‘Yes.’ He frowned, his eyes narrowing like he was working to solve an intriguing puzzle. ‘When you first came,’ his finger traced her forehead as if soothing away lines, ‘you were hidden. It was as if the real person was just peeking out now and then. Like a voice that’s grown croaky and rusty with disuse. It was like you’d forgotten how to be you.’
Her eyes widened. How could she be insulted when he peeled the layers back so beautifully to lay bare the truth?
‘This last few weeks, it’s like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis.’ With a sudden gear change, his eyes twinkled. ‘Actually, that’s not true at all, the other day with Patrick it was more like Muhammad Ali leaping out to sting like a bee.’ He leaned forward, putting his hands on her waist, and closing the gap between them.
Staring up at him, unable to break the gaze between them, she held her breath as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. ‘You were quite something, Miss Rigden.’
Her heart fizzed and her nerve endings went on high alert, her answering smile uncontrollable as she saw the appreciative glint in his eye.
‘I shouldn’t condone violence, but I was so proud of you when you nailed him with that picture.’
With a shy smile, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. ‘Me too.’
Kissing Devon felt new and strange but oh so right. It had been so long since she’d kissed anyone other than Patrick. If she’d had time to think about it she’d have worried about it but there was no chance to. They fitted. He was just the right height, his lips exerted just the right amount of pressure and he took his time in a long, slow, lazy exploration of her mouth as if he had all the time in the world and wasn’t going to be hurried on any account. He was thorough, very thorough and she sank intothe kiss. Just feeling. Enjoying the sensations. Heavenly kisses. The warmth of lips on hers. Strong hands gentle at her waist. That extraordinarily beguiling sensation of being the absolute centre of someone’s focus. The kiss built in intensity but with no pressure, no sensation of being in a mad race of having a place to go. It was a meandering journey with no sense of having a destination. Of needing to be anywhere, to have to get anywhere. Ella wondered if it were possible for a kiss to last for ever.
With her eyes closed she took in a breath and stiffened at exactly the same moment as Devon. They pulled apart.
‘Ugh! What’s that smell?’ Ella realised Tess had padded back into the kitchen and stood gazing up at her and Devon, her head cocked to one side with a this-is-new tilt.
‘Oh, Tess!’ Devon screwed up his face, turning his head away. ‘Out. Go on.’ He pointed firmly at the dog who lowered her head. ‘Now. Outside.’
‘Pooh! What is that?’ asked Ella, the horrible stink now really taking a hold and making her feel quite sick.
‘Poo! Quite literally. It’s fox poo.’
‘Seriously? It’s vile.’ They caught each other’s eye and Ella broke first. She started to laugh. ‘Talk about a mood killer.’
‘I don’t suppose you have any dog shampoo?.’ He looked forlornly at the boiling pot of pasta.
She shook her head.
With a heavy sigh, he gave a brief kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ll go now and get some from the surgery. Be back in two minutes.’
After dinner, which wasn’t as romantic as it might have been, thanks to the two plaintive faces pressed up against the window, the shampooing commenced. Ella perked up when Devon filled up a bowl of warm water and stripped off his jumper to reveal a lean muscled chest in a navy T-shirt. Perhaps dog shampooing wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Thankfully only Tess had availed herself of the fox poo. Devon showed Ella how to rub the shampoo into the dog’s coat.
It was a messy business and by the end of it they were both soaked through.
When they came back into the kitchen leaving Tess outside to dry off, along with Dexter, Devon unselfconsciously stripped off his soaked T-shirt.
‘I’ll nip upstairs and change,’ said Ella, hoping she’d hidden her quick intake of breath. That was one nice body. ‘Do you want me to see if I can find something that might fit you?’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll put my jumper back on.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Ella.
He grinned with a sudden gleam in his eyes. ‘Want me to leave it off?’
She swallowed and fled up the stairs.
When she came back down, Devon had taken their wine into the lounge and lit a fire. Grateful that he had put his jumper back on – she wouldn’t have known where to look – she stood with a touch of self-consciousness until he reached up and pulled her down to sit next to him on the sofa.
‘Well, that was fun,’ he teased.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure that was what you were expecting when I invited you for a meal.’
‘I’m not complaining.’ He slid an arm around her, drawing her closer. ‘Now where were we before your pesky dog interrupted us?’
