Watching her bite into her lip, he felt his insides clench.
‘You have a one-track mind,’ he said softly.
Her blue eyes locked with his, wide and teasing. ‘So do you.’
‘You carry on looking at me like that and I’m going to have to put you in the boot,’ he warned.
She laughed. ‘Empty threats, Milburn. The Land Rover doesn’t have a boot.’
‘We’re not going in the Land Rover, Fox,’ he said, holding open the front door.
Turning, she clamped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, my goodness. Is that a Rolls-Royce?’
The note of excitement in her voice was strangely satisfying, and he let his gaze follow hers to where the huge golden convertible crouched like a lion in the drive.
‘So this is the car Robert drives.’ She giggled. ‘I couldn’t imagine you being driven around in state in your Land Rover. But this makes more sense.’
Reaching out, she slid her fingers over the silver figurine crouching on the bonnet and he felt almost light-headed. It was dizzyingly easy to imagine those same small, delicate hands caressing his body.
‘Does she have a name?’ she asked.
‘She does.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The Spirit of Ecstasy.’
Her eyes met his, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
* * *
‘Are we here?’ Only a little while later, Frankie was glancing out of her window. Up ahead, a pair of huge wrought-iron gates rose up between the high brick walls edging the road.
He nodded. ‘This is it. Stanhope Park.’ Leaning over, he punched a number into the keypad set into the wall and waited as the gates swung open.
As the big car swept up the driveway Frankie suddenly sat up straighter, her cheeks flushed with excitement and awe. ‘Oh, wow,’ she said five minutes later, as he pulled up in front of the beautiful house.
Switching the engine off, he looked over at her. ‘Okay?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded, and then she froze, her blue eyes widening with panic. ‘But what have you told them? About us?’ She stumbled over the word. ‘I mean, about who I am...what I am to you?’
He stared at her in silence, his heart beating against his ribs, stunned by her question and by his own idiocy. It was the first question everyone would ask, only up until now he hadn’t thought to classify their relationship. It hadn’t seemed necessary. In fact, naming what he and Frankie shared felt wrong, for some reason.
But this was going to be hard enough as it was. He didn’t need to complicate matters by questioning what was, in essence, just a fling. He should follow his own advice and not overthink things.
‘I think it’ll make things simpler if we stick as close to the truth as possible. Why don’t we just say we met through Johnny and you’re up from London for a couple of days?’
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she nodded slowly. ‘That would work.’
‘Good,’ he said brusquely as the front door opened and a trio of Labradors came cantering out, followed by a tall blond man. ‘Now, come and meet Davey.’
* * *
Arlo had been right about his cousin, she thought, as Davey led them into the house. He seemed like a really nice, normal man. But, despite what Arlo had said earlier, it was difficult not to be intimidated by Stanhope Park.
It was as big as a hotel, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Davey was wearing a Tattersall check shirt, moleskin jeans, and tan-coloured brogues she would have felt as if she’d slipped through a looking glass into the seventeenth century.
Lavish gilding, Rococo tapestries and jewel-bright festoon curtains were perfectly offset by a neutral colour palette of French grey, buff, and pale green. In fact, everything was perfect, she thought, gazing round their vast bedroom.
‘I’ll leave you to get settled in.’ Davey smiled at Frankie. ‘Lunch is at two.’
Lunch. She walked slowly the length of the room, trailing her fingers over the smooth velvet and polished wood, then walked back to where Arlo was watching her calmly.