The Man in the Buff Breeches (8 page)

As soon as everyone has left, I text DS Salter and tell him about the elephant. On impulse I add a p.s.—
Cream cakes are a wicked indulgence and should be arrested or at least cautioned.
I add a kiss then hastily replace it with a smiley face.

I check my mobile frequently for the next two days. There is no reply, and perhaps it’s for the best.

Two weeks later, Lyn is sitting on my sofa whilst I am arranging a very expensive bowl of “please forgive me” roses from Henry, who has just returned from a business trip. He is leaning against the breakfast bar looking miserable.

“I’m really sorry, Shona. I should never have brought that creep Nick along that night, but he seemed such a good sport on the golf course.”

I walk over and give him a quick hug. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. It’s okay. I was the biggest fool in all this.”

Lyn is not so forgiving; she looks daggers at him. “Good sport! You should have found out his handicap—the fact he was a vicious crook.”

Henry raises his eyebrows. “Well at least I didn’t stuff a kilo of cocaine in the roof to stop a leak.” He smirks, and I am instantly reminded of a certain detective who I am desperate to forget.

“Far healthier use for it. I kept it off the streets,” Lyn replies.

I grin and hold up a hand. “Don’t have a domestic on my account. I am the idiot in the whole sorry episode. Picking boyfriends is certainly my handicap.”

Quite frankly, I want them to leave. Even though I love them to bits, seeing them together just reminds me that they have something I yearn for—someone to love and trust and argue with. Even quarrelling they smoulder. They are right now giving each other a “wait until I get you home look”—to an evening full of steamy sex I suspect.

The doorbell rings. “That will be the pizza delivery,” I say. “Sorry, I didn’t order for three.”

Henry heads into the hall. “I’ll get it.”

Lyn takes my hint and makes a face as she rises. “I hate the way you can eat pizza for England and still virtually become invisible when you stand sideways.” She gives me a hug. “Honestly, Shona, when I think of what that Nick did to you,” she shudders, “the orgasmic looking bastard.”

“Ah, caught you talking about me.”

There is a small explosion in my chest which radiates heat down to my toes, and it is not because of the shock of hearing Lyn swear. I turn. DS Sam Salter stands in front of me, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. His golden hair has been cut quite short and he wears a grey jacket, white T-shirt, and his customary smirk.

I feel a surge of unexplained emotion which makes my eyes prick with tears. I step around him and virtually push Lyn and Henry towards the door. Lyn is frowning, and I whisper in her ear. “It’s okay, he’s police remember—a good guy.”

Henry is giving DS Salter a very parental sort of glare. “Take care, Shona. Let me know if you need anything,” he says before he is pulled out the door.

“How was Wales? You didn’t stay long.”

“Wet, and I wanted to get back before you took your vows. I thought I would take you out for a spin in my curricle, Miss Bennet, if you are not too busy.” He points out the window where a blue convertible is parked. “Although you might need to smarten up a bit.” He takes the Regency quizzing glass out of his pocket and inspects me up and down, then lingers on the bunny slippers.

“Interesting,” he smirks.

Oh well, it’s too late to hide them
. I consider his offer.

“No, I don’t want to go for a drive in a curricle, flick fans, or dress up in stupid impractical clothes.”

“Oh, that is disappointing,” he says, looking like a little boy lost all of a sudden.

“Are you off duty?” I take a step closer and look up into brown eyes that have now turned wary.

“Yes, half an hour ago.”

“Excellent!” I stand on tiptoe, haul him forward by his lapels, and kiss him. I desperately need to know what that smirk tastes like.

“Why, Shona, I rather think that I prefer the modern woman as well.” Then his arms are around me, and the weight of the recent terrible events melt about us. And like Maria, in
The Sound of the Music,
I know I am not destined to be a nun.

“I never want to see another pair of breeches as long as I live,” I say. “And you can get rid of this.” I reach down, retrieve the quizzing glass, and lob it into the bin.

He raises an eyebrow then he kisses me again—slowly. Together we sink down to the settee.

“And what are you going to get rid of in return?” he asks.

“What do you suggest?” I snuggle down comfortably in his arms.

“Your filthy temper, perhaps.”

“I think I need to hang on to that if you are sticking around.”

“Am I?”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I think so. After all, you have ordered pizza.” He leans down and tweaks a bunny slipper. “How about these?”

“Never—they stay.”

He grins, “Well they are rather you.”

I stare at the fluffy bundles in dismay. “In what way?”

“A bit of a turn on and they make me smile.”

“Pervert,” I whisper.

“Really, Miss Bennet.”

He kisses me again, and this time all the warning gates are breeched. But I’ve switched off brain and body and am listening to my heart. I want this annoying, smirking, brave man. I want to know everything about him, and I want it to take a very long time.

“One more thing,” I say. “Don’t ever call me Miss bloody Bennet again.”

Regency heroes
. Who needs them!

About the Author

Susan Lodge’s first publication was a story for a national woman’s magazine. Heady with this breakthrough she went on to write her first novel,
Only a Hero Will Do
, published July 2012.

If you enjoyed
The Man in The Buff Breeches
then you might like to read
The Man in the Blue Flowered Shorts
(Lyn and Henry's story)

Please visit Susan's website at
www.susanlodge.com
for details of all her publications.