The Billionaire's Marriage Mission. HELEN BROOKSЧитать онлайн книгу.
seemed to come across something enchantingly different almost every day. A buzzard soaring from a rocky crag, a brood of baby ducklings swimming in a little pool amidst the heather, ponies frolicking and chasing each other by the side of a dashing stream and the delicate pale rosettes of butterwort leaves on a green river bank.
It all worked a magic she had desperately needed. As her skin took on a golden glow from the sun and her blonde hair turned a shade lighter, so her mind was renewed. Suddenly the thought of tomorrow was exciting and pleasurable rather than something to be got through with gritted teeth and a determined smile. Here she didn’t have to pretend to anyone. She shopped locally but, apart from politely passing the time of day with the shopkeepers, kept herself to herself. In London she had been the most gregarious of souls, here she was positively hermit-like. But it was wonderful, liberating. She felt reborn.
And so the month of May passed, June coming in on the crest of a heatwave as the weather turned even warmer.
It was on the second of the month, some three weeks after she had moved to Shropshire, that Beth saw the Mercedes snaking its way past the cottage one Friday evening as she was throwing a ball for Harvey in the garden. She froze, her eyes following the vehicle as it disappeared from sight without stopping.
As far as she knew, Travis hadn’t been around since that first night. She supposed he might have been, but she hadn’t seen anything of him.
Harvey barked to remind her to continue with the game but now she did so mechanically, suddenly feeling all on edge. Which was ridiculous, plain daft in fact, but she couldn’t help it.
Had he noticed her in the garden? She became aware that she was in a pair of her oldest jeans and a thin vest top, make-upless and with her hair bundled into a high ponytail to keep her neck cool. She looked a mess.
As the realisation hit her, Beth hurried back into the house but there brought herself up short. She was not going to change or brush her hair or anything else. What on earth was the matter with her? He wouldn’t come to see her anyway.
Deliberately she made herself go into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine and then walking through into the tiny back garden, which was only big enough to hold a profusion of flower-filled tubs and an old wooden bench. It was a sun-trap though, and she often spent the last daylight hours lazily watching fat honey-bees buzzing busily from flower to flower.
Harvey flung himself down at her feet and promptly started to snooze, twitching and whining in his sleep now and again as he dreamt. Beth envied his placid equanimity.
It could only have been twenty minutes later when the knock came at the front door. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard it, not with Harvey waking up with a start and barking his head off. Setting her glass down, she forced herself to walk calmly into the house and through to the front door. Taking a long deep breath, she opened it. She had no doubt who it would be.
‘Hi.’ Unlike her, Travis looked unruffled and cool, his dark blue shirt open at the neck and his light cotton trousers crease-free. ‘Neighbourly visit to see how you’re doing,’ he drawled easily. ‘How are you? Everything OK?’
‘Me? Oh, I’m great, thanks.’ She knew she’d gone brick-red and it was utterly humiliating, especially in view of his aura of relaxed self-confidence. She’d just forgotten how big and attractive he was. ‘Would…would you like to come in for a minute?’ she asked reluctantly when he didn’t say anything else.
‘Thanks.’ He followed her into the cottage, Harvey bouncing about delightedly at the reunion. Immediately the cottage seemed to shrink. ‘This is cosy,’ he said, glancing around.
‘I’m having a glass of wine in the garden. Care to join me?’ Beth hoped she sounded less flustered than she felt.
‘Sounds good.’ He smiled slowly and her pulse accelerated.
She all but scampered through to the kitchen away from his disturbing presence, remembering belatedly that the bench was the only seat in the back garden and whereas it was fine for one it was a mite too cosy for two. He stood in the doorway as she found another glass and poured the wine, the piercing grey eyes on her hot face. Beth felt all fingers and thumbs.
‘Thanks.’ He took the glass and stood aside for her to go into the garden. Suddenly she seemed to have forgotten how to walk. Annoyed with herself, she led the way.
Once outside, Beth waved towards the bench. ‘Please sit down,’ she said as casually as she could, picking up her glass and perching somewhat precariously on the edge of one of the tubs of greenery opposite the bench. ‘And thanks again for the flowers,’ she added, ‘but you shouldn’t have.’
‘Shouldn’t I?’ He sat with one arm stretched along the back of the bench, one leg crossed over the other knee. It was a very masculine pose. But then Travis was a very masculine man, she thought inanely. ‘Why is that?’
‘Why…’ For a moment her brain scrambled. Then she said quickly, ‘After all you’d done to help, it should have been me buying you something to say thank you.’
He smiled, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I think not. All I did was provide a bed for the night.’
She hoped her nose wasn’t shiny but ten to one it was. It also felt a little sunburnt and was probably glowing like a beacon. She tried to ignore the effect his smoky voice had on her nerve-endings as she said, ‘Nevertheless I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t happened by. It was a ridiculous position to be in. I’m not normally a fluttery type of female.’
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.