Кэрол Мортимер – His Defiant Mistress: The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress / The Venetian's Midnight Mistress / The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress (страница 8)
‘My father was a building contractor. I was brought up on building sites, so I’m doing what I like best and hopefully making a living out of it.’
‘With no distractions allowed.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Once you put me right about your relationship with Oliver Moore, I wondered if you’d shut yourself away in your ivory tower here to mend a broken heart.’
Sarah gave him a scornful look. ‘Even if I had it would be none of your business, Mr Merrick.’
But damned interesting, thought Alex, wondering just what there was about this girl that got under his skin. Right now her narrow face was scrubbed and shiny, her hair—the colour of bitter chocolate instead of the blonde he normally preferred—was a tangle of unruly curls. And her pink dressing gown was elderly and faded, and a shade too small, even for someone of her size, which probably meant she’d had it for years but couldn’t bear to part with it.
Sarah decided to give him a hint by relieving him of his coffee cup, and he promptly stood up.
‘Time I was leaving.’
‘I’m sorry about your near-death experience with Nero,’ said Sarah, on her way to the door. Though she wasn’t in the slightest.
He paused, giving her the crooked smile she was surprised to find she was beginning to find attractive, whether he practised it or not. ‘You may laugh, but it wasn’t at all funny at the time.’
‘No, indeed. And you ruined your suit—or Nero did.’
‘No point in sending him a bill, either. Nor,’ he added quickly, ‘will I send one to you, Miss Carver. I shall write tonight off to experience. Thanks for the coffee.’
‘The least I could do after you’d risked life and limb to make sure I was safe,’ she assured him, and eyed him curiously. ‘But why did you feel you had to?’
‘Because I want the cottages. I had to make sure they wouldn’t be vandalised,’ he lied.
‘I see. By the way, did Nero actually hurt you?’
Alex shook his head and raised a muscular leg to show her an unmarked shin through the rip. ‘I had a fight to detach him from my bespoke suiting, but he stopped short of actually savaging me.’
‘So no worry about rabies, then?’
He blenched. ‘Good God! I hadn’t thought of that.’
She eyed him with derision. ‘You’re in no danger from an aristocrat like Nero.’
‘Just the same,’ he said with feeling, ‘I’ll give your property a wide berth from now on—at night, at least.’
‘Very wise.’ She opened the door, but Alex seemed in no hurry to leave.
‘How about changing your mind?’ he asked casually.
‘About what, exactly?’
‘Having dinner with me one evening. We could just talk business, if that would make the idea more attractive.’ He listened to himself in disbelief. This kind of persuasion wasn’t his style. Probably because he’d never had to use any.
‘No—thank you,’ she said distantly.
His jaw clenched. ‘Why not? Do you find me repulsive?’
‘No.’
‘Then have you sworn off men as some kind of vow?’
Instead of saying
‘Except Oliver Moore,’ he reminded her.
‘That’s right.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘After all, he is my godfather.’
‘So you said.’ Alex moved closer, struck by sudden compassion. ‘Are you still in mourning for your father? Surely he would want you to get on with your life?’
Sarah’s smile vanished. ‘As I keep pointing out, my life is my concern, and no one else’s, Mr Merrick.’
‘Message received,’ he said stiffly. ‘Goodnight, Miss Carver.’
Sarah felt very thoughtful as she climbed back up to bed later. If she were honest, and she tried hard to be most of the time, she knew she should have told Greg Harris that she’d arranged a night watchman for the cottages. But Alex’s highhanded message had really ticked her off. Though he’d certainly paid for it. Sarah grinned at the thought of the vice-chairman of the Merrick Group fighting off a large German Shepherd.
But what had actually sent Alex storming round here afterwards? He’d been so blazingly angry when she’d opened the door to him Sarah had felt a thrill of apprehension, afraid for a split second that he’d throw her on the floor and take his revenge in the time-honoured way. He’d certainly been hot to vent his rage in some way on the person responsible for his clash with Nero. But she hadn’t known he’d check up on her himself—had she? Sarah thought about it, and reluctantly admitted that she’d been aware of the possibility. Visiting the cottages to make sure she was safe had been a chivalrous gesture, and maybe—just maybe—she’d hoped that he would do it. But she would have expected Nero just to bark, not launch himself at Alex in attack mode. She would have a word with Ian on the subject. Injury to innocent visitors was something to be avoided. But, chivalrous or not, she reminded herself tartly, Alex’s name was still Merrick. And her reaction to it was still the same as the first time she’d heard it.
On her very first day at Barclay Homes she’d found that the firm was actually a subsidiary of the Merrick Group, which had swallowed up other building firms in the area. A small outfit like her father’s had never stood a chance. Sarah knew with the logical part of her that the Merrick Group had not caused his death. But the illogical, emotional side of her still held them accountable.
CHAPTER FOUR
SARAH SAW no more of Alex Merrick after their midnight encounter. But to her surprise—and disgust—she kept wondering if he’d ring, or call in again. To counteract this she worked like a demon on the last touches to the cottages while Harry painted the exteriors, and Ian moved into number two at night, rather than spoil any of Sarah’s work on the show house. When she ran out of indoor jobs she repointed the waist-high walls dividing the front gardens, and when she’d finished those Charlie Baker drove her to a local nursery to choose a flowering cherry for the back courtyard of the show house, and a Japanese maple for the front. It was only sensible to go the extra mile to make the properties as attractive as possible to prospective buyers.
‘Is something worrying you?’ asked Harry, as he helped her plant the trees one evening.
‘Yes. I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to do with myself when this lot goes up for sale.’
‘What are you doing this weekend?’ he asked, surprising her.
‘Nothing much. Why?’
‘How do you feel about barns?’
Sarah straightened, eyes gleaming. ‘Are we talking barn conversion?’
He smiled as he trampled the earth in round the cherry tree. ‘Could be.’
‘Tell me more—’ Her face fell. ‘But if they’re up for sale I can’t do a thing about it until I sell this lot.’
‘These barns are not for sale. Leastways, not yet.’
She wagged a dirty finger at him. ‘Stop teasing, Harry!’
He chuckled. ‘My sister’s married to a farmer. When I was there for dinner last Sunday Bob told me he’s had to cut back a bit, so he’s got three smallish barns he doesn’t use any more. He’s got planning permission to do them up, but not enough cash to do it with. If you offered to buy them for development I reckon he’d jump at the chance.’ He nodded in approval as Sarah’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s better. You’ve been a bit down in the mouth lately.’
‘Have I? Sorry. Anyway, when could I have a look at the property?’
‘I’ll talk to Mavis when I get home and let you know.’ He looked up as a van came up the lane. ‘Here comes the nightshift.’
Sarah bent to hug Nero as he came bounding to greet her. ‘Hello, my lovely boy. How are you today? Hello, you two,’ she added, as the others came up the path.
‘Hi, there,’ said Josie, eyeing the newly planted Acer. ‘Gosh, it looks better and better here every time I come. Don’t you dare go lifting your leg on that tree, Nero.’
‘Don’t worry, Miss Carver, I’ll tell him not to, and he doesn’t need telling twice,’ said Ian proudly.
‘Of course you don’t, you clever lad,’ said Sarah, giving the dog a last stroke. ‘Right, then, time I went home and got cleaned up. See you tomorrow, Harry.’
‘I’ll give you a ring later, boss.’
Sarah felt weary as she drove back, conscious of a sense of anticlimax now the cottages were ready to sell. Tomorrow three estate agents were coming at different times to view.
When the phone rang while she was eating her supper Sarah seized it eagerly. ‘Harry—’
‘Afraid not. It’s Alex. Alex Merrick,’ he added, in case she was in any doubt.
The unexpected pleasure of her reaction struck her dumb for a moment. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said at last.
‘How are you?’
‘I’m very well.’
‘Glad to hear it. Are the cottages finished?’
‘Just about.’
‘Then let’s meet to discuss the sale. Friday would be good for me.’
He still wanted them, then. ‘Sorry. I can’t make Friday.’