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place?’
    She gripped the hay bale, but it scratched her hands. Too much conversation. Her horny mood was ebbing. Sally would be ashamed of her. Ensconced in a lovely warm barn, inches away from a red-blooded male, and talking about head injuries and cross-eyed farmers instead of getting down to some serious seduction? Sally would have had his trousers down by now. But then again, Sally wasn’t here, was she?
    Her other voice told her that talking was a goodthing. This was a man-free holiday, she remembered. Anyway, Janie wouldn’t know how to set about getting his trousers off. On the other hand, if she didn’t keep talking she might just grab him and start shouting, ‘My friend says I’m frustrated. So fuck me!’
    Shards of excitement jabbed at her again, daring her, urging her on. Different parts of her were desperate for him to carry on touching her, even if it was only on her neck. She was starving, she was frigid, and her cunt had closed up. Having felt him touch her once, her whole body was clamouring to feel one flick of his fingertips.
    He was so close she could count every bristle pushing through the dark skin on his chin. She focused on his mouth.
    â€˜I’m the four-eyed farmer, if you must know.’ He pushed his specs up his nose, putting on a sheepish expression. ‘And I do own the place.’
    Janie tore her eyes away from his mouth. ‘And I’m Old Macdonald.’
    â€˜Seriously, Miss Marigold. I’ve bought this farm. I should have told you at the beginning. So, you see, I’m allowed to be in this barn, because this is my barn, and those are my logs. Whereas you are a trespasser.’ He jabbed a finger towards her nose. ‘So it’s me who should be asking the questions.’
    â€˜I thought it was all going to be pulled down.’
    â€˜Once you’d nicked the logs?’
    â€˜Look, I never dreamed anyone would actually want to live here.’
    â€˜And I never dreamed it would have so much potential,’ he grinned, rubbing a hand through his hair. ‘Particularly with such a luscious new neighbour.’
    â€˜Two – there’s two of us,’ she corrected him, mentally kicking herself as soon as she’d said it.
    â€˜Two luscious neighbours, eh? I’ll be round for a cup of sugar, you can count on that. Two of you. What a bonus.’
    â€˜Well, now that we’re neighbours, perhaps I should tell you my name,’ Janie offered.
    â€˜If you did that, I’d have to punish you for trespassing, wouldn’t I?’ he said. ‘But then again, I don’t want you suing me for personal injury. Lord knows the entire farmyard is a health hazard.’
    â€˜Best if we just remain anonymous, then,’ said Janie, ever the practical one.
    â€˜Let me just check you over, then, once more just to be safe, before I escort you from the premises,’ said the farmer, sounding suspiciously like he had an ulterior motive.
    â€˜I think you’d better,’ she agreed, suddenly realising this was an open invitation for this rough-looking stranger to continue touching her.
    His hands came back to her shoulders, and he started to massage the bones so that she was forced to relax.
    â€˜So you don’t mind?’ he asked.
    Her neck went limp. She ought to stand up; she ought to leave. But she was glad his hands had come back. She wanted them to move down her body. He was promising, not threatening, and he was only inches away. She gave a shiver of impatience. Maybe whatever he was promising, punishment perhaps, was the one thing that would knock this confusion out of her. Sally would say that all Janie needed was a damn good rogering. That was her remedy for everything. But that was hardly a punishment, was it? More of a reward.
    One of the farmer’s fingers hooked under her collar and started to stroke the white skin beneath. Therewas something exquisite in the way that solitary finger