Modern Romance May 2016 Books 1-4. Julia James

was a living room, which she’d furnished from the saleroom, with a dining alcove, and a reasonably-sized bedroom and bath. It was nothing like the upmarket apartment she’d shared with Harry. But, by comparison, it was heaven on earth.

      Or it had been.

      With the retriever seen to, Abby regarded the contents of her fridge without enthusiasm. She wasn’t particularly hungry and she decided to have a shower before tackling her own meal.

      Leaving Harley to his kibble, she went into the bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she did so. The shower was hot and she stood for several minutes letting the water cascade over her. She usually enjoyed the sensation, but tonight she couldn’t seem to relax.

      She hadn’t forgotten that it was over three weeks since Luke’s visit to the café. Three weeks since they’d had that altercation that had culminated in Abby throwing him out. Well, asking him to go, she amended ruefully. There was no way she could have got him to leave if he hadn’t decided to do so.

      Whatever, she knew he was the real cause of her depression. And not just because of the business either. It was obvious he still considered that she was to blame for Harry’s behaviour. But she was damned if she was going to try and tell him the truth, only to have him throw her words back in her face.

      Besides, since moving to Ashford, she’d put all that misery behind her. Just occasionally, when she went back to visit her mother’s grave, the whole sorry affair jumped back into her mind.

      Her mother would have been horrified had she even suspected the kind of life Abby had been leading before she died. But it had been worth it to ensure that Annabel Lacey had never wanted for anything.

      Stepping out of the shower, she was towelling herself dry when she heard someone knocking at the outer door. Not to say ‘hammering’, she thought impatiently as Harley started barking. She wondered who on earth it could be.

      The only person who came to mind was Greg Hughes and she had no intention of letting him in. But in all the years she’d been here, he’d never bothered her after dark.

      The hammering started again and Harley’s barking grew to a crescendo. If she wasn’t careful, Miss Miller, who ran the gift shop on the other side of the café, and who also lived above the business, would begin to think something was wrong.

      She couldn’t have that, and, tossing the towel aside, she wrung most of the water out of her hair and reached for her towelling bathrobe. Then, wrapping the folds about herself, she emerged into the living room where Harley was making so much noise.

      ‘Quiet,’ she said reprovingly, when the dog came to fuss about her. He was wagging his tail, but she knew better than to trust his judgement of who it might be.

      It crossed her mind she shouldn’t open the door without first identifying her caller. She had one or two friends in Ashford; Lori Yates, for instance. But she would usually ring before turning up.

      Biting her tongue, she opened the door to the stairs and paused, switching on the light. Of course, Harley had no such reservations and immediately ran down the stairs to the hall below. He barked again, as if saying, What are you waiting for? And with a resigned sigh, Abby followed him down.

      She hesitated and then called warily, ‘Who is it?’

      ‘Me!’ Despite the fact that she shouldn’t instantly recognise the voice, it was unmistakeable. ‘Open the door, Abby. It’s pouring down out here.’

      Luke!

      Abby expelled an unsteady breath. What was Luke doing at her door?

      ‘I—I’m not dressed,’ she replied at last as Harley started barking again. ‘What do you want?’

      Luke stifled an oath. ‘Open the damn door, Abby,’ he exclaimed, his patience obviously shredding. ‘Do you want me to get pneumonia?’

      Abby was tempted to say she didn’t care, one way or the other, but that wouldn’t be true. She waited only another moment before releasing the bolt and pulling the heavy door open.

      He was right. It was pouring, much worse now than it had been when they got back from their walk. A regular cloudburst had created a flood in the alley. Luke himself was soaked; the fabric of his jacket, which she suspected was cashmere, had darkened from silver grey to charcoal with the rain.

      She bent and grabbed Harley and then stepped back automatically, and Luke dashed inside, closing the door behind him. A cool draught preceded him, making her shudder. Then he leaned back against the panels and regarded her between narrowed lids.

      Abby knew his intent gaze was taking in every detail of her appearance, from the damp coil of hair looped over one shoulder to the shivering aspect of her shapely form. What was he thinking? she wondered. Why was he here? Not to deliver more bad news, she hoped.

      It angered her a little that she was even asking herself these questions. Despite his apparent ownership of the site, Luke shouldn’t invade her privacy until he had the right to do so. Just because Harley was making a fuss of him, wagging his tail idiotically before rushing up the stairs and evidently expecting them to follow him, didn’t mean she had to give in. She sighed when Harley disappeared into the living room. He’d probably gone to fetch his favourite toy for Luke’s approval.

      ‘Why are you so wet?’ she asked at last, making no move to invite him up to the apartment. But she’d needed to say something, she thought, to ease the tension that was fairly crackling in the air between them.

      ‘I walked from the town square,’ he replied harshly. Then, after a nerve-tingling pause, ‘Believe it or not, but it’s impossible to stay dry when it’s raining.’

      Sarcastic beast!

      Abby wanted to reach past him, open the door and order him to leave. But, of course, she couldn’t do that. Not until she’d discovered why he was here.

      ‘I suppose you’d better come up,’ she said, indicating the stairs behind her. ‘It’s cold down here.’

      ‘You think?’

      More sarcasm, but Abby chose to ignore it, going ahead of him up the staircase. Nevertheless, she was supremely conscious of him behind her. She was also conscious that she was barefoot, and that the bathrobe only fell a couple of inches below her knees. Not to mention the fact that she was naked underneath.

      Her living room had never looked less appealing. The floral fabric of her sofa had seen better days and, although she’d brightened it up with coloured cushions, she was sure Luke would find it very different from what he was used to. Did he still have an apartment? No. He probably owned half a dozen houses by now.

      At least Harley, and the lamps she’d switched on around the room, gave the place a homely familiarity. Luke followed her into the room and then closed the door behind him, immediately alerting her to the fact that they were alone.

      ‘Um—perhaps you should take off your jacket,’ she said belatedly, and Luke didn’t need a second invitation.

      ‘Thanks,’ he said, in a voice that implied he’d thought she’d never ask. He draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs. ‘It’s cold for this time of year.’

      ‘Isn’t it?’ Abby was glad of the change of tone.

      Luke glanced about him. ‘Have you lived here long?’

      Abby shrugged. ‘Over four years,’ she replied with some reluctance. ‘Why do you want to know?’

      Luke’s deep-set dark eyes appraised her. ‘I’m curious. Is that when you left London?’

      Abby shook her head. ‘You ask a lot of questions,’ she said. ‘Why are you here?’

      Luke frowned, not answering her, and Abby wondered if she’d ever be able to enter the apartment again without seeing his lean, sardonic figure standing on her hearth.

      In a maroon silk shirt, a paler tie pulled a few inches away from his collar, he looked darkly