Chapters (38)
- Cover
- RITA BRADSHAW
- Dedication page
- Acknowledgements
- PART ONE
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- PART TWO
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- PART THREE
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- PART FOUR
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Epilogue
- One Snowy Night
- By Rita Bradshaw
‘I’ve taken a week’s holiday. Even entrepreneurs like me need the occasional break.’
She was completely taken aback. ‘But you never said anything yesterday.’ She had been at Foreburn for lunch and he’d had plenty of opportunity.
‘I’m saying now.’
‘But I’m going to be cleaning and painting and . . .’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. I bet you’ve never held a paintbrush in your life.’
‘Well, that is where you are wrong. I do a very fine watercolour, as it happens.’
‘I didn’t mean that sort of painting.’
‘I know what you meant, Ruby.’ He wasn’t smiling now. ‘And I can assure you I can get my hands dirty as well as the next man.’ He turned, walking away from her and still talking. ‘Clarissa will be along at lunchtime with refreshments for the workers so I suggest we get started? I know you need to get the flat clean and I do agree that rather pungent smell needs to go, so I presume we start upstairs? I also know you’ve got a builder coming by later to discuss the alterations down here.’
‘But—’
He turned, the smile back as he said, ‘For once, just once, don’t argue, Ruby. Let me help you. It’s what friends are for, after all. And I come bearing gifts, I might add – every kind of cleaning product on the market is in the boot of my car.’
‘Oh, Edward.’ She didn’t know if she wanted to kiss him or hit him. In the event she did neither. ‘Some holiday this will be.’
‘My choice.’ The mercurial grey eyes that could be a soft dove-grey or might darken to a stormy sky on occasion held an expression she couldn’t quite fathom. Their gaze locked for a moment and then he said easily, ‘I’ll bring in those things from the car, shall I? And you’ll need to boil some water on the stove. A couple of the packets said something about mixing with hot water to get the best effect.’
‘Right.’ She suppressed a grin. He sounded almost knowledgeable. And this was kind of him, but . . . She pushed the but aside. Friends. That’s what he’d said. And that is what she would treat this as, one friend helping another. She wouldn’t think beyond that.