Free A Nanny for Christmas by Sara Craven Page B

her.
    'Tired, Miss Grant?'
    'Oh, no,' Phoebe lied quickly, aware of a less than playful glance from Hazel. 'Please don't break up the party on my account.'
    'I think I'm going to have to. I have a big day tomorrow.' He smiled at Hazel. 'I did explain.'
    'Darling, I totally understand. Such a pity you have to drive all the way to Westcombe and back first.' She put a red-tipped hand on his arm and smiled into his eyes. 'Never mind; next time I'll cook for you, sweetie, and we'll make sure we have the whole evening to ourselves. Now, walk me to my car—if Miss Grant will excuse us, of course?' she added sweetly.
    'With pleasure,' said Phoebe in equally honeyed tones, and with considerably more sincerity.
    When Dominic returned, some ten minutes later, he was putting his handkerchief back in his pocket.
    Wiping off the lipstick, thought Phoebe, strongly tempted to say, You missed a bit.
    'Ready, Miss Grant?'
    He sounded a trifle curt, which was understandable, she conceded, under the circumstances. He'd had a lousy but expensive meal, and her presence had fouled up the after-dinner entertainment.
    On the other hand, he'd had an unpaid babysitter, and she hadn't asked him to take her home. And Hazel Sinclair was undoubtedly a bitch.
    An imp of pure malice stirred within her.
    'I'm glad I wasn't after the job of family treasure,' she remarked pensively as they drove through the starlit lanes. 'I think it's been taken.'
    'Miss Sinclair,' he said icily, 'is a very old friend.'
    'But so well preserved,' said Phoebe brightly.
    There was a silence. 'Are you always so rude about comparative strangers?' he asked with dangerous calm.
    'Invariably,' said Phoebe, not giving a hoot.
    To her surprise, an unwilling laugh was forced from him. 'Were you ever spanked as a child?' 'Lots of times, but probably not enough to suit you, - Mr Ashton.'
    'You took the words out of my mouth,' he murmured.
    The Range Rover turned sharply to the left, and Phoebe sat up. 'You've taken the wrong turning. Westcombe's the other way.'
    'We're not going straight there. We're going to the Green Man in Cottring for a drink.'
    Phoebe's lips parted in an outraged gasp. 'I don't want a drink. What the hell is this?'
    Dominic sighed impatiently. 'Then stay thirsty,' he said. 'Watch me drink instead. It's not important. There's something I want to talk to you about.'
    'Why can't we talk now—on the way home?'
    'Because I need to concentrate on driving and serious conversation gets in the way.' He paused. 'Can you drive, by the way?'
    'Yes. My father gave me lessons for my seventeenth birthday.' She gave him a suspicious look. 'Why?'
    He shrugged a shoulder. 'It's fairly essential these days, especially in country districts.'
    'Then it won't really matter to me,' she said rather flatly. 'It's almost certain any library posts going will be in cities.'
    'Is that what you want?'
    She gave a wintry little smile. 'It's more a question of necessity. I've been marking time—since my father... But it can't go on indefinitely. I've got to strike out. Make a life for myself.' She swallowed. 'New year— new start.'
    'We'll drink to it,' he said, and pulled into the Green Man's car park.
    It was a whitewashed, timbered building reputedly dating back to mediaeval times. Dominic led the way into the lounge, which was furnished in traditional style, with high-backed settles and heavy wooden tables. There was an inglenook fireplace occupied by a large, wood- burning stove, which gave out a pleasant heat. On top of the log basket, which stood beside it, a large black and white cat was fast asleep. Apart from the cat, they had the room to themselves, although there was a hum of voices and laughter from the public bar next door.
    'It's very quiet.' Phoebe sat down near the stove.
    'It's skittles night—the one night they don't do food,' he explained. 'Otherwise you wouldn't get a table.' He paused. 'What can I get you to drink?'
    Phoebe hesitated. 'Just a tonic water, please.'
    His