– including the whole of Little Biddington, from the way most of them snub me – thinks I’m the archetypal dollybird who sank her claws into a rich, older man.’
‘I don’t think that. I can see how much you love Malcolm by the way your face lights up every time you mention him.’
Melody flushed. ‘I know. I can’t help it. I love the bones of him. But I want him to be as proud of me as I am of him.’
‘I’m sure he already is.’
‘I’d like to think so. I don’t want him to think the same as everyone else – that I’m just after his money. Which is why I’d have preferred a smaller house. And why I’m desperate to do something for myself. Pay my way. Because I’ve always had to exercise to stay in shape, I trained as a fitness instructor a few years ago and I’ve approached the Residents’ Committee to ask about doing classes in the village hall – Zumba, Pilates, that kind of thing.’
‘Sounds like a great idea.’
‘That’s what I thought. But apparently not. Despite putting forward what I consider a very reasoned proposal, they’ve turned me down.’
‘Hmm. Well, from what I’ve heard, they sound a bit of a bunch. Couldn’t Malcolm help?’
‘Probably. But the chair of the committee is Celia Smythe – wife of Malcolm’s right-hand man at work. And by the way she looks down her nose at me every time I see her, she’s made it dazzlingly clear she considers me the archetypal blonde bimbo who’s only interested in Malcolm’s wallet. Which is why I really don’t want to involve him. I want to sort this out myself. Show Celia Smythe I’m not what she thinks. So, I’ll keep chipping away.’
Connie shook her head in awe. ‘I totally admire your determination. You’ll have to let me know how it goes.’
‘I will. I might even rope you in. Particularly if they want me to demonstrate a class.’
‘Hmm. I’m not sure having me and lycra in the same room would help your case,’ giggled Connie. ‘But I could certainly do with more exercise. Especially if you’re going to knock up dishes like this. These prawns are superb.’
‘Malcolm said that when I made them for him last night. Not that I believed him. He’s eaten in some of the world’s best restaurants. Still, sweet of him to say so. Even if it was just to keep me happy.’
‘As lovely as he sounds,’ tutted Connie, ‘I can assure you he would not have been saying it just to keep you happy. They are outstanding. You should be more confident about your cooking.’
Melody smiled. ‘Thanks. I’m hoping the club will help with that. In fact, it would be lovely if it could improve my confidence full stop. Since moving here, I’ve felt like a fish out of water. Which is another reason I joined the club – to meet more like-minded people.’
‘And you have,’ confirmed Connie, taste buds drooling as she prepared to devour yet another prawn. ‘And I for one am incredibly pleased you signed up for it.’
Liam was still up the ladder when Connie arrived back at the house. Entering the bedroom, her eyes immediately homed in on those toned buttocks again. The only buttocks she could imagine looking sexy in a pair of white, paint-splattered overalls.
‘Impressive progress,’ she said, employing a humongous effort to drag her gaze away from his rear and onto the wall being transformed from pale lilac to moss-green. ‘That looks great.’
‘Doesn’t it. Cool choice of colour. You lived here long?’
‘Um, no,’ she uttered, trying desperately not to salivate as she focused now on his tanned bicep, which flexed every time he moved the roller. ‘I actually live in London. I’m housesitting here for a few months while my friend and her husband are in Australia.’
‘Oh. Right.’ He swivelled his head round to her. ‘I’m off to Oz in a couple of months. Got a job sorted with a mate of mine. Might stay if I like it.’
‘Really,’ squeaked Connie, as he turned back to the wall and the biceps began doing their stuff again.
‘Might as well. Nothing to keep me here.’
‘No girlfriend?’ she whimpered.
‘Nah. What about you? Boyfriend not mind you upping sticks and moving here for a bit?’
‘No boyfriend.’
He twisted round to her again, eyes glinting with mischievousness. ‘Hot babe like you? Don’t believe that for a minute.’
Connie’s cheeks flew scarlet. She’d never been called a babe before. Never mind a hot one. Most likely due to her being neither. Still, nice to hear, even if it was pure fiction.
‘Would you… like another drink?’ she blurted, having no idea where the conversation was heading. And suspecting that, wherever it was, she would be way out of her depth.
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ he said through a disarming smile, before putting down the roller and dismounting the ladder.
Connie cursed herself as Liam followed her down the stairs. Of all the days to wear a pair of crappy baggy khaki shorts, why had she picked this one? And why hadn’t she shaved her legs when she’d been meaning to for the last fortnight? Tonight, she resolved, the shorts were going in the charity bag, and there would be a serious tidying up of self. Which might even include the painting of nails. Melody’s nails had been a glossy vibrant pink, and her legs smooth, shiny and fuzz-free. Plus, she would probably prefer a month of back-to-back karaoke evenings with the dreaded Residents’ Committee than to be seen in crappy baggy khaki shorts.
Upon reaching the kitchen, Liam perched his toned buttocks on a stool at the island, while Connie, aware of his eyes on her, did her best to detract from the shorts faux pas by sashaying over to the fridge. At least she hoped she sashayed. By the bemused look Eric shot her from his basket, she suspected she might look in dire need of the loo.
‘Apple, orange or cranberry?’ she asked, aiming for a casual lounge against the fridge door – and knocking off three of Anna’s treasured magnets in the process.
A strange snorting sound came from Liam, which hastily morphed into a cough. ‘Cranberry, please,’ he replied, a definite humorous lilt to his tone.
Connie engaged in another bout of silent cursing as she bent down and scrabbled together the magnets, cringingly aware the action was drawing yet more attention to her hideous attire.
The magnets duly collected, she clamped them back onto the fridge, then opened the door and retrieved the carton of juice. Closing it again, her heart skipped a beat as she discovered Liam beside her.
‘Oh,’ she gasped, parts of her body fluttering that hadn’t fluttered in their entire thirty-four-year existence. ‘Wh-what are you doing?’
‘Reading this.’ He indicated the slogan on her apron, hanging next to the fridge. ‘Food is better than sex, eh? Whoever came up with that has obviously never had the right buttons pressed.’ The remark was accompanied by another wink and a knowing smile that brought forth those adorable dimples.
The combination caused such a rush of heat to suffuse Connie that she almost yanked open the fridge again and clambered inside.
With Liam hard at work upstairs the following morning, Connie attempted to make some headway with the Five Hundred Fascinating Facts About Fly Fishing book. Thirty minutes later, she admitted defeat. Who could concentrate on rods and rudds when there was an Adonis upstairs who probably had a very impressive rod of his own? And what exactly had he meant when he’d made that “pushing the right buttons” statement? Connie couldn’t imagine. Well, actually, she could. And, indeed, had spent half the night imagining. But she was being ridiculous. The guy was young enough to be her surprise kid brother.
Giving