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    She saw the security gates were once-again functioning as their arrival activated the sensor. But the garage front remained a mess, and tradesmen had started on the huge clean-up job.  
    Christian parked as close to the house entrance as possible. She gazed in dismay at the destruction.
    “How bad were your cars?”  
    “Better than I feared. Some new windscreens. Broken windows. There’s panel and paint damage to those in the front row. The ones right at the back fared better. We got them all out before the roof came down. I’ve already had my best men do a rush-job on the Merc. Could have been a hell of a lot worse.”
    “Did they catch anyone yet?”
    She saw his mouth flatten. “Two stupid country kids. With explosives intended for some rock-blasting on a river-bluff. One of them used to work for me. God knows what they thought they were playing at—or how they expected to end up with a car worth driving after blowing the garage door off.”
    Fiona bit her lip.
    “They were damned lucky they didn’t kill themselves,” he added. “They must have broken the side window of the garage and had things ready to go right before we got home. Maybe we panicked them. I’d be interested to know who told them the garage door couldn’t be opened from the inside, though.”
    Her blood ran cold at how much worse things could have been. “What if they’d set it off when you and I were wheeling Nicola to the front door?”    
    Christian shook his head. “Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? Just be glad it didn’t happen.”  
    “Oh Christian,” she murmured. “Thank God, thank God.”
    She heard him expel all his breath in a gusty sigh. “Anyway the Police recovered the Jag. But the kids had given it hell. Misjudged a bend and went over a steep bank.”
    “Not pretty?”  
    “Break your heart.”
    “Joy-riders, I suppose?”  
    He nodded, mouth again a tight line. “They won’t get much joy if I get hold of them. Although I gather they’re banged-up worse than you are.”
    “Justice of a kind, then?”  
    He shrugged, and pushed the driver’s door open. “Wait,” he said, in a tone that brooked no dispute.
    Fiona bristled, but sat helplessly as he went to unlock the house. Even though there was access from the garage wing, it would be impossible to get through that way until the builders had finished.  
    “Where’s Nicky?” she asked when he returned to open the door of the Mercedes and help her out.
    “At Jenny and Rob’s, where the barbecue was. I’m taking advantage of their nanny for the odd hour or two.” He nudged a long arm in behind her shoulders to gather her up.
    “I can do it.” She felt far too close to his big strong body again. Much too near to his mouth.
    “Don’t even think about it!” he snapped as she wriggled against him.
    A   burst of heat enveloped her. Had he seen how much she wanted him? How she’d imagined his kiss? She lowered her eyes in shame and confusion.
    “You can’t walk to save yourself, Fiona. I’m carrying you. We should have got a wheelchair for a few days.”
    “We still could,” she muttered, relieved he thought she wanted to walk, and didn’t after all know her brain had summoned up delicious hot scenes with him as the star.
    She shuffled painfully to the edge of the seat. He bent lower and slid an arm under her knees, easing her sideways until he had her fully in his arms.
    “Sorry if I’m hurting you.” His voice was a husky growl. “I’ll try not to.”  
    He lifted her up and held her against his chest. Their mouths became exactly aligned. Panicked that she might carry through on her fantasies, Fiona ducked her head and buried her face against his neck.
    She breathed him in, her nose right beside his warm skin and freshly laundered shirt. The muscles and tendons flexed in his hard shoulder and chest as he moved.
    “You smell nicer than the hospital,” she blurted, the words muffled against him. “I’m sorry, I