Back Artistic Licence
Chapters (31)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Praise for Katie Fforde
  4. Also by Katie Fforde
  5. Title
  6. Copyright
  7. Contents
  8. Dedication
  9. Acknowledgements
  10. Chapter One
  11. Chapter Two
  12. Chapter Three
  13. Chapter Four
  14. Chapter Five
  15. Chapter Six
  16. Chapter Seven
  17. Chapter Eight
  18. Chapter Nine
  19. Chapter Ten
  20. Chapter Eleven
  21. Chapter Twelve
  22. Chapter Thirteen
  23. Chapter Fourteen
  24. Chapter Fifteen
  25. Chapter Sixteen
  26. Chapter Seventeen
  27. Chapter Eighteen
  28. Chapter Nineteen
  29. Chapter Twenty
  30. Chapter Twenty-One
  31. Chapter Twenty-Two

Here was a situation she felt at home in. ‘On the other hand, I’m an expert in making meals out of nothing.’

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that,’ said Rory, obviously quite keen on the idea.

‘Why don’t I have a poke around and see what I can come up with?’ Thea got to her feet again, determined that Rory shouldn’t regret her arrival. If she couldn’t promise him a night of hot, imaginative sex, hot, imaginative cooking might be some compensation.

‘Excellent plan. I’ll make up the fire. Did you want to sleep in the back bedroom?’

‘What are the alternatives?’

‘Come and I’ll show you.’ He opened the door to the right of the front door and showed Thea a glimpse inside a large room with a wonderful view of the sea. ‘This is mine. It has a double bed, a goose down duvet and goose feather pillows, but I come as part of the package. I don’t mind sharing, but I’m not giving it up entirely.’

‘Right,’ said Thea cautiously. ‘And what about the other bedroom?’

It was across the way from his, on the left of the entrance. It had the same high, wood-lined ceiling as the sitting room, two single beds and a couple of wardrobes in it.

‘The house belonged to my uncle. He didn’t have children of his own, but he used it as a holiday cottage for his nieces and nephews. He left it to me when I told him I’d live in it if he did. He was an artist.’

‘Did he do these?’ Thea indicated a pair of small seascapes in oil which hung over the beds. ‘Or is that your work?’

‘His. It’s good, though, don’t you think?’

‘Mm. Did he do them here?’

‘I should think so. I tend to work on a slightly larger scale.’

‘Will you show me your work tomorrow?’

‘Maybe. But now I’m going to show you the kitchen and all that it has to offer in the way of spaghetti, tinned custard and tomato ketchup. If you can find a meal in it I’ll show you all the wonders of my kingdom.’ He smiled into her eyes and she felt her libido stir again. ‘There’s also a sack of potatoes and a hunk of cheese.’

They ate at the table in front of the fire. The dining table was entirely taken up with books and junk mail, a selection of dirty crockery and a large coil of rope. Obviously no one had eaten at it for a long time.

‘You’re a grand cook!’ said Rory. ‘I’m glad I invited you.’

‘I’m glad you think so, because I pretty much invited myself.’

‘Not at all. I gave you my address, didn’t I?’