Free Reversing Over Liberace by Jane Lovering

Paddy earns enough to buy Mexico. I don’t think Bree will be bothered, as long as no books were harmed in the making. Clay’s got bootloads of cash from doing whatever it is he does for foreign banks.”
    â€œAnd what about Ash?”
    â€œHe’ll probably scratch your eyes out.” Jazz snorted. “Or ignore you very ostentatiously .”
    â€œI think Ash might have other things on his mind,” I said carefully. Ash had taken to coming round after I’d gone to bed, slamming doors and playing music far too loudly. I hoped he soon got over whatever bothered him because living with a thirty-two-year-old teenager was trying my patience.
    And then Friday night arrived and Luke turned up at the door in the Morgan, wearing a scrumptious blue shirt which made his eyes look purple. I Audrey-Hepburned down the front path (skipping slightly, swinging my bag in a girlish fashion in kitten heels) and Luke opened the car door for me.
    â€œHad a good week?”
    â€œYou cannot imagine.” I grinned. “How was yours? How was New York?”
    â€œBig. Noisy. But I did some great deals, I hope. Fingers crossed everything will pan out all right, just as long as the cash flow holds up. Anyway, let’s not talk shop. We’re going to have a great weekend. Ever been to the Lakes?”
    I had, just once, on a family holiday when I was ten, and my memories of crowded streets with brief glimpses of water, torrential rain and Bree coming down with chicken pox had rather prejudiced me against returning. However, returning in a convertible next to a stunning man was altogether a different matter.
    It was dark, but I could sense a stupendous view and the hotel itself was worth the journey, crying out for the adornment of a couple of huge hairy dogs and a squire with a shotgun asserting his droit de seigneur with the housemaids.
    â€œIs this all right?” Luke asked, as our bags were carried into our room. Yes, our room.
    â€œIt’s beautiful.” I walked over to the huge open fire flaming away in a stone grate.
    â€œNo, I mean”—he waved an arm to take in the canopied double bed looming in the middle of the room like a small bungalow—“this.”
    â€œOh. Um. Yes. I think…yes. It’s fine.”
    â€œI didn’t want you to think…if it’s not all right, there’s a couch, look, or I could book another room, I’m sure they’re not full.”
    â€œIt’s fine, Luke. Wonderful.”
    â€œSo, shall we go down to dinner? Or did you want to change?”
    I put my head around the door to the ensuite bathroom, which had the largest shower I’d ever seen, a whirlpool bath, and towels the size of Manchester. “I think I’ll change first, if that’s all right.” Yeah, I’d bought enough clothes to spend the weekend with the Queen and I was bloody well going to wear all of them. God knows this was probably the only outing they’d get. Modestly I shut myself in the bathroom to strip off, leaving Luke changing in the bedroom. I couldn’t believe it, I was nervous. Ten years, more, of wishing for a sight of Luke Fry in his underpants, and I’m locking myself in the bathroom like a virgin on her wedding night. What was wrong with me? Apart from the obvious, I thought ruefully, as I dry-retched over the shell-shaped sink.
    Dinner was fabulous, although I drank rather more than I should have done, and we lingered happily over brandies in a sofa’d drawing room.
    â€œOkay?” Luke smiled at me, draining his glass and putting it decisively on the table.
    â€œYes, thanks. Fantastic.”
    â€œThen, shall we?” He held out a hand and helped me to my feet, curling a protective arm around my waist. “I’m looking forward to that huge bed.”
    We rocked together, slightly drunk, up the stairs and into our room. The covers had been turned down on the bed, a handmade chocolate was