Page 13 of All Summer Long

Downstairs, Robinson battled to get to grips with the Aga.

He wasn’t the keenest of cooks, but back home he could at least turn the damn oven on.

Where were the controls? This thing was straight out of Downton Abbey .

Hunkered down on his haunches in front of it, he tried to decide which of the doors to open first. It would probably have been easier to concentrate if he hadn’t been distracted by the fact that there was a mermaid in his bathtub.

The house was big enough for him not to be able to hear her up there, but it didn’t stop his mind from wondering how much better that bubble bath looked now that she was in it.

The weather here had been such that he’d seen barely more than Alice’s bare feet and the graceful sweep of her neck, but he had a rich imagination and had no problem filling in the blanks.

Her skin would be silk smooth and pale as double cream, probably flushed pink from the heat of the fire and the bathwater.

Her hair would be piled up on top of her head, and she’d be resting her neck back on the roll top of the bath, her eyes closed.

Or would her eyes be open as she watched the flames dancing in the hearth?

He hoped she was relaxed. In his head she was.

Blissfully, bonelessly relaxed. Were the bubbles deep enough to submerge her completely, or would they afford him a glimpse of her body here and there?

He decided that they probably would. He could see the gleam of her shoulders in the candle light, and lower, the hint of her breasts just beneath the foam.

If he blew softly, the bubbles would reveal them.

Instinct told him her nipples would be pink, like the roses beneath the front windows of the manor.

The chill of being exposed would stiffen them, and the smallest of smiles would cross Alice’s mouth.

Did she just arch, the tiniest of movements to give him a better view?

He followed the line of her body down, the soft curve of stomach, the flare of her hip …

in Robinson’s head he was already pulling his t-shirt over his head and shucking off his jeans to slide into those bubbles and pull her against him, skin to skin.

Jeez, she’d feel warm. Hot. A darn sight hotter than the casserole Hazel had dropped round earlier would be if he didn’t decide which of these oven doors to open and put it in.

Robinson scrubbed his hands through his hair and stood up, way too far down the road towards bathing with Alice to think straight about kitchen appliances.

Maybe there was a microwave around here instead.

Upstairs, Alice sank back in the cradle of foamy bubbles and could have cried with pleasure, both physically because her body ached and emotionally because she loved this room so much.

She let her lashes close, and for a few moments she let her head and heart pretend that she lived here again.

It was a toss-up which she missed more these days; the manor itself or the man she’d hoped to live in it for ever with.

It was so hard living in such close proximity without being able to come and go as she pleased.

Her life was busy and her head full of plans and schemes, but it was distinctly lacking in luxury.

This was what she missed. This room, this bathtub, this bliss.

But there was more to it than that. Since Brad had left, she’d lived here alone.

Borne Manor was too big for one; it was too big for two really, but being alone in the manor had been decidedly lonely, and being here right now with Robinson reminded her of how she’d hoped married life would feel when they’d first moved in.

The reality had never quite lived up to her expectations, in all honesty, and it wasn’t the house’s fault, it was Brad’s.

It was a hard truth to acknowledge, but this simple experience of having a bath drawn for her and dinner cooked downstairs had never happened before.

Her eyes moved around the room. The jug of flowers that were all recognisable from the gardens of the manor, the glow of the fire, the creamy candle reflected against the dark windows.

She’d bathed in this room countless times, but she couldn’t have created this atmosphere for herself because the necessary element that made it special was the intent behind it, the thoughtful gesture, the planned surprise.

Robinson had gone further tonight to please her than her husband had in as long as she could remember.

Alice padded into the kitchen to find Robinson had laid two plates on the scrubbed table, a couple of wine glasses and an open bottle of red beside them.

She was glad he’d opted for the simplicity of the kitchen table rather that the formality of the dining room, it had been her own choice when she’d lived here most of the time too.

‘Better?’ he said, looking up from the other side of the room where he was fiddling with the dial on the microwave.

‘About a million times,’ Alice said, feeling self-conscious in her robe even though it was as demure as her usual clothes were in terms of coverage.

The crucial difference was that one good tug on the robe’s belt and she’d be naked.

The thought had her double-checking to make sure she’d tied it securely.

‘Need some help?’ She crossed to stand beside him and tried to peer through the smoked-glass microwave door. ‘What’s in there?’

‘Hazel dropped a casserole in earlier,’ he said, pinging the door open to show her the bowl of hot stew bubbling inside. ‘I think it’s probably ready.’

‘Really? She never brought me so much as a welcome to the village card when I moved in,’ Alice said, smiling as Robinson slid the hot dish onto the table. ‘You obviously made a bigger first impression on her than I did.’

Privately, Alice had to acknowledge that this didn’t come as any great shock. She reached for a serving spoon from the drawer on autopilot, then remembered it wasn’t her kitchen any longer.

‘Sorry,’ she said, hovering the spoon halfway between the table and going back into the drawer.

‘It’s fine, Alice, relax,’ he said, pulling out a chair for her. ‘I wasn’t sure where to look. You helped.’

He had an easy way about him that encouraged those around him to feel easy too, and Alice found herself sitting down and letting him ladle food onto their plates. Sniffing the steam, she tried to decide what it was and failed.

Robinson picked up his cutlery. ‘Hazel mentioned wild boar and sweet potato, I think?’

Right. So that would be why Alice couldn’t identify the intense looking meal in front of her. Knowing Hazel she’d probably thrown in a few extra ingredients in the hope of impressing their famous new neighbour.

‘That’s, an, err, interesting combination,’ Alice tried, waiting for Robinson to try his before she braved hers. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers for a brief second and then dipped his fork in and put it in his mouth. A few seconds later, he nodded, his eyebrows raised.

‘It’s … it’s not bad, actually.’

Alice tried a little and had to agree, although Hazel had gone in heavy-handed with the chilli.

‘I think she said she’d put chocolate in it too?

’ Robinson poured wine into their glasses.

Alice nodded, wondering what other ingredients Hazel might have thrown into the pot.

As the unusual concoction slid into her body, she couldn’t help but ask herself if there were a few aphrodisiacs in there along with the wild boar and chocolate.

Sipping her wine to wash the food down, she watched Robinson eat for a few moments.

He really was a ridiculously good-looking man, all cheekbones and dark lashes as he looked down at his plate.

His faded red t-shirt did nothing at all to hide the strength of his shoulders and deeply tanned biceps, and the fine downy hair on his arms had been turned burnished gold by sunlight.

He wasn’t model hot. He was healthy, real-man hot, and at that moment Alice found herself inexplicably attracted to him on the most basic of man–woman levels.

He looked up at that moment and seemed to see right inside her head, sending a flush running up from her neck to her hairline.

‘Okay?’ he said softly.

She nodded. ‘Think so.’

‘Did I do the wrong thing?’ He drank a little wine, watching her. ‘I didn’t stop to think about how this might make you feel, Alice.’

‘How can being kind be wrong?’

He shrugged. ‘I see how much you love this house. I didn’t mean to remind you of what you’re missing.’ He paused. ‘Happy memories and all that.’

He really was a perceptive man. ‘I do love this house, Robinson, you’re right. But my memories … they’re not all happy ones.’

The expression on his face told her that he knew exactly where she was coming from. He ate in silence for a couple of minutes, and then laid his cutlery down again.

‘I guess we’re both doing the same thing in our own way, Alice. I’m here because I couldn’t stand to be back home any more. Are you in the Airstream for the same reason, because you didn’t want to live in the house without your husband?’

Alice shook her head.

‘It’s not that, to be honest.’

She swirled her wine around in her glass, trying to find the right words.

‘This house was never Brad’s dream. It was always mine. We didn’t get to make that many good memories here in the end.’

‘That surprises me,’ he said. ‘It seems like a decent kind of place to lay down foundations.’

Alice nodded. ‘I thought so. Brad just … I don’t know. His life was in London, being here turned out to be too much of a compromise for him.’

‘You weren’t tempted to sell up and go back to the city with him?’

Alice huffed softly. ‘We never had sensible conversations about it. He made his choices without talking to me, including the choice to go to bed with his co-star off screen as well as on.’

Robinson’s green eyes glittered. ‘Tough on you, darlin’.’

She couldn’t deny it. ‘It was. It is.’

Robinson refilled her wine glass.

‘At least you’ve only run as far as the end of the garden. I’m half way round the world and can officially say love still sucks.’

Alice touched her glass against his.

‘Here’s to the official launch of Borne’s broken hearts society.’

‘Let’s throw our very own pity party, Goldilocks,’ he said, pushing his half-eaten food away. ‘I think I’m done with that.’

Alice did the same, surprised that she’d eaten so much in the circumstances, and wondering again if Hazel had hidden any secret potions in the casserole because the way he called her Goldilocks warmed her insides when it should probably have pissed off her inner feminist.

‘What will you do when your six months in Borne is up?’

Robinson pushed his chair back and picked up the plates. ‘Honestly? I don’t have a goddamn clue. I kind of work on a day to day basis. Week to week, if I’m lucky.’

‘But don’t you need to get back to work at some point?

’ she asked. Surely someone with such an all-encompassing life as his would have to go back at some point.

She thought of the snippets of his concerts she’d seen, all of those fans, all of that fame.

His residence in Borne could only ever be temporary.

Robinson’s expression turned melancholy, and he splayed his hands out palm down on the table in front of him. ‘My fingers always ache for my guitar when I don’t play it,’ he said, his eyes hidden from her by his lowered lashes.

She remembered seeing his guitar upstairs in the master bedroom. ‘Can’t you?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘Right now, Alice, I can’t see myself ever making music again.’

Alice couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be for him to have lost his creativity. He was such a big, vital man, but looking at him now she could see that there was a huge part of him missing. His music.

‘Tough on you,’ she said, giving his own phrase back to him because it was so entirely appropriate for the moment. She also reached out and laid her hand over one of his, because it seemed entirely appropriate in the moment to comfort him.

His gaze stayed locked on his hands, on her hand over his, and she lowered her gaze too when his fingers curled around hers, warm and strong.

It started out as a thank you for understanding gesture and slid slowly into something else as his thumb stroked back and forth over the sensitive skin at the base of her wrist, over her racing pulse.

Alice watched the motion, feeling her breath catch in her throat.

He was heartbroken, she was heartbroken, and it was every kind of wrong, but Robinson’s touch against her skin made her desperate for him to keep going.

All the same, she gasped in surprise when he reached out and dragged her chair close enough to his for their shoulders to almost touch and then stroked the back of his fingers along her jaw.

‘Alice, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and be real honest. When Lena left me she took my heart with her in her suitcase, but sitting here right now, all I can think about is whether or not you’re naked beneath that bath robe.’