud formed on the drive as Matt accelerated away from the house, and looked at each other.

“There’s going to be fireworks,” Mrs Henderson chuckled, crossing her flour covered hands over her apron.

Pip smiled mischievously. “Well someone needs to rattle his feathers and shake him up. Let’s hope he’s thinking ’Emily who?’ after the next couple of days, hey.”

The co-conspirators clinked their tea cups together in celebration of a job well done.

***

Anastacia couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she tried repeatedly to put the plane’s phone back in its holder following the most important phone call of her life.

“Oh God, oh God, breathe girl just breathe.” She repeated the mantra to calm her racing heart, breathing in and out slowly and trying to remember her yoga techniques; her hands moving up and down in sync…well, that was useless.

She yanked out the phone again and dialed. He answered after a couple of rings.

“It’s me. Guess what?”

“Erm, I’ll go with… you’ve decided to become a nun and you want me to design a totally bodacious habit for you?”

“Alix honey, people don’t say bodacious anymore. You’re showing your age.”

She heard him suck in a breath in disgust. “You take that back or else I’ll make you look like Miss Bloody Piggy, or worse.”

“Amanda just called.” She let the statement just hang in the air teasingly until she heard his sharp intake of breath as he connected the dots.

“You got it didn’t you, you bloody well got it. I knew it, tell me you got it.”

“I got it.” She held the phone away from her ear as he screamed and eventually decided to join in, tapping her feet on the floor in delight.

Eventually they ran out of air.

“Oh pumpkin, I am so proud of you. God I can’t believe my girl is going to be the face of Passion. Wow, just…ha, do you remember when we used to flick through all those fashion magazines at school. You always loved those moody arty black and white Passion adverts and look at you now. Well done babe, I’m so proud.”

She swallowed the lump which had formed in her throat at his praise. He was genuinely proud of her achievement. She could always count on Alix. She could only count on Alix, she quickly amended. “We’ve done all right haven’t we. It’s everything, all my dreams come true, but now I’m scared Alix. What if I mess it all up? Three years is a long time and they’ll have huge expectations. They’ll want their pound of flesh. Skinny flesh,” she emphasised.

“Nonsense, you won’t mess it up, you’ve got me. I won’t let you. New York baby!!” Alix went off screaming again and muttering about all the plans he had for them in New York while she half listened, knowing Alix could entertain himself for quite a while without needing her input or encouragement. Talking with Alix always soothed her. She reclined her chair on the private Gulf Stream jet, closing her eyes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep over the last few nights and spent most of the time tossing and turning waiting to hear from her agent. She’d taken a sleeping pill earlier in the day in the hope that it would help her get some sleep on the plane, then the call had come through.

“So did you manage to pack some clothes for me?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Yep, got ’em. So what exactly happened in Italy? You sound like you’ve been partying too hard babe.”

She decided to ignore his quip about partying. Telling Alix she wasn’t sleeping would only lead to an inquisition and she wasn’t ready for that. “A complete nightmare. Take one over-emotional photographer and an equally stroppy designer having artistic differences into the mix and what do you get? Both of them storming off the shoot in different directions leaving me shivering in the middle of a bloody fountain in a bikini wondering what the hell just happened, and having to wait around ’till they kissed and made up. Honestly these dramatics are turning into an occupational hazard in Italy. So what time’s your flight?”

She could hear the background commotion and sounds of his fellow disgruntled passengers. “Er, well, it’s saying on the board that it’s delayed at the moment. It’s a good thing you could arrange to fly straight there from Rome rather than trying to come back to London first. I don’t think anything is landing or taking off from Heathrow at the moment.”

“Hmm, well, okay. Will you let me know when you know more?”

“Will do. So, have you spoken to her yet?”

She let out a long breath before responding. “What’s the point? I’ll just get Angela. I speak more to my mother’s assistant than I do her. Anyway she’ll be out at some LA premier and then I’d be sat waiting for her call; which we both know won’t come so…” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Don’t you dare let her spoil this for you.’ She’s not worth it. But I know you’ll call her anyway, won’t you?”

“Probably.” She could see him rolling his eyes at her and shaking his head.

He groaned out loud before continuing sheepishly. “It goes without saying that I’ll owe you big time for doing this for me, I—”

“Alix, you’re my rock. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve been there for me so don’t you dare say thank you to me for spending a weekend in Yorkshire modeling your creations. It’s the least I can do for you, okay?” She owed him more than he would ever know.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “So what’s involved with Passion from now?” he asked, cleverly changing the topic.

“Well, Amanda is going to email me the papers which I’ll have a look at once I get to Melville later. She said they’ve already found me an apartment on the upper-east side near their offices and they want everything in place and ready to go after London Fashion Week. So it all fits together nicely. By the way, do you have any idea where this Melville house actually is?”

“Not a clue, I just Googled it and fell in love with the house and grounds, it’s a farm or something somewhere in the North Yorkshire Moors. There’re picking you up so you’ll be fine. Anyway, I’m just glad I got you to model for me before you become even more famous and your head won’t fit through my clothes.”

“Ha de ha ha. I know I can always rely on you to keep me grounded.” After a short pause they both laughed.

“There’s no hope for you then pumpkin!”

She smiled to herself and she recalled that it was she who comforted Alix as he passionately jumped from one disastrous relationship to another and had his heart broken over and over, yet she admired his tenacity and zest for life. She was the constant in his life and vice versa and she’d recently made a pledge to herself to help him find the love of his life…at least that stopped her examining her own disastrous love life too closely. Her last boyfriend had sold all the juicy details of their six month relationship to the press. At least what they had fabricated had been juicy—the reality had been that they’d barely dated due to work pressures—but hey, at least he’d got his profile heightened and no doubt made a few quid out of it..

She mouthed her thanks to Heidi for the tea she’d just placed on her tray table and tentatively sipped at it.

“But what if they change their mind when I get there? I’m not exactly the body type they’ve gone for traditionally am I?” she said, now biting her lower lip.

“Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, if I could get my hands on your mother I swear—”

“Okay, Okay. Calm down Mike Tyson.” She chuckled as she heard him mutter “Who?”. “It’s just that we both know that this is it for me. At twenty-six, I’m not going to get a chance like this again and I’m just doing my usual doubting routine. Sorry.”

““Okay, well there’s an official-looking airline chap wandering around in an ill-fitting uniform just begging for a make-over so I better get off and see what’s happening with our flight. I’ll see you soon and we can celebrate properly.”

“Okay, see ya, mwah.”

She managed to get the phone back in the holder without too many problems this time and sipped again at her drink, trying to forget the fact that it was Christmas in a few days and she hadn’t done any shopping so it was likely to be another mad rush around on Christmas Eve. It saddened her to think that she and her mother were basically strangers now and would be spending yet another Christmas apart. Not that she’d ever had a normal Christmas with her family. Her very early Christmas memories with her mother usually meant party after party with the Hollywood types whilst she was left at home being cared for by Angela. That was a ’good Christmas’. A normal one meant that she didn’t even get to go home for Christmas; she stayed boarding at school in England and got to watch all the other children being collected by their parents or at least their parents’ chauffeurs. She remembered how she hated those children, but it wasn’t their fault they had parents who actually gave a damn.

“Miss Harper, sorry, but would you like anything else to drink? The captain says we’ll be hitting some turbulence as we descend through some bad weather so he’s about to put on the seatbelt sign.”

She dragged her thoughts from her troubled reverie “Oh, no thank you Heidi, I’m fine, you go and buckle up. And I’ve told you, please call me Anastacia. You’ve flown with me all around the world and you’ve even done a fifty yard dash down a runway to retrieve my fly-away knickers to save my dignity, so I’d say we’re on first name terms, wouldn’t you? She raised her eyebrow and smiled.

Heidi nodded and returned her smile as she retreated towards the back of the jet.

Ana returned her stare out of the small window to look at the darkening sky, not that she could see much. It was quite a change from the weather in Rome.

***

After a few hair-raising moments of bad turbulence the plane finally landed and taxied to its stand.

She gathered her belongings and wrapped her new cashmere wrap around her shoulders, thankful for the gift from Alix. As she approached the doorway she was hit by a blast of frigid Yorkshire air and falling snow which was starting to stick to the ground. She snuggled into her wrap and stepped out, hoping to God that Alix had chosen warm, practical clothes for her. She laughed to herself; if you couldn’t trust a fashion designer to pick clothes for you, who could you trust!? Despite her fierce independence, even she wouldn’t have turned down a chivalrous offer of a coat from a gentleman round about now. If only.

“Welcome to Yorkshire Anastacia, have a lovely stay and thank you again for the tickets to London Fashion Week. My daughter will love it. We’ll wave to you.”

“No worries and you’re very welcome. I’ll see you soon Heidi. Safe flying.” She said, giving a quick hug.

It had been lovely and warm in Rome, even in December. She didn’t like cold weather and neither did her favourite Jimmy Choo’s.

***

“Stay, George.”

Matt recklessly abandoned the heap of metal affectionately known by all at the stud farm as ’the hummer’ and rushed into the arrivals hall. He was late. He hated being late for anything; the upshot of being rapped over the knuckles with a ruler by the nuns at his strict Catholic school. Being late was a sign of tardiness. Still, on the plus side, he had to smile at the thought of keeping Miss Tall and Snooty waiting around the arrivals hall and having to mill about with the locals. Ah well, every cloud…

The airport was packed with people arriving home. But then what did you expect a few days before Christmas?

He stood back and held open the doors for an elderly couple struggling to push their heavy cases on a trolley and he felt compelled to help them into a waiting taxi. He didn’t even mutter a curse when one of the heavy cases dropped onto his foot and instead smiled through gritted teeth and wished them a Merry Christmas as they went on their way. At least Mrs Henderson would be proud.

He dodged around groups of festive travellers and flinched at the sight of what looked like a young father abandoning his travel bag as he dropped to his knees, his welcoming arms sweeping up two young children in a hearty embrace that made them giggle in delight before returning them to their feet to take their smiling mother’s face in both of his hands to kiss her. Matt forced his eyes away from the newly reunited family and absently rubbed at his chest to try to ease the now familiar ache that witnessing such tender scenes still caused, muttering apologies as he bumped into yet another embracing couple. While scanning faces in the crowd a flash of red caught his eye.

He approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, this way.”

She spun around and Matt momentarily forgot his own name.

The picture he’d drooled over earlier did not do her justice. No clever photo editing would ever be needed.

At her blank look he finally recovered and added, “Quickly, I’m double-parked.”

“Oh, hi there. Can I help you? Did you want an autograph?” she asked, dropping her bag to the floor and holding out her hand to him.

She was English, not American as he’d mistakenly assumed, although he could detect a hint of an American influence on her accent.

Matt was vaguely aware that she’d asked him a question and was still waiting for a reply, holding her hand out and narrowing her eyes at him like he was an idiot and finally dropped her hand back to her side. Her smile dropped.

Say something you idiot, he berated himself. “This way.” He motioned randomly with his hand somewhere directly behind his shoulder before bending to pick up her bag so they could get moving.

“Sorry, who are you?” she enquired, bending with him to take a surprisingly strong grip on her bag handle.

“Matt Darling,” he told her brusquely before continuing at her quizzical look and the on-going tug-of-war between them over her bag. “The owner of Melville ’whose peaceful life you and your magazine friends are about to disrupt and no,” he bent his head slightly and she took a small step back at his invasion, her eyes widening, “I don’t want your autograph Miss Harper. Shall we go or would you prefer to waste some more of my time?”

He groaned inwardly at his terse dialogue and at her equally shaken expression. The truth was that she’d momentarily shocked him; rather, his gut reaction to her had shocked him and his survival technique, honed to perfection since Emily’s departure, had kicked in automatically.

Thankfully she let go of the bag, probably in surprise at his rudeness. “Okkkkayy…” she glanced nervously around the other passengers in the arrivals hall before quickly recovering her composure to fix a smile on her lips before continuing. “Well, I’m Anastacia, pleased to meet you. Thanks for coming out in this horrid weather to get me,” she said cheerily, holding out her hand again.

Goddamn it. Now she was deliberately highlighting his rudeness. What a cow…

He stared at her outstretched hand, unable to compute that she wasn’t offended by him and yelling him to sod off and come back when he’d found some manners. He held out his hand but then quickly ran it over his jean-covered thigh, acutely aware that he was about to touch her. Matt never second guessed himself… what the hell was the matter with him? He was a successful businessman who negotiated multi-million pound contracts on a daily basis.

She placed her hand in his and his body reacted at the warmth of her skin; he had a sudden desire to place his hand on her cheek. What the hell?

He also felt a strange need to apologise for his tardiness but what actually came out of his mouth was, “My car’s this way,” before he turned on his heel and set off in the direction of the main doors like a man on a mission.

***

Spotting a newsagent Matt excused himself for a moment and Anastacia was grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts and take a deep breath.

Hellllo. Not since her first crush on James Newman aged eleven had her stomach had butterflies like this upon meeting a man. Matt Darling was a hunk! The rudest she’d ever met, and she’d met a fair few snakes in her life to date, but still. At least he’d be something nice to look at until Alix could get his butt here, wherever “here” actually was. She’d just have to gag the obnoxious twerp.

Too swiftly he returned and once again set off towards the car park, leaving her scurrying behind him in her heels. God she felt like an idiot. She was supposed to be in a taxi on her way home to her flat in Chelsea to pack for this trip, before the unpredicted bad weather had changed all the best made plans.

Matt opened the front door of an old-style land rover, the kind used around farms and the countryside. It was a battered heap covered in mud. Authentic.

“George, down!”

Anastacia was shocked to find a chocolate labrador bounding towards her and jumping up at her, trying desperately to lick her face. “Hello there boy,” she greeted in that dopey voice people always seemed to use around animals.

George finally decided to acknowledge his master but not before getting a good lick of his new friend.

“Er, sorry. He’s clearly a sucker for a redhead too.”

She risked a quick glance at her chauffeur and thought she caught a puzzled look on his face before he recovered. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and handed a clean handkerchief to her..

Patting George and rubbing his ears, she looked up at Matt. “Yes, yes I’m fine… he’s very friendly. I’ve never had a dog but I’ve always loved labs. Such a gorgeous man, you’re a beauty aren’t you,” she said, ruffling his ear’s and planting a kiss on George’s powerful head.

“Okay George that’s enough,” Matt said, intervening. “In the back,” he ordered.

She wasn’t about to argue. The man was clearly pissed at something or other. She moved to open the rear door—

“Not you.”

She heard him sigh wearily, like she was living up to his belief that she was a buffoon.

Matt guided her out of the way and opened up the back of the truck, placing her carry case on the floor as George jumped up and eventually settled down with his head between his paws.

As she stood back to watch the pair, a cold shiver went up her spine and she hugged her wrap closer. She’d actually lost all feeling in her exposed toes and dropped her head to check her polish hadn’t turned blue!

She saw him shake his head and thought she heard him mutter something about her being stupid. “You’re freezing. Why the hell wouldn’t you pack a coat?” He chastised her like a child. “Never mind. Here.” Matt started to shrug out of his jacket.

“Oh no really, I’m—" She tried to hide her gasp at a shiver as he held it out to her.

“Take it. It’s a long drive.” He furrowed his brow for a moment, as if thinking about something important before quickly dismissing it, as he opened the front passenger door for her and stood back. Anastacia took the coat and offered a smile as she wrestled with the sleeves and hopped up into the front seat.

Despite her best attempt, Matt noticed the expression on her face which she’d tried to hide.

“Yeah. It’s a working farm vehicle. Cold and smelly. We use it to ferry things around. Hummer by name, hummer by nature, and our limousine is booked in for its service.” He smirked at her mockingly before he looked down towards his feet and uttered something that she couldn’t quite make out and slammed the door.

What the hell had she done to offend this man? She’d only just met him… but this was a record, even for her!

Still, she conceded, the man smelt divine as she caught the faint smell of his cologne and him as she discreetly snuggled her face into his coat for a deeper sniff…purely to escape the offensive pong of the Hummer. The cologne was a favourite of hers and she basked in the residual warmth from his body and started to defrost; wiggling her toes. She thought about his name and decided it didn’t suit him. Matt made her think of a relaxed, friendly type of man who’d go out of his way to do anything for anyone. Most certainly not this grumpy farmer, even with his perfectly tight arse which, in her defence, she couldn’t help but notice as he’d stormed on ahead in the arrivals hall, expertly dodging passengers and trailing suitcases like he was a contestant on ’It’s a Knockout’.

“So how long will it take us to get there?” she said, rubbing her hands together before bending to take off her impractical but heavenly shoes and curl her legs up underneath her body on the car seat. At his curious expression she added, “Years and years of Yoga.”

He nodded in understanding before explaining. “Usually about an hour or so, but I think this weather might slow us down a bit.”

She’d noticed that the snowfall was much heavier now and it was sticking to the roads with menace.

“If they close the pass to the village then we’ll be staying somewhere else for the night.” He glanced over at her and she saw a flash of concern on his face which he didn’t bother to hide. “Ever sleep in anything other than a six star hotel?” He raised another mocking brow at her.

All right buster, she thought, I’ve played nice so far but now we’re alone with no camera phones to record me and upload it all online.

“Have I done something to offend you Mr Darling? Am I getting special attention or did the hens just refuse to lay today? Or perhaps you think this,” she waved her arm at him, “grumpy farmer routine or whatever it is you’ve got going on is just what the tourists want?” She raised her brow and caught a muscle tick in his jaw.

“Just to be clear,” he started as he glanced over briefly, “I don’t want you or your fashion crew here.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out, I’m smart like that.” She shrugged. “Guess it just goes to prove that they don’t let just anyone into Mensa.” She tapped her chin with her index finger as if in thought. “Of course that does lead one to question your intelligence for letting us let us rent the house if we offend your delicate sensitivities so. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He seemed briefly dazed by her curt words. Most likely about her Mensa gem—she hated the stereotype that all models were only interested in their hair and make-up. Of course he didn’t need to know that she wasn’t actually a member of Mensa… What was a tiny white lie to a man she was never going to see again.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t my idea. It was my sister’s.” He glared over at her again and then narrowed his eyes accusatorily. “I despise everything that you and your kind crave, Miss Harper.”

Ana was so shocked by the vicious words, spat out with such disdain, that it took a moment for her to recover and close her mouth which had dropped open at his terse remark. “W-wow. Just say what you think.” She held her hands up in mock surrender before dropping them back in her lap. “Am I allowed to ask just what it is that you think I crave so much? Oh, and I assume you’re not thinking it’s chocolate.”

Annoyingly, the tick in his jaw only added to his attractiveness.

“Attention. Fame.”

“That’s it?” She gasped outraged. “You’re offended by my choice of occupation?” She let out a humourless laugh and shook her head. He made no sense to her. “Well, I’m offended by your rudeness Mr Darling, but still, I’m here to do a job which I will do to the best of my ability whilst trying my hardest to keep out of your way so as not to offend you.” She titled her head and smiled sardonically at him. “But seeing as though we have a signed contract to be at Melville and I understand that a generous donation has been made to a local charity at your request…” she paused for effect, raising her brow, “I suggest that you keep your thoughts about ’my kind’ to yourself and concentrate on driving.”

Her heart was pounding so much she could feel it in her throat. She was riled yet strangely exhilarated as nervous energy swamped her body. She saw his grip on the wheel tighten further. He looked pissed off, but arguing with him was… fun.

Until reality set in. God, had she really just said all that? Crap she shouldn’t have let loose. She should have just sucked it up and bottled it all in like usual. What if he did in fact go to the press with a story about what a demanding diva she was? What if Passion decided she was just too opinionated; too out of control; just too much trouble? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to make a quick fortune out of an ’Exclusive tell-all’ article about her. Would she ever learn?

She let out a sigh. It was too late now. He just brought that response forth from her and she was still surprised; surprised at how good it felt! She had lost count of the times she’d held back from telling some idiot what she really felt. Her life was monitored 24/7. Privacy was non-existent, especially with the advent of the mobile phone with their built in cameras and video’s. Oh well, Amanda would have to scream at her again and deal with any fall out, no doubt, after she’d received a call from her mother’s publicist complaining about how her behaviour impacted her mother’s precious career.

While Matt was concentrating on the road and the increasingly difficult conditions, she took advantage to steal a glance at him from the corner of her eye, hoping she wouldn’t be caught ogling him. Again.

She’d noticed him at the airport before he’d apparently seen her.

The furor caused by his attempts to help an older couple with their suitcases had made her chuckle, especially when the heavy bag had fallen on his foot. Not that she hoped he was hurt, well, not then, before she knew what he was like, but it was clear that he’d been in a rush to meet someone but his manners had clearly won. She’d liked that, but it was at odds with the man sitting next to her. What the hell had she done to this man in such a short period of time to warrant such a reaction? And for that matter, what was so wrong with having attention?!

She’d already clocked that he was tall, maybe a couple of inches over six foot with broad, athletic shoulders and dark hair which was cut short, and he sported a couple of days’ dark growth which suited his chiselled jawline perfectly. She’d also noted his strong bone structure and symmetrical facial features, a habit from her line of work. She noticed beauty. From a distance she had daydreamed that his padded winter coat hid a muscular body. She didn’t have to imagine for long… until he opened that perfect jaw and spoke and ruined the illusion.

Talk about living up to stereotypes. This guy was the ultimate Grumpy Farmer.

But when he’d shrugged off his coat… WOW. If Alix had been with her, he’d have shouted “hubba hubba” before passing out on the floor, not caring that the man was insolent!

Putting his bad mannered attitude to one side, Matt was stacked! His muscular body was probably acquired and honed to perfection through his active lifestyle of lugging hay bales around the farm and sheering sheep or whatever it was that farmers did all day. His black T-shirt pulled slightly over his pectoral muscles and was teamed with snug, worn light blue jeans. Apair of well-used working boots finished the ensemble. As he drove on in silence she continued to take advantage and gaze at his forearms, momentarily fascinated as the corded muscle tensed and then relaxed as he made minor adjustments to the steering wheel. They were mesmerising. Forearms were sexy…who knew?

She’d already spied the beautiful, vintage Omega watch he sported and that the ring finger on his left hand was bare… Why had she even been looking? Did a girlfriend buy him the watch?

His eyes? She was acutely aware that she hadn’t yet had the chance to fully appreciate her grumpy farmer’s eyes. She guessed they were blue to complement his skin and hair colouring… She gave herself a mental slap. She wasn’t interested in such things. Her career was her priority, not her love life.

Her musings were interrupted by music coming from his mobile phone..

“Is that - Dirty Dancing?” she queried.

Okay, that was not the ringtone she’d have guessed would be on a farmer’s phone, she thought, as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He answered his phone and spoke with someone confirming that he had collected her and they were on the way back. He finished the call and they were once again under way. Was that his wife or girlfriend?

Before she could stop her runaway mouth she teased, “What, no ’Old Macdonald had a farm’ on iTunes?”

She started to hum the children’s nursery tune to herself and glanced over at Matt. He looked uncomfortably embarrassed.

Clearly he wasn’t going to bite this time. “That was Pip, my sister,” he clarified, after a short pause. “She said the snow is getting really heavy and wanted to know where we were. She also likes to steal my phone and change the personal ring tones.” She caught a faint blush on his cheeks. She was right—brilliant blue eyes—but yet something in them made her pause. Something she recognised from seeing her reflection too many times, as an occupational hazard. He looked… shattered, and not through lack of sleep, although she’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes. More like he was emotionally drained. Now that she really thought about it as she watched him rub at his jaw, the stubble on his face was less likely to be a fashion statement and more like he’d simply forgotten to shave or simply couldn’t be bothered, and the nail on his right thumb was bitten… all seemed to point in the direction that all was not rosy in this man’s life. Well, whatever. It wasn’t any of her business and she was out of here in a couple of days.

He reached between the front seats and thrust a bag from the newsagent at the airport into her hands. “Here.”

Anastacia peered into the heavy bag which contained several small bottles of chilled Perrier water. Bemused, she looked over at him. “Er, thanks.”

“My sister said you needed them. Your agent apparently told her to get them for you. I’ll order more for you to be delivered at the house, but that’s all they had in the shop. You should give our Yorkshire water a try.” He looked over her pointedly. “Surprisingly it tastes just like water.”

She offered a “Humph” in response. Great, she thought, letting his sarcasm wash over her this time. She mulled over the fact that it was just more fuel for the fire that all models are completely demanding bitches. Amanda just sent out those lists automatically, she didn’t even know what was on it. She’d asked her to stop sending them but it appeared her request had been ignored—yet again.

Anastacia reached into her handbag, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had chance to switch her phone on since landing. She opened the bottle of water and took a few sips whilst waiting for it to catch a signal. After travelling for about forty minutes or so she guessed they were almost there. A few miles back Matt had appeared anxious and rubbed at his temples and back of his neck, but they’d driven on mostly in silence until she interjected with questions about the village and local area, just to annoy him and to see how many one word responses she could elicit. Seven.

Her phone suddenly burst to life showing she had missed several calls and text messages, mainly from Alix and Amanda. Her phone had only been turned off for a couple of hours.

She peered over at Matt’s profile. “You mind if I make some calls?”

She decided to interpret his dismissive shrug of his shoulders as code for “Go ahead.”