mock, you’re only jealous.’
‘Ooh, defensive—that’s interesting! So what’s she like?’
‘Average height, curvy, long dark hair, green eyes, sexy mouth—’
‘Really? How sexy?’
Damn. He sighed and shut his eyes. ‘Didn’t mean to say that.’
He heard a low chuckle. ‘I’ll bet. How sexy?’
He gave up. ‘She kisses like a goddess,’ he admitted, and there was a second of startled silence on the other end.
Then, ‘When did you meet her?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘And you know how she kisses? Already? Sheesh, that’s fast work! And she’s a colleague? You’re normally much more circumspect. She must have really lit a fire under you.’
Oh, yes. For all the good it’d do. ‘It’s not going anywhere. You know I’m not in the market for a relationship, Matt, any more than you are.’
‘So who’s talking about a relationship?’ Matt asked with his usual bluntness, and he sighed again.
‘She’s a nice girl, not someone you take to bed for the hell of it.’
‘I thought you grew out of that years ago.’
‘Yeah, well, I nearly forgot.’
Matt blew out his breath. ‘It must have been some kiss.’ He sounded incredulous, and Ben ran a hand round the back of his neck and sighed.
‘Yeah. Big mistake, kissing her. We—uh—we got a bit swept along on the moment, and we shouldn’t have done. I should have had more sense, and I know it’s crazy, and I keep telling myself it can’t go anywhere, but—hell, I was so tempted to stay, Matt. I was that close …’
He heard her front door shut, and shook his head to clear it. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, she’s home now and these walls aren’t exactly soundproof. I think I’m going round there to talk to her—tell her why it can’t ever go anywhere before she gets ideas.’
‘Are you sure it can’t?’ Matt prompted, his voice soft. ‘Maybe it’s time to move on—find some time for yourself.’
And because he wanted it to be otherwise, because he was blown away by Daisy and wanted to be able to follow through but knew he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—Ben bit back.
‘I don’t see you moving on with your life,’ he said, and he heard Matt suck in his breath again.
‘Back off,’ he warned softly.
‘Sorry, ignore me. Well, no, don’t ignore me. Come up here and stay for a few days. It would be really good to see you and I promise I won’t make you strip wallpaper.’
‘I don’t believe a word of it, but I might come anyway, just to get a look at this Daisy. Good luck with her. I’ll look forward to meeting her one day.’
The line went dead, and he stood up and went out to the kitchen with his mug. He’d give Daisy a few minutes to change and feed the cat, and then he’d go round there.
And stop this thing in its tracks.
She wanted a bath. She’d wanted a bath since Sunday night, and nothing that had happened in the meantime had changed that.
She stared at it, sitting there taunting her with its promise of gentle, lapping water and utter relaxation. She still hadn’t unpacked from the weekend, there was washing waiting to go in the machine, and—
‘Oh, damn it,’ she said, and turned on the taps, poured in a generous dollop of bubble bath, and while the delectably indulgent Victorian claw-foot bath filled with water, she put on some music, turned down the lights and lit a scented candle, then dropped her clothes into the laundry basket, stepped into the bath and slid under the bubbles.
‘Oh, yes,’ she groaned. Bliss.
Except she was twitchy. She could hear Ben moving around next door, unpacking probably. He was going to come round, she just knew it, and catching her in the bath really wouldn’t help. She’d have to run down to the front door looking like a drowned rat, and what little was left of her pride would go straight out of the window.
She rinsed her hair in clean water, dragged herself reluctantly out of the bath, dried and picked up her dressing gown. It still had a tea stain all the way down the front, and there was no way she could wear it again until it had been washed. She really had to do her laundry.
She contemplated her baggy old sweats, and then put on jeans and last night’s top, because she just had a feeling he’d be round. No reason. He hadn’t said he would, but better to be prepared. And she resisted the urge to change the top for one he hadn’t seen.
She’d dry her hair, and put on a touch of makeup—just a flick of mascara and some concealer under her eyes to hide the bags, because two nights without sleep showed on her fair skin—and then she’d unpack and tidy her room.
Not that she needed to worry about Ben seeing it, anyway, she thought with irony as she dabbed on the concealer. He’d been the one to walk away, while she’d been teetering on the brink.
And in any case, what on earth was she thinking? She didn’t want him in her bedroom! There was no way she was getting involved with another divorced man, because she was still dealing with the devastating emotional fallout from the last one. And he was her boss! And her neighbour!
‘Huge great big fat no, Daisy,’ she said firmly, and picked up her mascara.
She heard him run downstairs, then the sound of his door closing. A moment later, there was a knock on her own door, and even though she’d tried to convince herself it was the last thing she wanted, her heart raced with anticipation and her hands started to shake.
She put the mascara down before she could poke her eye out, went downstairs and opened the door.
He had flowers. A huge bunch of pure white longiflorum lilies, the scent astonishing, and he held them out to her.
‘Are you trying to soften me up or is this a peace offering for trying to take advantage of my innocence?’ she asked, taking them from him warily, and he felt his mouth kick up in a wry smile. If he’d wanted to take advantage of her innocence, he wouldn’t have had to try very hard, she’d been with him every step of the way …
‘Neither. I thought they’d mask the smell of damp plaster clinging to me.’
She gave a disbelieving little laugh and walked off, and he followed her through the door she’d left open—presumably for him—to the kitchen. She was putting the flowers in a tall vase and fiddling with them, pulling off leaves, trying to arrange the stubborn stems, and he could tell she was nervous.
Why? In case he tried anything again? No way. She was safe on that front, at least.
‘Have you eaten?’ he asked, and she felt her brow crease in a little frown.
‘No. Not yet. I was going to have that ready meal.’ Don’t ask me out again, Ben, please, don’t ask me out.
‘Can I change your mind? I thought maybe we could find a pub somewhere, grab something to eat and have a chat.’
Her stomach fluttered, and she squashed the quiver of anticipation ruthlessly. ‘I don’t really want to go out. I could do with an early night, to be honest,’ she lied, and jammed another lily stem into the vase.
He watched her thoughtfully. ‘Is that, “Ben, sling your hook,” or “I don’t want to go out but we could have a takeaway”?’ he asked, trying to read her body language.
She gave up on arranging the flowers and dumped the vase in the middle of the dining table. ‘Neither. Ben, why are you here?’ she asked a little desperately.