His Defiant Mistress
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.’
‘I can relate to that. Because I’m doing exactly what I’ve always wanted to do,’ said Sarah. ‘And my school holidays were spent on building sites, too. But not because I was made to. Dad couldn’t keep me away.’
Alex couldn’t help touching her bare arm. ‘But your muscles are a lot prettier than mine.’ He raised her hand to his lips, and on impulse kissed each finger. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, as he felt her tense.
‘You say you want to be friends, but you behave more like a lover. Or at least,’ she added with scrupulous honesty, ‘how I imagine a lover would behave.’ None of the boyfriends she’d had in the past had practised subtlety as foreplay.
‘You’re a very appealing female, Sarah Carver, and I’m your average male, so I want to touch.’ Need to—even crave to, more like it. He batted the thought away and smiled down at her. ‘But all I ask for is friendship. Unless you’re seized with overpowering lust for my body and sweep me off to bed right now, of course.’
Sarah’s gurgle of laughter entranced him. ‘How would I drag you up there?’
‘And, having got me there, would the platform be up to it if I threw you down on the bed?’ he said, grinning.
‘Are you criticising my carpentry, Alex?’
He shook his head vigorously. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘Besides, I thought I was the one throwing you on the bed.’
‘Let’s change the subject,’ he said, clapping a hand to his heart, ‘before I get out of hand and risk our friendship before we even get it off the ground.’
‘OK,’ she said cheerfully. ‘What shall we talk about?’
Alex took her hand again, instead of putting his arm round her as he badly wanted to. ‘Tell me what Miss Property Developer has in mind for her next project. Purely as a friend,’ he added piously, ‘not as competition.’
‘Oh, I know that. You made it clear that my kind of project is just chicken feed in the eyes of the Merrick Group,’ she reminded him tartly.
‘Only to set your mind at rest,’ he assured her. ‘So talk to me, Sarah. I’m interested.’
‘Curious, you mean!’ she said, laughing, secretly only too happy to talk at length about her plans for the barns at Westhope Farm.
Alex listened intently, made constructive comments and suggestions, and even offered Sarah any help she might need.
‘For free?’
‘Of course,’ he assured her. ‘What else are friends for?’
It was late before Alex forced himself to his feet. ‘It’s time we were both in bed.’ He eyed the sleeping platform and grinned. ‘But for various reasons not, alas, together.’ He took her hand and kissed her cheek. ‘Now we’ve agreed to be friends, let’s have dinner tomorrow night.’
Sarah had to admire his style. ‘Why not? Where?’
‘You’ll probably laugh,’ he said, the crooked smile much in evidence.
‘Try me.’
‘I’d like to go back to Stephen’s place and have you all to myself this time, without Oliver Moore watching me like a hawk, or Dan smirking at me. Just you and me, Sarah. Two friends enjoying a meal together.’
In bed later, Sarah tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her first business triumph would have been enough to keep her awake, but Alex’s visit was adding to her insomnia. His visit had been such a welcome interruption to her evening it was hard, now, to believe she’d ever looked on him as the enemy. It would be good, more than good, to have him as a friend. In fact, given the slightest encouragement, she would look on him as a lot more than just a friend— She shot upright as her phone rang.
‘Hi,’ said Alex.
Sarah subsided against her pillows. ‘Hi.’
‘Did I wake you?’
‘No.’
‘The glow of your first success keeping you awake?’
‘That’s only part of it.’
‘So what else is on your mind?’
‘I’ve realised I’ve agreed to a truce with the enemy,’ she said bluntly.
Alex’s laugh sent a tingle down her spine. ‘Only I’m not the enemy any more, Sarah, am I?’
‘No,’ she admitted, after a pause. ‘Which is pretty hard to believe.’
‘I’ll help you work on that tomorrow. Now, I’ll tell you why I rang.’
‘Not just to say goodnight?’
‘That too. But I was on my way to bed before I remembered we still haven’t settled about what to do with your furniture, Sarah.’
She groaned. ‘Not again! I got so carried away with all my talk about barn conversions the furniture went out of my head. I’ll contact my storage people and ask them to fetch it.’
‘Why not store it down here? You can use one of our container units for a very reasonable fee—much cheaper than in London.’
‘Oliver paid for the storage. My only outlay was getting it transported down here.’
‘Where it might as well stay, ready to use in future when the barns are finished.’
‘That depends on what you mean by a reasonable fee!’
‘We’ll discuss it tomorrow over dinner. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’ Sarah closed her phone, then went straight to sleep with a smile on her face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SARAH WOKE next morning to a feeling of well being. And this, she admitted, was not just due to her success on the first rung of the property ladder. Her new relationship with Alex was the icing on the cake—and the cherry on top. Even if he was a Merrick. He was a clever lad all round, she conceded, as she got ready for her trip with Harry. Alex was obviously brilliant at his job, or he wouldn’t be vice-chairman of the Merrick Group at his age. Though apparently being born a Merrick wasn’t enough to make it automatic. But it surprised her that he’d worked through most of his vacations. She’d imagined him sunning himself in the Bahamas or skiing in Gstaad, certainly not slogging away on building sites.
When Harry arrived to collect her his eyes were twinkling in his weatherbeaten face. ‘Who’s a clever girl, then?’ he said as she got up beside him.
‘I am,’ said Sarah, beaming. ‘But then, look what wonderful help I had!’
‘Get away with you. By the way, Mavis is sorry she can’t cook lunch today; she was called away late last night. My niece went into labour about midnight.’
‘Oh, wow! Panic stations, then. Didn’t Grandpa want to go too?’
Harry guffawed. ‘Bob drove Mavis to the hospital, then cleared off back home, glad to keep well out of it.’
Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me—women’s work!’
‘Yes, thank God. Bob can help birth a calf without turning a hair, but he was in a right old state about Rosemary when he rang me this morning.’
‘If he’s not up to it this morning we can do this another day, Harry.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Bob’s made up because you’re thinking of buying, don’t you worry. But I told him not to get his hopes up until we take another good look at the barns. Then afterwards I’ll buy you a pasty in the Green Man to celebrate.’ He shot her a glance. ‘I thought you might like to give Fred the news.’
Sarah hadn’t the heart to say no, Dan Mason or not. ‘Of course. Everyone else, too,’ she assured him.
When they got to Westhope Farm Bob Grover was grinning from ear to ear as he came to meet them. ‘Good morning both—great news. My grandson arrived half an hour ago, and Rosemary’s fine!’
Sarah and Harry opted for coffee rather than alcohol to wet the baby’s head, then went on a tour of inspection with the jubilant grandfather. This time Sarah examined every inch of each building, and climbed up ladders into haylofts and down again with a speed and agility the men watched with respect. A surveyor was necessary for the official inspection, but Sarah took sets of measurements inside and out for her own personal record, including the space between each barn and its neighbour.
‘You can get a good garden for each one,’ Harry told her, casting a practised eye over the land available. ‘It’s a plus that they’re offset from each other. Gives a bit of privacy.’
‘I know the buildings are sound from the inspection I had done,’ said Bob, not without pride. ‘I’ll give you a copy of the report.’
‘Thank you, Mr Grover, that’s a big help.’ Sarah smiled at him in reassurance. ‘A second one is purely to make sure of permission for permanent homes.’
Eventually Sarah confirmed that she would make a sound offer once she received a report from the building surveyor.
‘This is a bigger job all round,’ said Harry as they drove back.
‘I know. But my dad did quite a few barn conversions at one time. I know the drill. As long as the main structures are sound on the ones at Westhope I don’t see any problem. Are you in for the long haul, Harry?’
‘Yes, boss,’ he said, and shot her a glance. ‘But this time we’ll probably need more help, so I hope you got a good price for those cottages.’
Sarah nodded happily. ‘It took some pretty fierce bargaining, but I did all right, Harry.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, chuckling.
Secretly, Sarah would have preferred to go straight home. With the prospect of dinner with Alex later she didn’t fancy a pasty for once. She fancied a run in with Dan Mason even less, and felt relieved when there was no sign of him when they got to the Green Man. But after she’d managed to convince Harry a sandwich was all she wanted, it was Dan who brought it through for her.
‘You still here, then, Daniel?’ said Harry. ‘You don’t usually stay so long.’
‘I had my reasons,’ he said, smiling pointedly at Sarah. ‘And how are you today?’
‘She’s on top form,’ said Harry, and beckoned Fred to join them. ‘She sold all the cottages in one go yesterday.’
Fred beamed, and gave Sarah a smacking kiss on her cheek. ‘Congratulations. Did you hear that, Charlie?’
Charlie Baker came to add his congratulations, and for a while Sarah was surrounded by well wishers wanting to buy her drinks she promised to accept next time.
When Harry was temporarily engrossed in conversation with Fred, Dan leaned closer to Sarah.
‘Lucky lady,’ he said in an undertone.
‘Hard work, not luck,’ she said dismissively.
‘Something I know a lot about,’ he reminded her, and smiled conspiratorially. ‘So let’s celebrate over dinner tonight.’
‘Sorry. I can’t.’
The smile vanished. ‘Can’t or won’t?’ he demanded, in a tone she didn’t care for. ‘I take it you’ve got a better offer?’
Sarah began to feel uncomfortable as eyes turned in their direction.
‘Pity you didn’t have a pasty, Sarah,’ interrupted Harry. ‘Your mother’s excelled herself today, Daniel.’
‘I’ll have one next week,’ she promised, and finished her cider.
‘By then you’ll be back in London, I expect, Daniel?’ said Fred.
Dan nodded coolly. ‘That’s right, Mr Carter. It’s back to the grind for me on Monday.’
Fred smiled blandly as Harry lifted Sarah down from her stool. ‘Next time we see you it’ll be Christmas, I expect. Unless you’re off skiing again.’
Dan showed his teeth in a fleeting smile. ‘I haven’t planned that far ahead. See you later, Sarah.’
She included him in her general smile to everyone. ‘Cheerio, gentlemen.’
Dan turned on his heel, and had gone through into the house before they’d reached the door.
‘Was young Daniel bothering you?’ said Harry, as they reached the pick-up.
‘Not exactly. He just wanted to take me out to dinner again.’
‘Again?’
‘I had a meal with him on Monday night.’
‘And you didn’t want a repeat?’
Sarah smiled demurely. ‘I’m seeing someone else tonight.’
He laughed. ‘Good for you. Time you started going out a bit.’
‘Exactly,’ she agreed. ‘But right now I’m off to contact the building surveyor.’
‘I’ve been thinking, boss,’ said Harry, as he drove away. ‘Young Ian’s not very happy with the firm he’s working for now. What do you say to him coming in with us on the barns?’
Sarah’s eyes lit up. ‘I think it’s a great idea, if he agrees. Find out what he’s earning there and I’ll see if I can pop it up a bit.’
‘Right.’ He got out to help her down when they reached Medlar House. ‘I’ll give you a ring later.’
‘Thanks, Harry.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘And you enjoy yourself tonight.’
Sarah spent some time on the phone for the rest of the afternoon. She contacted the offices of the building inspector, and arranged an appointment for the survey of the barns at Westhope Farm in two days’ time. She rang Bob Grover with the news, and he assured her he’d be ready and waiting for the inspector, and promised to convey Sarah’s good wishes to the new grandmother.
‘What with your offer and the baby, Mavis is over the moon,’ he said, chuckling. ‘So am I, Miss Carver.’
Sarah typed a letter to confirm the inspection appointment at Westhope, then left a message on Oliver’s phone to keep him up to date. Instead of driving she took a brisk walk to the Post Office stores to post her letter, and on the way back decided to forget about work for a while. Alex’s visit had taken her by surprise last night, though to be fair she’d had plenty of time to tidy up before he arrived if she’d wanted. But tonight she would pull out all the stops. From the expression on Alex’s face at the sight of her in a skirt, he obviously liked the girly look, so she’d keep to it tonight.
When she got back Sarah climbed the steps to her platform and slid back the doors on the wardrobe—which was so compact she’d sent a lot of her clothes to charity shops before moving in. She pushed aside the little black number and brought out the dress bought for her leaving party at the flat before moving from London.
Girly was the word for it, she thought with a grin later, as she zipped up the thin poppy-red voile. Slender straps held up the low-cut top, and the fluted skirt stopped just short of her knees. Sarah gave an excited little laugh as she looked at her reflection. Harry and his cronies wouldn’t have recognised her. When the doorbell finally rang she went down the steps, carrying her shoes, feeling like Cinderella ready for the ball.
‘I’m here,’ said Alex.
Sarah buzzed him in, left her door ajar, then slid her feet into her shoes and stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him. He gave a perfunctory knock and came in, to stand very still just inside the door, looking pretty much perfect to Sarah in a linen jacket and khaki jeans which hugged his muscular thighs. They gazed at each other in silence, then, without taking his eyes away from her, Alex reached behind him to close the door.
‘You look good enough to eat,’ he said, in a tone which did damage to her pulse-rate.
‘Thank you.’
‘Would it endanger our embryo friendship if I kissed you?’
‘You can if you’re careful,’ she said, offering her cheek.
‘Sorry. Can’t do careful,’ he said, and kissed her mouth, taking so much time over it Sarah’s heart was pounding by the time he raised his head. ‘You know, I’m not so sure about this friend thing after all,’ he said huskily, his eyes glittering.
She heaved in an unsteady breath, trying to damp down the heat his expert, hungry mouth had sent surging through her entire body. ‘You don’t want that any more?’
‘Yes, of course I do. But I have a problem.’
‘What?’
‘The way you look tonight, any normal guy would want to be more than just your friend, Sarah. But don’t worry,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll stick to the rules.’
‘What rules?’
‘Yours: friendship with the enemy, but no sleeping with him.’
She eyed him quizzically. ‘Is that what you want?’
He smiled wryly. ‘Of course I do. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.’
‘You’re honest!’
‘Always the best policy, Sarah. But don’t let it worry you. Just good friends will do for now.’ He touched a caressing finger to her bottom lip. ‘So repair the damage, and let’s take off to see what Stephen has to offer.’
Outside in the courtyard Sarah looked round for the Cherokee, her eyes wide as Alex led her to the classic beauty parked near the front gate.
‘Wow,’ she exclaimed. ‘A Jensen Interceptor, no less. I do so hope my neighbours are watching. I got some teasing about the yellow Ferrari the other night, then Oliver collected me in his Daimler, and now you turn up with this baby.’
‘My pride and joy, and used solely for special occasions,’ said Alex, handing her in.
‘I’m honoured. Though I would have been equally happy with the Jeep.’
‘I know.’ He slanted a smile at her. ‘That’s part of what makes the occasion special.’
It was Sarah’s third meal in as many days at the Pheasant Inn, but eating alone with Alex raised the experience to a new level. His kiss earlier had altered things between them, to the point where just his mention of sleeping with the enemy was enough to revive sexual tension, which simmered below the surface while they studied menus and sipped the champagne he’d insisted on ordering.
‘But the celebration was yesterday,’ said Sarah, her colour rising as he looked into her eyes.
‘This is to celebrate something far more important than mere business,’ he said, toasting her. ‘To friendship—among other things.’
‘What other things?’ she asked, raising her glass in response.
‘Future pleasures.’ He gave her the crooked smile that had once irritated her and now had a totally different effect. ‘So, what would you like to eat?’
‘I know it’s a strange choice with champagne—I didn’t dare ask for it at lunch yesterday or Oliver would have had a stroke—but I fancy fish and chips.’
‘You can have whatever you want,’ Alex said, as the waitress arrived to take their order. ‘I’ll have the same.’
The simple, perfectly cooked food tasted wonderful, though Sarah had an idea that eating it in Alex’s company had a lot to do with it. The small arrangement of flowers on the table had a single fat candle at its centre, with a flame which gave his eyes a more pronounced gleam than usual as they talked shop with the ease of old friends rather than recent enemies. Sarah’s barn conversions were the main topic for a while, then she listened, fascinated, as Alex told her about the Merrick Group’s acquisition of a manor house its owner no longer had the money to maintain.
‘How sad,’ said Sarah with compassion. ‘To someone brought up to that kind of world it must be a bitter blow to leave it.’
‘This particular owner grew up in a cottage much like the ones you’ve just developed. Ronnie Higgins, aka Rick Harmon, lead singer and guitarist of the Rampage, bought the house at the height of the group’s success, but soon got too immersed in the good life to write new songs. The result was inevitable. Their records plummeted down the charts and the rainy day Rick never saved for arrived all too soon. He was forced to sell the fast cars, put the house up for sale and auction the contents.’
‘Poor man. What will you do with it?’
‘Convert it—with great sympathy—into luxury apartments. We’ve sold most of them in advance already.’ Alex smiled. ‘Would you like to live in something like that, Sarah?’
‘No way.’ She looked up with a smile as Stephen Hicks arrived to ask how they had enjoyed the meal.
‘First class, as usual, Chef,’ Alex assured him. ‘The lady loves your fish and chips.’
Stephen rolled his eyes. ‘Marvellous! I honed my craft in Paris and London, and all people want is my fish and chips.’
‘I’ll try whatever you recommend next time,’ Sarah promised.
‘You can tell us what to order when I book,’ Alex assured his friend. ‘What’s for pudding?’
Sarah demurred, but gave in when Alex coaxed her to share a dish of sorbet made from blood oranges and pomegranates. She was actually dipping her spoon into their dish before the full intimacy of the process dawned on her. When his eyes held hers as he licked his spoon she felt a tide of red sweep up her face, and she swallowed another spoonful of icy perfection to tone it down.
‘I think,’ said Alex with constraint, ‘that this was a mistake.’
‘You want it all yourself?’
‘No. But sharing it with you is giving me impure thoughts. Don’t worry. I won’t act on them.’
‘Good.’ Sarah laid her spoon down and sat back.
‘You haven’t eaten much!’
‘I pigged on the fish and chips. I’d like some coffee instead, please.’
His eyes held hers. ‘I was hoping for that when I take you home, Sarah.’
‘Of course, but I’d like some right now just the same.’ She smiled. ‘And while we’re waiting for it you can tell me more about Stephen. Is he an old schoolfriend?’
Alex shook his head. ‘We met at Cambridge.’
‘Did you read the same subjects?’
‘No. His was Archaeology, mine Engineering. But we happened to meet on our first day, hit it off from the word go, and in our third year at Trinity we shared a double set—i.e. a communal living room with separate study/bedrooms.’
Sarah smiled, able to picture it only too well. ‘I bet you had a fantastic time with all those clever girls around. Were there lots of parties?’
‘Too many. Towards the end we had to buckle down to more serious stuff. Steve and I both played cricket, but like me he had parents who made sure he worked through vacations unless we were on tour.’
‘Stephen couldn’t have earned much on archaeological digs!’
‘True. His Italian mother sent him off to Piedmont every summer, to work in her family’s renowned cooking school.’ Alex grinned. ‘Steve’s talent meant our dinner parties at Trinity were hot tickets.’
‘So he never did anything with his archaeology?’
‘No. As soon as he graduated he took off to France to cook.’
‘And you went back home to the Merrick Group?’
‘Exactly.’ Alex smiled his thanks up at the waitress, and put a sizeable tip on the tray as she set the coffee pot in front of Sarah.
‘Is it just coincidence that he opened a restaurant in this area?’ she asked.
‘No. After learning his craft in places like the River Café and the Savoy, he decided to open a place of his own. He asked me to keep a look out in this area, so when I heard through the grapevine that the Pheasant was going up for sale I told Steve to hotfoot it down here with Jane and take a look before it went on the open market.’
‘You get on well with his wife?’
He nodded. ‘Jane was at Trinity with us.’
A sort of private club, thought Sarah wistfully. ‘Does she do any cooking?’
Alex laughed. ‘None at all. That girl can burn water. She’s the number-cruncher and takes care of the finances. She sees to the ordering, bullies the suppliers and does front of house. She’s away at the moment, visiting her parents, but you can meet her next time.’
Stephen came out to intercept them as they were leaving. ‘Nice to see you again, Sarah. Come again soon.’
‘Not for a while,’ said Alex with regret. ‘I’m off to the London office tomorrow.’
‘Which doesn’t mean Sarah can’t come here alone—or with someone else,’ Stephen pointed out, and grinned at the look on his friend’s face as he escorted them to the door.