‘I usually shower before I come down for breakfast, but—’
‘It’s your house to do what you want in. I’ll leave you in peace.’ Gage shifted his crutches to turn around and retreat to the living room.
‘Don’t be silly. I’ll make us a cup of tea.’
‘Thanks, but at least let me put some more clothes on first.’
A smile played around her mouth. ‘Okay.’
He made a swift escape and exhaled noisily when he reached the safety of his temporary bedroom. Since the disaster of his brief, unsatisfactory marriage and his accident, women and relationships had fallen off his radar. He’d never been good at either in the first place, so it hadn’t bothered him. Apart from when he’d worked alongside his comrades, Gage’s nature was suited to being solitary. Until five minutes ago. Was it simply the reaction of a celibate man to a gorgeous woman? He didn’t think so.
Any thoughts he might’ve had of doing something about it went out the window as logic flooded back in. After a rocky start, they’d only now arrived at some level of friendship. Shehad generously opened her home to him and now they’d started working together. One wrong move could destroy all that. Gage knew from bitter experience that was how his life tended to go.
It didn’t take long to tug on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He was back in control now.
* * *
‘If you’re ready, we’ll go,’ Tamara said, trying not to snap. Something had changed this morning between them, but then swung right around again to leave her confused and off-kilter.
When she’d strolled in to find him half-naked in her kitchen, she hadn’t known where to look. Not strictly true, because she’d stared, maybe even ogled. He’d done the exact same thing to her and although she was out of practice with men, Tamara still recognised admiration when she saw it. Gage’s tight black boxers left little to the imagination and she had an excellent one of those, which filled in the gaps far too well. The rest of him was pretty easy on the eye too. Muscles like his, honed from years of tough living, were far more of a turn-on to her than the kind acquired in the gym. But when he’d returned fully dressed, it had been as though someone had dropped him in an ice bath. He’d been polite but distant, sharing breakfast with her and keeping conversation to his plans for the day.
‘Sounds good. Sorry I couldn’t manage to fold up the bed, but I’ve left everything as tidy as I could.’
‘That’s fine. I won’t be doing an inspection later. You’re out of the marines now.’
Gage looked shamefaced. ‘Sorry. Again. I’m still adjusting. I should be better than this by now — it’s been eighteen months, but—’
‘Who says so? Everyone’s different and we all cope with life challenges at our own pace.’
‘You’re a wise woman.’ By his heightened colour, that admission hadn’t been what he’d planned to say.
‘You’ll get there. But if we don’t go now, I’ll be late and then you won’t get the benefit of my help as early as I’d hoped.’ Usually she walked to work, but she’d offered to drop Gage off at the bookshop first. Tamara glanced at his crutches. ‘Don’t you dare hurry outside, though, or you’ll be spreadeagled on my path and we’ll be calling Dr Judy again.’
‘And you’ll be stuck with me even longer.’
‘Oh, God, please don’t say that.’ The back-and-forth teasing was something they’d slipped into the last few days, and she bit back a smile when he didn’t immediately shut down again.
Tamara gathered up her recipe book and handbag. Not saying another word on the subject struck her as smart.
* * *
Gage straightened his tie in the mirror and smoothed down his hair. He wouldn’t have changed out of his jeans and warm jumper, but a summons to Evelyn’s house seemed to demand a little more effort on his part, so he’d gone for a pair of dark-blue slacks and a crisp white shirt.
It’d been a confusing day and he’d been left in an awkward limbo where Tamara was concerned. He sensed her relief when he kept things friendly but businesslike while they worked together, and could only suppose she was as mixed up as he was. A quiet evening to sort out his thoughts would have been very welcome.
Evelyn’s invitation to dinner and to see her Daphne du Maurier collection had come during a brief phone call at lunchtime. He and Tamara had been taking a break to eat some sandwiches she’d brought home from the pub.
‘I’ll pick you up at six,’ Evelyn had said. ‘And take you home when you’ve had enough of our company.’
What could he say other than thank her and assure her he’d look forward to the evening? Tamara had joked that he could be their spy in the camp because she and her friends were intrigued to find out how things stood with the sisters.
The doorbell rang and he levered up from the chair to tuck his crutches under his arms. He made his way to the front door and smiled at Evelyn’s opening salvo.
‘I assume you don’t need help out to the car?’
He assured her he’d be fine and carefully manoeuvred out of the house. It only took a few minutes to drive down to the village and along Church Street, where they stopped outside a neat white bungalow. Tamara told him it was a long-standing source of amusement that Evelyn named her homeShangri-Laafter an imaginary location in one of her favourite books,Lost Horizonby James Hilton. Supposedly a remote, peaceful, idyllic paradise, it seemed like a wildly inappropriate choice for the plain, unpretentious house built in the architecturally challenged 1960s.
‘Oh,mon Dieu, you poor man.’ A glossy, svelte woman with incredibly high cheekbones and a tight, immobile face stood in the front doorway, posed like a catwalk model. ‘For heaven’s sake, bring him in, Evelyn, dear.’
