‘Absolutely.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Maybe because you got all moody, shuttered, closed up,’ she said, turning to him on legs that were shaking as she realised how close she’d come to losing this. ‘No time for anything but a quickie. Running away. If you’d been talking to me I’d have told you all about it. And that I turned him down.’
‘But...’ His frown was total confusion. ‘You weren’t even tempted?’
‘I told you, Darius, I could never trust a man who treated me the way Miles did, but it wasn’t just that. I like being my own boss. Tailoring my sales pitch to meet individual needs. Looking for the right house for a client who appreciates good service. I like doing things my own way.’
‘I like doing things your way, too,’ he replied as she began slipping her buttons one by one.
* * *
‘I have to get up,’ Tash protested, making an effort to wriggle out of Darius’s warm embrace. ‘I’ve got an appointment at eleven.’
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, his hand on her belly spooning her against him as he nuzzled the tender spot behind her ear.
‘Sussex. I’ve found the perfect house for a client and she’s flying in from Hong Kong to see it.’ She bit her lip as his hand moved lower.
‘Is this the one you’ve been raving about?’
‘Mmmm... Can I tempt you to a day out in the country?’ she asked in an attempt to distract him. Distract herself. She really, really had to get going... ‘Once the viewing is over we could take a walk on the Downs, have lunch at a country pub. Can you spare the time?’
‘No,’ he said, moving so that she flopped over onto her back and was looking up at him. ‘Can you?’
No! The answer was definitely, almost certainly, maybe nooooo, but his lips were teasing hers, his hand was much lower and the word never made it beyond a thought.
* * *
Damn it, he always did that! She woke in plenty of time to get where she had to be and then he ambushed her. She grinned as her little van pulled out of the mews and she headed south towards the Sussex Downs. It was just as well that she’d started putting the alarm forward half an hour or she’d be permanently late.
As it was, she needn’t have worried. She picked up the keys from the selling agent in good time but when she pulled up outside the gates there was no sign of her client, only a voicemail message on her phone saying that she’d been held up, but would she go ahead and take photographs for her of the garden and especially of the grotto.
Terrific. She just hoped it wasn’t a wind-up. Over the last few months there had been a few of those—wasted journeys to see non-existent clients, non-existent houses. Rivals who resented the splash of publicity following her sale of Hadley Chase. The feature on her new consultancy in the Country Chronicle. She’d got smarter about checking before she wasted time or money on them, but this one had checked out.
She took her camera and her camcorder, filming the walk up the drive to the sprawling house, smothered in an ancient wisteria that would look so pretty in the spring.
It was absolutely perfect—and not just for her client.
There was room for an office, a cottage in the grounds for Patsy—who was working for her now—and Michael. And a small barn tucked away at the rear.