‘And forget about it—no…’ He came over to her and folded her in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head, his hand slowly stroking her hair. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he told her huskily, ‘and I know you’re right. I promise I’ll do my best to try to cultivate a more positive attitude…
‘This afternoon, when I’d started to come down a little, I told myself how lucky I’ve been… not just because of the unit, but because I’ve been given a chance to… to see what lies ahead and to prepare for it.
‘I’m not going to lie to you and pretend I feel any differently about it—I don’t… but perhaps I can learn to feel differently. In fact,’ he added softly, drawing her closer, ‘I’ve already thought of one way I can make very good use of all this free time I’m ultimately going to have—a leisure activity eminently suitable for a man of my age with a proven beneficial effect on the cardiovascular system. You haven’t got anything planned for this evening, have you…?’
‘This evening…?’ Elizabeth laughed, and teased him, ‘All evening…?’ as his hand stroked up over her body and lingered caressingly against her breast.
‘All evening,’ Richard confirmed, laughing with her.
‘Mmm…’ Her mouth curled into a smile as he kissed the side of her throat. ‘Fifty pence says you can’t…’
‘You’re on,’ Richard told her.
Elizabeth felt him move slightly, and as she peered over his shoulder she saw that he had the fingers of his free hand crossed behind his back.
She was still laughing as she turned to walk upstairs with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE Volvo estate car Blake arrived to pick her up in wasn’t somehow the kind of car she had expected a man of his professional stature to drive; a top-of-the-range Jaguar, BMW or Mercedes would have been more the type of car Philippa would have expected him to own—shiny and expensive, rather than merely comfortable and clean.
Andrew would have been highly disdainful, but then Andrew had always placed too much emphasis on outward show and material possessions.
It had been hard to know exactly what to wear this morning—or perhaps easier to worry about her clothes than all the other issues her decision to accept Blake’s job offer had raised. Had she been working in an office it would have been much easier—a suit, a skirt and blouse—but what did a housekeeper-cum-surrogate mother wear?
Bearing in mind the fact that she was going to be meeting Anya’s social worker as well as Anya herself, Philippa had opted for a simple plain white T-shirt and her jeans, but had brought with her a navy jacket she could wear to add a touch of formality if it proved necessary.
A little to her surprise, Blake was wearing almost exactly the same sort of outfit, except that he did not have the jacket, and the T-shirt he was wearing moulded the contours of his body far more snugly than her own did hers.
Inadvertently she found herself looking at him for just that little bit too long.
His forearms were taut and sinewy, with far more muscle than she would have expected in a man whose occupation was mainly sedentary; his skin was tanned a warm golden-brown, a legacy from the time he had spent in America, she guessed.
Even the soft furring of hair on his arms had a faint golden sheen to it… Would the rest of his body hair be the same colour or slightly darker still, the way she r
emembered it?
Her stomach did a somersault.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes… Yes, I’m fine…’ Instinctively she took a step back from him, widening the gap between them before risking meeting his eyes.
When she saw that they were registering only good-mannered concern, she relaxed slightly.
‘I’m glad you’ve dressed casually,’ he approved as he opened the car door for her. ‘Anya’s parents were more concerned with their cause than their appearance and she tends to be slightly afraid of anyone dressed too formally or in uniform.
‘She’s never actually been to South America, of course, but her parents still lived there spiritually in many ways. An overriding point in my favour as far as the Social Services were concerned is the fact that with me she would have the opportunity to become more integrated into the mainstream of everyday life; she’s completely fluent in Spanish, but she’s never had a doll and appears more knowledgeable about the difficulties of arming revolutionaries than she does about playing games with other children.’
‘That isn’t necessarily a disadvantage,’ Philippa commented drily. ‘In fact I should think it would make her extremely popular with her peers. Children are all potential revolutionaries…’
‘With adults their oppressors?’ Blake suggested, laughing.
As Philippa shared his laughter she was sharply aware of how much shared adult male-to-female laughter had been missing from her life.
Andrew had not had a good sense of humour, frowning disapprovingly whenever he’d heard the boys telling her jokes. Philippa had the suspicion that he’d considered that spontaneous genuine laughter in a woman was somehow something not quite acceptable… like spontaneous genuine enjoyment of sex?
Quickly she dismissed the thought, clipping on her seatbelt as Blake started the car. As she glanced over her shoulder she noticed a dog guard lying in the back of the car.