Page 48 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

What she was looking forward to more was a whole evening with Damon. Despite telling herself that she didn’t have time for a relationship, she was very much hoping this would develop into one.

After spending all day Saturday with him, he was now in her thoughts constantly. When he had asked her out to dinner, she’d found it hard to contain her excitement and this evening hadn’t come quickly enough. Take yesterday, for instance; she should have been concentrating on her students, but half her attention had been on the house next to the allotment and the gorgeous guy who lived in it. And now here she was, sitting next to said gorgeous guy and trying to keep her desire for him in check.

‘Even when you’re at work you can’t keep away from the village,’ he joked. ‘I saw you in the field yesterday with a bunch of teenagers.’

‘Ah, yes. That was my sneaky way of picking their young minds. I’m pretty sure how the allotment is going to be laid out – along the lines it was previously – but this assignment might throw a curve ball. I’m going to have to pull my finger out and finalise the design though, because Terry is opening up applications for the plots soon.’

‘It sounds rather formal,’ Damon said.

‘Actually, I think it’s more of a first come, first served kind of the thing. Terry says that loads of people are interested in having one.’

A scowl flashed across Damon’s handsome face, but it was gone so fast she must have imagined it.

‘Do you want one?’ she asked, wondering if he was aggrieved that he hadn’t been asked.

‘I think I’ve got more than I can handle with my own garden,’ he replied.

‘How is it going?’

‘The front of the house is looking good, thanks to you,’ he said, giving her a sideways smile. ‘But as for the rest…’

‘I still think you should hire someone to help you knock it into shape. And no, I don’t mean me,’ she teased.

Damon groaned. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘It was an easy assumption to make. Wait, I’ve got an idea!’ she exclaimed. ‘I could let my students loose on it! It would be a great experience for them and you’d get all that free labour as well.’

‘No thanks.’ He sounded stiff, and she sensed that the tension of a few moments ago was back. ‘I don’t need any help.’

That told her, didn’t it.

She turned her head to stare out of the side window, feeling hurt. He hadn’t minded her help when it came to tidying up his drive, so why had he gone all weird on her now?

The rest of the journey passed in silence, and Ceri was beginning to regret agreeing to have dinner with him. But when they pulled into the pub’s car park and got out, Damon touched her arm. The feel of his hand on her bare skin electrified her, sending tingles through her body.

‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ he said. ‘I probably do need help with the garden, but I want to do as much of it as I can myself. With some guidance from my favourite horticulturist – if she’s still speaking to me.’

‘How many other horticulturists do you know?’ Her eyes were on his mouth. He was standing so close that if she leant forward a little, she would be able to kiss him.

‘Loads, but you’re the only one I want in my bed.’ He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘Flowerbed.Beds.’ He emphasised the plural and groaned. ‘Oh, buggeration.’

Ceri burst out laughing. His embarrassment was so sweet. He was blushing, too.

But her mirth quickly dissolved at the seriousness of his expression. ‘Actually, I take that last bit back,’ he said. ‘Idowant you in my bed.’

She froze, the words burning a trail through her mind, fanning the desire she had been trying so hard to control. She swallowed. ‘Then maybe you should do something about it,’ she suggested, and a tremble began in her knees, working its way up her legs.

His eyes bored into hers. ‘I’d love to. I should take you to dinner first, though.’

Ceri almost told him to get in the car, drive back to Foxmore and take her to bed instead, but they were here now, and she was hungry. Or, shehadbeen – her appetite seemed to have deserted her.

It felt rather surreal as they were shown to a table and their drinks order was taken.

All Ceri could think about was what might happen after dinner, and she picked the first thing her gaze alighted on when she looked at the menu, hardly tasting her meal when it arrived.

Damon seemed equally distracted, pushing his food around the plate, and every time his eyes met hers, her heart missed a beat at the naked desire she saw in them. Dinner was exquisite torture, for her at least, and she couldn’t wait for it to end.

Eventually, Ceri couldn’t stand it any longer, and when the waiter cleared their plates away and asked whether they would like to see the dessert menu, she waited for the man to leave, then said, ‘What I want for dessert isn’t on the menu.’

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