Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command. Annie West
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photos. Pity that you cannot spare a few days out of your so busy schedule to find out your family history. Or are you too busy making money to wonder who you really are?’
She glanced at her watch and folded her arms. ‘But please make up your mind because I don’t have all day.’
‘Matt! How are you doing, mate? Having a great time by the pool?’
‘Pool? I wish. I’m back in Paris,’ Matt replied with a sigh. ‘No rest for the wicked.’
Seb’s eyebrows joined as his face darkened. ‘What do you mean, you’re in Paris? Montpellier not exciting enough for you? Or is there a problem with the deal?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about. The PSN Media lawyers need me to go over some fine details on the contract and it made sense for me to fly up to their offices. I’ll be back on Sunday. Job done. Ready to sign the papers.
Okay?’
Seb paused before swallowing down regret that his friend was not only out of town but also working on the deal while he had just wasted the last hour reading through farmhouse accounts and village sporting achievements. And failing to find a copy of his birth certificate.
‘Do you need any help?’ Seb offered. ‘I don’t want to be having all of the fun!’
‘All taken care of. You enjoy yourself and I’ll see you at the hotel Sunday evening. Then back home on Monday. Can’t wait!’
A great whoosh of air jetted from Seb’s lungs as Matt disconnected.
He still had to decide whether to stay an extra day and visit the local records office to get a copy of his birth certificate, or head back home with Matt. Even with Ella’s help he had found little extra information in the photos and documents. Perhaps this was all a wild goose chase after all, brought on by lack of sleep and too much caffeine?
In the meantime he had to waste an hour doing gardening jobs for the woman he had barely spoken to since agreeing to accept her help.
She was infuriating! Especially when he could not argue with her common sense.
A deal was a deal. And he had lugged two boxes of paperwork back to the attic before calling it a day.
Seb strolled out into the warm sunshine and was greeted by birdsong and the sound of bees on the lavender and herbs in the kitchen garden.
A flash of colour appeared at the side of the house and he turned the corner just in time to see Ella trying to drag a set of very large, heavy ladders out of the barn, a basket hanging from the crook of her arm. From the huffing and puffing going on, the ladders were heavier than they looked, and Milou was playing around her legs at the same time.
‘I had better help you with that before it falls on your foot and breaks some toes.’
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she blew out. Only at that moment her basket fell onto the patio as the ladder slipped and Ella veered towards it as her weight shifted. Seb ran forward and caught her arm just as she was about to lose her balance.
‘So I can see. And when was the last time you pruned these trees?’
Ella raised her eyebrows and looked quizzically at Seb as he calmly took the ladder and opened it in one swift move.
‘Hello! I am a London girl. Brought up above a jazz club! A window box was just about my limit. Yvette did prune the apples last winter but I can’t remember her touching the cherries.’
Seb smiled and braced the ladders into a stable position against the trunk of the nearest cherry tree.
‘If these are the original trees, I seem to remember that these cherries are good.’
‘They are sweet. Dan loves them. And I’m hoping Nicole and her guests will too. At the moment my plan is to serve cherry frangipane tart as part of the dessert menu but I’m still fiddling with the recipe.’ She took a sharp intake of breath. ‘And there is no way you are going up that ladder in those shoes!’
Seb stopped and looked down at this black lace-up meeting-room leather designer wear.
‘What’s wrong with these shoes?’
‘Nothing. They are excellent for a boardroom or fancy restaurant. But those leather soles are way too slippery to be safe. I hate to say it but I wouldn’t be able to catch you if you fell. So…thank you for the help, but I’ll take it from here.’
And before Seb could stop her, Ella had dived in front of him and was already skipping up the ladder. Until she reached three steps from the top and reached out towards the nearest branch, which was still way above her head. Then she stopped, dropped her arm, closed her eyes and clutched onto the wooden frame for dear life as the ladder slipped an inch, then another, before juddering onto a firmer spot. A very Anglo Saxon expletive escaped under her breath.
‘Um,’ Seb replied as she slumped forward onto the ladder. ‘Good effort. Can you make it down?’
Her reply was a whimper and a gentle nod. ‘I just need a minute,’ she replied in a faint voice.
‘Okay. I am going to put my hands on your waist. So don’t be startled. It’s just to hold you steady on the way down. Are you ready?’
Seb stood behind Ella and gently spread his hands both sides of her waist and pressed gently.
‘I’ve got you now. One step at a time. Steady. That’s it.’
A fast-beating heart pulsed below the fragile ribcage under his fingers. Fast like the caged finch he used to have as a boy. Only this was no bird. This was a soft and warm person trembling in his hands. A thin layer of fabric separated his fingertips from her skin and as she slowly extended one leg down to the next rung he breathed in a luscious smell of flowers and baking and the sweet fruit on the ground under his shoes and above his head.
He did not do intimate. And this was the closest he had come for longer than he cared to recall.
And he would have a lot of explaining to do if someone caught them like this, because, like it or not, when Ella reached the bottom of the ladder, she turned to face him. And leant forward with both palms flat against his chest, resting her forehead on the backs of her hands, so that he was looking down onto the top of her shiny brown hair as she caught her breath.
Connection. Deep, real and not to be denied. Connection and attraction. The kind of attraction that meant that he had no desire whatsoever to remove his hands from her waist.
Which was totally crazy!
He had felt unsettled earlier in the day when their hands had touched, but this felt deeper and more fundamental and so far out of his comfort zone it was not funny.
He swallowed down a moment of spiralling heat, then slowly released his hands from her waist and stepped back. Time to take control.
He was a tourist here with every intention of leaving at the first opportunity and he had better remember that fact. Perhaps he could find the time to take some lunch, but then he would be on his way. Job done.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, looking into her face, and was rewarded with a hesitant smile.
‘Much. Thank you. I, er, really should know my limitations, shouldn’t I?’
‘I’ll trade you a basket of those cherries—’ he pointed at the highest point on the tree, red with ripe glistening fruit ‘—for one of those tarts and that lunch you promised me. And I will be careful in my slippery shoes. Do we have a deal?’
Ella pushed out her lower lip and pretended to think about it for a second, then nodded and reached out to shake his hand once. The texture of her skin was dry. The palms calloused. A worker’s hand. He liked that, which was bizarre. Perhaps he didn’t like smooth-skinned girls with immaculate manicures as much as he thought he did? Either way, Ella was making his head spin.
‘Deal.’ She nodded firmly. ‘I did promise you lunch. Provided you