Last-Minute Proposal

‘Makingcakes?’ Campbell didn’t bother to hide his disbelief.

‘Yes, making cakes,’ she said evenly. She was used to men pooh-poohing what she did for a living. ‘It’s my business.’

Campbell unscrewed a water bottle and passed it over to her. ‘Doesn’t that get boring?’

She shook her head as she drank gratefully. ‘I love it. And every cake I make is different. It’s not just piping endless icing roses for traditional wedding cakes. Every one I make is unique. I spend a lot of time talking to my clients so that I can come up with an individual design for their special occasion.’

‘Like what?’

‘It was some guy’s fortieth birthday the other day, and he’d always dreamt of having a Porsche. His wife couldn’t afford one of those, obviously, but she got me to make a cake in the shape of a Porsche 911, down to the last detail. Or I quite often make shoes or bags for girls’ twenty-first birthdays—they’re always fun.’

Campbell’s eyes rested on her face. She was recovering from her breathlessness and her colour was fading, but she still glowed pinkly. Her eyes were a dark and rather beautiful blue, he found himself noticing, and the lush mouth curved in remembered enthusiasm.

He wished he hadn’t noticed quite how warm and soft and inviting it looked.

He looked away.

‘I’ve never thought of cakes as fun before,’ he said.

‘I’ve never thought of climbing hills as fun either,’ said Tilly frankly. She blew out a breath and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘I suppose they put us together because we’re so incompatible.’

‘That was the general idea,’ said Campbell.

‘I wonder if Roger and Leanne found anything in common?’

Campbell snorted. ‘Roger could always use his GPS. He says he can find anything with that.’

They glanced at each other, then suddenly both began to laugh, although Tilly was so startled by the effect a smile had on Campbell’s expression that she almost stopped. Who would have thought a laugh could make such a difference? A mere crease of the cheeks, a simple curve of the mouth, a brief glimpse of strong white teeth? That was all it was, really.

The cool green eyes were lit with amusement as they met hers, and Tilly felt her heart give an odd little skip that left her almost breathless. It was as if a switch had been flipped, brightening the light so that she could see him in extraordinary detail—the pores of his skin, the dark ring around his pale irises, every hair in the thick brows—and she was abruptly aware of him as a powerful male animal, all muscle and leashed strength.

The image made Tilly blink and sent heat flooding through her, reaching places that hadn’t tingled in quite that way for a very long time. Jerking her gaze away from his, she took a long glug from the water bottle, aware that her cheeks were burning.

Well, she would be hot, wouldn’t she? She had just climbed a huge hill.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE hoped that was the reason, anyway.

There wasn’t much point in finding man like Campbell Sanderson attractive, she reminded herself glumly. He was out of her league.

Friends would be furious if they knew she was thinking like that. Cleo was always urging her to forget Olivier and boost her ego with a quick fling. ‘You need to feel good about yourself again,’ she would insist to Tilly. ‘You don’t need to fall in love again just yet. You just need some fun. Find someone attractive and have a good time for a while. Think of it as a transitional relationship.’

The idea sounded good in principle but, as Tilly had discovered, it was a lot harder to put into practice. Even if her confidence had been up to it, attractive single men were in short supply inAllerby.

Anyway, Campbell wouldn’t be single, she decided. He must be in his late thirties, and even SAS types surely fell prey to a committed relationship of some kind somewhere along the line. He had probably been snapped up by someone slender and beautiful and—even worse—really nice long ago.

There was no sign of a wedding ring, of course, but macho men like him wouldn’t wear anything that remotely smacked of jewellery. So he might be married.

Or he might not.

Studying him covertly, Tilly drank some more water and wondered if she could ask him outright. It might seem a bit obvious, especially when they were going to be sleeping together in a tiny tent.

Sleeping together. Hmm. What was that going to be like?

Cleo would have told her to make the most of the opportunity but, like all of Cleo’s ideas, that was easier said than done. Tilly only had to look at Campbell to know that he certainly wasn’t fizzing with anticipation at the thought of sleeping close to her. He probably hadn’t given the issue of sleeping arrangements a moment’s thought.

He wouldn’t care what happened as long as he won this stupid race.

Tilly sighed inwardly. That was just her luck. She had finally stumbled across an attractive man only to discover that, even given the remote off-chance that he might be available, he was far too competitive to let himself be distracted by the possibilities of a man and a woman in a small tent.

Look at him now—totally focused, glancing at his watch, determined to keep her moving.

‘Let’s get going,’ he said.

Tilly groaned but hauled herself obediently to her feet. ‘How much further is it?’

‘We could do another three hours at least.’

‘I’m not sure my feet will last that long,’ she said, wincing as she wriggled her toes in her boots.

‘Mind over matter,’ said Campbell briskly. He threw his pack on to his back and adjusted the straps with deft movements. ‘The trick is to keep thinking about something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like what you’d really like to find at the top of the next hill.’

‘That’s easy,’ said Tilly, securing her own pack into place and trudging after him. ‘Can you please make sure there’s a fabulous bathroom, with a deep, scented bath piled high with bubbles? I’d like candles and a glass of champagne waiting for me on the edge of the bath…oh, and a little plate of nibbles, too. Smoked salmon, probably,’ she added reflectively. ‘Or nuts? No, smoked salmon,’ she decided. ‘Little roulades stuffed with prawn mousse and soft cheese.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Campbell in a dry voice.

He was taken aback by how vividly he could picture Tilly sinking into the water with a sigh of pleasure. Her skin would be pink and pearly and wet, her hair clinging in damp tendrils around her face, her breasts rising out of the bubbles as she tipped back her head and dropped smoked salmon into that lush mouth…

Campbell had to give himself a mental shake, and he picked up his stride. He felt almost embarrassed, as if someone had caught him peeking round the bathroom door.

Tilly was still fantasising. ‘While you’re at it, can you arrange for a wonderful meal to be cooking so that the smell comes wafting up the stairs? No niminy piminy nouvelle cuisine, though, not after the day I’ve had. I want something hot and tasty. It doesn’t have to be fancy.’

‘A roast?’ Campbell suggested, drawn back into the scene she was creating in spite of himself.

‘Yes, a roast would be very acceptable, especially if you can lay on all the trimmings, too. Or a really good casserole with creamy mashed potatoes.’ Tilly was beginning to salivate now. She could practically taste that first mouthful. ‘Or—I know!—steak and kidney pudding…mmm, yum, yum… Even a—’

Glancing at Campbell just then and catching his fascinated gaze, she broke off. ‘What—you don’t have fantasies?’

‘Not about food.’

‘What do you fantasise about then?’ she demanded grouchily, embarrassed at having revealed quite how greedy she was. Why couldn’t she be the kind of girl who hankered after a green salad or a mug of nice herbal tea?

Campbell lifted an eyebrow in response, and she tutted. ‘Not that kind of fantasy,’ she scolded as if he had spoken, although actually she wouldn’t have minded knowing that at all. ‘A fantasy you can share with a nice girl like me!’