Savage Awakening

‘He lives in the village,’ she said regretfully. ‘I suppose he recognised you.’

Matt finished his tea and set his empty mug down on the counter. ‘Did he ever,’ he said, pulling a wry face. ‘Oh, well, I guess a week is better than nothing.’

‘You might be surprised.’ Fliss finished her own tea and, to his surprise, moved to the sink to wash up the cups. ‘Most of the villagers tend to mind their own business.’

‘Do they?’

Matt spoke almost absently, his eyes unwillingly drawn to the vulnerable curve of her nape. She’d tugged her hair to one side and secured it with a tortoiseshell clip, and the slender start of her spine was exposed.

He wasn’t thinking, or he would have looked away, but instead his eyes moved down over the crossed braces of her dungarees. A narrow waist dipped in above the provocative swell of her bottom, the loose trousers only hinting at the lushness of her hips and thighs. Her legs were longer then he’d imagined, her ankles trim below the cuffs of her trousers.

‘What do you mean?’

Her words arrested whatever insane visions he had been having, and he shook his head as if that would clear his brain. For God’s sake, what was he doing? And what was she talking about? He was damned if he could remember.

‘I beg your pardon?’

His apology was automatic, but her expression as she turned towards him fairly simmered with resentment. ‘You said, Do they?’ she reminded him tightly. ‘What did you mean?’

Matt didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. For a moment there, he’d been entertaining himself with the thought that he was just the same as any other man. Of course, he wasn’t, but she didn’t know that. And she probably thought he was leering at her like any other member of his sex.