‘Definitely.’ Clara took a sip from her cup, the warmth curling through her fingers. Across from her, Sam leaned back in his chair, all calm and unhurried confidence. He really was… something. Not conventionally handsome, maybe, but magnetic in a quiet way. It wasn’t just how he looked – it was more. She’d known him for months now, but lately something in her brain kept glitching around him, sending her thoughts to places she didn’t want them to go.
She stirred her coffee to cover the thought. Ordinary guy, extraordinary effect. Utterly confusing.
Was this just her brain on the rebound?
When they’d finished eating, she excused herself to the loo again – just in case – then rejoined him at the car. Sam was already in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh.
Clara climbed in beside him, tucking her feet up under her knees. ‘Back on the road, then.’
He smiled, and a ridiculous flutter erupted in her chest. She turned to the window quickly, pretending to study the drizzle streaking the glass. Every so often, she risked a glance at him – at the well-defined lines of his profile and the flecks of grey hair, which were weirdly sexy. The quiet ease about him andthat baffling pull – the one she wasn’t supposed to feel – kept humming quietly beneath her ribs all the way back to the motorway.
‘You one hundred per cent ok with this crazy idea?’ he asked, and she knew he was talking about the fake date.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Good… But we should probably have some rules.’
‘Something like the contract inFifty Shades of Gray?’
He snorted, and she laughed too.
‘Well, that’s point one,’ he said. ‘No dungeons, chains, whips or anything like that.’
Clara chuckled. ‘You’re such a spoilsport.’
‘Someone has to be. But seriously, I don’t want any misunderstandings. And I certainly don’t want you doing anything you feel uncomfortable about.’
‘I trust you,’ she said. ‘It’s not like you’re wild enough to expect me to do anything crazy.’
‘I’m definitely not that. Maybe once, long ago, in my youth, I made some suspect choices, but not now. This is just a surface arrangement, nothing beyond that. We don’t even have to hold hands or anything.’
‘That’s fine, though I don’t mind doing that if the moment arises.’
‘Thank you.’
Her gaze lingered on his face, tracing the concerned set of his jaw, the faint stubble along his chin. And then, annoyingly, her imagination went rogue – drifting lower, down to his shoulders and those rolled-up sleeves.
Was he ever wild these days? Maybe between the sheets…
Oh, brilliant.Now her brain was lusting again. She bit the inside of her cheek, but it didn’t help. Those biceps weren’t exactly helping her composure either – solid and tanned, shifting as he steered. How good would they feel if he ever—
No. Stop.
Where were these thoughts even coming from? This wasn’t supposed to happen with Sam. This was Kerr-level daydream territory. And yet here she was, watching the man beside her and wondering if “steady, dependable Sam” had a whole other side she’d never seen. And would she ever?
Chapter Fourteen
Sam
After what felt like a dozen turns down winding country lanes, Sam squinted at the satnav, fully convinced it was taking the mick.
‘Left again? We’re going in circles.’ He glanced over at Clara, who was looking at maps on her phone.
‘We must be missing something. But try going left again.’ She bit her lip. ‘We came through this village before, and there was a track. Maybe the cottage is up there.’
‘Possibly. That’s the hotel they’re having the reception at, so we’re in the right area.’ He leant forward a little as they approached the track. ‘Is that a sign stuck in the hedge?’
‘Yes.’ Clara almost jumped out of the car. ‘It saysHawthorn House. Is that is?’
