One Summer in Cornwall by Karen King (best books to read for success .TXT) 📕

asked her if I could bring my girlfriend.’ He grimaced. ‘Estelle’s a bit full on, and won’t take no for an answer, so I thought if I invented a girlfriend it might get the message across to her.’

Ah, now things were slipping into place. ‘So, you want me to come along and pretend to be your girlfriend?’

He glanced at her. ‘Sort of. I did explain all this last night.’ He frowned. ‘What do you remember about last night?’

Should she confess? She might as well, at least she’d know what went on then. ‘Not a lot after our dance, to be honest. I was . . . er . . . surprised to see your note this morning. What time did you go?’ That sounded vague enough, didn’t it? Didn’t let on she didn’t know whether he’d gone last night or this morning.

Was that amusement she saw in his eyes? ‘About one thirty. You were a bit . . . tipsy . . . so I thought I’d better see you home. I cleaned out Buddy and give him some food. Whilst I was doing that, you disappeared. I finally found you in the attic room fast asleep on the bed.

On the bed. Naked? But what about her dream of them kissing?

‘I covered you over and you gave me a kiss goodnight, then I left you a note and went home,’ he explained. ‘Did you think I’d stayed the night and taken advantage of you when you were drunk?’

She folded her arms and looked straight at him. ‘I wasn’t that drunk.’ She’d let him decide whether she meant ‘drunk enough to sleep with him’ or ‘drunk enough to forget it’.

He raised an eyebrow, then reverted his attention to turning over the bacon that was sizzling away in the pan. ‘How many eggs?’

‘One please.’ She hunted in the cupboard for two plates, then opened the bread and placed two slices on each plate. ‘Now, back to the dinner party. I really don’t have anything suitable to wear. My wardrobe consists of work clothes, casual clothes and party clothes. Nothing suitable for a party on the lawn with a Lord and Lady. I think you should probably ask someone else to go with you.’

‘There isn’t time now and you promised.’ He put the two slices of bacon on her bread then placed an egg on top. ‘I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter what you come in. We won’t stay long. Wear whatever you want.’

‘Biker leathers.’

He cut the bread in half and handed the plate to her. ‘Sure, if you want to.’

It looked like she wasn’t getting out of this. She took the sandwich and sat down at the table. ‘Thanks.’

Marcus joined her with his own sandwich.

‘A couple of hours and that’s it, right?’

‘I promise. And Hattie . . .’

She took a bite out of her sandwich and chewed it, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

‘Can you sort of play up the “being my girlfriend” bit? Make it look really convincing.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Do I need to cling onto your arm and gaze lovingly into your eyes?’

‘Nope, but a bit of affection now and again would be good.’

‘Especially around Estelle?’

‘Definitely around Estelle. The woman is a cougar.’

Hattie giggled, nearly spluttering out her sandwich. The afternoon might turn out to be fun after all.

Chapter Twenty

She’d handled that well, Marcus thought, after Hattie had gone. Not the slightest bit of coyness or embarrassment about whether they had spent the night together, yet he was pretty sure she couldn’t remember if they had, she had been practically comatose when he’d left. The image of her sprawled naked on the bed flashed across his mind. After cleaning Buddy out, he’d gone up to check that she was okay, worried about her falling down those rickety, narrow attic stairs, and had been surprised to find the attic-room door wide open and Hattie lying on the bed. He’d tried not to let his gaze linger on the beautiful curves of her body, and had quickly covered her up, then gone back down and let himself out.

Back at home, he’d sat up for a while, thinking about how it had felt to dance with Hattie, their bodies touching, swaying to the music, her head resting on his shoulder. He’d been longing to kiss her all evening, and had hesitated, trying to assess what her response would be, before he finally had, his heart soaring like a released balloon when she had kissed him back. After a couple more drinks and dances, he had seized the moment and asked her to accompany him to the birthday party today and, to his surprise and relief, she had agreed. He had suspected that it was the influence of the wine that had made her agree so readily, and wondered if she would back out this morning, but no, she’d kept her promise.

He was looking forward to showing up with Hattie by his side. He had never met anyone like her, he thought. She was so uncomplicated, unabashed and beautiful. Another woman would have freaked out that he’d seen her naked on the bed – apart from Estelle, who would have tried to drag him into it with her – or read his note this morning and felt embarrassed wondering if they had slept together. Not Hattie. She was such a free spirit.

The more he got to know Hattie, the more he liked her and realised how wrong his earlier assumptions about her were. He was ashamed of how he had acted when they first met. She hadn’t asked her uncle to leave her his cottage in his will, had she? And if her father wanted to sell his half and she couldn’t afford to buy him out, what could she do? He should make the most of her living next door, she would be gone in a few months and then there would be a stream of holidaymakers coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Gone