Summer At Villa Rosa Collection. Kate Hardy
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the most glamorous thing in the world to her. The windows had been dressed in something gauzy, the bed had been covered with an embroidered silk throw and in the bathroom there was a huge, claw-footed bath with brass fittings that had been polished to a gleaming gold.
There had been piles of fluffy white towels and, on recessed glass shelves, there had been an array of gorgeous scented bath oils, bubbles and soaps from the most expensive retailers.
Rosa Absolute, Gingerlily, Orange and Bergamot...
She placed her rather more basic shower gel and shampoo on the shelf, turned on the shower and, looking for a towel, opened the cupboard and pulled one out.
The water was emerging in fits and spurts that had the pipes rattling and it was only lukewarm but it would do and, having peeled off her wet robe, she stepped into the tub.
* * *
Cleve watched Miranda walk, stiff-backed, into the house. The effect was totally undermined by the wet silk clinging to every curve and her hair, always sleekly pinned up under her uniform hat at work, was loose and curling as it dried. Catching fire in the sunlight.
Aware that he wasn’t the only one enjoying the view, he turned on the man standing beside him.
‘How long?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘How long have you known Miranda Marlowe?’
‘To the nearest minute?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Thirteen hours and twenty minutes give or take the odd second. She told me that she was nicer after eight hours’ sleep.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’m not convinced.’
‘But if you’re not...’ He let the unwelcome thought die. There was no one. He was responsible for her decision to leave, although why she’d choose to give up flying... ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’
‘Matthew Stark. I live in the village. I kept an eye on Sofia and now I keep an eye on the house. When I saw the light...’ He shrugged.
‘You thought she was a burglar?’
‘There was a time when you could have left the door unlocked but these days there are villains who’d have the lead off the roof and strip out the pipes for scrap metal.’
‘You took a risk coming up here on your own.’
‘If there had been a truck I’d have gone back to the village and called the polizia. I assumed someone had broken in looking for anything they could steal or a place to sleep.’
‘And instead you got Miranda in a bad mood.’ Realising that he’d been curt, he offered his hand. ‘Cleve Finch.’
‘To be fair the bang on the head couldn’t have helped and the house is a mess. I’m glad she’s got company,’ he said, as he took it, then offered him the bag he was holding. ‘Cornetti. From the village bakery. They were supposed to be a peace offering.’
Cleve ignored the bag. ‘What bang on the head?’
‘She had her head in the cupboard under the sink looking for the stopcock when I arrived. She gave it a bit of a crack when she looked up. She looked a bit unsteady for a moment but she said she was just tired and wanted to sleep.’
‘And you left her?’
‘She didn’t give me a choice. The phone line to the villa came down in a storm several years ago and was never repaired, but I did explain how to call if she needed help.’ He gestured with his head towards the house. ‘Have you known her long?’
‘Six years.’ Six years, eight months and four days. ‘It was her eighteenth birthday, she’d just got her pilot’s licence and had taken the plane her father had given her for a spin. There was a tricky crosswind as she approached the runway but she touched down as light as a feather.’
That perfect landing, her brilliant smile as she jumped down onto the tarmac with her newly minted pilot’s licence in her hand, the sun catching the hint of cinnamon in her hair and setting it ablaze, was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.
There had been kisses and cake for everyone. He wasn’t part of the family or Marlowe Aviation. He’d been there completing a deal to buy his first freight aircraft and maybe he’d been on a high too, because he’d assured her that if she went for a commercial licence he’d give her a job. She’d instantly invited him to her and Immi’s party and later, in a shadowy corner of her parents’ garden, they’d shared a kiss that hadn’t been about celebrating her PPL. It had been just about them. Would have been a lot more than a kiss if her younger sister—giddy on champagne—hadn’t stopped him from doing something of which he would have later been ashamed.
There had been other kisses. She’d lain in wait for him when she knew he was flying in. And she’d never let him forget his promise to give her a job.
He realised that Matt Stark was waiting but there was nothing more he wanted to share. ‘Thanks for these,’ he said, finally taking the bag. ‘Hopefully they’ll sweeten her mood.’
‘Good luck with that.’ He let himself out through the side gate and a few moments later Cleve heard the unmistakable buzz of a scooter heading down the hill.
Deciding that some clothes might help his case, he pulled his shirt over his head, stepped into his trousers and had just made it to the kitchen when there was an ear-splitting scream.
He dropped the bag and ran in the direction of the sound, bursting through the door into what, disconcertingly, was a bedroom.
‘Miranda!’
There was a whimper and he found her in the en-suite bathroom, teeth chattering, backed up into the corner of the bath, her gaze fixed on a seriously impressive spider on the wall behind the shower.
He picked up a towel that was out of her reach on a wicker chair and offered it to her. Frozen to the spot, she made no move to take it. This was a full-on case of arachnophobia.
He draped the towel over her and as he lifted her clear of the bath she clung to him as he had clung to her.
‘It j-just appeared out of n-nowhere,’ she said, regaining the power of speech now the spider was out of sight.
‘I’ll handle it,’ he promised. ‘Can I put you down?’ She nodded and he set her down and walked her through to the bedroom but she continued to cling to him. ‘Will you be all right on your own in here while I get rid of it?’
‘Don’t kill it! It’s unlucky to kill spiders.’
‘Is it?’
‘Don’t laugh!’
‘I’m not laughing, I promise.’ He might just be smiling but then, with his arms unexpectedly filled with a naked woman who was clinging to him for dear life, he had a lot to smile about. That spider deserved to live a long and happy life. ‘I’ll put it out of the window.’
‘No!’ She pulled back a little, looked up at him, her eyes desperate. ‘It’ll just climb back in through the air vent. You have to take it right away. Outside the gates.’
He didn’t think it would be a good idea to point out that a spider could just as easily climb the gates and make its way back inside. There was nothing rational about her fear.
‘Outside the gates,’ he promised.
‘Not just outside the gates.’
‘I’ll take it over the road and set it free in the trees. Will that be far enough?’
She looked doubtful but she nodded and said, ‘I suppose so.’
‘You’ll have to let go,’ he said with regret but the last thing he wanted was for the spider to take the opportunity to disappear.
‘Yes...’ Her fingers were bunched tight around his shirt front and it took a mental effort for her to open them, to take a step away