A Convenient Proposal

All her fine words about the need for them to remain as just friends, to keep their distance, and she had practically eaten him.

'Oh, no…' She opened her eyes to stare into the room and met Tabitha's brilliant green gaze from where the cat had settled herself in the basket again with the sleeping kittens. You see what passion does? it seemed to say as the cat lowered her head to her family. Here today and gone tomorrow.

Candy levered herself off the door and walked into the kitchen, plugging in the kettle and making herself a strong cup of instant coffee with hands that were shaking. She felt cheap. Cheap and ridiculous. And she had never felt like that before in all her life, not even in the fiasco of the few minutes before the crash when Harper had admitted he had been using her all along.

Quinn had been totally up front with her from day one. He had made it crystal-clear that the last thing on his agenda—the very last—was any thought of commitment or a permanent relationship with anyone, and what had she done? Virtually invited him into her bed! And it had been Quinn who had stopped. Quinn who had walked away. Oh, hell…

She drank the coffee straight down and made herself another cup, drinking it curled on the thick rug by the cat basket as she stroked the purring Tabitha and watched the drowsy kittens' enchanting little faces.

She felt better after a while. They had just kissed, she told herself firmly. All right, so it had been passionate, mind-blowing, but nevertheless it had been just a kiss. They had been entwined so closely she had felt every inch of him against her as though they were naked, but they hadn't been naked. The taste, the feel, the smell of him was stamped on her so indelibly she felt she would never be the same again, but a bath, a good night's sleep, and she would awake feeling like Candy Grey again.

She had to keep a sense of proportion about this.

It was another ten minutes before she went upstairs and ran herself a hot bath, generously laced with a madly expensive bubble bath she normally kept for special occasions, in Essie's pretty little bathroom. She undressed quickly, flinging the black dress and underwear in a corner of the bedroom and padding through to the bathroom stark naked, there to lie in the warm, silky water for nearly thirty minutes.

It took her over an hour to drift into an exhausted sleep once she was in bed and even then she didn't sink deeply into slumber immediately, but skimmed in and out of vivid, disturbing dreams where she was chasing someone, endlessly, through confusing dark corridors, until the beginnings of a pink-edged dawn began to make itself known.

She awoke then, padded into the bathroom and drank a glass of water and returned to bed, and this time dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep where there were no yesterdays, no tomorrows, just welcome oblivion.

CHAPTER FIVE

It took every ounce of Candy's will-power to sound cool and calm and collected when Quinn phoned the cottage the next day. She had finally surfaced just after eleven, and after a perfunctory toilet had dressed quickly in jeans and a thick jumper, bundled her hair into a ponytail and left to fetch the Sunday papers.

Once home again, and with the fire blazing, she had settled down on the sofa with the papers and a cup of coffee, before fixing herself a light lunch of cheese omelette and cold meat, which she ate in front of the fire with Tabitha on the sofa at the side of her helping her out with the home-cured ham and chicken.

She had bought a furry clockwork mouse the week before for Alfie and his sisters, Jemima and Poppy, along with a couple of other small toys, and the entertainment the trio, provided through the winter afternoon was better than any TV.

Teatime came and went, and Candy resolutely avoided glancing at the telephone, but then when it rang, at eight o'clock in the evening, her stomach jumped into her mouth and she knew she had been waiting for this moment all day. Of course it might not be Quinn, she told herself as she lifted the receiver. He had said he would call her but he hadn't been specific as to when.

'Candy?' The deep, dark voice was smooth and friendly. 'Hi, it's Quinn.'

'Hallo, Quinn.' Hallo, Quinn. She felt an almost hysterical urge to giggle at the calmness of her voice when she had been turning herself inside out half the night over this man. She gripped the receiver tightly and said coolly, 'Thanks again for a lovely evening last night. It was great to meet everyone.'

'My pleasure.'

Oh, they were being so polite, but that was better than performing a painful and embarrassing post-mortem that would help neither of them, Candy thought soberly.

'There's a few of us meeting for a drink in the Saddler's Arms in half an hour,' Quinn said easily, 'and I wondered if you were free to join us. I could pick you up if you like?'

She moved the telephone away from her ear and stared blankly at it for a second or two. Last night hadn't affected him one tiny bit! Here she'd been, in a state of controlled dithering all day, unable to paint or to put her mind to anything, and he was as cool as a cucumber. She didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or ay, but in the event she called on her considerable source of pride and said pleasantly, 'That would have been nice but I'm in the middle of something. Can I take a raincheck?'

'Sure. Look, I'm on call for the rest of the week, so I doubt if I'll get the chance to phone again. About Jeff and Lynn's party on Saturday? I'll pick you up round eightish, if that's okay?'

She took a long, deep breath and then said brightly, 'Absolutely, I'll be ready. Goodbye, Quinn.'

The briefest of pauses, and then, 'Goodbye, Candy.'

Candy sat looking at the telephone for a full minute after she had replaced the receiver. He was an unfeeling brute. All right, so he'd looked devastated when he'd spoke about his wife and son, but as far as now was concerned, as far as she was concerned, he couldn't care less. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that his lovemaking last night had been the most shattering experience of her whole life and it had left him cold. Emotionally at least He'd certainly been physically turned on, she thought with a measure of bitter satisfaction, although even then it had been Quinn who had called a halt.

She shook her head, sucking in then expelling an irritable sigh. Enough of this! She wasn't going to waste one more minute worrying about Quinn Ellington. He had set the ground rules and she would make sure they kept to them from now on. Never, never would she put herself in such a vulnerable position again. Last night had been a definite one-off and if he thought differently then she would put him wise in no uncertain terms. Escort—fine, friend—fine, lover—no way.

Over the next three weeks until Christmas it became clear that Quinn had no intention of repeating his brief lapse from being strictly platonic.

They went to Jeff and Lynn's party and Candy found she enjoyed herself thoroughly, and when Quinn took her home his inspection of the cottage was brief and cool and he had gone before she knew it, with nothing more controversial than a brief peck on her cheek.

She joined Quinn and some of his friends at the Saddler's Arms the following evening, when he repeated his invitation from the week before, but she insisted on driving herself and meeting Quinn there.

Quinn was the epitome of the attentive boyfriend whilst they had an audience, but when he walked her out to her car parked at the rear