Free Just Say Yes by Phillipa Ashley Page B

career move, even though it wasn’t, technically, her fault. Hugo Lawson might sound bumbling but she guessed he could be as ruthless as Sir Denby himself if he sensed an opportunity to save money. Right now, however, she had to make the best of a bad situation.
    “I think I need to get away somewhere where people are not,” she said as Fiona piled crockery in the sink.
    Fiona turned, plate in hand. “You mean—”
    “Would you mind? Just for a few weeks. I’ll contribute to expenses,” said Lucy, pulling off her office heels.
    Fiona shook her head. “Don’t be silly. I could do with getting out of London and doing some actual writing, and it would be fun to have company. I’ve only managed fifteen thousand words of Murder at the Mall and I’ve a deadline looming. Besides, I fancy a taste of sea air and buff surfer boys.”
    “Oh God! No men! Will you believe me if I say I never want to get within ten feet of another man as long as I live?”
    “Maybe today but not forever. It might not be all over with Nick yet, Lucy.”
    Lucy was touched. Fiona had never had a good word for Nick before, but now she was trying hard to be helpful.
    “For a writer of fiction, you’re a hopeless liar, Fi.”
    “But an enthusiastic one. Look, let me go home and make a few calls while you pack. I’ll pick you up later.”
    Lucy nodded and went through into the bedroom. Standing in front of her dressing table, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and was shocked by the woman who frowned back, pale and forlorn and mousy-haired. She studied herself for a few more moments, then grabbed her purse and headed back to the kitchen where Fiona was clipping Hengist’s lead into his collar, ready to leave.
    “Fiona. Can you do me a favor?”
    “Sure, hon.”
    “Pop into Superdrug for me. There’s something I need to do.”

Chapter 10
     
    “So run it by me again , Josh. Just who is this woman demanding we drop everything and get the cottage ready for her?” asked Sara Pentire, shaking up the duvet so hard that she knocked a china vase from the bedside table.
    Josh Standring was too late to save it from rolling onto the patchwork rug by the bed. He was reluctant to touch anything in the bedroom, afraid of getting muddy fingerprints on the pristine white sheets that Sara had expertly tucked under the mattress. Yet he thought the vase deserved rescuing, so he picked it up carefully.
    “Her name’s Fiona Bentley-Black,” he said, holding out the little vase.
    Sara wrinkled her nose at it before dumping it back on the table. “The crime writer?”
    “Is she? She needs the cottage in a hurry, that’s all I know. If Mrs. Sennen hadn’t had a fall, she’d have taken care of everything as usual.” He raked a hand through his hair in embarrassment. “Sara, I’d have done it myself but I have to get the paddock fence finished. I don’t like to see you doing my dirty work.”
    Sara shrugged. “Some notice would’ve been nice rather than phoning up at ten o’clock and asking us to get the place ready for her.” Josh smiled. Sara hated people being disorganized and it was always a surprise to him that she was interested in him. Live and let live, that was his philosophy in life these days. In fact, even having a philosophy at all sounded way too close to an actual plan.
    “And she’s got a friend with her?” said Sara, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the cover. “Mrs. Sennen said she phoned again and asked her to make up the spare room.”
    “Right,” said Josh, already itching to be outside again. He’d almost finished repairing the fence around the paddock where one of the cottage owners kept a few rare-breed sheep. He’d only popped into the house to see Sara and thank her for stepping in at the last moment.
    “Thanks, Sara. I know this isn’t your scene.”
    Giving the pillow a final thud, she slotted it into place on the bed. “Josh, it’s not a problem. Just chill out, I’ve cleaned up the best I can but