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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Phillipa Ashley 2017
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Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780008191887
Version 2018-05-02
Kilhallon Park, Cornwall
Late February
âGood morning and â¦â
I reach out my hand to turn off the radio alarm and I hit something else. Not the cold metal of the radio, but warm skin ⦠hairy skin ⦠and I know itâs not my dog, Mitch, because the skin next to me has smooth, firm muscle beneath it: human, not canine.
âAre you awake, Demi?â
At the sound of his voice, I open my eyes and Calâs face comes into focus in the dim light of this late February morning. Propped up on one elbow, he smiles down at me as I slowly surface from a deep sleep in our bed. Yes, our bed. Mine and Calâs. Itâs been over eight weeks since I moved into the main farmhouse with him but I still have to pinch myself when I think of all thatâs happened since I arrived at Kilhallon Park last Easter.
Cal Penwith was â still is â my boss, but heâs also now, my ⦠âboyfriendâ? That makes him sound like weâre still at school and âpartnerâ sounds as if weâre sharing an office in an accountancy firm. âLoverâ? Definitely, but also much more than that. I suppose weâre officially âa coupleâ. Christmas marked the turning point in our relationship and we not only share the same bed now but the same home and, perhaps, some of the same hopes and fears.
âWere you dreaming?â Cal asks, amusement glinting in his deep brown eyes. That look may seem charming and sexy but I know it hides a world of danger. You might as well bathe in the still waters of Kilhallon Cove on a summerâs day and think they could never rise up and batter you onto the rocks as believe that Cal Penwith isnât trouble.
âUm, I thought I was back in the cottage, and that the alarm had gone off.â
He smiles a mischievous smile. âAh, but Iâm your alarm now.â He dances his fingers towards the top of the duvet. âAnd Iâm a lot more fun to wake up with than Radio St Trenyan.â
I huff and hesitate before replying, to tease him, although he knows that I know that heâs totally right. âMmm. Maybe. Just a little bit.â
âMore than a little bit, I hope.â Cal peels back the duvet and plants a kiss on my shoulder. The warmth of his lips combats the instant chill of the air hitting my skin. The seventeenth-century farmhouseâs central heating hasnât been upgraded for thirty years because Calâs ploughed any spare cash into turning Kilhallon from a rusty old caravan site into a âboutique eco resortâ. Our guests pad about barefoot on their underfloor heating while we grab another blanket, but thatâs fine by me. The business comes first and I donât mind, especially when I have Cal here by my side.
âBrrr.â
Sleet rattles against the sash window, driven by a wind straight off the Atlantic Ocean. Iâm shivering, although that might not be totally down to the sub-zero temperatures. I snatch the duvet up to my chin.