The Secret in His Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘I’m really sorry—I’ll buy you a new pair,’ she promised, but of course that didn’t help him, he wanted to go for a run there and then, and so he wore his old ones and came back with blisters. He had, however, taken Saffy with him, and she came back panting, as if the run had been further and harder than she was used to.

  ‘Poor Saffy. Did he wear you out, darling?’ she crooned, and he laughed.

  ‘Poor Saffy?’ he said with studied sarcasm. ‘She’s had a great time. She chased the seagulls, and played on the beach with a Labrador, and she’s had brilliant fun.’

  ‘You let her off the lead?’ she squawked.

  ‘Don’t sound so horrified, she was fine.’

  But she was horrified, because the only time she’d tried it, it had taken her all day to find the wretch. But that was her, and this was James, and Saffy worshipped him. Even to the point of wanting to eat his smelly old trainers.

  ‘I’m going to shower. Try and make sure she doesn’t eat anything else while I’m gone,’ he said drily, and so just to be on the safe side she took Saffy back into the cabin with her and put her in the crate while she had a shower herself.

  ‘So, jeans and a T, or my blue dress, Saffy?’ She looked at the options, debated for a second and then grinned at Saffy. ‘Blue dress. Excellent choice. It’s going to be a hotty.’

  She pulled on the sundress, found some flip-flops and slid her feet into them, and went out to find James with his head in the store under the veranda. The kennel?

  Oops, she thought. Poor old Saffy really was in trouble!

  ‘Is this a work party? Because if so I probably ought to change, only I thought we were going up to Molly and David’s this morning.’

  He pulled his head back out of the doorway and thumped it on the head of the frame. ‘Ouch. No, it’s not a work party,’ he said, and then looked at her stupidly for a moment.

  She looked—well, she’d been beautiful last night, elegant and sophisticated and downright stunning. Now, she just looked plain lovely, the dress that barely brushed the top of her knees leaving those gorgeous legs exposed to taunt him again, and he wanted to walk over to her, scoop her up in his arms and carry her up to bed.

  Which was so not going to happen!

  ‘I thought I’d investigate the possibilities before she eats anything else of mine,’ he said, trying not to sniff the air to see if she’d used that same shampoo. She didn’t have the perfume on, he was sure of that, because even in the garden he would have been able to smell it.

  ‘And?’

  And? And what? ‘Um—yes, it’ll work,’ he said hastily, retuning. ‘We’ll do it later. So, are you ready to go?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE PICTURES WERE every bit as good in the cold, sober light of day as they had been last night with the clever lighting, but there was nothing there that just said, Buy me.

  ‘There are some others,’ David said. ‘We ran out of wall space. Come and have a look.’

  He took him through into Molly’s studio, and immediately he was captivated by a canvas propped up on the easel.

  ‘Oh, wow.’

  It was a view across the harbour mouth, painted from the vantage point of the sea wall, he thought, looking out. The sea was a flat, oily calm, the skies threatening, and it was called ‘Eye of the Storm’.

  He loved it. Loved everything about it. The menace. The barely leashed power. The colours in the lowering sky.

  ‘She got drenched doing the sketches for that,’ David said with a chuckle.

  ‘It was worth it.’

  ‘What was worth what?’

  He turned and smiled at Connie. ‘Getting drenched.’

  ‘Wow. I can see why. That sky looks pretty full.’

  ‘It was a lot emptier a few minutes later,’ Molly said drily. ‘I had to retreat to the bedroom to carry on. I painted it standing at the window in the attic bedroom at your house, James, and I never finished it because I couldn’t seem to get the sea right. I got it out again the other day and it sort of fell into place. Do you want another coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks. I think I want to buy this picture. Kind of poetic, taking it home. I might even hang it in the bedroom, since my sitting room is still a work in progress. I know it’s not in the exhibition, but is it for sale?’

  * * *

  He found the hammer and some picture hooks, buried in the back of the tool shed under the veranda, and he took Connie inside to help him hang it.

  ‘So, where?’

  ‘Sitting room?’

  He looked around, but there wasn’t anywhere obviously right for it. The books were still in boxes and he wasn’t sure if the furniture worked where it was, and just then sorting it out and unpacking the books and getting to grips with it seemed too big a task.

  ‘No. Bedroom. Come and help me place it.’

  So not a good idea, he thought the moment they were in there. The walls seem to close in, the air was sucked out of the room and the bed grew until it filled all the available space.

  ‘So—’ He cleared his throat and looked around a trifle desperately. ‘Whereabouts would you put it?’

  ‘I don’t know. You want to be able to see it from the bed, don’t you?’

  ‘Probably.’

  And before he could breathe she was there, sitting cross-legged at the top of the bed, bossing him about.

  ‘Try there.’

  Try what where? The only thing he wanted to do was crawl onto the bed beside her and kiss her. Drag her into his arms and slide that blue dress off over her head and kiss her from top to toe—

  Focus!

  ‘Here?’

  ‘No. Angle’s wrong. Try that side—that’s better. Down a bit. Perfect.’

  And she scrambled off the bed and took the picture from him. ‘You look at it. Go and lie on the bed and look at it.’

  Really? Right there, where she’d just been? Where he’d been fantasising about kissing her?

  ‘Is it really necessary—? OK, OK,’ he grumbled, defeated by that challenging stare, and he threw himself down on the bed, propped himself up on the pillows and was immediately swamped by the scent of her. Had she bathed in the perfume? Sprayed it on her legs? Sheesh!

  ‘Well? My arms are aching.’

  ‘Um—yeah, that’s really good.’ He swung his legs off the side, found a pencil and went over to mark the top of the picture so he could put a hook in the wall, but she was just there, so close, and the urge to lean into her, to take the picture from her and put it down and kiss her nearly—so nearly—overwhelmed him.

  He reached past her and marked the wall before he lost it completely. ‘OK,’ he said, and she stepped back so he could put the hook in, then she settled the picture on it.

  ‘Great,’ she said. ‘One down, however many more to go.’

  ‘What?’

  Connie turned to look back at him; she was already heading down the stairs to get away from the image of him lying sprawled on his bed where she’d imagined him so many times. She simply hadn’t done him justice.

  ‘The rest of the house,’ she explained. ‘The sitting room needs at least three pictures—unless you have one huge one.’

  ‘I can’t afford a huge one. This one was bad enough.’

  ‘I’m sure she’d do a bulk discount. There was that fabulous one of the marshes. It would go really well in there.’

  She left him standing there staring at her, and ran down the stairs and out onto the veranda. She needed fresh air. The window had been open in his room but—well, clearly on a hot day the heat rose to the top of the house. There couldn’t be any other explanation, or not one she wanted to consider.

  Not James! she told herself. You can’t fall for James! You’ll just break your heart. You can’t just hav
e a trivial affair with him, and you know he doesn’t want more than that! Hell, he doesn’t even want that, and especially not with you. If he did, he wouldn’t have stopped after that kiss. So, keep out of his bedroom, keep out of his way, just—keep out of his life! It’s not safe, not at all. He’s not in the market for anything permanent, and if you mess this up he won’t even be your friend. Don’t do it!

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Mmm. Flat white, if you’ve got the milk, please. And good and strong.’

  ‘Coming up.’

  She spent the next few minutes lecturing herself along the same lines, until James appeared on the veranda again with her coffee. Interesting, she thought as he put it down in front of her a few moments later. The rosetta was a mess.

  ‘Losing your touch?’ she teased, trying to introduce a light note, but he avoided her eyes.

  ‘I knocked my hand on the kettle,’ he said, but he sounded evasive and she just—wondered...

  He was a man, after all, and she knew she wasn’t exactly ugly, and she’d been sitting on his bed. And he’d already admitted that he didn’t have a woman in his life and hadn’t for ages. And he’d kissed her.

  Was it mutual, this insane and crazy attraction?

  Surely not. It wasn’t her. Probably any half-decent woman with a pulse would make him think twice if she was sitting on his bed. It hadn’t even occurred to her, and it probably should have, but it wasn’t happening again. No, no, no, no, no!

  She drank her coffee without a murmur and got out of his hair the moment it was done.

  * * *

  ‘Wow. What are you doing?’

  ‘Making the kennel—what does it look like?’

  Like he’d emptied the shed out all over the garden, was what, but she had the sense not to say so. ‘Want a hand?’

  He hesitated, then nodded. ‘It might be useful. Steadying things, you know.’

  ‘I’ll put Saffy in her crate out here so she can watch us. I don’t think she needs to get involved with this lot.’

  ‘Probably not. Do you want a cold drink before we start?’

  ‘That would be good. I wouldn’t mind a sandwich, either. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No. I’ve got some ham and salad, and a few cartons of soup in the fridge. Want to make us something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  She changed into her scruffiest clothes, because there was no way this was going to be anything other than a hot, dirty, sweaty job, and then threw together some lunch before they started.

  ‘In your own time, Slater,’ she said, carrying it all out to the table in the garden next to Saffy, and he washed his hands and joined her.

  ‘Looks good. It’s a long time since we had breakfast.’

  ‘Yeah. Bacon and tomato sandwich, ham salad sandwich with tomato soup—do you see a pattern emerging? Maybe I need to go shopping later this afternoon and stock up the fridge.’

  ‘Only when this run’s made. I’m not having anything else chewed up. I loved those trainers.’

  ‘Oh, Saffy,’ she said slowly. ‘Are we in trouble?’

  ‘Too right.’ He swiped the tail end of his sandwich around his empty soup bowl and sat back with a sigh. ‘That was good. Thanks.’

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘If you insist.’

  ‘I do. You need liquids.’

  ‘Says she, the queen of dehydration.’

  ‘I was not dehydrated.’

  He snorted softly and got up. ‘Call me when it’s made. I want to see if I’ve got enough wood to make a doorframe.’

  * * *

  It took them ages. Far longer than he’d anticipated, and he’d had to go shopping twice for materials, but finally Saffy had a kennel with a run, and his possessions were safe.

  The only downside was that he’d had to spend the afternoon with Connie, and every second of it had been exquisite torture. She might have changed, but she was still wearing that perfume, and working in the confined space of the kennel had been enough to push him over the brink.

  He’d kept bumping into her, her firm-yet-soft body close enough to him that he could feel the warmth coming off it, and then every now and then he’d shift or she’d reach up and they’d bump. Just gently. Just enough to keep his hormones simmering on the brink of meltdown.

  He banged in the last nail and threw the hammer down. ‘Right, that’s it, I’m calling it a day. If that’s not good enough, I give up.’

  ‘What are you talking about? It’s fantastic. Brilliant. Saffy, come on, come and have a look at what James has made you.’

  She was wary, but with a little coaxing she went inside and had a sniff around. ‘She might feel happier if her crate was in there, with the door open,’ Connie suggested, so he wrestled it through the narrow doorway and set it down at the back, and Saffy went straight in it and lay down, wagging her tail.

  ‘Excellent. Job done,’ Connie said, and gave him a high five. She was laughing, her whole face lit up, and he felt a huge ache in the centre of his chest.

  ‘Great. Let’s clear up the tools and have a drink.’

  ‘How about something fizzy?’

  ‘Didn’t you have enough of that last night?’ he asked mildly, and she gave him a level look.

  ‘I meant fizzy water, or cola or something. Not champagne.’

  ‘Ah. Well, I have spring water.’

  ‘Perfect.’ She emerged from the kennel, he put the last of the tools away and then she remembered the parlous state of the fridge. ‘Damn.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I forgot to go shopping.’

  He shrugged. ‘We can go to the pub. It’ll be a good test for Saffy. We’ll leave her in here, sit outside at the pub and listen. If she barks or howls continuously, I’m sure we’ll hear her.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ Connie said drily, feeling a twinge of apprehension.

  ‘Oh, man up. She’ll be fine. She’d better be, after all we’ve done for her.’

  Connie just raised a brow. ‘Man up?’ she said, trying not to laugh. ‘Really?’

  ‘Technical term.’

  ‘I have met it.’

  He grinned and threw her one of Saffy’s toys. ‘Here. I’ll get her water bowl.’

  * * *

  She was fine.

  They had a peaceful, undisturbed meal at the pub.

  Undisturbed, that was, by Saffy. Connie, though, was ridiculously aware of James the entire time. His soft, husky laugh, the crinkles round his eyes, the bones of his wrist—there didn’t seem to be a thing about him that didn’t interest or absorb her.

  And that was deeply distracting.

  It was such a shame, she thought as she went to bed that night after shutting Saffy outside in her new quarters, that if she eventually had a child it wouldn’t be his.

  But the sudden ache of longing at the thought, low down in her abdomen, nearly took her breath away. She pressed one hand to her mouth, the other to the hollow, empty ache inside, and blinked away the tears that inexplicably stung her eyes.

  No! She couldn’t fall in love with him! Not really, truly in love with him, and that’s what it was suddenly beginning to feel like. She couldn’t let herself, she had far too much to lose. He would never be in it for the long haul, and she’d lose her heart, lose a friend she treasured, and lose her only chance to have a child. Because if she fell in love with him, truly, deeply in love with him, how could she ever consider having any other man’s child inside her body, when all she longed for was his?

  Far, far too late for common sense to intervene, she realised just what an incredibly stupid mistake this all was. She ought to cut her loses and go. But she couldn’t leave, she thought desperately. Not while there was still hope. Maybe if she stayed, if they got to know each other better,
explored this attraction, then at some point in the future maybe—

  She was clutching at straws, dreaming up a happy-ever-after that could never be! She was deluding herself, and she really, really should know better.

  She turned over, thumped the pillow into shape and made herself relax. She ached all over, not just in that hollow place inside that craved his child, and tomorrow was going to be hard enough without a sleepless night, so she slowed her breathing, tensed and relaxed all her muscles in turn, and finally fell asleep, only to dream of James.

  * * *

  He ended up on the sea wall again at stupid o’clock in the morning.

  He’d crept out the front so he didn’t disturb Saffy, and he was sitting there staring blindly out over the water and wondering what had happened to the amazing, relaxing properties of the waves because frankly they didn’t seem to be working any longer.

  Mostly because when he’d gone to bed, he could still smell the lingering essence of Connie’s perfume on the pillows, and his mind was in chaos.

  He couldn’t believe how much he wanted her. He told himself it was lust. He told himself it was just physical, she was a beautiful woman, it had been so long that frankly any half-decent-looking woman would have the same effect.

  He knew he was lying.

  It was Connie. He’d felt it for years, off and on, but because Joe had been there he’d managed to keep it down, keep it under control. Not now. Now, it was driving him crazy, and tomorrow he was going to go into work and change the rota so they didn’t have to work together so much.

  Or, more to the point, be at home together so much.

  But first, he was going to see David and Molly about that picture of the marshes for the blank wall in his sitting room. At least clearing the room up ready for it would give him something to do for the day, even if he couldn’t have the picture till the exhibition closed.

  He got stiffly to his feet, stretched his arms out and groaned softly. He ached all over from the unaccustomed physical exertion of building Saffy’s run.

  He wondered if Connie ached, and immediately an image of him massaging her long, sleek limbs filled his mind, running his oiled hands up her back and round over those slender but surprisingly strong shoulders and then down, round her ribs, under her breasts—