Читать книгу Morelli's Mistress - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

LUKE HAD DECIDED to leave his visit to Ashford-St-James until the next morning.

When he’d arrived at Oliver Morelli’s home in Bath, he’d discovered that his father expected him to stay the night, and he hadn’t wanted to disappoint him.

Besides, his visit to the properties in South Road was intended to be anonymous. How much easier it would be to browse the small shops his agent had described to him in the morning, without arousing any protests from their occupants.

Luke himself had never been to Ashford-St-James before. He’d only learned of the possible opportunity for developing the site from his father.

Charles Gifford, the owner of the properties, had been an old golfing partner of Oliver Morelli’s. When he’d died, Gifford’s son had wasted no time in informing his father’s solicitor that as soon as probate was granted he was going to sell the row of shops in Ashford.

Prior knowledge had given Luke an advantage. And, although it was a small development compared to the work the Morelli Corporation undertook these days, Luke had sensed that Oliver Morelli wanted to feel he was contributing to his son’s success.

Which was why the five businesses in question had been given six months’ notice. It had also been Luke’s father’s suggestion that the tenants be given a decent interval of time to find themselves other accommodation.

Not that that was going to be easy, thought Luke, deciding to park his car in the centre of town and explore the place on foot. From what he’d heard, the shops in South Road were small concerns, more suited to the last century than this.

As far as he could see, the stores in High Road were upmarket clothes shops and jewellers. There were one or two phone outlets and a couple of coffee shops, but nothing along the lines of the businesses his father had described to him.

Conversely, there appeared to be few food shops. He could quite see why the local council were in favour of building a supermarket.

Nevertheless, it was an attractive place, the mellow stonework of a church with its bell tower providing a focal point. The church stood beside a park, where a small lake provided a home for a family of ducks. Although it was early in the season, there were flowers already blooming in the planters that edged the market square, and the trees in the park had most of their foliage.

It was all very old English and very civilised. The kind of place that was attracting newcomers from London. People who were eager to escape the rat race; who wanted a slower pace of living, without losing all the benefits of the city.

Luke left his car near the town centre and strolled along the main street to where South Road ran at right angles to the high street. His father had given him directions and it was easy to find the row of properties Luke had taken an option on.

According to the details Luke had been given, there was a gift shop, a shop that sold woollens, a photo studio, and a bridal outfitters. The fifth property was a café-cum-bookshop, which the solicitor had told him was probably the most successful, financially speaking.

Luke crossed the road at the lights and strolled past the first of the shops. This was the bridal shop, with an extravagant lace wedding dress occupying the central position in a window full of bridal gear.

The photo studio was next door, its window draped with a purple backdrop in front of which resided a single digital camera.

At least it was a digital camera, thought Luke, wondering if people still sat for formal portraits these days. Maybe the photographer made his living filming weddings or christenings. Perhaps he teamed up with the bridal outfitters, and they kept each other informed.

He grinned to himself, and moved on to the next business. This was the café, with the gift shop beyond. The gift shop appeared to have a window filled with an array of soft toys and knick-knacks that any serious shopper would call junk. But obviously some people liked it or the shop would have closed before now.

Luke wasn’t much interested in the woollen shop, so he paused outside the café-cum-bookshop.

He glanced at his watch. It was after ten. He supposed he could legitimately call in for a coffee. The place was called Harley’s, and there was an appetising array of scones and cakes visible on trays at the counter.

There was also a number of bistro tables and chairs, several of which were already occupied. Clearly, despite the chain coffee shops in the high street, some people preferred a more intimate café. Or perhaps it was the fact that it sold books that attracted them here.

The bell made a muted sound as he opened the door. Clearly it was in need of attention. But Luke quickly found an empty table and subsided onto a chair. The smell of cakes and pastries was appetising, and, picking up the menu, he used it as a shield as he surveyed the interior of the café.

It was tastefully decorated, one wall covered with a mural of muffins and cupcakes that fairly oozed with fruit and cream you could almost taste. A huge Italian coffee machine bubbled away in the background, giving the place a contemporary feel, and away to the right an archway led into the bookshop.

‘What can I get you?’

He’d been so intent on studying his surroundings, Luke hadn’t heard anyone’s approach. Putting the menu aside, he looked up at the young woman standing beside the table.

‘Um—an Americano, please,’ he was beginning, and then broke off in disbelief. ‘Abby!’ He got automatically to his feet. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

* * *

‘I own the business,’ Abby said, feeling amazingly calm.

She’d gone through the whole gamut of emotions in the last few weeks since she’d read the solicitor’s letter, but at no time had she ever imagined that Luke might come into the café.

Alone.

She moistened her lips. ‘I don’t have to ask you why you’re here, of course. I assume you’re evaluating your latest acquisition.’

Luke stared down at her. He hadn’t changed at all. Tall, dark-haired and olive-skinned, he was just as attractive as ever. Dangerously so, she acknowledged, wishing she were able to put the past behind her.

As he had evidently done.

She’d changed a lot, she was sure. An aborted love affair and a bitter divorce could do that to you. Not to mention discovering that what little money she’d invested in the café was now lost.

‘You run this café?’ he asked, as if he hadn’t believed her the first time. ‘I assumed you were still working in London. I had no idea you’d moved out of town.’

‘Hadn’t you?’ Abby wondered if she believed him. If that were so, then the Morelli Corporation buying these shops was not the vindictive action on his part she’d thought it was.

‘Of course, I hadn’t,’ muttered Luke, as if aware of her scepticism. ‘I wouldn’t have thought your husband would give up his job so easily. The stock market, wasn’t it? Not much use for an investment broker around here.’

‘Harry and I are divorced,’ said Abby, aware that their prolonged conversation was attracting the attention of her other customers. ‘I’ll get your coffee.’

‘Wait.’ As she would have moved away, Luke’s low voice arrested her. ‘How long have you been divorced?’

‘I don’t think that’s anything to do with you,’ replied Abby, glad there was no tremor in her voice. ‘Is that all?’

Luke scowled. ‘Is this how you treat all your customers? Because if so—’

‘You’re not really a customer, Mr Morelli, are you? You’re on a fact-finding mission. And I can always refuse to serve you. I have that right.’

Luke blew out a breath. He glanced about him, as if recognising there was no privacy here. ‘Well, tell me a good place to eat and I’ll buy you dinner this evening instead.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr Morelli.’ Abby refused to allow any trace of the temptation his words offered to show. With some relief she saw that two of her other customers had moved towards the till. ‘I’ll get your coffee.’

Luke had no choice but to let her go, and Abby hurried across to the counter. She had a few words with her departing regulars, rang up their tab, and then set about preparing the Americano Luke had asked for.

Her hands were shaking a little, but the machine did most of the work. She set his cup on a tray, added a small jug of cream and a sugar bowl containing both real and artificial sweeteners, and then turned back to deliver his coffee.

But Luke had gone. The table where he’d been sitting before their exchange was empty.

Setting the tray on the counter, she couldn’t deny a sinking feeling in her stomach. Although she’d been shocked to see him, she’d never expected him to leave so precipitately.

So what? Did she want to see him again? After everything that had happened, was she fool enough to believe anything good could come of this encounter?

The day stretched endlessly ahead of her. It was an effort to think of anything but how unnerving it had been to see Luke again.

She’d thought about him many times, especially after her divorce was made final. But she’d known that, as far as he was concerned, she was still a liar and a cheat.

So why had he offered her dinner?

The café—and the bookshop—closed at four o’clock most days, and Abby wasn’t usually eager to return to her flat upstairs where Harley was waiting for her.

Today, however, she couldn’t wait to put on her coat, grab Harley’s leash, and escape from the building. Luke’s appearance had been a damning confirmation that his plans were going ahead.

Until then, she’d clung to the hope that they might not get planning permission, or they’d discover the ground was too damp for a development of that kind. But those hopes had now been shattered.

At the back of the row of shops, there was a stretch of open land, and Greg Hughes had said that that was another reason why Gifford’s son was selling the properties. His father had owned the land, too, and, together with the shops that faced the street, the developers would have room for not only a car park, always useful in a town, but possibly a movie theatre, as well.

Still, for the moment, the land was unoccupied, and Harley really appreciated the opportunity to be let off the leash.

He wasn’t a young dog, but he still had plenty of energy and Abby bent and picked up a twig and threw it across the grass.

Straight into the path of a man who was coming from the opposite direction.

Luke Morelli.

* * *

Abby reached the outer door and peered outside. Fortunately the floodlights were still on and she could see the dark green Aston Martin standing in a pool of light.

To her relief, its occupant didn’t appear to have got out of the car. No doubt the rain—or perhaps the fact that he didn’t know the address he wanted—was giving him pause.

Was it Luke Morelli? The rain made it difficult to see clearly. It certainly looked like him, so she had to take that chance. She couldn’t allow her husband to come home and find him here.

She remembered too well the bruises on her breasts and stomach Harry had inflicted weeks ago when he’d discovered she’d had lunch with one of the professors from the university.

The fact that she could no longer wear her wedding ring, because he’d twisted her fingers so badly that the swelling was taking ages to go down, was another reason to turn on her. He was absurdly possessive. Particularly as God knew how many times he’d been unfaithful to her in the past.

Something she’d never even thought of.

Until now.

And she wasn’t really interested in Luke Morelli, she insisted to herself as she ran across the gravel car park to where the car was waiting. He’d brought her home from the hen party a week ago. That was all. He hadn’t even kissed her goodnight.

Although he’d wanted to. She was fairly sure of that. There’d been a moment, before she’d thrust open her door and hurriedly said goodnight, when she’d thought he was going to lean across the console and touch her. And she’d wanted him to, she acknowledged. Just for a moment, she’d wanted to feel like a desirable woman again.

It was Luke, and without hesitation Abby pulled open the car door and got inside. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked, indicating the rain. ‘It’s an awful night.’

‘It just got a whole lot better,’ said Luke with a grin. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Oh, you know...’ Abby waved an airy hand. ‘I was just looking out of the window, and I thought I recognised your car.’

‘And you thought you’d come down and apologise for not ringing me,’ suggested Luke drily. ‘Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to find you?’

Abby’s lips parted. ‘You’ve been looking for me?’ She hoped the alarm wasn’t evident in her voice.

‘Well, I’ve been trawling through the university webpages,’ he admitted. ‘But as I didn’t know your surname or what the hell subject you were researching, I was just wasting my time.’

‘Oh.’ Abby’s relief was almost palpable.

‘So Ray, the guy I was with at the wine bar, suggested checking out your apartment.’ He looked up at the apartment building. ‘This is a classy place, isn’t it?’ His eyes darkened. ‘I don’t know whether I can afford you.’

‘Oh—don’t be silly. I—I share the apartment with—with a friend,’ she stammered, not wanting him to think her job was anything special. ‘Um—she’s expecting me back. We were just going to have supper.’ She reached for the door handle. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go.’

Luke hesitated. ‘You don’t feel like going out for a meal instead?’

‘I can’t.’ Abby knew she was tempting fate, even sitting here in Luke’s car. ‘I’m sorry. Some—some other time, perhaps.’

Now why had she said that?

‘Okay.’ Luke seized on the compromise. ‘How about tomorrow night? I could pick you up here about eight. We could have dinner and then maybe a movie. What do you say?’

Abby hesitated. She knew she should refuse. For God’s sake, if Harry even suspected she was considering going out with another man, she didn’t like to think what he might do.

And some people might say that she’d deserve it, whatever it was. But heaven knew, she was desperate to spend an evening with someone who treated her with a little respect.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said now, twisting her hands together in her lap. ‘I—well, I don’t know you.’

‘That can be arranged.’

‘Can it?’ God forgive her, she was actually considering it.

‘So you do want to see me again?’

Abby hesitated once more. And this time, before she could even think of denying it, Luke looped a hand behind her head and brought her mouth to his.

‘Let me persuade you,’ he said huskily, and his tongue slipped silkily into her mouth.

Abby thought it was just as well she was sitting down at that moment. The hungry urgency of his kiss was robbing her of her sanity. Heat surrounded her, enveloping her in its sensual embrace. She found herself clutching the lapels of his leather jacket and arching towards him.

His mouth hardened, the kiss lengthening into a drugging seduction that showed no sign of ending. It was just as well the console was between them or she was fairly sure Luke would have hauled her onto his lap, and continued his sensual exploration below her waist.

As it was, he was cupping her breasts through the fine fabric of her velvet suit and she could feel her nipples peaking against his hands.

‘Annabel, come with me,’ he said roughly, lifting the hem of her top to find the warm flesh of her midriff. And Abby was sorely tempted to give in.

And then another car accelerated into the lot and Abby’s blood ran cold. She’d recognised that car over Luke’s shoulder, and it was as she had anticipated upstairs: Harry had come home earlier than he’d said.

Dragging her mouth away from Luke’s, she reached again for the handle of the door. ‘I—I can’t. I’ve got to go. H-Harriet’s waiting for me.’

‘Wait!’ Before she could get the door open, Luke had grabbed her arm. ‘At least agree to go out with me tomorrow evening,’ he said. ‘What’s your name? I don’t even know your surname. Let me give you a ring. What’s your number?’

‘No.’ Abby wasn’t that crazy. ‘I—I’ll ring you.’

‘When?’

Abby could see Harry parking his car now and panic made her reckless. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise,’ she said, aware that she was feeling breathless. ‘Please, I have to go now.’

‘Okay. But take my card.’

He handed it to her as he released her, and she stuffed it into her pocket before scrambling out of the car and running quickly across the car park to the apartment building.

Hopefully, Luke would put her haste down to the rain, Abby thought as she ducked into the lift, grateful that the doorman was still ensconced in front of his TV. And with a bit of luck, Harry wouldn’t even notice that she’d left the apartment.

* * *

Luke’s phone rang late in the evening. He’d been reading some official documents prior to a meeting the following day and the unexpected sound brought a scowl to his face.

He was inclined not to answer it. The girl he’d been seeing in recent weeks wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he couldn’t think of anyone else who might ring him after eleven o’clock.

The screen indicated that it was an unknown caller, and it could be his father. He hadn’t seen Oliver Morelli for weeks. Still, unless there was some emergency, even he was unlikely to ring at this time.

Cursing himself for being a fool, Luke picked the phone up from his desk and accepted the call.

‘Luke?’

Luke blew out a startled breath. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was Annabel, the girl who’d said she would ring him three weeks ago and who hadn’t kept her promise.

Until now.

‘Annabel?’ he said warily, wondering if he was so pleased to hear from her that he was mistaking someone else’s voice for hers. ‘It is Annabel, isn’t it?’

She gave a nervous laugh. ‘You’ve forgotten me so soon?’

‘No.’ Luke ran his tongue over his dry lips. ‘I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.’

‘Not likely,’ she said, but there was a distinctly nervous tremor in her voice. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine.’ Luke hesitated. ‘But it’s a little late to be making a social call, isn’t it?’

‘I’m sorry.’

He was afraid she was going to ring off, and he continued hurriedly, ‘But I am glad to hear from you.’ He paused. ‘Does this mean you’ll agree to a date?’

‘Sort of.’ He heard her blow out a breath. ‘What are you doing right now?’

‘Right now?’ Luke was taken aback. ‘I’m working. How about you?’

‘Oh...’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve not been doing much.’ Another pause. ‘I wondered if you’d like to go for a drink.’

Luke almost gasped. ‘Now?’

‘If you’d like to.’

But it’s so late, was on the tip of Luke’s tongue, and he had to bite it back. ‘Um—I guess so,’ he said instead, wondering what the hell he was letting himself in for. ‘Do you want me to pick you up?’

‘No.’ Her response was immediate. ‘I’ll meet you.’

‘Where?’

‘I—how about the Parker House? We both know where that is.’

‘O-kay.’ Luke dragged the word out. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want a lift.’

‘I’m sure,’ she said. ‘In about half an hour, yes?’

Luke shook his head perplexedly. ‘I’ll be there.’

Deciding the black sweater and matching jeans he was wearing would do for the Parker House, Luke grabbed his leather jacket and stowed his wallet and his phone in his pockets.

Outside, it was cold, but at least it was fine, a three-quarters moon adding its silvery light to the dark streets. Luke lived in north London and at this time of night he had little difficulty driving into the West End.

But his mind was buzzing with questions. What in God’s name was Annabel doing, phoning him at this time of night and suggesting they should meet for a drink? Had she been drinking already? She hadn’t struck him as the kind of girl to go on a binge, but who knew?

He managed to park in a side road not far from his destination and he strode quickly along the street towards the wine bar. There were quite a few people in the vicinity, some of them just hanging about outside.

Having no idea where Annabel wanted to meet, Luke entered the wine bar, scanning the busy bar area for any sign of her. It didn’t look as if she was here yet, and he stopped at the bar and ordered a beer.

‘Hi.’

The voice came from close by and he turned to find Annabel hovering behind him. She looked as lovely as ever, but paler than he remembered. She was wearing a black coat, the collar tipped up around her ears, and her hair was in an untidy knot on top of her head. She was wearing very little make-up, and Luke wondered again what she’d been doing before she made that call.

‘Hi,’ he said, relieved at least to see she’d made it okay. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘Oh—do you think we could go somewhere else?’ she asked, glancing behind her. ‘This place is awfully noisy, don’t you think?’

It was, but Luke was tempted to ask why she’d asked him to meet her here if she didn’t like it. So, ‘Where?’ he asked, paying the bartender for the bottle of beer he’d been handed. ‘It’s going to be noisy everywhere at this time of night.’ He paused. ‘Look, there’s an empty booth over there. Why don’t we sit down and talk about it?’

She shrugged, but he could tell she wasn’t happy. Still, she agreed to the glass of wine he suggested, and Luke commandeered the booth before anyone else could take it.

‘That’s better,’ he said, sliding onto the banquette beside her. His hip nudged hers and he thought she caught her breath.

She smelled incredible, a sensual, exotic scent that filled his nostrils and fired his blood. God, he wanted her, he thought unsteadily. What were the chances of him persuading her to come back to his apartment?

‘Why don’t you take off your coat?’ he suggested. ‘It’s warm in here.’

‘Oh, I...’ If anything, she wrapped the collar of the coat more closely about her, and Luke sighed.

‘It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, you know,’ he told her gently, bending to nuzzle his face against her soft cheek. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again. I was seriously thinking you’d decided to write me off.’

Annabel gave a husky laugh. ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

‘So—what? You’d let me know if I was wasting my time, right? Because I have to tell you, Annabel, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I do.’ Luke cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. ‘I’m not saying I’ve led a monk-like existence. What man has?’ He brushed her lips with his. ‘But this is different. You’re different.’ He kissed her again, more thoroughly this time. ‘How would you feel if I asked you to come back to my apartment?’

Annabel caught her breath. ‘Your apartment?’ she breathed, drawing back when he would have kissed her again, and as she did so the collar of her coat fell away, revealing an ugly bruise on her neck. ‘Where do you live?’

‘North London. Camden.’ But Luke was more interested in how she’d got that bruise on her neck. Although she drew back, he touched it with gentle fingers. ‘How did this happen?’

‘Oh...’ She pulled her collar up again, and shook her head. ‘I fell. In the bathroom. Stupid, huh?’ She changed the subject. ‘Do you live alone?’

‘Well, I don’t have a partner, if that’s what you’re asking,’ he said humorously. ‘Do you?’

‘Funny you should ask that.’

Two things happened in quick succession: the man who had spoken, a man Luke had never seen before, slid into the booth opposite them; and Annabel said, ‘Harry!’ in a shocked voice, and shifted away from Luke, proving she did know who the newcomer was.

He was a heavy man, not particularly tall, but broad and muscular, with the kind of self-satisfied confidence Luke encountered in the boardrooms of the companies he dealt with every day.

If he had to guess, and judging by the cut of the suit the guy was wearing, Luke would say he probably worked in the City. So who was he? Annabel’s boyfriend? Her partner? Surely not.

The guy cast Luke a contemptuous look. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion, Abby?’

Abby?

Luke remembered his earlier suspicion that that might be her name.

Abby shifted a little nervously. ‘Um—this is Luke. Luke Morelli,’ she said, her voice barely audible. ‘He’s—he’s just a friend.’

‘With benefits, if I’m any judge,’ said Harry, his eyes not leaving Abby’s face. ‘Isn’t it lucky that I decided to come looking for you here?’

Abby took a steadying breath, or that was how it seemed to Luke, and seemed to gain some resolution. ‘You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,’ she exclaimed accusingly.

‘And you said you were going to have an early night.’ Harry arched a mocking brow. ‘What a lying little bitch you are!’

‘Take that back!’

Slamming his hands down on the table, Luke got to his feet and reached for the other man’s collar. Hauling him up out of his seat, he said savagely, ‘Who the hell do you think you are, speaking to her like that? I’ve a good mind to...’

‘No, Luke!’

Abby was on her feet now, reaching for his arm as he was thinking of ramming his fist into the other man’s face. And Harry, if that was his name, gave a harsh laugh.

‘Listen to her, Luke,’ he said, raising a hand to his throat and easing himself away. ‘Ask her what gives me the right to expect a certain measure of loyalty from her. I bet she hasn’t mentioned me, has she?’

Luke scowled. ‘Well, if you’re her boyfriend, you should show her more respect,’ he said harshly. He turned to Annabel—Abby—and waited for her to speak. ‘Who is this loser? Do you know him?’

Which even he knew was a stupid question in the circumstances. But, Goddammit, he felt as if he’d suddenly stepped into an alternative universe.

It was the man who answered, his expression as smug as the words he uttered.

‘She’s my wife, Luke. Has been for—let me see—three years. And if she wants a divorce, she only has to ask for one. Isn’t that right, Abby? Go on, Luke, ask her if she wants a divorce. But I think you’ll find she doesn’t. My wife has expensive tastes that I doubt you could satisfy. What do you say, Abby? Tell your—friend—that I’m right.’

Abby didn’t answer him and Luke felt the bottom drop out of his world. But he wouldn’t ask her if she wanted a divorce. It was obvious, he’d been a fool to believe her. She had no intention of leaving her husband. She’d played them both for fools.