The Aristocrat and the Single Mum. Michelle Douglas

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      ‘If…if you knew Felice was working for me, why didn’t you give me a call or email me?’ She could’ve allayed his worry and put his mind at rest in an instant.

      He lifted his chin. His eyes glittered. ‘I want to see Felice in the flesh. I want to see for myself that she’s okay and not in any trouble.’

      In trouble? Felice was twenty-two. Old enough to make her own decisions. Old enough to make her own mistakes. Old enough to look after herself.

      ‘She’s not in any kind of trouble.’

      He ignored that. ‘When can I see her?’

      Kate’s office suddenly shrank. Perhaps it was all that bristling over-protectiveness emanating from the seventh Lord of Holm that had the walls closing in on her, making him loom larger in her field of vision, making her notice the shape of his lean lips. Lips pressed tightly together, but it didn’t stop her from imagining those lips on hers and…

      Fresh air and food, that was what she needed, and the warmth of the sun on her shoulders. ‘C’mon.’ She rose and started for the door.

      Simon followed her, watching closely as she locked the door behind them. ‘Are you going to take me to her?’ he asked, staring at her as if he couldn’t believe it would be that easy.

      ‘I’m taking you for coffee.’ Of course it wasn’t that easy.

      ‘I don’t want coffee!’

      Up this close, he smelt like wood shavings and cooler climes. She held her breath and reminded herself about the warmth of the sun—it’d help melt any ridiculous fantasies. ‘But I do.’

      He glared at her for a moment, then he visibly shook himself, his eyes cleared and he smiled. ‘And you don’t know me from Adam.’

      She couldn’t believe how quickly he could change from indignant prickliness to this…this melt a girl with his yumminess. She couldn’t help but smile back. ‘That’s right.’

      The problem was, she felt as if she did know him—a whole lot better than any Adam she’d ever met. Which was nonsense…and dangerous. It should frighten her off, but it didn’t.

      Kate’s office was located in a small arcade. She led Simon down the tunnel of shop fronts to the bright February sunlight pouring in at one end, then turned right into Kelly’s café.

      ‘Flat white, cappuccino, latte…espresso?’ she asked.

      ‘Whatever.’

      His voice drifted to her, slow and bemused. She glanced around and found him staring out at the view. She suppressed a grin. On a day like this, with the sun sparkling off the water in a thousand different points of light and the white hulls of the yachts at anchor in the marina gleaming, the sand golden and the sky blue, the bay looked spectacular. Couple it with the sounds of holidaymakers and the squawking of seagulls, the smell of salt and coconut oil, and most people were lost.

      The seventh Lord of Holm was definitely lost.

      ‘Would you like something to eat? A muffin?’ Her stomach rumbled its approval. She hadn’t had time for breakfast this morning, and Kelly’s triplechoc muffins were to die for.

      ‘No, thank you.’ He didn’t glance away from the view.

      She wasn’t eating if he wasn’t. With her luck, she’d end up with chocolate muffin all over her face and that so wasn’t the look she was after.

      ‘Two flat whites, please,’ she said to the waiting Kelly. ‘In mugs.’

      ‘Settling into your office, hon?’

      ‘It’s a mess.’ She fished around in her pocket for change. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever find anything ever again.’

      ‘And when she does,’ Simon said, snapping back around to the counter and holding out a twenty-dollar note to Kelly before Kate could free her hand from her pocket, ‘she kisses it in gratitude.’ He winked. ‘That kind of behaviour can have a strange effect on a guy. She needs to be more careful.’

      Kelly laughed. So did Kate—in complete and utter surprise. Not to mention delight. ‘If I’d known the sun would have such a beneficial effect on your mood I’d have dragged you out here ten minutes ago.’ But then she had visions of kissing Simon with a whole lot more fervour than she’d kissed her missing file of receipts and she started burning up from the inside out.

      ‘Kelly,’ she said hastily, ‘this is Felice’s brother, Simon.’

      ‘Nice to meet any family of Felice’s.’ Kelly stared at him in open curiosity. ‘Felice was the hit of the summer.’ Then she winked at Kate. ‘You going to put him to work on your boat?’

      Kate cocked her head to one side and pretended to consider it. ‘He’s got arms that look like they could hold a boat steady.’

      ‘He’s got arms that look like they could hold a whole lot more than that, hon.’

      Simon laughed.

      Kate’s imagination supplied her with more images than she knew what to do with. Heat blazed through her and she couldn’t think of a single comeback.

      Kelly took pity on her. ‘Go and find yourselves a table. I’ll bring the coffees out when they’re ready.’

      ‘Thanks, Kelly.’

      Kate chose a table outside in the shade with a magnificent view of the bay, but it didn’t cool the heat circling through her. She tried to remember the last time she’d been on a date.

      She had to remind herself that this wasn’t a date.

      Back to business. ‘Are you and Felice close?’

      His smile disappeared. ‘Of course we are.’

      Kate noticed his telling hesitation, the pause before the rough ‘Of course’.

      His spine stiffened. ‘We’re family.’

      She took in the expression on his face. Her chest expanded and her back tightened. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

      His face closed up. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

      She tried a different tack. ‘No offence, but I know for a fact that Felice is twenty-two. You don’t exactly look…’ She trailed off with what she hoped was delicate tact.

      A glimmer of a smile appeared in the grey eyes. ‘I’m ten years older than Felice.’

      Kelly set their coffees in front of them. ‘Thank you,’ Kate murmured, and although she sensed Simon was immersed in thoughts of Felice, he still roused himself to send Kelly a smile of thanks that put a spring in the other woman’s step.

      It was a nice thing to do.

      She had a feeling that, beneath all his bristling worry and concern, Simon Morton-Blake was a nice man.

      ‘Ten СКАЧАТЬ