Chapter Four
THE NEXT MORNING Ivy ran a hand over the gleaming coffee machine. It hadn’t been in the kitchen yesterday. A proper cup of coffee wasn’t something WillowGlen was renowned for.
Plagued by what-ifs, sleep had been difficult; her mind whirling with grief, shock and wanting to do the best for Ruby. All the while knowing Ethan was down the hall.
She’d counted down the early morning hours thanks to the chimes of the grandfather clock and had finally fallen into a broken sleep, filled with nightmares she couldn’t quite remember. When she’d woken, she desperately needed coffee and a hot shower, in that order.
From her bedroom vantage point, she’d seen Ethan head out for a run, and had quickly wrapped herself in Ruby’s old dressing gown. Her suitcase was woefully unprepared for a chilly English autumn and a manor house without adequate heating as she’d come straight from Australia.
When the lies about her and Ben had surfaced, four weeks ago, it had coincided with the unexpected funding collapse for her latest movie, which had also happened at the same time her friend Alison had broken her hand.
Alison, a writer she’d met early in her career, had eight-month-old twins and a husband who was off mustering in outback Australia.
A friend who’d constantly refused any financial help but had jumped at her offer to stay and help, even though her knowledge of babies had been minimal.
Between them, they’d managed the exhaustive round of nappy changes, preparing bottles, cleaning and cooking until Alison’s parents had returned from their trip of a lifetime in Europe and Ivy had turned her phone back on.
She’d fully expected to hear Ben had done the right thing and publicly owned up to his own actions and supported her innocence. Instead, she’d heard about Ruby.
Pulling the dressing gown belt tighter, she tried to fight off her grief as the tantalising smell of fresh coffee permeated the room.
Dark liquid filled her mug, and the second it stopped she grabbed it, took a large gulp, then closed her eyes with a blissful sigh, savouring the caffeine hit.
Quickly she took another gulp, then another.
Feeling more human, she topped up her mug and took a seat at the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen.
The large space had been modernised five years ago, after a fire had ruined the original one.
Thankfully the fire hadn’t travelled any further.
Ethan had designed and built the new one, perfectly combining elegance, functionality and Victorian charm, making it a delightful light-filled space.
Ethan! It all came back to him.
She took a deep breath. Although she had no clue as to what they would decide, she did know she’d do everything possible to get the best outcome for Ruby and her treasured WillowGlen.
No matter how he made her feel, how often she had to recall her pact, or how much she wished Ruby had asked anything else of her.
Because she couldn’t let down another person who loved her, believed in her.
Sighing, she glanced at the clock. She had ample time to shower and dress, contact her assistant with the list of things she needed to be sent and arrange any commitments to be either cancelled or rescheduled, before she met with Ethan.
The door banged open. Ivy jumped.
Ethan stopped, blinked and looked from her to the coffee machine.
‘Good. It’s on,’ he grunted and grabbed a cup.
As he faced the machine, she noted the broad heaving shoulders covered in a long-sleeved jacket, the long muscular legs clad in black running pants.
Dragging a hand over her bedhead hair, she felt exposed and vulnerable without being dressed and made up.
She knew better than to be caught unprepared, without her armour.
Still, there was no way she was going to slink out—as much as she might want to—so she forced herself to remain seated and finish her coffee.
The only sounds in the kitchen were the hiss of the machine, the ticking of the clock and the pounding of her heart. Why did he affect her the way he did by unleashing a mess of emotions that she had absolutely no room for in her life?
Ethan turned and leant back against the benchtop. A study of glistening skin and toned muscles, he encapsulated the best ad for coffee imaginable. Her mouth dried and she dragged her gaze from him to the coffee machine.
‘Do you travel with it?’ she asked, pointing to the machine, her voice unnaturally high and loud.
‘No. But I couldn’t stay here without decent coffee. I’m sure Ruby would understand, despite one of those coffee monstrosities now sullying her kitchen.’
‘I’m sure she would.’ Ivy laughed.
Finally, something they agreed on.
Ruby had hated the smell of coffee, insisted it made her feel sick, and one of her few rules was…
no coffee infiltrating her home. One they had all followed, until now.
Any coffee had been consumed at the local café, something Ivy had missed out on over the years, because after the infamous party, she’d always remained away from the village when visiting.
Ethan smiled, a flash of white teeth and a hint of a dimple reminding her of the charming, playful man she’d met eight years ago.
She stared, her mouth gaping, until she propelled herself into action.
‘Right. I’ll see you at ten in the dining room, as planned.’ She walked out with as much dignity as she could, wearing an ancient floral dressing gown and reeling from an attraction that she had no right to be feeling. One that she’d have to eradicate, immediately.
* * *
Ethan warmed his hands in front of the dining room’s blazing fire he’d lit earlier and stared into it, his mind on Ivy Flame. Was that how she’d chosen her name? Because she was dangerous, unpredictable and burnt everything she touched?
He gripped the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected to see her in the kitchen this morning, holding a cup of coffee like her life depended on it.
Devoid of make-up, hair tousled and wearing a dressing gown that looked as old as the Manor, it was the only time he hadn’t seen her dressed to kill.
She should’ve looked a mess but instead had been far too enticing and real…
and he’d liked that version far more than made him comfortable.
Just like the unwelcome moment of shared connection when she’d laughed. It had flowed through him, revving him up more than the coffee he’d drunk, as an answering laugh had bubbled inside him until he’d slammed it down.
He. Would. Not. Be. Distracted. By. Her.
The ever-reliable grandfather clock chimed the hour and, right on cue, Ivy arrived, wearing a red dress with a high slit, revealing tantalising long legs. It wouldn’t keep her warm, although it certainly had heat coursing through him.
He’d expected a movie star entrance, along with a complete lack of regard for timeliness. He was wrong on both counts.
Belatedly he realised she carried a tray laden with a silver tea service and two fragile-looking cups and a plate of biscuits, and he moved aside the antique candelabra for her to place the tray at the head of the gleaming dining room table which seated eighteen.
‘I know you’re a coffee drinker, but I thought we’d start the meeting with tea, just like Ruby would have done. And I made some Anzac biscuits—something I always did when visiting her,’ Ivy said quickly.
Ivy had baked?
In a clingy red dress and matching heels more suited to an afternoon on the French Riveria? Without any fanfare or camera crew?
What was she playing at?
‘They’re a staple in Australia. I hope you like them.’
A hint of vulnerability pushed through her words. Why was she nervous?
‘Thank you.’ Ethan cleared his throat and opened his laptop after he and Ivy both sat and had a cup and biscuit in front of them. ‘Let’s get down to details.’
Thirty minutes later they’d amicably gone through all the staff, agreed on a sizable pay rise and given them all paid leave for the next six weeks, with the exception of the cleaner and groundskeeper, who lived together in a cottage on the edge of the estate.
Ivy leant forward and once again that hint of something fresh and inviting, reminding him of springtime, wafted over him. Instinctively he inhaled, wanting to store it forever.
He winced and rubbed a hand over his head, because it had obviously been deprived of oxygen during his punishing morning run and round of push-ups that had had his muscles screaming and sweat blurring his vision.
He’d smelt nice perfume before and seen women wearing red dresses and matching lipstick.
But the combination on Ivy short-circuited his brain.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t let her get under his skin. Moving his chair back, he stretched out his legs, creating a bigger barrier between them, needing to bring his A game to their first brainstorming session. Nothing less was acceptable.
‘Now, on to WillowGlen,’ she said.
Exactly, because the sooner they got started, the quicker they could make a decision and then they wouldn’t need to spend their remaining time here jammed together.
Hardly an accurate description of the two of them sharing an end of the enormous mahogany table, but distance from her was proving to be a necessity.
He refused to acknowledge that being apart didn’t seem to have made a difference, since she’d haunted his dreams last night in a totally unacceptable X-rated manner.
The space between them pulsated. Endless seconds ticked by. Until she blinked, looked down, then back at him, her expression now all business.
‘Problem?’ she asked.