Their feet crunched on the gravel path that led through the herb garden and wound down around the back of the house. Thyme and rosemary perfumed the air as they walked past the knot garden edges and the quiet evening was filled with the somnolent buzz of the bees hovering in and out of the tall sprigs of lavender. In the dying warmth of the day, it should have been tranquil and relaxing but instead Hannah’s nerves sizzled with tension.

‘I think you made that quite obvious. I wish you’d put up more of a fight.’

‘How could I? Tears were involved. For some reason she seems to like you.’

‘Quite a lot of people do. Even you, the first time you met me.’

‘That was before I knew you were going to be living with me.’

‘I’m not overjoyed about it.’ She’d enjoyed having the cottage to herself this last week. Having Conor underfoot would be dangerously distracting. It was good to know that he was impervious to her charms. There was no knowing where things would lead if she acted on the attraction that she harboured. He wasn’t the comfortable, safe sort of man she was used to.

‘I guess your mother did say you were housetrained.’

‘To a point. Do we need some house rules?’

‘I don’t know. Have you any bad habits?’

‘No one’s complained so far.’

‘Of course they haven’t,’ she muttered, more to herself than him.

‘I’ve got a request.’

‘Oh, isn’t it my space you’re invading? I’m not sure you should be laying down the law. After all, I don’t even want you there.’

‘And I don’t want to be there. Blame my mother, not me. I’m just the bodyguard.’

She was about to say she didn’t need a bodyguard but she had been unnerved by the face at the window and now it appeared that there was no obvious explanation, she was almost glad that Conor would be there.

‘So what’s this request?’

‘That you don’t walk around half-naked. And perhaps avoid wearing those shorts you had on yesterday around the house.’

‘What’s wrong with my shorts?’ her voice rose in pique. They were her favourites. Who was he to dictate what she wore? He could go sing. From now on, she’d wear them all the time in the house, no matter what the weather.

‘There’s nothing wrong with the shorts. It’s the legs.’

‘What’s wrong with my legs?’ That stung; if there was one part of her body she liked, it was most definitely her legs. Her sister had got the womanly curves and Hannah had got longish legs and a disappointingly flat chest. She’d have thought their genes could have been a bit more fairly shared out but apparently not.

‘Oh mother of God, woman. I’ve told you I don’t sleep with guests ever.’