She backed away. ‘Take care, Olivier.’
‘Merciagain.’ He closed the door firmly as she reached the gate and spun on his heel, pulling the coat stand back up from Ashleigh. She clambered to her feet before he could offer his hand and began hooking the coats that had fallen off back onto their hooks. Perhaps she was keeping herself busy so there was no risk of him trying to kiss her again. Had he been completely out of line?
‘Do you think she suspects something?’ she asked, smoothing the last one and folding her arms over her chest. That was definitely ‘keep away’ body language, wasn’t it?
‘I have no idea. How on earth did she spot my door was open?’ He forced a laugh.
‘She has eagle eyes. Special laser vision for spying on neighbours. I’m sure she won’t have thought to look at her own house though.’
‘She’ll never suspect an inside job.’
‘We’re not going to get jobs in the SAS anytime soon though, are we?’ She shook her head and hid her smile behind her hand.
‘Speak for yourself. I’m a chef – they always need food in the army,’ he said.
‘I don’t think the killing machines of the secret service have much call for profiteroles and cheesecake,’ she teased.
‘What dreadful snobs.’ He put on his best English accent and she laughed.
But the strange atmosphere between them remained, even as they crept back outside and continued putting up the tacks for the lights as quickly as they could before the sun went down.
He had to ask her, he realised. This pull he had towards her, these feelings, had been swelling within him for years. It was about time he found out if she felt the same way. Then, if she only wanted to be friends, he could put it behind him and stop his mind – and his body – from entertaining fantasies that she had no interest in.
