A Special Kind of Woman Read Online Free PDF Page B

bed.’
    ‘Don’t apologise—I didn’t make mine, either,’ she said with a laugh, but her eye was drawn to the tousled quilt and the dented pillow, and she felt a shiver of hot and cold run over her. Suddenly the enormous room seemed tiny and Owen seemed very, very close—scarily close, and extremely male.
    I’m going to make a fool of myself, Cait thought, but then a noise caught her attention, a high-pitched whistle, and he turned towards the door.
    ‘The kettle’s boiling,’ he said. ‘Mind your head on the way out.’
    ‘Why don’t I go and take it off while you change?’ she suggested, and he turned on the steps and bumped into her, reaching up to steady her.
    Their eyes locked, and Cait couldn’t breathe. Oh, lord, now what? she thought, but he seemed to pull himself together visibly. ‘Good idea,’ he said, and stepped back, knocking his head on a beam behind him.
    He ducked and swore softly, and Cait made her escape down the stairs to the kitchen, stifling a chuckle.
    The dogs were bracketing the Aga, and she stepped over them to remove the kettle. ‘I hope you really arefriendly,’ she said, and they thumped their tails and grinned at her. ‘I take it that’s a yes.’
    ‘Coffee’s in the cupboard next to the Aga,’ Owen called down. ‘Instant or real—take your pick. There are teabags, too. The fridge is in the corner.’
    ‘Thanks,’ she called back, suddenly aware of how close he was and what he was doing. Excitement tingled along her veins, and she tried not to think about him changing his clothes so very close to her. She could hear the odd clonk that was probably shoes coming off or going on, and drawers and doors opening and shutting, and the slight creak of the bed as he sat on it.
    There had been a towel draped over the end of the bed, but she hadn’t noticed any pyjamas lying around. Did that mean he slept naked? Heat shimmered over her skin, and she slapped her wrist.
    ‘Cait, behave,’ she told herself fiercely. ‘It’s none of your business.’
    But she wanted it to be. For the first time in her adult life, she really, really wanted to develop a relationship with a man—this man, this funny, sensitive, generous man with eyes like molten toffee and lips she was aching to kiss…
    Owen sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. He was going to make an idiot of himself over her, just because she was warm and gentle and funny and seemed totally unaware of how lovely she was.
    He’d nearly kissed her when he’d turned on the steps and bumped into her, and her mouth had been just there in front of his, soft and slightly parted with surprise, and the longing had hit him like a thunderbolt.
    Then he’d leapt out of the way and crowned himselfon that beam, and she’d run down to the kitchen, no doubt splitting her sides laughing at him.
    He rubbed the back of his head ruefully and sighed again. Damn. He had a bruise. Oh, well, it would serve him right—remind him not to make an idiot of himself. Or at least a worse idiot than he already had. He tugged on his jeans and a thick rugby shirt, pulled a sweater out of the drawer and put on his comfortable old shoes, then ran down to the kitchen.
    ‘What did you make?’ he asked, but she just smiled that lovely wide smile and shook her head, and heat slammed through him.
    ‘Nothing. I didn’t know what you’d want. I’ll make it now, if you like.’
    Suddenly the kitchen seemed terribly small and intimate, and with nobody else around to dilute the atmosphere he could hardly breathe. Plus any minute now Mrs Poole would be here, and he couldn’t cope with her insatiable curiosity. ‘Let’s go out,’ he suggested rapidly. ‘We’ll get coffee somewhere—unless you’d rather not?’
    She shook her head again. ‘I don’t mind. Whatever.’
    ‘We’ll go out,’ he said, more firmly, and headed for the door.
    Was it something she’d said? Owen seemed preoccupied and uncomfortable, and Cait wondered if it was because she’d