Matt was vaguely aware that she’d asked him a question and was still waiting for a reply, holding her hand out and narrowing her eyes at him like he was an idiot and finally dropped her hand back to her side. Her smile dropped.

Say something you idiot, he berated himself. “This way.” He motioned randomly with his hand somewhere directly behind his shoulder before bending to pick up her bag so they could get moving.

“Sorry, who are you?” she enquired, bending with him to take a surprisingly strong grip on her bag handle.

“Matt Darling,” he told her brusquely before continuing at her quizzical look and the on-going tug-of-war between them over her bag. “The owner of Melville ’whose peaceful life you and your magazine friends are about to disrupt and no,” he bent his head slightly and she took a small step back at his invasion, her eyes widening, “I don’t want your autograph Miss Harper. Shall we go or would you prefer to waste some more of my time?”

He groaned inwardly at his terse dialogue and at her equally shaken expression. The truth was that she’d momentarily shocked him; rather, his gut reaction to her had shocked him and his survival technique, honed to perfection since Emily’s departure, had kicked in automatically.

Thankfully she let go of the bag, probably in surprise at his rudeness. “Okkkkayy…” she glanced nervously around the other passengers in the arrivals hall before quickly recovering her composure to fix a smile on her lips before continuing. “Well, I’m Anastacia, pleased to meet you. Thanks for coming out in this horrid weather to get me,” she said cheerily, holding out her hand again.

Goddamn it. Now she was deliberately highlighting his rudeness. What a cow…

He stared at her outstretched hand, unable to compute that she wasn’t offended by him and yelling him to sod off and come back when he’d found some manners. He held out his hand but then quickly ran it over his jean-covered thigh, acutely aware that he was about to touch her. Matt never second guessed himself… what the hell was the matter with him? He was a successful businessman who negotiated multi-million pound contracts on a daily basis.

She placed her hand in his and his body reacted at the warmth of her skin; he had a sudden desire to place his hand on her cheek. What the hell?

He also felt a strange need to apologise for his tardiness but what actually came out of his mouth was, “My car’s this way,” before he turned on his heel and set off in the direction of the main doors like a man on a mission.

***

Spotting a newsagent Matt excused himself for a moment and Anastacia was grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts and take a deep breath.

Hellllo. Not since her first crush on James Newman aged eleven had her stomach had butterflies like this upon meeting a man. Matt Darling was a hunk! The rudest she’d ever met, and she’d met a fair few snakes in her life to date, but still. At least he’d be something nice to look at until Alix could get his butt here, wherever “here” actually was. She’d just have to gag the obnoxious twerp.

Too swiftly he returned and once again set off towards the car park, leaving her scurrying behind him in her heels. God she felt like an idiot. She was supposed to be in a taxi on her way home to her flat in Chelsea to pack for this trip, before the unpredicted bad weather had changed all the best made plans.

Matt opened the front door of an old-style land rover, the kind used around farms and the countryside. It was a battered heap covered in mud. Authentic.

“George, down!”

Anastacia was shocked to find a chocolate labrador bounding towards her and jumping up at her, trying desperately to lick her face. “Hello there boy,” she greeted in that dopey voice people always seemed to use around animals.

George finally decided to acknowledge his master but not before getting a good lick of his new friend.

“Er, sorry. He’s clearly a sucker for a redhead too.”

She risked a quick glance at her chauffeur and thought she caught a puzzled look on his face before he recovered. “Here.” He reached into his pocket and handed a clean handkerchief to her..

Patting George and rubbing his ears, she looked up at Matt. “Yes, yes I’m fine… he’s very friendly. I’ve never had a dog but I’ve always loved labs. Such a gorgeous man, you’re a beauty aren’t you,” she said, ruffling his ear’s and planting a kiss on George’s powerful head.

“Okay George that’s enough,” Matt said, intervening. “In the back,” he ordered.

She wasn’t about to argue. The man was clearly pissed at something or other. She moved to open the rear door—

“Not you.”

She heard him sigh wearily, like she was living up to his belief that she was a buffoon.

Matt guided her out of the way and opened up the back of the truck, placing her carry case on the floor as George jumped up and eventually settled down with his head between his paws.

As she stood back to watch the pair, a cold shiver went up her spine and she hugged her wrap closer. She’d actually lost all feeling in her exposed toes and dropped her head to check her polish hadn’t turned blue!

She saw him shake his head and thought she heard him mutter something about her being stupid. “You’re freezing. Why the hell wouldn’t you pack a coat?” He chastised her like a child. “Never mind. Here.” Matt started to shrug out of his jacket.

“Oh no really, I’m—" She tried to hide her gasp at a shiver as he held it out to her.

“Take it. It’s a long drive.” He furrowed his brow for a moment, as if thinking about something important before quickly dismissing it, as he opened the front passenger door for her and stood back. Anastacia took the coat and offered a smile as she wrestled with the sleeves and hopped up into the front seat.

Despite her best attempt, Matt noticed the expression on her face which she’d tried to hide.

“Yeah. It’s a working farm vehicle. Cold and smelly. We use it to ferry things around. Hummer by name, hummer by nature, and our limousine is booked in for its service.” He smirked at her mockingly before he looked down towards his feet and uttered something that she couldn’t quite make out and slammed the door.

What the hell had she done to offend this man? She’d only just met him… but this was a record, even for her!

Still, she conceded, the man smelt divine as she caught the faint smell of his cologne and him as she discreetly snuggled her face into his coat for a deeper sniff…purely to escape the offensive pong of the Hummer. The cologne was a favourite of hers and she basked in the residual warmth from his body and started to defrost; wiggling her toes. She thought about his name and decided it didn’t suit him. Matt made her think of a relaxed, friendly type of man who’d go out of his way to do anything for anyone. Most certainly not this grumpy farmer, even with his perfectly tight arse which, in her defence, she couldn’t help but notice as he’d stormed on ahead in the arrivals hall, expertly dodging passengers and trailing suitcases like he was a contestant on ’It’s a Knockout’.

“So how long will it take us to get there?” she said, rubbing her hands together before bending to take off her impractical but heavenly shoes and curl her legs up underneath her body on the car seat. At his curious expression she added, “Years and years of Yoga.”

He nodded in understanding before explaining. “Usually about an hour or so, but I think this weather might slow us down a bit.”

She’d noticed that the snowfall was much heavier now and it was sticking to the roads with menace.

“If they close the pass to the village then we’ll be staying somewhere else for the night.” He glanced over at her and she saw a flash of concern on his face which he didn’t bother to hide. “Ever sleep in anything other than a six star hotel?” He raised another mocking brow at her.

All right buster, she thought, I’ve played nice so far but now we’re alone with no camera phones to record me and upload it all online.

“Have I done something to offend you Mr Darling? Am I getting special attention or did the hens just refuse to lay today? Or perhaps you think this,” she waved her arm at him, “grumpy farmer routine or whatever it is you’ve got going on is just what the tourists want?” She raised her brow and caught a muscle tick in his jaw.

“Just to be clear,” he started as he glanced over briefly, “I don’t want you or your fashion crew here.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out, I’m smart like that.” She shrugged. “Guess it just goes to prove that they don’t let just anyone into Mensa.” She tapped her chin with her index finger as if in thought. “Of course that does lead one to question your intelligence for letting us let us rent the house if we offend your delicate sensitivities so. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He seemed briefly dazed by her curt words. Most likely about her Mensa gem—she hated the stereotype that all models were only interested in their hair and make-up. Of course he didn’t need to know that she wasn’t actually a member of Mensa… What was a tiny white lie to a man she was never going to see again.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t my idea. It was my sister’s.” He glared over at her again and then narrowed his eyes accusatorily. “I despise everything that you and your kind crave, Miss Harper.”

Ana was so shocked by the vicious words, spat out with such disdain, that it took a moment for her to recover and close her mouth which had dropped open at his terse remark. “W-wow. Just say what you think.” She held her hands up in mock surrender before dropping them back in her lap. “Am I allowed to ask just what it is that you think I crave so much? Oh, and I assume you’re not thinking it’s chocolate.”

Annoyingly, the tick in his jaw only added to his attractiveness.

“Attention. Fame.”

“That’s it?” She gasped outraged. “You’re offended by my choice of occupation?” She let out a humourless laugh and shook her head. He made no sense to her. “Well, I’m offended by your rudeness Mr Darling, but still, I’m here to do a job which I will do to the best of my ability whilst trying my hardest to keep out of your way so as not to offend you.” She titled her head and smiled sardonically at him. “But seeing as though we have a signed contract to be at Melville and I understand that a generous donation has been made to a local charity at your request…” she paused for effect, raising her brow, “I suggest that you keep your thoughts about ’my kind’ to yourself and concentrate on driving.”

Her heart was pounding so much she could feel it in her throat. She was riled yet strangely exhilarated as nervous energy swamped her body. She saw his grip on the wheel tighten further. He looked pissed off, but arguing with him was… fun.

Until reality set in. God, had she really just said all that? Crap she shouldn’t have let loose. She should have just sucked it up and bottled it all in like usual. What if he did in fact go to the press with a story about what a demanding diva she was? What if Passion decided she was just too opinionated; too out of control; just too much trouble? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to make a quick fortune out of an ’Exclusive tell-all’ article about her. Would she ever learn?

She let out a sigh. It was too late now. He just brought that response forth from her and she was still surprised; surprised at how good it felt! She had lost count of the times she’d held back from telling some idiot what she really felt. Her life was monitored 24/7. Privacy was non-existent, especially with the advent of the mobile phone with their built in cameras and video’s. Oh well, Amanda would have to scream at her again and deal with any fall out, no doubt, after she’d received a call from her mother’s publicist complaining about how her behaviour impacted her mother’s precious career.

While Matt was concentrating on the road and the increasingly difficult conditions, she took advantage to steal a glance at him from the corner of her eye, hoping she wouldn’t be caught ogling him. Again.

She’d noticed him at the airport before he’d apparently seen her.

The furor caused by his attempts to help an older couple with their suitcases had made her chuckle, especially when the heavy bag had fallen on his foot. Not that she hoped he was hurt, well, not then, before she knew what he was like, but it was clear that he’d been in a rush to meet someone but his manners had clearly won. She’d liked that, but it was at odds with the man sitting next to her. What the hell had she done to this man in such a short period of time to warrant such a reaction? And for that matter, what was so wrong with having attention?!

She’d already clocked that he was tall, maybe a couple of inches over six foot with broad, athletic shoulders and dark hair which was cut short, and he sported a couple of days’ dark growth which suited his chiselled jawline perfectly. She’d also noted his strong bone structure and symmetrical facial features, a habit from her line of work. She noticed beauty. From a distance she had daydreamed that his padded winter coat hid a muscular body. She didn’t have to imagine for long… until he opened that perfect jaw and spoke and ruined the illusion.

Talk about living up to stereotypes. This guy was the ultimate Grumpy Farmer.

But when he’d shrugged off his coat… WOW. If Alix had been with her, he’d have shouted “hubba hubba” before passing out on the floor, not caring that the man was insolent!

Putting his bad mannered attitude to one side, Matt was stacked! His muscular body was probably acquired and honed to perfection through his active lifestyle of lugging hay bales around the farm and sheering sheep or whatever it was that farmers did all day. His black T-shirt pulled slightly over his pectoral muscles and was teamed with snug, worn light blue jeans. Apair of well-used working boots finished the ensemble. As he drove on in silence she continued to take advantage and gaze at his forearms, momentarily fascinated as the corded muscle tensed and then relaxed as he made minor adjustments to the steering wheel. They were mesmerising. Forearms were sexy…who knew?

She’d already spied the beautiful, vintage Omega watch he sported and that the ring finger on his left hand was bare… Why had she even been looking? Did a girlfriend buy him the watch?

His eyes? She was acutely aware that she hadn’t yet had the chance to fully appreciate her grumpy farmer’s eyes. She guessed they were blue to complement his skin and hair colouring… She gave herself a mental slap. She wasn’t interested in such things. Her career was her priority, not her love life.

Her musings were interrupted by music coming from his mobile phone..

“Is that - Dirty Dancing?” she queried.

Okay, that was not the ringtone she’d have guessed would be on a farmer’s phone, she thought, as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He answered his phone and spoke with someone confirming that he had collected her and they were on the way back. He finished the call and they were once again under way. Was that his wife or girlfriend?

Before she could stop her runaway mouth she teased, “What, no ’Old Macdonald had a farm’ on iTunes?”

She started to hum the children’s nursery tune to herself and glanced over at Matt. He looked uncomfortably embarrassed.

Clearly he wasn’t going to bite this time. “That was Pip, my sister,” he clarified, after a short pause. “She said the snow is getting really heavy and wanted to know where we were. She also likes to steal my phone and change the personal ring tones.” She caught a faint blush on his cheeks. She was right—brilliant blue eyes—but yet something in them made her pause. Something she recognised from seeing her reflection too many times, as an occupational hazard. He looked… shattered, and not through lack of sleep, although she’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes. More like he was emotionally drained. Now that she really thought about it as she watched him rub at his jaw, the stubble on his face was less likely to be a fashion statement and more like he’d simply forgotten to shave or simply couldn’t be bothered, and the nail on his right thumb was bitten… all seemed to point in the direction that all was not rosy in this man’s life. Well, whatever. It wasn’t any of her business and she was out of here in a couple of days.

He reached between the front seats and thrust a bag from the newsagent at the airport into her hands. “Here.”

Anastacia peered into the heavy bag which contained several small bottles of chilled Perrier water. Bemused, she looked over at him. “Er, thanks.”

“My sister said you needed them. Your agent apparently told her to get them for you. I’ll order more for you to be delivered at the house, but that’s all they had in the shop. You should give our Yorkshire water a try.” He looked over her pointedly. “Surprisingly it tastes just like water.”

She offered a “Humph” in response. Great, she thought, letting his sarcasm wash over her this time. She mulled over the fact that it was just more fuel for the fire that all models are completely demanding bitches. Amanda just sent out those lists automatically, she didn’t even know what was on it. She’d asked her to stop sending them but it appeared her request had been ignored—yet again.

Anastacia reached into her handbag, suddenly remembering that she hadn’t had chance to switch her phone on since landing. She opened the bottle of water and took a few sips whilst waiting for it to catch a signal. After travelling for about forty minutes or so she guessed they were almost there. A few miles back Matt had appeared anxious and rubbed at his temples and back of his neck, but they’d driven on mostly in silence until she interjected with questions about the village and local area, just to annoy him and to see how many one word responses she could elicit. Seven.

Her phone suddenly burst to life showing she had missed several calls and text messages, mainly from Alix and Amanda. Her phone had only been turned off for a couple of hours.

She peered over at Matt’s profile. “You mind if I make some calls?”

She decided to interpret his dismissive shrug of his shoulders as code for “Go ahead.”

Chapter Two

“So, do I assume from your conversation that you won’t be joined by your friends?” Matt looked over at her, massaging the back of his neck again with his right hand. “And I make no apology for listening,” he added with a smirk.

“No. I didn’t think you would,” she replied, shaking her head and rolling the phone in her hand. “There’s still no flights leaving, at least not until the weather clears and the backlog eases up at Heathrow. Apparently the snow fall is a lot heavier in the South. It’s pandemonium at the airport with everyone desperate to get home for Christmas. Alix said that they’ll try again in a couple of days. Until then… erm, do you think you could drop me at a hotel in the village? A meagre five star one will do,” she teased playfully.

“What? No.” Matt turned his head to her suddenly. “I mean, er, there are no hotels. You’ll stay with us as planned. As per the contract.”

She caught the authority mixed with a hint of sarcasm in his voice and her hackles were once again up. He was clearly a man used to being in charge and used to people and animals doing what he told them. That was so not her, but in light of her current predicament perhaps she should just go with the flow… easy girl.

“You sure I won’t be an imposition? I mean, I wouldn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”

“No. I won’t be in the house much. Besides, I doubt the residents of our little village would have a clue who you are Miss Harper.”

Okkkay…

Matt reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out a packet of headache tablets; attempting to remove the white pills from the foil one handed.

She let out a sharp breath at his stubbornness before reaching over to take them from his hand and press out a couple of the pills before handing them back to him together with the bottle of Perrier. “Here, they’ll be easier to swallow with water.”

Matt thanked her begrudgingly and she took another opportunity to watch him as he swallowed the pills with her water. Holy moly, just watching this throat was a sensual act. Crikey, she thought, how long had it been since she’d been with a man? She started to count the months off in her head and then decided that it wasn’t something she wanted to examine too closely.

Focus, Anastacia… and not on his throat action!

It was her turn to blush now as Matt caught her staring this time as he handed the bottle back to her. Maybe staying in a house with this man wasn’t such a brilliant idea…then again, he’d said he didn’t plan on being there much and that was probably a good thing. His grumpiness grated on her. What the hell did he have to be grumpy about?

Again, she reminded herself that she wasn’t interested.

Despite the thick snow now lying on the ground, she could see the natural raw beauty of the countryside. It had a wild, untamed quality about it and she could easily imagine why such scenery had been the inspiration for Miss Bronte and the like. It was a complete contrast to urban jungles she occupied in American and more latterly, London. She opened the window slightly to breath in the cold air and rid her melancholy thoughts at her lifestyle. Instead of questioning what her chauffeur had to be cranky about, maybe she should focus that question nearer to home.

Eventually they passed a sign indicating that they’d arrived in the village of Waddington, North York Moors; Gold award winners for Britain in Bloom 2012 and 2013. It had been a long time since they had passed through any other villages or signs of civilisation. She really was in the middle of nowhere. The village itself was exactly as she’d imagined a Dickensian village would look. Quaint. A main high street with a medley of shops on each side, butcher, baker, candle stick maker, with quite a few shoppers mulling around, most of whom waved or acknowledged Matt in some way. Matt simply nodded his head or raised his index finger from the wheel in greeting. She also spotted a dress shop, all tastefully decorated for the season with cream twinkle lights and small Christmas trees above each shop building. The local pub was set back at the end of the high street with the main village Christmas tree; a huge star on the top with a wide white banner around the base attached to the railings advertised an event of some sort, but Matt had driven past before she’d had a chance to read the details.

“How far is it to the farm now?”

Matt glanced over at her and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not a farm, and you’re dangerously close to sounding like a two year old.”

“So I guess now isn’t a good time to say that I really need a wee?” she threw back at him, only partly teasing. She actually needed to visit the ladies since the arrivals hall but had got distracted by Mr Gallant, Gorgeous and Grumpy.

“I can pull over. There’s plenty of bushes,” he threatened, and she wondered whether Mr Dark and Broody did actually have a sense of humour.

At least she hoped he was kidding.

“Only a few more minutes,” he continued. “The house is only a mile or so from the village, closer if you walk straight over that hill”. He bobbed his head slightly and pointed past her shoulder.

She smiled back lightly in concession. “I’ll hold it. I was never very patient and as for that…” pointing in the same direction as Matt, “I’d say it’s a mountain not a hill!”

As promised, they soon approached a large wrought iron gate featuring two prancing stallions, which formed a complete design when the gates met. Matt punched a code into a security pad at the side of the road to open the automatic gates. They entered a pebbled driveway flanked either side by large evergreen trees. A brass sign at the side of the drive announced that they’d just entered the private grounds of “Melville House and Stud”.

Ah okay, so definitely not a farm. No sheep would warrant this much security!

“So, how big is this place?”

“Eight hundred acres or so. We have thirty stallions at the moment and ten visiting mares.”

She raised an eyebrow at that and smirked. “Visiting mares?” she repeated, slowly.

They continued to drive slowly down the winding driveway and caught sight of a couple of horses with their riders in the distance and circular arenas where it looked as though the horses might be exercised by some sort of machine that walked them around.

The grounds were extensive and spectacularly maintained. This was no simple horse farm!

A majestic three story Jacobean manor house came into view through the tree line as Matt steered the car around the final bend. Its traditional symmetrical style and intricate stone masonry with mullioned windows and numerous tall chimney stacks were set off magnificently against the vivid green ivy growing on one gable end of the house, now wearing a blanket of newly fallen snow. The main door was set back into an impressive archway flanked on either side with stone columns and urns, but the main focus was directly in front of the main door where a fountain with six bubbling jets shot water at least five meters into the sky. Numerous old fashioned brass street lamps were scattered around the property and would no doubt create a spectacular illumination in the evenings. The driveway continued around to the side of the house where a detached three car garage was situated, its doors open showing a black Range Rover and Silver Aston Martin parked inside. She’d already noted a scattering of other out outbuildings throughout the manicured gardens and shrubs. It was a winter wonderland and the child in her itched to play out in the snow.

“It’s amazing,” she beamed, but he seemed deep in thought, a ticking nerve in his jaw the only give away that he was annoyed at something. She left him to his grumpiness and continued to admire the view as he parked.

***

He had to get a grip—fix the emotional walls which somehow this woman had managed to crack with her quips and teasing. He had strangely enjoyed it but he needed to fix it and quick before the bloody dam broke. He wasn’t ready to have such feelings again yet… if ever. He would be polite but, for the sake of his sanity, that would have to be it. Nothing more. Miss Darling, and the rest of them when they arrived, would be well looked after by Pip and Mrs Henderson. He needed to focus and ensure the forthcoming visit from Jumal went as planned. It hadn’t helped that as yet, this woman had not been the obnoxious, haughty woman that he’d discriminately thought she would be. Instead she had been friendly and outgoing despite his rudeness… and she’d called him on it and made him feel embarrassed and guilty at his behaviour, like a naughty child. Something only Mrs Henderson had ever done since his mother’s death.

Still. No distractions. No matter how annoyingly beautiful… or wonderfully feisty, just like he’d imagined.

Matt parked right outside the front door and quickly jumped out, grabbing her bag from the back seat and freeing George to run around in the snow in circles like a lunatic. Pip and Mrs Henderson came out to greet them at the front door when it suddenly occurred to him that he was sans Miss Tall, Tantalising and Tenacious. He slowly turned his head to see her peering out of the open car door, her brows squeezed together quizzically as she studied the snow like it posed a difficult question… which Miss Mensa could bloody well solve on her own.

He turned back to his family, shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes, but he was met with a disapproving look on Mrs Henderson’s face including hands on her hips which always meant trouble.

He dumped her bag on the floor and let out an exaggerated sigh before stomping back to collect her, muttering all the way about her having no coat and her ridiculous shoes.

She started to sit back into her seat at his approach but he quickly grabbed her around the waist and was secretly pleased at her surprised squeal before she finally grabbed hold of him as he kicked the door closed and carried her back over to her waiting fans and unceremoniously dumped her beside her bag.

“Thanks,” she muttered, sheepishly. “I only have these shoes.”

He was forced to make the introductions. “This is my sister, Pip, and our housekeeper, Mrs Henderson.”

***

“It’s lovely to meet you both.” Anastacia nodded and smiled, clutching Matt’s coat tighter around her body.

Pip ran forward and grabbed hold of her hand. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here. I’m such a fan.”

She was much younger than Matt, a petite girl with long, dark, glossy locks and sporting a thick rimmed pair of glasses that were fashionable at the moment. She reminded her of a pixie, gorgeous, perfectly proportioned, and full of energy.

“Okay Pip, leave the lass alone. That’s enough,” said the older woman, Mrs Henderson. She was a large woman with silver hair tied back in a neat bun, in her sixties if Ana was to guess. She offered a warm welcoming smile and rubbed her hands on her apron before embracing her in a bear hug, filling her nostrils with the smell of lavender, and she could tell instantly that she would get along well with both women. Unlike the frustrating farmer.

Mrs Henderson took charge and ushered them all into a large entrance hall before calling over her shoulder to Matt, who stood statuesque outside.

“Matt dear, I’ve put Miss Harper in the guest room next to yours. Take her bag up there would you?”

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