A Familiar Stranger. Caroline Anderson

I can go to bed, and it’s already after midnight.’

      In fact, by the time they were able to leave the Bairds it was nearly two, and Janna, thinking purely practically, found herself suggesting on the way home that he should stay the rest of the night with her.

      ‘After all, you’ve got a surgery here in the morning, so it seems silly to go all that way, especially as the calls are being transferred to my house anyway.’

      ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’ Finn asked her.

      She wasn’t, not at all, but the offer was out now and it seemed silly to try and retract it.

      ‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ she said. ‘It’s too late to drive back now—what a waste of time.’

      ‘I was thinking of your reputation,’ he told her quietly.

      ‘Oh, stuff. We’re professionals. Anyway, nothing’s going to happen.’

      His smile was wry. ‘We know that, Janna, but what about the busybodies in the village?’

      ‘They’re asleep—or they should be. Don’t worry.’

      He was silent until they were in the house, then he turned to her again as she hurried across the hall with an armful of sheets, heading for the stairs. ‘Janna, are you sure about this? I don’t want to compromise you.’

      She laughed. ‘Finn, where you’re concerned there’s nothing left to compromise. Of course I’m sure.’

      He followed her into the spare room, his brows crawling together in a frown. ‘What are you talking about? We never did anything that would damage your reputation.’

      ‘No?’ She laughed again, flapping out a sheet and spreading it over the mattress of her spare bed. ‘What about poaching MacWhirter’s salmon trout? And riding down into Port Mackie on the crossbar of your bike at about thirty miles an hour and crashing into Mrs Cameron’s front garden when your brakes failed? And what about the time MacPhee caught us all skinny-dipping at Camas Ciuicharan?’

      ‘All of those little stunts were your idea!’

      ‘So? You were with me. Everyone thinks you led me astray!’

      He threw her that devastating grin across the bed, his shadowed cheek dimpling with mischief. ‘OK, OK, your reputation’s in shreds. I’m sorry. As it’s clearly too late to worry, yes, please, I will take you up on your offer.’

      He smoothed the sheet, tucked it in and took the quilt from her, threading it deftly into the cover while she dealt with the pillowcases.

      ‘Cup of tea?’ she offered, patting the pillows straight.

      He shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I really am dead tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll turn in now.’

      ‘I’ll get you a towel,’ she said, and hurried past him, ignoring the urge to put her arms round him and thank him for saving Lindsay’s baby.

      Moments later she returned with a towel, a clean flannel and a new toothbrush. ‘Here.’

      He took them from her, his manner quietly courteous but dismissive, and with a muttered goodnight she left him and went to her room, closing the door and shutting it firmly behind her.

      What did she want, for goodness’ sake? Was she expecting him to drag her into bed and make love to her?

      A sudden stab of need caught her by surprise, and she sat at her dressing-table, yanking out hairpins and brushing her dark hair out over her shoulders while she glared at her reflection. Her eyes, usually greeny-grey, looked back at her like exhausted smudges in her pale face. No wonder he hadn’t dragged her to bed, looking like that.

      Smacking the brush down on the dressing-table, she pulled off her clothes, tugged her dressing-gown on and belted it firmly, then went to the bathroom. She washed quickly, scrubbing her teeth and dragging a hot flannel over her face, before opening the door and walking smack into Finn’s chest.

      She stepped back, an apology on her lips, and found herself staringly longingly at the broad expanse of warm, silky skin lightly dusted with soft curls between the open edges of his shirt. She’d seen it before, a million times, so why was she so fascinated by the way the hair changed direction and made that little whorl just over the flat, copper nub of his left nipple? Or by the silken texture of his skin, gilded by the light from the bathroom that streamed over her shoulder and touched him with gold? Or by the way the hair arrowed down, a fine line of soft, dark down that disappeared so intriguingly——

      She yanked her eyes up and they locked with his, and for an endless moment they stood there, trapped in the silence of the night, conscious only of the empty house and the beating of their hearts.

      Then with a muttered apology Finn stood back and let her pass, and she fled to her room, her heart hammering, the blood roaring in her veins, and her whole body quivering with a need she didn’t dare to name.

       CHAPTER THREE