One Hot Summer: A heartwarming summer read from the author of One Day in December. Kat French

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       CHAPTER SIX

      Alice tapped the back door of the manor later that afternoon, slightly nervous that Robinson might not be talking to her after the inaugural meeting of the Robinson ‘Robster’ Duff fan club.

      ‘It’s open,’ his voice carried through the open window, and Alice pushed the door, taking a moment to appreciate the way the familiar old handle felt in her hand. Every little last thing about Borne Manor was beloved, from the smoothness of the worn oak banister to the creak of the floorboards on the third step of the attic stairs. As she’d closed her eyes to sleep in the caravan last night she’d walked slowly through the rooms in her head, savouring, remembering, and making herself believe that one day she’d live there again. She just needed some time, and for her glamping plan to work.

      ‘It’s only me,’ she called out, kicking off her boots by the door and walking through the kitchen into the hallway in time to find Robinson jogging down the staircase barefoot in just his jeans. Unsure whether to be flustered or cool, Alice opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, because the only words in her head were oh my god I’ve never seen a six-pack in real life before. His tousled hair was darkened by dampness, and the towel in his hand confirmed his just out of the shower status.

      ‘I know. I saw you coming from upstairs,’ he said, absolutely unfazed by the fact that he was half dressed. Alice was finding it difficult to be so laissez faire, given the fact that his skin was the kind of deep burnished gold that only a lifetime spent in the sunshine can give a man and the light covering of hair that trailed down his torso disappeared into his low-slung jeans like a fishing line that made you want to see what was at the end of it. God, she needed to pull herself together. What was happening to her? Her emotions were all over the place since the move into the Airstream, all of the upheaval seemed to have given her libido a scandalised kick up the backside as far as Borne’s newest resident was concerned. It felt strange and confusing to be heartbroken over one man and lustful over another at the same time, all topsy-turvy and wrong.

      ‘I wanted to apologise about earlier,’ she said, following him back into the kitchen, biting her lip at the sight of his naked shoulders. She couldn’t help it. She was a broad-shoulders girl, and Robinson’s were world class. They did things, odd things to her insides. Maybe it was her inner cavewoman, but seeing a good pair of shoulders made her want to be thrown over them and carried up the stairs.

      ‘Don’t sweat it,’ he said, opening the fridge and pulling out a couple of beers. ‘Beer?’

      Did she want to drink beer with the half naked and totally gorgeous superstar hiding out in her manor? Oh, go on then.

      If only Brad could see her now, he’d rue the day he decided to screw her over with Felicity bloody Shaw. Robinson knocked the lids from the bottles and handed her one, then reached casually for the T-shirt he’d draped over the radiator and slid it over his head. Bye then, shoulders. Bye then, abs. Alice bid them a silent farewell as they disappeared beneath the dark cotton. Did he have his clothes made for him, she wondered, noticing the way the material seemed to cling to every slope and angle of him.

      ‘I didn’t run around the village announcing your arrival,’ she said, leaning against the Aga as she always had. ‘I only told Niamh, and that was sort of by accident really because I looked you up on her laptop.’ Too late, she realised that she’d made herself sound like a stalker. ‘It was just that your name rang a bell and I wasn’t sure why,’ she added in an attempt to make it better, only of course she’d probably insulted him by saying she’d never heard of him. God, this was difficult! One of the benefits of being separated from Brad was that she no longer had to deal with the fragile egos of the famous, and here she was again. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and drank deeply from the bottle, and when she opened them he’d pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar and perched on it.

      ‘Niamh who paints naked men, right?’

      Alice grinned. ‘Amongst other things. She’s brilliant, actually, my best friend in the village.’

      Robinson drank from his bottle, tipping his head back, drawing Alice’s eyes to the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Slapping down the Mills and Boon heroine in her head, she looked away until he spoke again. She was in a spot of trouble here. Maybe one of the classic symptoms of heartbreak was inappropriate lust for the first good-looking stranger to come your way.

      ‘What’s Stewie’s story?’

      Alice started to laugh. ‘I haven’t seen his Elvis wig before, it must be new.’

      ‘He has more than one wig?’

      ‘God, yes. He’s got loads,’ Alice said. ‘He used to be quite a prolific actor.’

      ‘No way,’ Robinson said, looking interested. ‘Anything I’d know him from?’

      ‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Alice said, wondering how best to sum up Stewie’s colourful career. ‘If I tell you that he was professionally known as Stewie “The Snake” Heaven, you might get an idea of the kind of movies he starred in.’

      Robinson СКАЧАТЬ