His Defiant Mistress: The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress / The Venetian's Midnight Mistress / The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress

CHAPTER SIX

OLIVER ASKED the driver to wait for a few minutes when they arrived at Medlar House, and followed Sarah into her flat. ‘So, then, Sarah. How do you feel after your first success in the property world?’

‘A bit flat,’ she confessed. ‘And a bit headachy, too, after two glasses of champagne at this time of day. Not,’ she added with a grin, ‘that it normally features in my life at any time of day.’

‘You can well afford the odd bottle now, darling, if you fancy it,’ he reminded her, then smiled lovingly. ‘Sit down, darling. There’s something I want to say.’

Sarah eyed him in trepidation as she went to her windowseat. ‘Is something wrong, Oliver?’

‘Not wrong, exactly.’ He stood looking out at the view. ‘I need to put something right. Your father asked me to keep it from you, but I think it’s time you knew that he was asked to stay on as manager of SC Construction when the Merrick Group bought it from him.’

Sarah stared at him for a moment, then shook her head vehemently. ‘That’s not true. He would have told me—’

‘Sam didn’t tell you because he just didn’t want the job. As long as you had security from the sale of the company, plus the value of the house, he was satisfied. He asked me to take care of you. Not that he needed to ask.’ Oliver bent to take her hand. ‘Sam’s heart was giving out on him. Unknown to me, or obviously to you, he’d been taking medication for years, but when he told me he had very little time left, my darling—’

‘But why didn’t he tell me?’ Sarah jumped to her feet. ‘He shouldn’t have kept it from me. If I’d known I would have taken more care of him.’

‘You couldn’t have taken better care of him than you did, Sarah.’ Oliver took her in his arms and held her gently for a moment or two, then let her go and turned her face up to his. ‘Sam made me promise not to tell you, but I have no compunction in breaking that promise because I believe you deserve the truth. Don’t be sad. Enjoy your triumph, darling.’

Sarah nodded dumbly as she blinked tears away.

‘Good girl.’ Oliver bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Now, I’d better not keep Alex’s driver waiting any longer. Keep me in the picture with the barn conversion scheme.’

‘Of course.’ She hugged him hard. ‘Thank you so much for coming today.’

‘Least I could do, dear child.’ He patted her back. ‘And now I shall repair to my hotel room and sleep off the effects of lunch, before attacking the brief I brought with me.’

Sarah released him, looking at him steadily. ‘And thank you for telling me the truth, Oliver.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘I just hope I haven’t ruined your day.’

‘No. I’m glad I know. I also know how busy you are. It was wonderful to have your support today. Goodbye, Oliver. I’ll ring you.’

Sarah put her suit away, washed her face, then took a long bath, her brain revolving in circles as it tried to come to terms with Oliver’s revelation. At least, she thought eventually, it scotched any last remnants of guilt she’d felt about selling out to the Merrick Group. But when she’d flung her accusation at Alex Merrick why hadn’t he told her the truth? But if he had would she have believed him? Probably not, she decided honestly. Believing anything good of the Merricks would have been difficult after years of looking on them as the villains of her particular piece. Yet in some ways she was relieved, because no matter how much she’d tried not to she liked Alex. And she was pretty sure her father would have liked him just as much as Oliver did.

Later, feeling a lot better with that thought in mind, she decided to pass the rest of the day doing girl things for once. As a start she gave her feet a rare pedicure, painting her toenails candy-pink, and then neatened her sorely tried fingernails with an emery board and painted them to match. Afterwards, with an eye on the sunlight filtering through the blinds, she hunted out a white halter top and a thin rose-print cotton skirt she hardly ever wore. Then, armed with a cup of strong coffee to chase away the last lingering effects of the champagne, she made for her usual perch on the windowseat to ring Harry.

‘Hi, it’s Sarah. Guess what? I’ve sold the entire row of cottages to the Merrick Group, so Westhope Farm here we come! Will your brother-in-law be available if we pop over there in the morning?’

Harry gave a hoot of laughter. ‘No doubt about that, boss. Congratulations! What time shall I pick you up?’

Sarah smiled as she disconnected. The people who thought of Harry Sollers as a gruff old curmudgeon didn’t know him as well as she did. Dedicated bachelor he might be, but he felt paternal where she was concerned. And she was grateful for it. But right now she needed to switch off for a while. Tomorrow, she promised herself, stretching, she would think about permits and building inspections and checks on footings and the usual run-up to a job. But tonight she would just chill for a while, savour her first success while she took a walk in the early evening sun round the Medlar House grounds. Afterwards she would watch something mindless on television, or read her book, or even just sit and do nothing at all for once in her life.

Heartily sick of the entire programme by late evening, Sarah was delighted to hear her phone ring—even when she found her caller was Alex Merrick. Or maybe, she decided honestly, because it was Alex Merrick.

‘If you’re not busy,’ he said, after the formalities were over, ‘I’d like a word.’

‘By all means.’ She laughed a little. ‘Please don’t say you want your money back.’

‘Not much chance of that, with your heavy legal guns trained on this morning’s proceedings! I’ll be with you in a few minutes,’ he added, surprising her.

‘Oh—right.’ Sarah’s eyebrows rose as she snapped her phone shut. She’d assumed he meant a word on the phone. Now their business dealings were over the last thing she’d expected was another visit from Alex Merrick.

A quick phone call was exactly what Alex had intended, but at the sound of Sarah’s voice he’d felt a sudden urge to see her, talk to her face to face. Now the deal was sorted, there was no reason why they couldn’t be friends. He was thoughtful as he took the road for Medlar House. The idea of Sarah Carver as a friend was actually very appealing. His old schoolfriends, and others of both sexes he’d made in his Cambridge days, were either married or working in all four corners of the globe. Except for Stephen Hicks. And none of them had as much in common with him as Sarah from a career point of view.

When he pressed her bell Sarah buzzed him in and stood barefoot at her open door. She smiled as Alex crossed the hall towards her, unaware that she was backlit by the light streaming through her thin skirt, giving him an X-ray view of legs and curving hips that struck him dumb. ‘Hi. Do come in.’

‘Thank you for seeing me,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I thought you might be out celebrating.’

‘Not twice in one day,’ she assured him as she closed the door. ‘Besides, Oliver wouldn’t have risked driving here again.’

‘You could have been celebrating with someone other than your godfather.’ Like Dan Mason, perish the thought.

‘True, but as you see I’m not, so can I offer you a glass of wine?’

Alex eyed her hopefully. ‘I don’t suppose you’d have a beer?’

‘Sorry. The only other thing on offer is coffee.’

‘Good as yours is, I’ll take the wine on an evening like this.’ He badly needed something to lubricate the mouth that had dried at the sight of her in silhouette. ‘But only if you’ll join me.’

Knowing she could depend on the quality of the wine Oliver sometimes brought her to keep in her fridge, Sarah filled two of her mother’s best glasses and handed one to Alex. ‘Do sit down,’ she invited.

He waited for her to take her usual perch on the windowseat, then sat on the sofa, trying not to stare at her pink toenails. Her untidy curls framed a face bare of even lipstick, he noted with amusement. As usual she’d made no attempt to tidy herself up to meet him. But, polished and perfect though she’d been for their meeting this morning, he liked the barefoot dishevelled look far more. So much more it was taking all his will-power to stay on the sofa instead of snatching her up in his arms to kiss her senseless. Whoa! Where had that come from? He swallowed some wine hastily. The first step, Merrick, is to get her used to the idea of you as a friend.

Sarah waited patiently for Alex to speak. His lean, clever face looked very brown in the light above his open white collar, and for once she considered him solely on the merit of his looks—which, she had to admit, were considerable. She had always been attracted to brains rather than muscles, but Alex had both. He had a degree, so he obviously had brains, and if the muscles came from playing cricket rather than hard, physical work, at least he had some.

‘What did you want to discuss?’ she asked, after an interval where he seemed inclined just to sit and look at her rather than talk.

With effort, Alex removed his gaze from the hair curling on her bare shoulders. ‘Have you forgotten about the furniture, Sarah?’

Not Miss Carver any more, then. She frowned. ‘What furniture?’

‘The first Medlar Farm cottage in the row is full of your belongings,’ he reminded her.

Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘Good heavens!’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe I’d forgotten that. No more champagne at lunchtime for me!’

He shook his head. ‘You were merely enjoying your first triumph too much to remember.’

‘Which is pretty stupid of me, because it’s my mother’s furniture!’

‘You think of it as hers rather than belonging to both your parents?’ Alex gave her the benefit of his crooked smile. ‘Forgive my curiosity.’

Sarah was pretty sure most people forgave him anything when he smiled like that. But she wasn’t most people. ‘I was speaking literally. It actually was my mother’s. She inherited it from her parents, along with the house—but I mustn’t bore you with my life history.’

‘It wouldn’t bore me—quite the opposite. I’d really like to hear it. Unless you find it painful to talk about your parents?’ he added quickly.

To her surprise, she found she wanted to talk about them. ‘My mother was a landscape gardener. She was working in the grounds of a big property when my father arrived with his crew to do restoration work on the house. One look and that was it—for both of them.’ Sarah smiled wryly. ‘Dad said her parents were not exactly thrilled when their only child told them she’d fallen in love with a builder brought up in a children’s home. But when they met him they liked him. So much so that eventually they suggested he moved into their home with Louise after their marriage, instead of taking her away from it. Dad told me that he was only too happy to be part of a family at last, and from then on he did all the maintenance work on their sizeable North London home as a way of showing his gratitude.’

‘As a son-in-law he was a valuable asset, then?’

‘In every way,’ Sarah agreed. ‘He helped Mother care for her parents as they got older and frailer. How about you?’ she added. ‘I heard that your father’s based in London these days?’

Alex nodded soberly, and drank some of his wine. ‘Did your source tell you he’d remarried?’

‘No. My “source”, as you put it, is Harry Sollers. He’s not big on gossip. He just gave me the bare bones of the Merrick success story.’

Alex smiled wryly. ‘Then he must have mentioned Edgar, my grandfather, scrap baron extraordinaire. The old boy’s a bit of a legend in this part of the world.’

‘For turning scrap metal into gold?’

‘That’s not far off the truth. He started from nothing, which is hard to believe when you think of the group’s present level of expansion.’

‘Is he still alive?’

‘God, yes. In his late eighties and still alive and kicking. My aunt—a saint by any standards—lives with him, and does her best to care for the cantankerous old devil.’ Alex grinned at the look on Sarah’s face. ‘Don’t look so shocked. I say exactly the same to his face.’

‘If your father has remarried, did you lose your mother when you were young, like me?’ she asked with sympathy.

He was silent for a moment. ‘I suppose you could say that,’ he said at last. ‘After I graduated she divorced my father and bought a house near her sister in Warwickshire.’

‘Alex, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known,’ Sarah said remorsefully.

‘At least it shocked you into calling me Alex at last.’

‘I could hardly do that while you were still addressing me as Miss Carver.’

‘I make it a rule never to mix business with pleasure. But,’ he said, holding her eyes, ‘we concluded the business part this morning, Sarah.’

‘So we did.’ She took his empty glass. ‘Let me give you a refill. Or I could make you some coffee.’

‘Does that mean you’d like me to stay awhile?’

She nodded. ‘I was feeling a bit lost until you came. I’ve been so busy lately it was strange to have time on my hands.’

‘You could have contacted Dan Mason to keep you company.’

‘No, I couldn’t,’ she said flatly.

‘Why not? You were having a good time with him last night.’

She glared at him. ‘You were watching me?’

Alex’s eyes glittered coldly. ‘From where I was sitting I had no option. You didn’t notice me when you arrived, but Danny boy did. He deliberately seated you with your back towards me, so he could catch my eye now and again to make sure I noticed what fun you were having together.’

‘Why would he do that?’ she said, astonished. ‘Besides, just between you and me, it wasn’t much fun. In fact it was boring. Whereas—’ She stopped dead.

‘Whereas?’ he repeated suavely.

‘I never feel bored with you,’ she said, and flushed, eyeing him so warily he almost threw the ‘good friends’ idea to the wind and snatched her up in his arms.

‘Then now we’ve got the business deal out of the way, there’s no reason why we can’t be friends.’ He smiled persuasively. ‘We have a lot in common, Sarah. We property developers should stick together. Which is why I offered you the services of our security men. Your crack-brained idea of sleeping at the cottages worried the hell out of me.’

‘Did it?’ she said, surprised.

He nodded grimly. ‘I would have hated the thought of anyone at risk down there on their own, but in your case it was even worse.’

‘Why? Because I’m a girl?’

‘And a small one, at that.’ Alex looked her in the eye. ‘One I’d like to have for a friend.’

Sarah looked back very steadily. The idea of Alex as a friend appealed to her more strongly than she wanted him to know. The only friends she had in this part of the world were on the elderly side. Besides, since he was in the same line of business, broadly speaking, a friend like Alex Merrick could be very useful.

Alex eyed her curiously, aware that she was debating with herself. ‘While you’re thinking it over, enlighten me. Why did you say yes to dinner with Dan Mason when you always refused me? Because I’m one of the local lads you won’t socialise with? Dan’s local too,’ he reminded her.

She shrugged. ‘Only temporarily. Besides, if you rule out mixing business with pleasure you shouldn’t have been asking me out in the first place.’

‘For you I broke my rule. Gladly.’ His eyes held hers. ‘But where you’re concerned, Sarah Carver, I had other cards stacked against me. Not only am I local, my name is Merrick!’

They gazed at each other in silence for a long interval. ‘Today,’ said Sarah slowly, ‘I found out I’ve been wrong about that. Oliver told me my father was offered a job as manager when his firm was taken over.’

Alex nodded. ‘It’s group policy in those circumstances.’

‘Why didn’t you put me right about it?’

‘Would you have believed me?’

Sarah flushed, and turned away from the bright, searching eyes. ‘Probably not. But I feel pretty terrible about it now.’

‘Why did Mr Moore tell you the truth today—of all days?’

Sarah raised her eyes to his. ‘He obviously thought it was time I stopped gunning for you. He likes you, Alex.’

‘I’m glad.’ He smiled. ‘But I’d be far happier if I thought you liked me too, Sarah.’

‘I do,’ she said simply.

Alex felt a surge of triumph so intense it took him by surprise. ‘Good.’

He held out his hand. ‘Shall we shake on it?’

‘Shake on what, exactly?’

‘Our friendship,’ he told her, his smile even more crooked than usual.

Sarah smiled back and took the proffered hand, startled by the frisson of response to the brief contact. ‘Done,’ she said lightly.

‘Enlighten me, Sarah. The moment I introduced myself at Easthope Court that night you turned to ice. I know the reason now, yet you seemed to notice me earlier on. Why?’

‘Your hair.’

Alex stared at her blankly. ‘It’s nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘Ah, but the other men at your table were bald, or getting that way, so your luxuriant locks caught my eye,’ she informed him, eyes sparkling. ‘You were years younger than most of the men in the place, too.’

‘It’s an expensive restaurant. So unless they’re footballers or hedge fund managers the male clientele tends to be elderly.’ His lips twitched. ‘Unlike their companions.’

‘Which is why you took it for granted I was Oliver’s current trophy!’

‘A natural mistake.’

‘You made your opinion so insultingly clear I wanted to punch you in the nose,’ she informed him.

‘You can now, if you like,’ he offered.

She grinned. ‘Not in cold blood.’

The last way he could describe his own. Alex itched to run his tongue over her unpainted lips, just to see if they tasted as good as they looked. He raised his glass instead. ‘So shall we drink to an end to hostilities?’

She thought it over and raised her glass, nodding. ‘I like the idea of being friends, Alex Merrick—’

‘For God’s sake just say Alex,’ he said irritably.

‘If we’re going to be friends, Alex Merrick,’ she snapped, ignoring his groan as she hurled his surname at him like a missile, ‘we get things clear from the start. You don’t give me orders.’

‘God knows why I worried about you,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You may be small, but you’re damned vicious.’ He held out his hand. ‘Now, sit down and be nice.’

Sarah smiled unwillingly. ‘I’ll make some coffee first.’

‘An offer I can’t refuse. You make great coffee. One of several indelible memories from the night I met Nero!’ He got to his feet to follow her to the narrow, high-ceilinged kitchen, but she held up her hand.

‘You can hover in the doorway if you like, but there’s only room for me in here.’

Alex leaned against the doorjamb, admiring the economy of her movements in the narrow space. ‘I wanted you as a friend from the first, incidentally, before you even put me right about your relationship with Oliver.’

‘You mean you saw me in my dirty overalls in the pub and wanted me for a chum?’ she mocked, her eyes wide when she turned round to see Alex nodding.

‘More or less,’ he said lightly, accepting the mug she gave him. ‘Now, this isn’t an order, but a friendly word of advice. Say no to future cosy dinners with Dan Mason.’

‘Why? Just because you don’t like him?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I disapprove of him rather than dislike him, I suppose. We went to the same school, but I belonged to a different set.’

‘Because you came from a wealthier family?’ Sarah couldn’t help asking.

Alex held on to his temper with both hands, and sat down on the sofa, patting the place beside him. ‘Do you think that one day you might try to think the best of me rather than the worst? I meant that I was good at most kinds of sport, and had to work a bit to pass exams, whereas Dan flew through exams but was a total duffer at any sport at all. So we didn’t mix.’

‘Sorry,’ she said penitently, and sat down. ‘But why do you disapprove of him?’

‘Because, although Ed and Betty Mason are the salt of the earth, and he’s their pride and joy, rumour has it that he rarely drives down from London in his Ferrari to see them. And when he does he never stays long.’

‘Do you disapprove of his car, too, then?’ she asked, smiling.

He looked down his nose. ‘Only the colour.’

Sarah laughed, then looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Do you see much of your family?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I check on my grandfather most days, just to make sure he’s still there. He thinks he’s immortal, but in the natural way of things even he can’t live for ever.’

‘How about your father?’

‘I see him when I visit the London office.’

Sarah slanted a glance at him. ‘So you’re filial and Dan is not. Is that your only objection?’

‘No.’ He thought it over. ‘I just don’t like him. I never have. He’s the type who measures success by the material possessions it buys him.’

‘But he’s entitled if he’s worked hard for them, surely?’

Alex turned to look at her. ‘I’ve worked hard, too. Damned hard. I still do. Just because I was born a Merrick it doesn’t mean I had everything handed to me on a plate. Once I was old enough I slogged on building sites or in warehouses every school holiday and university vacation unless I was on a cricket tour. And I always got landed with the hardest, dirtiest jobs.’ He stretched out an arm and flexed it. ‘I didn’t get these muscles behind a desk, Sarah. And there was no gap year for yours truly, either. I went straight from Cambridge into the firm. Not,’ he added emphatically, ‘that I minded. It was always what I wanted to do. Still is.’