Chapter Seven
Darcy groaned and rolled onto her front, further coiling herself in the bed sheet. ‘Baby,’ she whimpered. ‘Answer the phone.’
Sloan smiled and hung his towel over the fireguard. He had forgotten how the quirks of country living could be so charming. Growing up he was used to an open fire in every room but in the city he had never come across a real one yet.
‘I would, Tyke,’ he said. ‘But it’s not my house. Remember?’
This reminder had her rolling to her back and forcing open one eye. ‘We’re in the Quay,’ she grumbled at him as she observed him standing, cleaned, and fully clothed by her bed. He nodded and she groaned again. ‘I forgot.’
‘No kidding,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to get it?’
Sitting up in a half-hearted attempt to appear awake she caught herself in a yawn. ‘W
