by Anne Mather
‘OK,’ he conceded. ‘That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. But it’s true, isn’t it? You did tell Amy you couldn’t take her to the beach.’
‘I might have done.’
Matt waited a beat. Then, he said, ‘I wondered if you’d allow me to take her out.’
‘You?’
Fliss was taken aback and it showed, and Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘Yeah,’ he said flatly. ‘I knew it was a crazy idea, but I had to run it by you.’ He half turned. ‘Forget it. I’ll see you Monday morning at the usual time—’
‘Wait!’ Fliss didn’t know what possessed her, but she couldn’t let him go like this. ‘I—let me think about it, at least.’
Matt paused, and eyes dark as sin impaled her with a sceptical look. ‘What’s to think about?’ he asked. ‘You hardly know me. I know that. You don’t know if you can trust me. Like I said, it was a crazy idea. Why don’t we both forget I ever mentioned it?’
Fliss shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well—for a start, because I do think I can trust you.’
‘Thanks.’ His tone was dry.
‘I mean it.’ Fliss sighed. ‘But Amy had no right to involve you—’
‘If you say so.’
‘—and I’m sure you have better things to do than take a nine-year-old to the beach.’
‘Ah.’ He was sardonic. ‘This is your way of letting me down gently, right?’
‘Wrong.’
‘But you’re going to say no, anyway,’ he persisted harshly. ‘Why don’t you just come out and say so?’
‘If you must know, I’d already decided to take her myself,’ said Fliss defensively, and she saw the way his mouth turned down at this news.
‘Yeah, right.’
‘I mean it.’ She gave a helpless shake of her head. ‘Why would I lie?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I’m not lying,’ she protested. ‘If you don’t believe me, why don’t you come with us?’
It was one of those moments when the air in the room practically shimmered with tension. Matt was obviously taken aback by her words and Fliss was wondering how much deeper a hole she was going to dig herself. Dear God, she didn’t want to spend a whole day with him any more than he wanted to spend the day with her. Dammit, why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?
‘What’s going on here?’
Her father’s appearance in the doorway seemed like the last straw. She had hoped Matt would have said his piece and disappeared before her father came down, but now George Taylor was staring at their visitor with wary eyes. He’d recognised him, of course. How could he not? And he was characteristically suspicious as to why Matt should be standing in his kitchen.
In fact it was Matt who took the initiative. ‘Mr Taylor, I presume,’ he remarked easily, putting out his hand to shake the other man’s as if he’d never expressed any reluctance to speak to a member of the Press. ‘Matt Quinn. I’m the new owner of the Old Coaching House.’
‘I know who you are Mr Quinn,’ said Fliss’s father stiffly, obviously as taken aback by Matt’s cordiality as Fliss was herself. Then his gaze turned to his daughter, and his lips tightened. ‘I suggest you go and put some clothes on, Felicity. I’ll entertain our guest.’
Fliss rolled her eyes. ‘Dad—’
‘It’s OK,’ said Matt, before she could say anything more. ‘I’ve got to go and finish my breakfast and lock up the house.’ He met Fliss’s gaze with apparent unconcern. ‘I’ll leave your daughter to explain that I’m taking her and your granddaughter out for the day.’
Fliss didn’t know which of them was the most shocked, her or her father. But rather than wait to see how she was going to handle it, Matt arched a challenging brow in her direction and headed for the door.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he promised blandly. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Taylor.’
And with that, he was gone, and Fliss was left to face her father’s undoubted irritation. The door had scarcely closed behind Matt before he snapped, ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on between you and that man? Why would he think he had the right to come here at—’ he consulted his wrist-watch before continuing—‘at seven-thirty in the morning? Has he been here all night?’
Fliss’s jaw dropped. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘What’s ridiculous about it? I didn’t hear a car, and you’re hardly dressed to receive visitors.’ His lips pursed with annoyance as he viewed her attire. ‘And couldn’t you buy yourself some nightgowns? What must he think, finding you wearing men’s underpants to sleep in?’
‘They’re boxers,’ Fliss corrected him shortly. ‘And they’re very comfortable, actually.’
‘No doubt.’ Her father sniffed. ‘Well? What’s all this about?’
Fliss expelled an exasperated breath, but before she could answer the door opened again and Amy and Harvey bounded in. ‘Is it true?’ the little girl demanded as Harvey raced wildly about the room. ‘Are we really going out with Quinn? He said we were. He said you’d said we could all go to the beach.’
‘Amy—’
‘I think your mother’s taken leave of her senses,’ retorted her grandfather dauntingly. ‘I never approved of her going to work for that man, but getting you involved as well—’
‘I didn’t get Amy involved,’ protested Fliss quickly, not prepared to be blamed for something that really wasn’t her fault. ‘It was Amy who let Harvey into Matt’s garden.’
‘So it’s “Matt’s” garden, is it?’ Her father was scornful. Then he turned to his granddaughter. ‘Is this true, Amy? Did you let Harvey out?’
Amy hunched her shoulders. ‘I might have done.’
‘Either you did or you didn’t.’ Her grandfather regarded her sternly. ‘You know that was a very naughty thing to do, don’t you? Harvey could have run away, or got knocked down. Anything.’
‘No, he couldn’t,’ muttered Amy sulkily. ‘He was safe enough in the garden at the big house.’
Her grandfather gasped. ‘So, you admit you deliberately released the dog in Mr Quinn’s garden?’
Amy looked mutinous. ‘He didn’t mind.’
‘How do you know that?’ Fliss’s father was angry now. ‘You hardly know the man.’
‘I do, too.’ Amy was defiant. ‘I spent all yesterday morning talking to him.’ She took a breath and then added staunchly, ‘He likes me.’
‘Does he?’ George Taylor turned back to his daughter now. ‘Why wasn’t I told about this?’
Fliss sighed. ‘About what?’
‘About Amy spending the morning with that man,’ stated her father grimly. ‘I thought you told me she was going to play outside, as she used to do when you worked for the colonel—’
‘I didn’t always play outside,’ Amy interrupted him quickly, and although Fliss knew the child was only trying to defend herself, she wasn’t doing herself any favours by reminding her grandfather of that. He had always been jealous of the time Amy spent with Colonel Phillips, and of the affection she had had for the old man. ‘We often used to play games—’
‘Be quiet, Amy.’ Her grandfather had heard enough. ‘Well, Fliss? I’m waiting for an answer.’
‘You’re not talking to Amy now, Dad,’ retorted Fliss, deciding her own grievance with her daughter would have to wait. ‘Amy was helping Mr Quinn unpack some books, that was all. He was glad of her company.’
‘And you left her with this man? With a man you hardly know?’ Her father shook his head. ‘I thought you’d have had more sense!’
Fliss stared at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh—’ He swung away to lift his coffee mug from the hook and poured himself a cup before saying anything else. Then, aware that she was still watching him, he muttered, ‘I should have thought it was obvious.’
Fliss felt cold. ‘I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean,’ she began, and Amy looked confused.
‘What does Grandad mean?’ she as
ked innocently, and Fliss realised she couldn’t say anything more in front of her daughter.
‘Your grandfather’s just feeling liverish,’ she said instead, deciding getting dressed would have to wait until after breakfast. ‘Now, I suggest you go and put your clothes on. I’ll get my shower after you’ve finished.’
Amy moved reluctantly towards the door and Fliss was hardly surprised when she paused in the doorway. ‘We are going out, aren’t we, Mummy?’ she asked anxiously. ‘You’re not going to say no because Grandad’s cross?’
Fliss blew out a breath. ‘Just get dressed, Amy,’ she advised the little girl flatly, but Amy was persistent.
‘Are we?’ she pleaded. ‘Please say we are.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Fliss, giving her father a reflective look. ‘Now, scoot.’
‘Can I wear my new skirt?’
‘Don’t push your luck,’ Fliss declared drily, and the child had to be content with that.
But after Amy had disappeared upstairs, Fliss turned from taking milk from the refrigerator and said, ‘Why are you being so horrible about this? What have I done to make you think I can’t look after myself and my daughter?’
Her father pulled out a chair at the table and then shook his head. ‘You can ask me that?’
Fliss caught her breath. ‘I was sixteen, Dad.’ She paused. ‘I thought we’d got over that.’
‘We have,’ he muttered, setting his mug on the table and then dropping wearily into his chair. ‘But dammit, Fliss, I’ve told you what I’ve heard about that man.’
‘And what have you heard exactly?’
‘Just what I said—that he’s had some mental problems since he got back from Abuqara.’
‘What kind of mental problems?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her father took a mouthful of his coffee. ‘God knows what state he was in when he got back.’
Fliss sighed. ‘Isn’t this just gossip?’
‘Well, you said yourself he’d left London because he felt he needed space.’
‘So?’
‘So—why would he do that? I mean, as I hear it, the company he worked for were more than willing to give him his old job back.’
‘Perhaps he felt like a change.’
‘Yes.’ Her father reached for the morning newspaper Fliss had picked up from the hall when she came down. ‘Well, in my opinion, no one in their right mind would have turned down the opportunity to pick up where they had left off. Most wouldn’t get the chance.’
Fliss lifted a loaf from the bread bin. ‘Perhaps that was because he was good at his job,’ she said practically, but her father wasn’t having that.
‘And perhaps it’s because he knows he can’t hack it anymore,’ he retorted shortly. ‘Grow up, Fliss. The man’s a kook, and if you can’t see it, you don’t deserve to have responsibility for an impressionable child like Amy.’
CHAPTER TEN
MATT wasn’t sure whether he’d expected Fliss to back out of the arrangement or what. It had been obvious that her father hadn’t been pleased to find them together and no doubt he exerted quite a lot of influence on her life. And, although Fliss had offered the invitation, he had the feeling she’d expected him to refuse.
What he definitely hadn’t expected, however, was that she and Amy would turn up on his doorstep less than an hour later carrying backpacks and a cooler. Fliss’s face was flushed and even Amy looked a little less exuberant than usual, and he wondered what had been said after he’d left.
‘Hi, Quinn.’ As usual, Amy was the first to speak. ‘Are you ready to go?’
Matt frowned. ‘I can be,’ he said, his eyes on Fliss’s face. Then, ‘You could have used the front door, you know.’
‘We walked,’ said Fliss, and he could tell by her tone that she was embarrassed to admit it. ‘Um—my father’s decided he needs the car today.’
‘No problem. We can use mine.’ Matt stepped back. ‘Come on in. The coffee’s still hot. Help yourself to a cup while I put some shoes on.’
‘Do you have any more of that lemonade I had yesterday?’ asked Amy at once, dumping her backpack just inside the door and looking expectantly round the kitchen.
Her mother gave her a reproving look. ‘You’ve just had breakfast,’ she said, following her daughter inside. ‘You don’t need another drink.’
‘But I’m thirsty,’ protested Amy, and Matt opened the fridge and pulled out a can of cola.
‘Help yourself,’ he said, taking a glass from the cupboard. He hoped it would give him a chance to have a private word with Fliss. He arched his brows in her direction and they moved to the far side of the room. ‘Everything OK?’
‘As it will ever be, I suppose,’ she said tightly, shedding her own backpack, and he found himself staring at her breasts again.
Dragging his eyes away, he said the first thing that came into his head. ‘Your father doesn’t approve of me, does he?’
‘He doesn’t know you.’
‘Nor do you.’
She averted her eyes. ‘I know enough.’
‘You think?’
She looked at him then. ‘Are you trying to get out of this arrangement?’
‘No.’
She shook her head, and her hair, which was loose about her shoulders this morning, fell forward to hide her face. ‘Maybe you should.’
Her drooping stance made him long to put out his hand and loop that fiery curtain back behind her ear so he could see her expression. But with Amy watching them over the rim of her glass, he restrained himself.
All the same, he was aware that spending time with Fliss was probably not the most sensible thing he’d done in his life. She disturbed him in ways Diane never had, and, although she was not conventionally beautiful, her creamy features had a warmth and sensuality that was far sexier than mere good looks could ever be.
Strictly speaking, he supposed, trying to downplay his attraction, she was slightly overweight. Her breasts were full, possibly too full, and the generous swell of her hips gave a distinctly provocative curve to her bottom. Yet in low-rise pink cut-offs, with white daisies hand-embroidered along the seams, and a matching cropped T-shirt that exposed her navel, she reminded him of things that, in his condition, were better forgotten.
‘What’s wrong?’
Predictably, Amy broke the uneasy silence that had fallen, and Matt realised that it was up to him to rescue the situation.
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he assured her lightly. ‘I’ll get my shoes.’
Although he thought about changing his shorts for jeans, it seemed a pointless exercise. It wasn’t as if by changing his clothes he was going to change his feelings towards Fliss, and she was unlikely to be impressed by his judgement, either way.
By the time he came back downstairs, Fliss had washed up Amy’s glass and his breakfast dishes, but he still couldn’t say how she really felt about this outing. It was obvious she hadn’t wanted to disappoint Amy, but taking him along…
That had definitely been an afterthought.
He backed the four-by-four out of the garage and indicated that they should get in while he locked up the house. But, as he was closing the front door, the phone rang.
Cursing, he opened the door again and was about to answer it when it occurred to him that it might be Diane. It was the weekend, after all. Perhaps she’d expected him to invite her down for a visit.
He closed the door again, inserting his key in the lock with grim determination. He didn’t have time to talk to her, he told himself firmly, ignoring the fact that he owed her a call. Then, picking up the sports bag containing a towel and a six-pack of diet cola, he ran down the steps to where the Land Cruiser was waiting.
He’d half expected Fliss to put Amy in the front. Anything to avoid another loaded conversation with him. But common sense had prevailed, and Amy was seated in the back of the vehicle, her seat-belt fastened firmly across her lap.
Fliss glanced at him curiously as he got into the driving seat beside
her. ‘Wasn’t that your phone?’
He didn’t look at her as he started the car. ‘So?’
‘So—oughtn’t you to have answered it?’
Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘Probably,’ he agreed carelessly, putting the heavy vehicle into gear and turning down the drive. ‘Where are we going?’
He was aware of Fliss giving him a studied look, but it was Amy who answered him. ‘We usually go to Cobbleton,’ she said, leaning forward to tap her mother on the shoulder. ‘Isn’t that right, Mum?’
Fliss shrugged. ‘Maybe Mr Quinn would prefer to go somewhere else,’ she replied, that prim note of disapproval Matt found most challenging in her voice.
‘I don’t know this area at all,’ he declared, glancing over his shoulder at his other passenger. ‘But Cobbleton sounds good to me. You’ll have to give me directions how to get there.’
‘Oh—’ Amy put a finger to her lips. ‘Well, I know it’s not that far.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps Mummy could tell you which way to go. She knows, don’t you, Mum?’
He heard Fliss give a small sigh. ‘I’m sure Mr Quinn would rather go somewhere he knows,’ she said stiffly. ‘He’s not that unfamiliar with the area. His fiancée’s parents live in the village.’
‘What’s a fiancée?’ asked Amy innocently before Matt could reply, and Fliss turned to give her daughter a tight smile.
‘That needn’t concern you—’
‘I don’t have a fiancée,’ Matt overrode her grimly, and then, as they reached the crossroads on the outskirts of the village, ‘Which way?’
‘Cobbleton is that way.’
Fliss waved a dismissive hand in the direction she wanted him to take, but he could feel the censure oozing from her pores. It annoyed the hell out of him. Dammit, the reason why he hadn’t answered his phone was nothing to do with her. Because that was what this was all about. He just knew it. Did she suspect it might have been Diane? Of course she did. But why the hell did she care what Diane thought when the other woman clearly had no such inhibitions about her?
For a while they travelled in silence. A signpost at the next junction offered the information that Lyme Regis and Honiton were in one direction, while Brightsea and Cobbleton were in the other, so there was no argument over which road to take. Even Amy had subsided into silence, and he guessed his angry outburst had frightened her a little.