Working With the Enemy by Susan Stephens Read Free Book Online

me. Why don’t we clear up as much as we can in here and then reward ourselves with a swim in the lake?’
‘Skinny-dipping?’ Her friends shrieked, hugging themselves in anticipation.
‘Well, as we haven’t moved in with our fourteen wardrobes of clothes yet—seems skinny-dipping is our only option.’
‘Could you arrange for the lake to be heated before we dive in?’ Colleen demanded.
‘You’ll soon get warm,’ Bronte promised as visions of childhood’s endless summer days spent swimming or rowing on the lake filled her head with slightly rose-tinted images—swiftly followed by red-hot thoughts of Heath rising like a wet-shirted Mr Darcy dripping water from his muscular frame—
‘Bronte?’ the girls prompted.
‘Sorry.’ Tearing her thoughts away from Heath, Bronte focused on the here and now. It would be lonely at the hall without the girls and working together promised to be fun.
And if Heath never came back?
They’d get by somehow. But because she was stubborn she was going to make that call to London to check if he would be holding interviews for jobs at the hall.
‘Daydreaming about Heath again?’ Colleen teased her.
‘I’ve got bigger things on my mind than Heath,’ Bronte replied, trying to look serious.
‘Bigger than Heath?’ Colleen exclaimed, exchanging a knowing look with Maisie.
‘You’re disgusting.’ Bronte smothered a smile.
The business trip he had left Hebers Ghyll to make had been a resounding success. He was back in town within the week, brooding in his office with Bronte on his mind. She was too inquisitive to quietly settle back into life at the cottage, which worried him. She wouldn’t be able to resist taking another look round Hebers Ghyll, which was dangerous. She could be down there now with a bundle of energy and good intentions. He’d made sure everything was locked up securely before he left, but he didn’t trust her—and good intentions wouldn’t stop those walls falling on her head. He had no option. He had to go back.
He called Quentin from the car to make arrangements to cover his absence at the board meeting, and then he made a few more calls. There was no point in his going to Hebers Ghyll on a day trip—or just to yell at Bronte. He might as well start moving things forward. Whether or not he decided to keep the estate it could only benefit from a refit. And he could only benefit either way.
The two girls were as good as their word and came to the hall every night after work to help Bronte sort things out. One week of back-breaking work was nearly over and there was still no sign of Heath.
Still no answer on his phone either. Perhaps he’d given her the wrong number on purpose—or perhaps Heath’s PA was even more efficient than she’d thought him, which was entirely possible. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t disappointed that Heath had just disappeared again as if that visit had never happened, but she hid her feelings from the girls, and stubbornly refused to let it get her down. She distracted herself by working as hard as she could until all she could think about at night was a soft pillow and a long, dreamless sleep.
By the end of the week the three girls had systematically cleared, cleaned, and de-spidered the Great Hall, and had returned the kitchen to its former pristine state. They had weeded the formal gardens as well as the kitchen garden with its wealth of vegetables, and cheered when Bronte, whose hands and face seemed to be permanently covered in sticky black oil for most of the time, finally managed to get the sit-on lawnmower to work. Having tamed the grass and cleared the rubbish, a small part of the Hebers Ghyll estate, if not exactly restored to its former glory, was at least clean and tidy, and as a bonus they were all suntanned and healthy thanks to a timely Indian summer. And they were definitely well fed, thanks to Bronte’s frequent raids on the vegetable patch. There was only one fly in this late-summer ointment as far as