In Her Secret Fantasy (4 page)

“No, it’s all in hand. You could open the red wine—just keep it away from Dad.”

Aidan pulled the bottle from the cupboard. “Nice. Shame to waste it on a hangover.”

Louise cast him a grin. “Had a good time at Dan’s, then?”

“Aye, it was fun. Good to see them all again. It’s like another life now.” As if Ardknocken had stayed still and only he’d changed. But no, that wasn’t right either. Dan had grown up too. And even the village had altered.

He drove the corkscrew into the bottle and twisted. “Ran into Chrissy Lennox on the beach when I was walking home. Watching the seals.”

In fact, he hadn’t run into her. He’d actually been contemplating cutting across to the big house to see if the party was still going, when he’d caught sight of her unique shape from the path. He’d wondered where she was going with such purpose, and followed her. When she’d disappeared from his view, he’d left the path, climbed down the shorter, more dangerous route and surprised her doing nothing more criminal than watching the resting seals.

Had he really expected her to be hauling in a drug shipment on her own and storing it up at Ardknocken House? Actually, he was pretty sure she wasn’t involved in any crime at all. But he still had one more mission before he left the police for good—to find and shut down the heroin supply line that most probably centred at Ardknocken House, her place of work.

Chrissy had been different last night, much more relaxed and natural, almost playful when she didn’t feel…threatened, he could only surmise. He supposed he’d loomed over her and lusted at the harbour. And when she’d been in the house last night, he’d probably oozed disapproval. But on the beach…she’d joined in his old game with the seals almost like a child. A city kid. And whatever cares she carried seemed to vanish. Until he’d driven her to defend her pet project again.

With a hint of laughable jealousy he wondered if one of the convicts was her lover. He’d have suspected Brody if he wasn’t so obviously in a relationship with Izzy.

“Who was she with?” Louise asked eagerly. She loved relationship gossip. Aidan supposed it was a girl thing. Reinforced by enforced solitude.

“No one. She was on her own.” He placed the open wine bottle on the shelf above the cupboards. “How well do you know her?”

Louise shrugged. “Better since Izzy started working up at the big house. She’s nice. Friendly, funny. Izzy likes her.”

“Izzy likes Glenn Brody.”

“Aye, she does,” Louise exclaimed with rare irritability, “and so do I! Not that I was best pleased when she went to work up there. In fact, I was terrified for her, to be honest, used to watch for her coming home.”

Aidan gave a twisted smile. “Count all her fingers and toes out and in again?”

Louise laughed. “Something like that. Then Chrissy organized a sort of event at the house, while the television people were there doing their haunting programme, and Morag and I went there with Izzy and Jack and Harry MacConnell. And the scary Glasgow convicts weren’t so scary. They make rather beautiful furniture and paint pictures and play music and cook. They’re not interested in robbing you or hurting you. They’re just trying to make a better life for themselves.”

Aidan regarded her. “I hear the voice of Chrissy Lennox.”

“Maybe,” Louise allowed. “But I think it’s true. And I know Glenn was probably a scary bastard before he went inside. He still
looks
a scary bastard, but I don’t think he is. He’s actually quite shy and funny and fiercely loyal. He looks after those guys as if they’re his kids. And since he met Izzy, he even smiles.”

“Was his smile broken too?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Aidan said. He turned, resting his hip against the kitchen table. “So, is Chrissy with anyone up there?”

He was ready for her suspicion and archness. Her look gave him both, but at least she answered.

“Not with anyone at all, that I know of. But we’re not really that close. My feeling is, she’d never go out with anyone at the big house—it would be unprofessional. She’s fun, but she takes her job very seriously.”

The doorbell rang at that point, and he gave up his interrogation to go and let Aunt Aggie in. She squeaked and cried over him and hugged him with the strength of a body builder. The really weird thing was, he found he didn’t mind.

Chapter Four On the morning of the second of January, just as it was getting light, Chrissy woke up and lay thinking about the last couple of days. She reckoned New Year had been a success at the house. The new guys appeared to be fitting in okay. Both the party and New Year’s Day lunch had gone well, with Jim’s spectacularly good steak pie lauded by all. She’d leave them to their own devices for today as well. Although that didn’t mean she could sit and do nothing.

Throwing back the quilt, she rose and headed for the shower. There, as the water coursed over her, she found herself looking for excuses to go into the village. Because it was possible she’d run into Aidan Grieve. Annoyed with herself—she was not some teenager to hang around street corners with her pals, waiting for the boy she fancied to wander past with his—she washed herself vigorously and almost slammed out of the shower, giving herself a brisk talking-to.

She should just enjoy the feeling, the pleasurable tingles of sexual chemistry, the warmth of at least
imagining
she had the attention of an attractive and intriguing man. She’d only met him three times. She was still well in control and she really needed to keep it that way. In her heart, she knew she wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not with a man like Aidan. Maybe someone less…physical, who’d be kind to her, and gentle, take things slowly. Aidan was leaving soon. If anything was to happen between them, it couldn’t be slow. And so, nothing could happen.

And nothing would. She was reading far too much into the beach encounter with a bloke drunk on New Year libations and childhood memories. This was just a stage for her, a little push towards normality. She was thinking again about men, relationships, sex. And maybe, the next time she accompanied the lads to Fort William, she wouldn’t cold-shoulder every other man who spoke to her. With Glenn and the boys, she’d be safe.

It would, she thought, drying herself a little more slowly, be nice to have a boyfriend again. Someone who cared, someone to be close to, even if just for a little while. Unbidden, she remembered again the touch of Aidan’s cold fingers on her face, the gentle pressure of his lips on her cheek while his big, strong body stood tantalizingly close.

Would a hug have killed her? She wished she’d hugged him. He’d have felt good in her arms, just for an instant.

Stick to the selkie fantasy, she advised herself wryly. Seals in the water, swimming, playing, until one emerged, rising into a tall, gorgeous man, the sea water cascading off his fit body, running in caressing rivers over his sculpted muscles and his impressive semi-erection as he walked across the sand towards her and took her in his powerful arms.

Chrissy closed her eyes, imagining that erection pressing into her hip, exciting, arousing. She’d taste salt on his skin as she licked and kissed. His breath would come faster, due to wanting her so much. Her nipples would rub against his naked chest, making her purr with pleasure and desire. She’d look up at him, let him see her need, part her lips enticingly…

He had a face now, as he bent his head to kiss her mouth. He had Aidan’s face.

“Stop it, Chrissy,” she whispered angrily and threw the towel onto the floor. “Enough torture for one day. Do your damned job.”

So she did, spending the morning in her office on various admin tasks. She left the door open as she usually did, both to encourage anyone who needed to talk to her and to let her keep an eye on the comings and goings from the living room and kitchen. In this way, she knew who was in the house, and could gauge the friendships and relationships that made all the difference in a community like this.

Most of the guys liked their own space, but companionship was important too. She didn’t want any excessive loners or pariahs. Since the project had started up, everyone had got along pretty well, but these had been guys Glenn had known well either in prison or as a kid. The new guys who’d arrived over the last few days had applied—apart from Frog, whom she had to remember to call Thierry, and who’d been another of Glenn’s friends inside.

He passed by her door once, with Jim picking his brains about French recipes. Chrissy smiled. They walked outside together, leaving the front door wide open as usual, and she heard their feet crunch on the frost-hardened ground. She glanced towards the window, saw them pause for a quick word with Gerry, one of the new guys, who’d ambled round from the side of the house. Jim pointed towards the river, and then the village, and Gerry walked on. Exploring.

Chrissy returned to her plans. A bit later, she saw Glenn, Izzy and Jack walking towards the front door with Screw the dog, who’d been renamed Rover for Jack’s benefit. That made Chrissy smile too. No one deserved this happiness more than Glenn.

She stood up and went into the kitchen to make more coffee. Archie was there, arguing about football with Nick. Although they both got out of her way, neither of them stopped talking. This was good too.

She returned to her office and the knotty problem of evening workshop schedules. But she was right, she’d cracked it. She printed off the timetable and the leaflet ready to show to the others for approval, and then set about working out exactly how much they could afford to offer Dan MacDonald to teach a few of the guys how to grow vegetables on a larger scale than the haphazard kitchen garden.

Again footsteps outside distracted her, but this time it wasn’t any of the residents. It was Louise and Aidan.

Louise looked elfin and pretty with a knitted hat pulled over her blond locks, her cheeks pink from the cold and the exertion of walking up the hill. Aidan, although he took Chrissy’s breath away just by being there, didn’t seem remotely out of breath. He just looked curious, his eyes scanning the house and surrounding grounds as he strolled towards the front door. He wore slightly battered blue jeans and a black leather jacket over a grey hoodie—an odd, rumpled combination that shouldn’t have looked good and did. On him, at least.

Chrissy’s stomach somersaulted. What the hell were they doing here? She could count the number of times Louise had been on one hand, and they’d all been by invitation. Socializing was done largely in the village. And Aidan…Aidan had all a policeman’s suspicions.

Louise’s voice shouted, “Hello?” through the front door, and Chrissy pulled herself together, jumping up and crossing the room to the hall with a cheerful greeting on her lips.

“Come in!” she said brightly. “Damn, it’s cold. These guys never shut the door.” She pushed the door closed, smiling still at Louise because that was easier. “You’re just in time for coffee.”

“I hear it’s always coffee time! We’ve come to see Izzy, actually, and she said I should drag you up with us because you shouldn’t be working today.”

“I’m only pottering,” Chrissy said, risking a quick glance at Aidan. She needn’t have worried. His attention was on the house, on Dougie and Charlie slouched in front of the television in the living room. Relief fought with niggling disappointment. “You won’t have seen the new flat in all its glory? Come on.”

She led the way upstairs, wishing she could see Aidan’s reaction to the house, to what they’d done with it. Rab had sanded and varnished the whole staircase and although there was, as yet, no carpet to add graciousness, it looked pretty fabulous to Chrissy. Music drifted out of a couple of the open bedroom doors, but on the whole, the house was quiet.

“Peaceful,” Louise observed.

“Holiday,” Chrissy said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. “Come up this time tomorrow and we’ll be a hive of activity.”

“Doing what?” Aidan asked.

“You should show him around, Chrissy,” Louise advised. “He thinks the guys just lie around extorting money from charities.”

“No, that’s my job,” Chrissy said. “The boys do the real work.” She walked along the hall, past the locked door of what had once been Glenn’s bedroom, to the attic door. Charlie had made them a nameplate for Christmas, a picture of the sea with the names Glenn, Izzy and Jack inscribed.

“Nice touch,” Louise said while Chrissy rapped on the door.

“I thought so. Charlie made it. Now he’s making one for Jack’s bedroom.”

A clatter on the stairs preceded the opening door and Jack grinned at them while Screw bounded down the stairs, barking.

“Hello!” Jack greeted them. “Mum! It’s Louise and Chrissy and the man!”

“Aidan,” Louise whispered to him, and Jack grinned at “the man” without noticeable repentance.

Appearing at the top of the stairs, Izzy called hello and gestured eagerly for them to come up. “Sorry, I was rescuing a cake from the oven,” she said.

“Ah, cake
and
coffee,” Louise said appreciatively as they climbed.

“Well, no, not unless you like your cake—ah—compact. And black. Even Rover ignored the bit I dropped on the floor.”

“Can’t be a domestic goddess all the time,” Chrissy sympathized.

“Any of the time would be good. I think I’ll leave the baking to Jim.”

By then, they’d reached the top of the stairs and the living room.

“Oh wow,” Louise said. “Izzy, this is beautiful! Show me everything!”

“I can make the coffee, if you like,” Chrissy volunteered. “Louise’ll burst if you make her wait.”

For some reason, that brought Aidan’s gaze to her face. Amused, perhaps. Or just curious as to the nature of her friendship with his sister. She didn’t look at him to find out.

“Thanks, Chrissy,” Izzy said. “Not sure where Glenn is.”

Chrissy made her escape to the kitchen, filling the kettle, finding the large cafetiere and heaping in the ground coffee. She could hear Louise’s impressed exclamations and Jack’s proud voice as he showed off his bedroom. Chrissy smiled and took a bottle of milk from the fridge.

She was just pouring the boiled water over the coffee when a shadow in the doorway caused her to glance over her shoulder. Her heart lurched. Aidan stood there, leaning one broad shoulder against the doorframe.

“Need a hand?” he offered.

“If you’re bored with interior design, you can carry the tray,” she said lightly, laying down the kettle and fitting the lid to the cafetiere.

“Not bored—impressed, actually. Like most of the village, I saw the house when it went on the market ten years ago. The attics were a mess. I’d never have imagined you could turn them into this.”

“Glenn’s vision, Izzy’s taste.” Chrissy added the sugar bowl to the tray and tracked down the mugs.

“Whose money?” Aidan asked.

Chrissy frowned. “The little old lady’s. The one the guys mugged in Ardknocken High Street.”

Aidan didn’t even smile. “I’m serious. I know how Brody bought this house and what it cost him. How come the co-operative makes enough money for a major alteration like this?”

Bastard. Total bastard.
She hadn’t even seen it coming. Chrissy set down the last mug and gazed deliberately into his face. “It’s none of your business.”

“True. But you’re the one who insists everything’s on the level here.”

Chrissy stared a moment longer in silence. Anger—and hurt because she’d imagined they’d made a connection on New Year’s night—urged her to tell him nothing. But Glenn had made no secret about this, and Aidan was an ex-cop. He could start an unwelcome investigation with one word, and although there was nothing to hide, the upheaval would set the project back weeks or even months. And reverse the gradual erosion of the village suspicions.

She curled her lip. “Glenn earned a large fee for music he wrote for one of the big computer game companies. They commissioned some more, with a substantial advance. Even paying his share to the co-operative, he had enough to pay for this outright. Lewis Dunn in the village did the building work. He had some cheap extra labour from his son and friends. If you ask, Lewis might show you his books. Rab and the others put in some work for free. From friendship, if you understand the word. Rab renovated the dining table and the wardrobes. Most of the furniture’s second hand. I don’t know if Izzy kept her receipts. You want any further information,
Officer
, you’ll have to go the horse’s mouth.”

Aidan’s face remained impassive, although his eyes did search hers continuously. “I’ve made you angry,” he observed at last.

“I hadn’t realized you were a detective,” she spat.

A smile flickered across his face. “You know I only voiced what most of the village has been wondering. I hear you meet all their suspicions with calm and patient friendliness. What’s so different about me?”

Her lips parted without permission, and she snapped them closed again. She’d no idea how to answer that. No idea why his question made her so bloody furious.

He was here to snoop, not to see her.

Jesus, what was the matter with her?

“Maybe,” she snapped, “because you’re abusing a man’s hospitality to cast aspersions and pry.”

His eyebrows flew up. Something changed in his eyes, but she didn’t hang around to see. Dragging her gaze free at last, she grabbed up the tray.

He moved into the kitchen to meet her. “Let me—”

Brought up short by the obstacle of his body, she halted. “Fuck
off
,” she said between her teeth and brushed past him. At the last moment, she made the mistake of glaring up at his face, and her anger fell away like a dropped coat.

There was no annoyance in his eyes, no amusement or even apology. Just a weird, wintry desperation, something haunted, troubled to the point of pain. More than his smile was broken. And somehow, she’d reminded him.

His lashes shut down. He stood aside, and the best thing she could do for either of them was get the hell out of the kitchen.

Izzy and Louise were jabbering in the living room once more.

“Oh, I haven’t seen the kitchen yet!” Louise exclaimed.

“A treat for last,” Chrissy said inanely, setting down the tray.

“Where’s Aidan?”

Before Chrissy was obliged to think of an answer, Jack said, “He’s going downstairs with Glenn.”

“Drat him,” Louise said. “That was the other reason we came, Izzy. You know you’ve paid for the B & B flat until the end of the year?”

“It’s past the end of the year,” Izzy acknowledged, plunging the cafetiere.