Unwelcome and worrying thoughts intruded once more. She hadn’t painted much lately and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to face the reasons why. Determinedly, she returned her full attention to the exquisite man before her, a quiver running through her at his thorough inspection, as if he had touched her physically.
Since midwife Kate Althorp had met Gabriel at Nick’s house in the summer, she had reported that Penhally was in for a treat when the French doctor arrived in their midst. Kate’s comments had caused some of their colleagues to tease Lauren about her soon-to-be neighbour. Lauren had ignored the ribbing. But now she could acknowledge first hand that Kate had not been exaggerating. Dear heaven, the man was gorgeous!
That Gabriel Devereux would be close by, at home and at work, for the next twelve months was wonderfully thrilling. Already the year ahead was filled with new and unexpected possibilities. Everything feminine within her stood to attention and all the hormones that had been switched off and uninterested since long before her split from Martin now started doing a happy dance like over-enthusiastic cheerleaders. She looked into Gabriel’s eyes, excited by the answering desire she saw there. Oh, yes! She was most definitely interested! She just hoped he was in England alone, uninvolved, and had no wife or girlfriend tucked away at home in France.
‘It is kind of you to bring things for the kitchen, Lauren,’ Gabriel said, the dimples forming in his lean cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
She could drown in that smile. And as for his accent, the way he said her name…He made her tingle all over. His English was perfect but delivered with a soft burr and all the Gallic charm imaginable. There was so much she wanted to learn about him but she reined in her rush of questions, scared that she would frighten him away before he’d even properly arrived. There would be time in the days and weeks ahead to explore the inexplicable and immediate connection she felt with this man. Or so she hoped. Better to play it cool for now.
‘It’s no trouble,’ she answered, not sure how she managed to form any words at all, let alone sensible ones. ‘I promised Nick I would make sure you had all you needed.’
Relaxed and at ease, he folded his arms across his chest, the play of muscle distracting her. ‘Thank you. I am sorry I took you by surprise arriving early.’
‘No problem.’ Returning his smile, she couldn’t prevent herself looking over his superb body once more. Oh, it was no problem at all!
‘Are you also responsible for airing the house and providing the clean linen and towels?’
‘Yes.’ Almost overcome with nervous anticipation, she tucked some strands of hair behind one ear, her hand unsteady. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Very much so. I was planning to ask the solicitor who to thank for making the house feel so welcoming.’
‘I’m glad to help,’ she assured him, warmed through and pleased by his thoughtfulness.
He watched her for a long moment, then glanced at the greyhound who whined and nudged against her legs. ‘And who is your companion?’
‘This is Foxy. He lost his owner in the flood and was found distressed after searching the rubble,’ she explained, a catch in her voice as she gently stroked the dog. ‘Both the RSPCA and Lizzie Chamberlain, who runs the local kennels, were overrun with extra work and animals needing help during the crisis. Foxy was always nervous of people, but he knew me and we bonded, so I was happy to give him a home. He’s adjusting but still wary. At least he’s started eating again. He needs time and lots of love.’
The approval and flash of admiration in Gabriel’s eyes made her feel good. She held her breath as he turned his attention to Foxy. Speaking softly, he hunkered down and held out his hand for the dog to sniff. Calm and patient, he waited for the dog to be comfortable, making no sudden moves. Lauren was surprised and delighted when Foxy inched forward and allowed Gabriel to touch him, something he had permitted few people but her to do in the last ten days. Slowly he was forming a tentative bond with her friends Chloe and Oliver. Foxy’s current reaction and his instinct to trust Gabriel was more than interesting and told her much about this intriguing man.
As if satisfied with the early progress, Gabriel didn’t push things, moving carefully back and rising before returning his attention to her, causing her heart to pound once more.
‘Nick mentioned the flood in an email but I had no idea how bad things were. I was shocked when I drove through town.’ He paused, a pout of consideration shaping his mouth and giving her all manner of wicked ideas. ‘Are you busy this afternoon, Lauren? Do you have plans?’
‘No. Why?’ She was filled with sudden hope that she might be able to spend more time with Gabriel. She wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
‘I was going to make myself a late lunch. Will you join me? It would be good to talk, to learn more about Penhally and the surgery…and what has gone on in the last couple of weeks.’
Not wanting to appear as shamefully eager as she felt, she forced herself not to rush her agreement. Maybe Gabriel’s reasons for asking her to linger weren’t all she had hoped for, but at this point she would accept any opportunity to enjoy his company. Who knew where things might lead?
‘OK.’ She cursed the breathlessness of her voice but could do nothing to temper her excitement. ‘I can stay a while longer.’
At Lauren’s confirmation, Gabriel felt a wash of relief course through him and he expelled the breath he had not realised he had been holding. He was nowhere near ready to let her go. This was ridiculous. He felt like some gauche sixteen-year-old boy with a crush, rather than the thirty-six-year-old man he really was. Then Lauren looked over him once more and his body instantly heated and tightened in response, as if her touch had been an actual caress. He hoped the loose towel hid the evidence of the arousing effect she had on him.
‘Give me five minutes to get dressed,’ he requested as he turned away and headed to the door.
‘Gabriel?’
Her soft voice halted him and he glanced back. ‘Yes?’
‘I could prepare a quick meal while you’re gone,’ she offered.
‘Are you sure?’
Her head bobbed in assent. ‘It’s no trouble. Is there anything you don’t like?’
Dieu! He couldn’t imagine anything Lauren could suggest that he wouldn’t like, but he managed to focus his attention on food. ‘Mushrooms, shellfish and red meat,’ he informed her, catching her surprised smile.
‘Me, too.’ Mischief gleamed in her eyes. ‘And I confess I’m not keen on boiled cabbage, tapioca or mushy peas either.’
‘Believe me, Lauren, you are not alone!’ Chuckling, he left the room.
‘I certainly hope not—not any more.’
Had he really heard those final whispered words? And could they mean what he hoped they did? He was confused by his instinctive response to this woman. It was unlike him. And that was disturbing. He’d not been so spontaneously attracted to anyone for years—if ever. The timing was unfortunate. He had never considered such a thing happening to him, especially not while part of his world was in turmoil and he had decisions to make about his future. Coming here was meant to give him space to declutter his life, not add more complications to it.
But he couldn’t deny the way his body had reacted to the sight, scent and sound of Lauren Nightingale. Anxious to dress and return to the kitchen as quickly as possible, Gabriel hurried up the stairs. Had he dreamed it all? What if the sizzle of electricity between himself and Lauren had been a figment of his overactive imagination? What if it wasn’t? He was here for a year. To work. To think. Did he even want to consider any kind of involvement? He hadn’t been at the Manor House an hour and already he was feeling alive at an unexpected awareness, filled with a sense of wary excitement at the possibilities that might lie ahead.
Perhaps it had just been too long since he had dated a woman. After his most recent experience with Adèle, and with his mother’s continued interference, he had become cautious, untrusting. But that had been a year ago. And Lauren k
new nothing about his life—or his family circumstances. More importantly, Yvette, his mother, knew nothing about Lauren. If anything happened between them, it would be because of who and what they were…no ulterior motives, no deception, no scheming.
Unzipping a suitcase, he pulled out fresh clothes and dressed in record time, favouring casual jeans and a warm cashmere jumper. As he made his way out of his bedroom, tantalising aromas teased his senses and sharpened his hunger, and he increased his pace, keen to discover both the food awaiting him and the intriguing woman who was preparing it.
Lauren occupied his thoughts. He would be cautious about rushing into anything, but he wanted to spend time with her, to get to know her better. If the connection and charge of desire he had felt between them was real…
CHAPTER TWO
LAUREN set the plate of food she had prepared on the table in the rustic kitchen and tried very hard not to stare at Gabriel. An impossible feat. He looked almost as gorgeous with his clothes on…and just as impressive. The sweater he wore—over the kind of faded, body-hugging jeans that ought to be made illegal, so lethal were they to a woman’s blood pressure—looked expensive, the mulberry colour warming and flattering the espresso-coffee tones of his skin.
He sat down, a quizzical expression on his face as he noted she had only laid one place. ‘You are not eating, Lauren?’
‘No.’ The breathlessness was back in her voice—an uncharacteristic reaction that seemed to afflict her at every sight and sound of Gabriel Devereux. ‘I met up with friends in town. We had soup and sandwiches at the farmers’ market.’
‘But you will join me here, yes?’ He drew out the chair nearest to him before extending a hand and inviting her to sit.
Gratified by his suggestion to be near him, Lauren hastened to take her seat, hoping she looked far less flustered than she felt. ‘Thank you.’ For goodness’ sake. She was a thirty-year-old woman, not some blushing schoolgirl!
‘Forgive me tucking right in, I’m hungrier than I thought.’ The appreciative look he sent her, and the readiness of his smile, heated her right through. So much for cool, calm maturity. ‘This looks and smells wonderful.’
Cooking was not her greatest talent, but Gabriel gave every evidence of liking her food. She’d made him a simple omelette with cheese and chives, serving it with a warmed granary roll, plus a tomato, rocket and watercress salad…all fresh ingredients she had picked up on her shopping trip that morning. He was eating with relish, his enjoyment making her smile with relief. And she had even more to be grateful for, she admitted to herself—she’d not had any accidents or set fire to the kitchen which, given her current run of clumsy faux pas, was a major achievement.
Foxy, having quenched his thirst from the bowl of water she had set down for him, now sprawled his long, too-skinny body beside her chair, his paws twitching in his sleep, blissfully unconcerned by the electrically charged atmosphere crackling between the two humans. Lauren couldn’t help but be aware of it. Aware of Gabriel. She was glad she had made herself some tea. It gave her something to do with her hands. Anything to avoid the temptation—the compulsion—to touch him. She cupped the mug, watching from beneath her lashes as he finished his meal. When she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip of her drink, she looked up to find mocha eyes watching her intently, and a fresh dart of feminine recognition zinged through her body.
‘That was delicious.’ Gabriel’s smile and sexy accent undid her every time. ‘Thank you, Lauren.’
‘My pleasure.’
After taking a drink from his glass of water, he turned so he was facing her, giving her his undivided attention. She could feel fresh heat tinge her cheeks. ‘It seems a long time since breakfast.’
‘Did you come over from France this morning?’ she ventured, struggling to appear cool and composed.
‘I took the chance of an earlier ferry from Cherbourg to Poole yesterday, then I stayed the night with an old friend in Bournemouth before driving down here today.’
A bleakness shadowed his eyes, so fleeting it was gone before she could be sure. But she was left with a sense that there was more to Gabriel’s departure from France than he had let on. She wondered what had happened, and whether there was a woman involved.
Instead of satisfying her curiosity and asking outright, she endeavoured to be more subtle. ‘Wouldn’t getting a ferry to Plymouth have been easier?’
‘Not really. Cherbourg is only about thirty or forty minutes from where I was based in St Ouen-sur-Mer. If I had gone to Plymouth, it would have meant a long drive through France to Roscoff and almost twice as long for the Channel crossing.’ His eyes twinkled as he sent her a wry smile. ‘I am not the best traveller on ferries! And I prefer to be in control of my own destiny. Besides, the drive down from Dorset to Cornwall today gave me the opportunity to reaccustom myself to English roads.’
‘How did you come to take this job?’ she asked, propping her chin in one hand as she looked at him.
‘I volunteered.’ Pushing his empty plate aside, he leaned closer and rested one forearm on the table. ‘I was only working in St Ouen-sur-Mer on a temporary basis to help out a friend from medical school. François is head of the clinic and his wife, Celeste, is also a doctor there. Another of the partners, Marianne, had a baby last Christmas and was on maternity leave. Then, in early January, François badly broke his leg in a skiing accident. He was having trouble finding a replacement doctor, so he called me. As I had reason to leave Paris for a while, I was happy to provide cover. I’ve been there ever since. But now François is back on his feet and Marianne is ready to return to work. It was time for me to move on.’
‘I see,’ Lauren murmured, toying with the handle of her mug. Clearly Gabriel was loyal to his friends and ready to help in a crisis, but she wondered what had made him so eager to leave Paris in a hurry at the start of the year. He had sounded relieved to have received François’s initial call…and now to be in Cornwall.
‘When the position came up to work here for a year, I was interested in taking it,’ he continued, and she lost herself in the sound of his huskily accented voice, captivated by the way he looked at her, maintaining eye contact as though she was interesting and important to him. ‘I speak English—’
‘Perfect English,’ she interjected, halting his explanation.
An amused smile curved his mouth at her praise. ‘Thank you, chérie.’
‘Sorry, I interrupted you.’ She smothered a groan of embarrassment.
‘That’s all right.’ Her skin tingled as Gabriel briefly reached out and whispered his fingertips across the back of her hand. She sucked in a shaky breath and struggled to concentrate as he continued to speak about his reasons for moving to Penhally. ‘I was the only doctor at the clinic who was single and without commitments…the others did not want to uproot their families to come here. And I’ve worked in England before—in London. I enjoyed it, but I was eager to experience small-town, rural medicine, too.’
Again Lauren thought there was more to the story than he had told her, but she was exceedingly glad he was here. She had also noted with a shiver of hopeful anticipation his comment that he was single and had no commitments. Surely that was a good sign? She had no idea why, but she had felt a deep connection with and recognition of this man from the outset.
‘So, Lauren, tell me about the flood.’ Gabriel broke the silence, drawing her from her thoughts. ‘What happened? How much damage has there been? You said Foxy’s owner was tragically killed but was anyone else hurt?’
Lauren huffed out a breath, taking a few moments as she wondered where to begin recounting the events of that never-to-be-forgotten and emotional day.
As Gabriel waited for Lauren to speak, he resisted the fierce urge to keep touching her, remembering how silky her skin had felt beneath his fingers. Instead, he reflected on what he had told her about himself and his reasons for coming to Cornwall, hoping he had said enough to curb her interest without giving away any of his secrets…or his in
ner turmoil.
It was true that the request from François in January to help out in his clinic on Normandy’s west coast could not have come at a better time. He had been deeply sorry for the injury that had caused François so many problems, but his friend’s need had provided Gabriel with the chance to leave Paris—and Yvette—far behind. Time away to come to terms with all he had suddenly learned about his family, and to put space between himself and home, had been exactly what he had needed. But that space had not proved great enough, so the offer to work in Penhally Bay had been even more welcome. The width of the English Channel would surely be a suitable barrier. Here in Cornwall he felt he could breathe again and hear himself think.
His early departure from France had been sparked by another summons from home—one more demand, one more threat he had chosen to ignore. Things were increasingly strained with his mother. Not that Yvette Devereux had ever been particularly motherly towards him, he reflected with a cynical twist of his lips. She had never been the warm, nurturing and understanding type, but always stiff, distant, with her rigid view of duty and propriety. Now he knew why.
A light touch on his arm startled him from his disturbing thoughts and he glanced up to find Lauren watching him with a frown on her face.
‘Are you all right, Gabriel?’
‘Yes, of course.’ His skin felt warm and alive long after her fingers had been withdrawn. He managed a smile, grateful for the interruption and thankful to push family troubles to the back of his mind again. ‘I was miles away. Please, you were going to explain the events of the last couple of weeks.’
Caroline Anderson, Josie Metcalfe, Maggie Kingsley, Margaret McDonagh Page 50