Читать книгу The Butterfly Cove Collection - Sarah Bennett, Sarah Bennett - Страница 21

Daniel wiped his paintbrush on the rag hanging at his waist before dropping it onto the newspaper beneath his feet. He stretched the kinks that had worked into his back over the past few hours of stooping awkwardly to paint the skirting in the beach room. That is what both he and Mia were calling it and it was starting to come together.

Jordy had been in to measure up and was working on a frame for the daybed that would fill the bay window. The base of the bed would incorporate shelves, which Mia planned to fill with books and also with random treasures gathered from walks along the shoreline.

A trip to the local junk emporium had yielded a bag of shells, which she’d glued around the frame of the large pine mirror they planned to hang over the bed, facing the window. The bedroom furniture was all made of a similar basic pine, which Mia had painted white and then distressed to give a bleached out, weathered effect.

The skirting boards and picture rail were coated in brilliant white gloss and the walls above the rail were duck-egg blue with a deeper azure shade covering the lower half. The floorboards had been stripped and sanded, a hellish job with a beast of a machine they had hired from the local DIY merchants.

It was filthy out. Daniel eyed the glowering clouds scudding across the sky as another fierce squall rattled rain against the window. On days like this, it was hard to imagine the vista would ever reflect the soft summer calm of the beach room colour scheme. The weather had closed in almost a week ago and they were both feeling a bit stir-crazy. Neither had spoken of their embrace, but a simmering tension lay between them.

Trying to ignore his attraction to her proved useless and he couldn’t stop finding little excuses to touch her, hoping to see an answering need in her eyes. There was nothing overt or sexual in his actions: a pat on the hand to thank her for another glorious home-cooked meal, a gentle brush of shoulders as they surveyed the design notes for the room, a paint smear wiped from her cheek. He needed to touch her, to reassure himself the ethereal little woman was real. That his presence in her life and her home wasn’t a fever dream.

His gaze moved across the rear garden towards the barn, drawn again to the plans that were slowly forming in his mind’s eye.

The basic structure was sound and the huge windows that faced towards the beach were a marvel once he had uncovered them. A huge run of light, the entire length of the wall. He could see the place divided into working units, perfect spaces for creative studios. He knew of at least a dozen of his artistic contacts in town who would relish a clean, quiet environment to recharge their batteries. The ever-changing sky and seascape would be a source of inspiration.

Daniel was a prime example of what could happen if someone with an artistic temperament didn’t take good care of themselves and their talent. He hadn’t discussed it with Mia yet, but he would soon. He wanted to talk to Aaron about the project too, get his input and assistance in putting some numbers together. His best friend’s younger brother, Luke, was an architect who was developing a solid reputation, stylish without the desire to over-engineer everything. If he could get them both down for a weekend to look over the barn and take some measurements, maybe Luke could make a start on drawing up some design concepts.

The building was certainly tall enough for a mezzanine floor, which could accommodate living space for the artists using the studios below. Daniel had more than enough money to cover the costs of the conversion and he hoped he would be able to persuade Mia that it would be a positive companion to her more traditional guest house.

A small creative enclave would be a draw to the more discerning guests and would perhaps offer an opportunity for an accompanying gallery to display some of the pieces created. There was a run of disused garages adjacent to the barn, which could be converted into a gallery or a small shop.

The more he thought about it, the more the excitement fluttered in Daniel’s belly. Part of him wanted to sprint down to the kitchen where Mia had escaped to do some therapeutic baking and blurt out his thoughts. He wanted to sit at his usual spot at the table and watch her soothing movements as she mixed and kneaded the most basic of ingredients into a mouth-watering selection of treats.

He was already addicted to her cooking and with every day that passed the feeling grew that fate had steered him to the exact place in the universe that he needed to be. He was also terrified of moving too soon on his plans for the barn. And for her. If she understood how much he wanted to make a permanent place for himself both at her table and in her life, she would run a mile.

Daniel also understood that what he needed and what Mia needed would not necessarily end up being the same. The last thing he wanted to risk was the friendship developing between them. Whilst he might want more one day, he was not prepared to lose what they had if Mia could not move past the loss of her husband.

A tap on the door turned him from the rain and his musings as Mia nudged the door open with one hip. She entered the room with a laden tray in her hands. Two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of shortbread biscuits brought a smile to his face as he realised that she was choosing to take a break and spend time with him. A small step perhaps but it warmed his heart just the same.

Flour dusted through Mia’s hair, which stuck up in all directions as usual. She had an unconscious habit of shoving at her hair, as though it hung in her face, even though the pixie crop she sported meant that it never did. He wondered how long ago she had cut her hair and whether the gesture was a hangover from days when it had fallen around her shoulders as in the picture pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh, well. I was going to, but you know she doesn’t like a fuss and I’ve been tied up with this paper I’ve been working on. It’s a fascinating treatise on the development of religious worship on the island of Delos.’ Mia closed her eyes while her father rattled on about his work. If he paid half as much attention to his wife as he did to the long-dead ancient Greeks, things might be better between them.

‘Did you clear out the drinks cabinet like we discussed?’ Her parents’ resolute determination to ignore the reality of Vivian’s alcoholism had been the subject of several difficult conversations between Mia and her father. She was also conscious that she was washing her dirty laundry in front of Daniel but it couldn’t be helped.

George’s sigh gusted in her ear. ‘The contents of the drinks cabinet aren’t going to be a problem. Your mother took a bit of a tumble and she’s in the hospital with a badly broken leg. She’ll be there for at least two weeks.’

Mia pressed her forehead against the cool wall and tried to calm her racing heart. ‘Oh, God. Is she all right?’

‘They’re taking good care of her.’ Which wasn’t a proper answer at all. Her father took another audible deep breath. ‘So I was wondering if you might come home for a bit. To visit your mother, of course. But, I thought you’d give me a hand taking care of the house. The doctors say she’ll need assistance with her rehabilitation afterwards.’

Guilt settled hot and heavy on her shoulders. ‘I can come home for a visit, of course. But I can’t stay long. There’s so much to do here and you’d be better off getting a nurse or a proper home help in.’

Mia raised her eyes to meet Daniel’s, wondering what he thought of the side of the conversation that he was privy to. She probably sounded cruel, but the thought of getting sucked back into the George and Vivian show was more than she could stand. Her parents had spent years locked together in a web of regret and resentment. Just the thought of walking back into the unhappy home of her childhood made her stomach queasy.

‘How can you be busy? You’ve got no job. Your mother needs you. I need you. I have lectures to give and an important dinner with my colleagues next week. I need you to cater for it and act as hostess in your mother’s absence.’ Ah, now we’re getting to the heart of it. Her father’s career came before everything, as usual.

‘I am sure your colleagues will understand if you postpone under the circumstances.’ There was no getting out of it; she would have to go home. ‘Can you give me a couple of days to sort things out here?’

‘If that’s what you need, I can muddle through to the weekend. You’ll at least help me make the arrangements? You are so much better at the practicalities.’ That was true. With their father wrapped up in his work and their mother self-medicating with gin, it had fallen to Mia to take care of her sisters and run the house.

‘I’ll speak to Kiki and see if I can stay with her.’ Staying with her sister and the git she called a husband wouldn’t be a picnic, but she’d get to see the kids and maybe get a chance to talk to Kiki at the same time.

‘Will you stop using those ludicrous nicknames? You and your sisters all have perfectly good names.’ There was no point in pursuing the old argument so Mia ignored the sharp retort. Their father had named them after the Horae—a trio of minor Greek goddesses, fathered by Zeus. The teasing at school had been painful, but served as another cord to bind the three of them closer together.

Mia watched Daniel gather their cooling plates of food and slide them into the lower shelf of the Aga to keep warm. He pointed towards the door and raised a brow, clearly offering to give her some privacy. She shook her head and held out her hand towards him, relieved when he crossed to her side and gathered her small hand between his own. He chafed her knuckles gently with his thumb.

Mia stared absently at their joined hands as she listened to her father go on and on about how busy he was, how hard it was for him to cope with work and hospital visits. How vital the dinner was to the future grant plans for his department. She wasn’t prepared for the bombshell when it landed. ‘And of course the staff at the Royal Brook are taking great care of your mother.’

At the mention of the hospital where she’d had to identify Jamie’s body, her legs gave out and she found herself slumped on the floor, staring up at Daniel. With a worried frown creasing his brow, he knelt beside her. The oxygen she hadn’t missed from her lungs came rushing back and the first sob shook her whole body. A worried squawk came from the handset dangling between her fingers. She tried to speak, tried to take a calming breath, but grief rose like a wave, rolled her over and dragged her into its salty, bitter depths.

She barely resisted as Daniel eased her fingers free of the handset and exchanged a few quiet words with her father before hanging it back up on the wall. Strong arms banded around her back as he picked her up and carried her towards the kitchen table. He found a seat, tugged her down into his lap after him. His warm arms curled around her, cocooning her, and Mia let him press her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands circled around her back and up to her shoulders, massaging gently, soothing the tension from her body. Mia pressed her nose deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, allowing the familiar warm, masculine scent of this man to fill her senses as she drenched his neck and shoulder in her tears.