Page 44 of The House Swap

Jem was good company. She enjoyed being around him and she would be lying to herself if she pretended the attraction wasn’t there. But attraction was one thing. Acting on it was another. And she wasn’t quite sure where that line was.

Her thoughts drifted to Tom, as they so often did. In another version of her life, she and Tom would have had this week together. Long evenings on the terrace, conversations that stretched past midnight, and finally putting faces and expressions to the friendship they had built since Rebecca had introduced them. She had imagined it more than she would ever admit to anyone. The moment of finally meeting him, of finding out whether what existed between them in messages and late-night phone calls could survive contact with reality.

But that hadn’t happened. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she didn’t actually know what Tom wanted. Not really. He was warm and attentive, and he said things that made her chest tighten, but he had never said anything direct. And they had never crossed the line from friendship into something more explicit. Poppy had never pushed him. Perhaps out of fear, but partly because she wasn’t sure she was reading things correctly.

Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. What she did know was that she was thirty-two years old, alone in Crete, and a man she liked had asked her to dinner. That wasn’t a betrayal. It was just life.

And she didn’t know what this thing was with Jem, but he was the one bright spot in her Cretan adventure, so he was worth making a bit of effort for, she had decided.

When she saw his headlights sweep across the whitewashed wall, her spirits lifted. After her paranoia and the rising tensions of the last couple of days, she needed this.

Although nothing else had happened, she still didn’t have an explanation for how the cushion had ended up upside down, and it continued to bother her.

Martin had stopped by earlier that morning, doing a routine check for damp before the winter season kicked in, he told her, and as he wanted to air all of the rooms for a couple of hours, opening all of the doors and windows, Poppy had taken her laptop out onto the terrace so she wasn’t in the way.

He was a man of few words, she was learning, and she didn’t like that sometimes she found him watching her. It made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to be here.

As he was packing up to leave, she’d managed to corner him for a conversation, asking if anyone else apart from him and Tom had a key for the property.

‘Is there a problem?’ He had frowned, seeming confused why she would ask.

‘No. Well… I don’t think so.’ She had felt silly voicing her concerns. ‘It’s just a couple of things seem as if they have been disturbed.’

‘How do you mean?’

He had stared at her intently as he’d waited for her to explain, and Poppy’s face had heated. She got the distinct impression that Martin didn’t suffer fools gladly.

Unwilling to give details, she’d shrugged. ‘It was probably just my imagination.’

Martin had nodded, unperturbed. ‘The cleaning staff and I have one. And you have Mr Rainer’s copy.’

‘I see.’

His tone had softened slightly. ‘Did he give you my number?’

Poppy had nodded. ‘Yes, he left me your card.’

‘Okay. Then if you have any problems while you are here, just let me know.’

It was the first time he had been almost friendly with her, and she’d relaxed a little.

After he had left, she had given herself a stern talking to, annoyed she had voiced her fears aloud. Still, at least he hadn’t treated her like she was paranoid.

Now, she slipped on her sandals and picked up her bag before letting herself out of the villa, careful to lock the front door behind her, testing the handle twice before stepping through the gate. And she made sure that too latched behind her.

Jem leaned across, then pushed open the passenger door from inside. In the shadowy interior of the car, his features seemed sharper; the dark curls of his hair falling across his forehead and stubble grazing his jaw. He wore a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. The look effortless, yet understated.

‘Hey,’ he greeted her, that easy smile of his appearing.

‘Hi.’

As she climbed in, she caught the scent of him – an appealing clean and aquatic smell that kick-started her senses.

‘You look nice,’ he said.

The compliment was simple, not overdone, and heat bloomed in Poppy’s cheeks.

‘Thank you.’ She paused before adding with a smile, ‘So do you.’