commitments, no responsibilities, no ties.
No chance of getting hurt.
But Fliss didn’t think that was any reason not to have fun when she came across a hot guy who knew exactly how to send desire skittering across her skin and lust spiralling through her nervous system.
Fliss grabbed Luke’s laptop, then curled up on the sofa with Benjy by her side.
‘What do you say, Benjy?’ she said to the dog, scratching behind his ears so that his tongue lolled out and he gazed up at her ecstatically. ‘Shall we hang around a bit and show your master how to have a good time?’
‘I know perfectly well how to have a good time,’ came the mocking reply from Luke as he entered the room. ‘And it doesn’t involve endlessly removing dog hairs from the sofa.’
Fliss grinned at him but made no attempt to move Benjy.
‘Charlie’s coming round in an hour or so,’ Luke continued. ‘One of the horses has got some heat in her fetlock and I want him to take a look at her. He’ll come up to the house afterwards and see what he can do about your cat.’
‘Thanks.’
‘He said he hadn’t heard of any gone missing but he should be able to tell if she’s been microchipped.’
‘And if not?’
‘Then you can keep her. He’ll tell you what injections she needs and so on.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ Behind Benjy’s back, Fliss crossed her fingers.
Luke’s blue eyes narrowed but he said nothing.
‘I can’t take her with me today. I’ll need to find somewhere else to live and get things sorted out.’
‘And?’
‘And so I was hoping she could stay with you for a bit.’
Luke sighed resignedly as if he’d been expecting it. ‘How long?’
Sunday lunch was Fliss’s speciality. There hadn’t been too many constants in her childhood, but Sunday lunch was one that her mother had always insisted on. From an early age, Fliss had been drafted in to help peel the vegetables or mix up the batter for the Yorkshire puddings. Every week a different assortment of neighbours and friends would sit down at the kitchen table for their traditional roast dinner, along with Fliss, her mother, and whoever happened to be sharing her mother’s bed at the time.
Fliss had kept up the tradition as much as she could manage. She often cooked Sunday lunch for her flatmates in London, with various other friends and partners invited along. It made them feel a little bit more like family.
But Luke had a real family. A real father. It had felt the most natural thing in the world to invite him for lunch today. She hadn’t thought for one second that Luke would object.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes after one o’clock, Fliss had the table laid, the wine open and the dinner almost ready. She’d retrieved the blue dress and although it looked a bit worse for wear, it was better than greeting Luke’s father while wearing Luke’s pyjamas. Judging from the grim expression on Luke’s face when he saw her, it wasn’t much better.
He didn’t say anything, though, just strode past her to open the front door. Benjy stopped to give her a proper hello before bounding along to see who the new visitor was. Fliss watched with interest as the two men greeted each other with cautious familiarity.
Thomas Caldecott had all the innate good looks and good manners of his son. His hair might be silvery-grey and the creases in his face were etched a little deeper than Luke’s, but there was no doubting the relationship between these two men.
‘Felicity,’ he boomed. ‘Delighted to meet you.’
She went forward to kiss his cheek. ‘And you.’
‘Now, I want you to tell me all about your escapade yesterday.’ Fliss shot Luke a swift glance, tickled to see that his cheeks had gone pink.
Learning to Kill: Stories