I’ve barely put my needles down—my attention span is about three minutes as far as this hobby goes—when the doorbell rings. I turn my head to the sound as Mel’s words poke at my attention.
‘—it was supposed to be next week. Friday next week, which is a whole ten days away.’
‘Mel...’
‘And then I got a phone call this morning, and well, it seems he arrived today.’
The bell rings again. ‘That’s him at the door, isn’t it?’
‘I can’t tell who’s at your door, can I? But, okay, yes. Probably.’
‘You... ’ I roll my lips inward lest any words escape that I might regret later. ‘Well played, bitch face.’Oops! Slipped out anyway.
‘Even if I hadn’t given him your address, he could find you anyway.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘He works in intelligence,’ she replies, as though talking to my twelve-year-old self.
‘Great. So you’ve sent me a spy lodger!’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s just Ben. You are such a worrywart.’
‘I think the word you’re looking for is sucker.’
‘Nope. It’s nice. I knew you wouldn’t make him go to a hotel.’
‘You owe me,’ I grumble.
‘And I intend to pay—in hugs and kisses and the best night out ever this Saturday. Talk soon!’
I throw my phone into the basket with my wool as I hiss out a curse, pulling my weary self up from the couch. With a sigh, I trudge out to the hall and pull open the front door. At the end of the garden there’s a man, which is no big surprise, but what is a surprise is the size of the man. At least six-foot, his large shoulders taper to a trim waist and a fine behind—I meanf-i-n-e. It’s the kind of ass that really fills out a pair of jeans.
This can’t be the skinny beanpole I knew—except his hair is a bit of a giveaway. It’s not exactly regulation short, but it is still very blond. Basically, it’s the blond hair that gives him away because the rest of himdoes notlook the same.When did I see him last?He was maybe nineteen and though he’d filled out from the scrawny kid who’d flip his lid if you teased him about his Dungeon and Dragons predilection, he didn’t fill out a pair of jeans like that.
Becausethatis an ass only a blind girl wouldn’t notice.
Lord, this is Ben I’m talking about. Little Ben. Little Ben who grewup. And out.But still, I shouldn’t be staring at him like a pervert.
‘Ben?’ I call hesitantly, eventually finding my voice.
As he turns, his gaze meets mine, almost stunning me. I’d forgotten how blue his eyes were, but like the rest of him, they seem more. Maybe it’s the contrast of his deep tan or maybe it justis, but his gaze is fiercer, more intense. I take in the rest of him; the strong set of his jaw covered in a tawny stubble, the quirk in the corner of his full lips, and the paler lines that bracket his mouth, lines that suggest he smiles a lot. He looks.. . wow, like a man. A whole lot of man.
As he turns fully, the light in his gaze turns to something else—recognition, maybe—and his half smile is suddenly as wide and as sweet as a cut watermelon. His long legs eat up the path to my front door, then he’s in front of me, and I’m suddenly aware just how big he really is as he drops the large bag he’s holding in his left hand and slides the other through his hair.
Hel-lo, bicep!
‘Wow.’ I’ve studied eight years to be a doctor. I can repair an exploded perineum with the precision of a Parisian tailor and can recall the Latin names for at least ninety medical terms. But right now, all my brain can find iswow?At least I’m keeping my tongue in my mouth. ‘Look at you!’ I find myself exclaiming a less that brilliant encore. ‘Little Ben.. . ’
And I swear, that smile? It takes on a sudden smug edge. And I almost don’t hear what he says, his words taking a beat to sink into my brain because all I can hear is a voice that is as deep and as resonant as the chime of Big Ben.
But I do hear unfortunately. Boy, do I hear.
‘Hello Nelly,’ he says. ‘It’s been a while.’
Chapter 3
BEN
