Susanne James – The Millionaire's Chosen Bride (страница 2)

In about fifteen minutes they arrived at an insignificant-looking wayside pub, and pulled up simultaneously in the car park at the front. Adam immediately came over and opened her door for her to get out, and Melody was conscious—not for the first time—of how he looked at her, how he was obviously scrutinising her appearance. She hoped he approved of her white designer trousers and navy and white striped shirt—an outfit she felt was simple but elegantly casual. Her long fair hair she’d tied up in a heavy knot on the top of her head—the style she always used in business. And, after all, today had been business—though not the sort that she was usually engaged in. Drawing her hair back formally had the effect of complementing the perfect bone structure of her heart-shaped face, her thoughtful grey-green eyes and full-lipped mouth.

Without making any comment, Adam handed her out of the car, and together they walked along the gravelled path to the entrance of the pub. The place was obviously popular, because already it was comfortably full of people. He ushered Melody to a vacant corner table by the window, and looked down at her as she took her seat.

‘What are you drinking, Mel?’ he asked.

‘Just a sparkling water, please,’ she said, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘No champagne…to celebrate your success today?’

She smiled up at him. ‘I’ll keep that for some other time,’ she said.

She watched him as he went over to stand amongst the jostling crowd at the bar, easily the most noticeable person there. He was taller than anyone else, for a start, she thought, his lithe, athletic body obviously demonstrating a robust and healthy physique. Heavens above, she thought to herself crossly. The day had been enough of an explosive affair as it was…surely she wasn’t being blown away by someone she’d probably never see again? Was she that fickle, that pathetic, after losing Crispin not all that long ago? Blame it on today, she excused herself. Today had a definitely weird feel about it!

Presently he came back with their drinks—her water, and a pint of lager for himself—and put a lunch menu in front of her.

‘I can recommend the crab cakes,’ he said, glancing down at his own copy. ‘With the coast so near, the fish is fresh here daily. Or,’ he added, looking across at her briefly, ‘the barbecued sea bass is also very good.’

By this time Melody’s mouth was watering, and she was prompt with her selection. ‘I love fish cakes,’ she said, ‘and I don’t often have the chance to eat fresh crab. So crab cakes, please, with a green salad.’

‘You’re obviously a woman of quick decisions,’ he said. ‘When I bring people here it usually takes them longer to choose what they want than it does to eat the stuff.’

He got up and went across to order at the bar, glancing back at her as she stared out of the window. This was an unusual woman, he thought. Apart from being very, very, beautiful, she was overtly well dressed, sophisticated, and clearly with a very firm head on her shoulders. The sort of female who knew exactly what she wanted in life and was determined to get it. He’d known many women in his thirty-eight years, but he had the distinct feeling that no one would ever get the better of this one in an argument! She was the kind of woman you wouldn’t want to cross, but something about her—especially when he’d observed her at the auction—had excited his curiosity and made him want to find out about her. Who she was…and more importantly why she was taking possession of Gatehouse Cottage.

He returned to sit opposite her. ‘So,’ he said without preamble, ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’ Well, of course she wasn’t…he’d have noticed!

Melody sipped at her water. ‘No. I live and work in London,’ she said briefly. ‘I’m here on holiday for a few weeks.’

Adam frowned. ‘But…the auction,’ he said slowly. ‘How did you know about the cottage being for sale?’

‘I was in the village looking around a few days ago and saw the sign. I went into the agent’s office and made some enquiries. And…decided to go for it.’ She looked up at him calmly, and he stared back at her for a second.

‘Do you do that sort of thing often?’ he asked. ‘I mean, people usually like to buy little mementoes to bring back from a holiday, but a cottage seems rather excessive!’

Melody smiled. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘And I’ve never done such a thing in my life before… But…I was attracted to the place… It felt special as soon as I stepped inside. It felt…right, somehow,’ she added guardedly.

Adam seemed lost for words suddenly, but her answer only confirmed his opinion of the woman. She knew what she wanted and was going to get it. Whatever the cost. And, talking of cost, she must have the wherewithal to do it, he thought. Not many people had that amount of money instantly at their fingertips!

‘Do you live locally?’ Melody asked, deciding that it was his turn to answer some questions.

‘No. I work in Malaysia, where I obviously have to live for most of the time,’ Adam said. ‘But I always take a long break here, with friends, at about this time every year. Abroad is fine, but rural England is where I feel normal.’

Melody looked away for a second.

‘I’m really sorry…to have beaten you at the auction this morning,’ she said simply. ‘I hope you’ll be able to find somewhere else before too long. Not that there seemed much else on offer here… I suppose people just never want to leave the place.’

‘You’re not sorry at all,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Besides, someone has to win a battle—as you pointed out—and this time it was you. Maybe there’ll be another occasion when I’ll have the advantage.’

‘Oh, I can’t see that happening,’ Melody said at once. ‘I will not be purchasing another property for a very long time—if ever. A flat in London and a cottage in the country are quite enough for one person to worry about!’

Their meals arrived, and Melody couldn’t wait to try the crisp, piping hot crab cakes nestling amongst just the right amount of delicious-looking dressed salad. She picked up her knife and fork and looked across at Adam.

‘This all looks yummy!’ she exclaimed.

He watched her for a few seconds without starting his own meal. Then, ‘What do you intend doing about your living arrangements?’ he asked bluntly.

‘D’you mean when will I be moving in to the cottage?’ Melody asked innocently, between mouthfuls. ‘Oh, that’s anyone’s guess. The previous elderly owner had been there for some years and hadn’t done much to the place—so there’s obviously some work to do. Everything’s still sound enough, but it’ll need decorating throughout, and I shall have great fun choosing the right sort of furniture. It’s going to be so wonderful to relax here whenever I can get away.’ She looked across at him, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, her eyes shining at the prospect.

‘So,’ Adam said slowly, ‘you’ve bought the cottage purely as a holiday home? You never intended it to be a permanent dwelling…or maybe a home for your family to share?’

‘I don’t have any family,’ Melody said, rather curtly. ‘This is going to be just for me.’

‘How often are you likely to be able to get here?’ he persisted.

Melody looked away quickly. What right did this man have to interrogate her? she thought. It was none of his business.

‘As often as I can,’ she said firmly. ‘A lot will depend on how things are at work.’ She paused, before adding, ‘I’m fund manager for one of the big banks,’ thinking that she might as well tell him what she did, how she earned her living, before he asked.

He picked up his fork then, and began to eat slowly. Well, what else had he thought? he asked himself. This was clearly a dynamic businesswoman whose daily bread was not likely to be earned in this or any other backwater. ‘You won’t exactly be number one in the popularity stakes,’ he said casually. ‘The locals don’t take too kindly to absentee property owners… people responsible for killing off villages like these. They want folk to live here and be part of the genuine life of the place—help to keep the school and the post office and the pubs going.’

Melody kept her eyes on her plate, trying not to seethe at the clearly admonishing tone in his remark. Of course she knew exactly what he was talking about. The press regularly ran features about the problem. And she reluctantly had to admit that she hadn’t given herself time to really think this through—hadn’t got to the point of wondering how often she’d be driving from town, or how long her visits might last. But that didn’t stop her thoroughly resenting this stranger giving her a lecture!

‘C’est la vie,’ she said coolly.

In those few seconds the cordiality of the occasion seemed to have vanished, and neither spoke for a while as they ate. Then she looked up. ‘Let’s talk about you and your plans,’ she said, in a way she recognised as her formal business voice. ‘If you had succeeded this morning you would obviously have had every intention of living at the cottage permanently, then? Which would have meant abandoning your job in the Far East?’

He returned her gaze, and the eyes which earlier had appeared a friendly blue-black colour now seemed to have acquired a hardened edge. ‘Good heavens, no,’ he replied casually. ‘I can hardly abandon my job—seeing that I’m a partner in the family firm over there.’ He finished his meal and put down his knife and fork. ‘My father and I transferred the business from England some years ago.’