Sherry, the girl on the reception desk, isn’t as professional as the chef. There are so few people who check in here, she often wanders off to help in the kitchen or the laundry. Sometimes you have to go hunting for her.’
* * *
Five minutes later, having checked the pub’s bar, the lounge, the dining room, the laundry and the kitchen without unearthing Sherry, Milla returned to Reception to find Ed in a spindly wooden chair with his eyes shut and his long legs stretched in front of him. He seemed to be asleep, although he looked dreadfully uncomfortable.
‘Ed.’ She touched his knee and he woke with a start. ‘I can’t find the reception girl and you look like you need to sleep.’
‘I’m fine,’ he insisted, blinking and frowning as he got to his feet.
‘You’re exhausted and jet lagged. I think you should come up to my room.’ To her annoyance she felt a bright blush as she said this. ‘You can at least have a shower while I track down someone who can organise a room for you,’ she went on brusquely.
‘A shower sounds good.’ Ed yawned. ‘Thanks, I won’t say no.’
The offer of her room had seemed practical and sensible to Milla until she climbed the narrow staircase with Ed beside her. In the confined space she was super aware of his height and broad shoulders and mega-masculine aura. Her heartbeats picked up pace and her skin prickled and even her breathing seemed to falter.
By the time they reached her room she was ridiculously flustered. When she pushed the door open, she took a necessary step back. ‘After you, Ed.’
‘Thanks.’ He set his expensive leather duffle bag on the floor and stood with his hands propped on his hips, surveying her double bed and the cosmetics scattered over the old-fashioned dressing table, the wardrobe with an oval, age-spotted mirror on the door.
‘It’s old-fashioned but at least there’s an en-suite. The bathroom’s through here.’ She moved to the louvre doors, newly painted white, and pushed them open. ‘It’s tiny, but adequate. There’s a spare towel on the shelf above the—’
Oh, help.
Why hadn’t she remembered that she’d left her undies hanging above the bath? Now her silky panties and lacy bras were on full display. To make matters worse, rosy light from the setting sun streamed through the high bathroom window, gilding the lingerie’s creamy fragility.
And Ed was smiling. ‘Nice decor,’ he said with a grin. But a darker glint in his eyes lit flames inside Milla.
Leaping forward, she hastily grabbed the offending articles, bunching them into a tight ball. If she’d had a pocket she would have shoved them into it.
She kept her gaze safely lowered. ‘The bathroom’s all yours.’
CHAPTER THREE
ED WAS COLD. As he clambered from a black hole of deep, drugging sleep he opened his eyes a chink and discovered chill grey dawn light filling a strange room. Everything was alien—the shapes of the furniture, the position of the windows.
He had no idea where he was.
And he was cold. Naked and cold. Instinctively, he groped for the bed covers, and as he lifted them he caught a drift of flowery scent. With a jolt of dismay, he remembered Milla.
This was Australia. He was in a hotel in Bellaroo Creek. He’d showered in Milla’s bathroom. This was her bedroom.
They were supposed to have had dinner together.
Where was she?
Shivering, he rolled under the covers, relishing the new-found warmth as his mind struggled to sort out his dilemma. Or rather, Milla’s dilemma. It was obvious now that he’d come out of the shower last night, seen her bed, and fallen onto it in exhaustion.
With that part of the puzzle sorted, he could all too easily picture the rest. Milla had come back to her room to find him sprawled, naked, on her bed. Out like a light.
No doubt she’d bolted like a frightened squirrel, and he could only hope the hotel people had given her another room, the room that should have been his.
What a stuff-up. Now he would have to start the day with apologies. Never a comfortable exercise.
Groaning, Ed burrowed deeper under the covers, but already the room was growing lighter and he was all too acutely aware that this was Milla’s bed. Although the sheets had probably been changed, the floral perfume he always associated with her lingered. Unhelpfully, he also remembered the delicate wisps of her lingerie that had hung over her bath, and, man, that was not a useful memory for a red-blooded male at this hour of the morning.
One thing was certain. He wouldn’t be getting back to sleep.
* * *
‘Good morning. You’re up bright and early.’ A leggy blonde in a cowgirl shirt and jeans grinned broadly at Ed as he walked into the hotel dining room. ‘I’m Sherry,’ she told him brightly. ‘And you’re our first customer for breakfast. You’re welcome to sit anywhere you like.’
Ed, freshly showered, shaved and changed into clean clothes, chose a small table by a window with a view down Bellaroo Creek’s empty and silent main street. In a far corner, a wood fire burned in a grate, making the room cosy, despite its emptiness.
‘Would you like tea or coffee to begin with?’ Sherry asked.
‘Coffee, thanks.’
‘Oh, you’re American,’ she gushed. ‘Of course you’ll want coffee.’ But instead of leaving to fetch a coffeepot, she stood beaming at him.
Ed realised she was the elusive girl Milla had searched for last night, but he wasn’t inclined to be talkative first thing in the morning, so he made no comment.
‘You’re not a movie star, or anything exciting, are you?’ she asked next.
‘Not the slightest bit exciting,’ he replied dryly. ‘And I’ll have scrambled eggs as well as coffee.’ He didn’t return her smile.
‘With bacon and tomatoes?’
‘That’d be great.’
‘Sausages?’
‘Yes, the lot.’ He’d skipped lunch and dinner and he was ravenous enough to eat an entire rhinoceros. ‘And I’d like toast and orange juice.’
‘Right away, sir. I’ll get Stu straight onto it.’
She was back quite soon with a steaming pot and, to Ed’s relief, the coffee was strong and hot. He considered asking her about Milla’s whereabouts, but opted for discretion.
‘You can leave that pot here,’ he told her.
He was on his second cup when she came back with a laden breakfast plate. His stomach growled gratefully.
‘So you’re a friend of Milla’s?’ she asked coyly, remaining by his table as he tucked into his food.
Ed nodded as he ate, but he had no intention of sharing details of his exact relationship to Milla with this nosy girl.
‘We’re all excited about Milla starting up the bakery,’ the girl said next.
This time he looked up, unable to hide his interest. ‘So the town really wants a bakery?’
‘Of course. It’ll be wonderful. But the problem is, bakeries are so much hard work. Poor Milla will have to work dreadful hours. She’ll be up at something like three in the morning.’ The girl gave a wide-eyed shake of her head. ‘Half the town are right behind her and can’t wait for her shop to open. The other half think she’s crazy trying to do it on her own. They’re betting she’ll last a month at the most.’
Ed accepted this news grimly, but he didn’t encourage further discussion.
‘Mind