Passion & Pleasure. Julia James

of Diane using that tone to her before. It was when Fliss had first confessed to her friend that she was going to have a baby. She’d been seeking advice, understanding. But all Diane had done was urge her to have an abortion.

      ‘You’re too young to have a sprog!’ she’d exclaimed scornfully. ‘Do yourself a favour, Fliss. Get rid of it. I would.’

      With hindsight, Fliss had to admit that Diane had had a point. She had been too young, too innocent, too infatuated with the boy who had taken advantage of her to know exactly what she wanted to do. She’d been afraid to tell her parents; scared of what they might say; desperate for a way out.

      In the event, it was her mother who had come to her rescue. Lucy Taylor hadn’t thought twice. Fliss should have the baby, she’d said. She’d help her. Both her parents would help her. They’d also supported her decision to have nothing more to do with the father of the child. Terry Matheson had denied everything, of course, and thankfully he’d left the district long before Amy was born.

      Nevertheless, Fliss’s pregnancy had driven a wedge between her and Diane. She’d had to postpone taking her higher-level exams for a year and, by then, Diane had moved on.

      They could have resumed their friendship, of course, but Diane hadn’t been interested. She was having too good a time at university in London to care about a girl who, in her opinion, had as good as ruined her life.

      By the time Diane graduated, her parents were telling everyone that she was an art expert, that she was going to be running a gallery in the smartest part of town. The fact that she rarely visited her parents was always conveniently forgotten. Diane was soooo in demand; soooo busy. They were soooo proud of her.

      And now, here she was, apparently living with the man who, either with or without his consent, had become a minor celebrity in his own right.

      No surprise there, then.

      ‘Amy’s rabbit,’ Fliss continued, trying not to let the other woman’s attitude faze her. ‘I spoke to your—er—?’

      ‘My fiancé?’ suggested Diane condescendingly, and Fliss nodded.

      ‘I guess,’ she said. She moistened her lips. ‘I gather he didn’t mention it.’

      ‘Why would he?’ Diane rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Fliss, but Matt and I have more important things to talk about than a bloody rabbit, for God’s sake!’

      So she did remember her name, thought Fliss smugly. But Diane was annoyed about something. That was obvious. And it was evidently nothing to do with her and Amy.

      ‘OK.’

      Fliss was trying to decide how to explain the situation in the briefest terms possible when Matthew Quinn himself appeared behind Diane. He was still barefoot, Fliss noticed unwillingly, his expression only marginally less hostile than his fiancée’s.

      ‘What’s going on?’ he asked impatiently, and then he saw Fliss. ‘Oh—Mrs Taylor.’

      Diane snorted at this and he paused a moment to give her a curious look. Then, with a shrug, he went on, ‘Did you want something else?’

      Fliss’s cheeks had flushed at Diane’s scornful reaction to her name, but she refused to be daunted. ‘It’s Miss Taylor, actually,’ she said, telling herself she didn’t care what he thought of her. ‘I’ve come to collect the rabbit.’

      ‘Ah.’ Matthew Quinn glanced again at the woman beside him. He frowned. ‘Forgive me, but do you two know one another?’

      ‘We used to.’ Diane answered him before Fliss could say a word. ‘But we lost touch many years ago.’

      Matthew’s only response was a sudden arching of his brows, but Fliss had no intention of continuing this. ‘Is it all right if I back the car along the path beside the house?’ she asked. ‘Then I can just lift the hutch into the boot.’

      ‘What’s all this about?’ demanded Diane, clearly not liking the idea that Fliss and her fiancé had some unfinished business she didn’t know about. ‘Where is this rabbit, for heaven’s sake? And what’s it doing here?’

      ‘It’s a long story,’ said Matthew carelessly. Then, to Fliss, ‘You don’t have to move it, you know.’

      ‘Oh, I think I do,’ she retorted stiffly. She turned away. ‘I’ll get the car.’

      By the time she’d reversed the Fiesta along the service lane, he was waiting for her. Still barefoot, he had hoisted the rabbit’s cage into his arms, and when she hurriedly got out to lift the hatch, he shoved the hutch inside.

      ‘Thanks,’ she said, a little breathlessly, noticing that he seemed out of breath, too. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘No problem,’ he assured her, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs, taking a few gulping breaths of air. ‘God, I’m out of condition. I guess I need to get myself in shape in more ways than one.’

      Fliss forced a faint smile. ‘I think you need to rest,’ she murmured carefully. Then, glimpsing Diane watching them from the corner of the house, ‘Thanks again. I’ll try and keep Amy out of your hair in future.’

      Chapter Three

      DIANE was pacing about the kitchen when Matt came back inside. ‘D’you want to tell me what’s going on?’ she demanded, her grey eyes flaring with irritation. ‘How long have you and Fliss Taylor known one another?’

      Matt gave her an incredulous look. ‘We don’t know one another,’ he said, going to wash his hands at the sink. ‘How the hell would we? I’ve only been here a couple of days.’

      ‘You tell me.’ Diane was huffy. ‘You seemed pretty familiar with one another. And she obviously didn’t expect to see me. Didn’t you tell her I was coming down this morning?’

      ‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Matt dried his hands and then shoved them into his pockets so she wouldn’t see they were shaking. ‘Why would I tell her anything? I’ve only met her once before.’

      Diane regarded him suspiciously. ‘So what was that rabbit doing here?’

      Matt heaved a sigh. He badly wanted to sit down, but dogged determination—and pride—kept him on his feet. He should have known Diane would come here looking for trouble, but however appealing Fliss Taylor might be—and he couldn’t deny she was appealing—he wasn’t interested.

      ‘She has a kid,’ he said wearily. ‘But then, you probably know that. You’re the one who seems to know everything about her.’

      ‘I used to,’ declared Diane dismissively. ‘Personally, I haven’t set eyes on her or her kid for years.’

      ‘OK.’ Matt endeavoured to control his irritation. ‘Well, for some reason, the kid decided her rabbit would be safer in my garden than hers. She’d stowed its cage near the back door and I caught her feeding it this morning. That’s all there is to it.’

      ‘So—then what? You phoned her mother and asked her to come and get it?’

      ‘No.’ Matt was tired of this interrogation. He didn’t know why Diane had bothered to come if all she intended to do was pick an argument with him. Surely she knew he was supposed to avoid any unnecessary stress, and getting riled up about something so trivial was definitely unnecessary. He blew out a breath. ‘She came here looking for her daughter. No law against that, is there?’

      Diane’s lips tightened. ‘I suppose not.’

      ‘Good. I’m glad we agree on something, at any rate.’ Matt turned away. ‘Want some coffee?’

      ‘So why didn’t they just take the rabbit with them?’ she asked after a moment, and Matt swore.

      ‘For pity’s sake,’ he snapped. ‘Does it matter? I’ve explained what happened. Let that be an end of it.’

      Diane