Читать книгу A Forbidden Temptation - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

GRACE CAME OUT of the café a few minutes later carrying three cups of cappuccino in a paper sack and a bag containing the sugary pastries Mr Hughes was partial to.

She didn’t enjoy this part of her job. But being the youngest in the agency, she was expected to do the coffee run. She supposed it was better than having to make it herself, but there were days, like today, when she had other things to think about.

Like explaining to William Grafton why his offer for the cottages at Culworth had been rejected.

She wasn’t looking forward to that, either, but Mr Hughes had been adamant that it was her responsibility.

‘You have to learn to handle awkward clients, Grace,’ he’d told her firmly. ‘In an agency like ours, we can’t just pick and choose.’

She could have said that handling awkward clients was the least of it. Handling a man who could lose her her job—however undesirable that job might be—was something else.

She glanced about her a little apprehensively as she crossed the street to the agency. But to her relief there was no sign of Jack Connolly waiting outside.

There was a big Lexus parked across the square that she thought might belong to him. But the vehicle was empty. Which was probably just as well.

Probably?

Impatient with herself for even doubting that scenario, she pushed open the door of the agency and stepped inside.

Only to find Jack Connolly standing in the reception area, showing every appearance of being interested in the properties displayed on the walls.

Not that she’d be expected to deal with him, she saw, with mixed feelings. Standing just beyond Jack was William Grafton, his broad, smug features lighting up when he saw her.

‘Grace,’ he exclaimed, and Grace was aware that his use of her name had attracted Jack’s attention. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. Grant tells me you have some news for me.’

Grace took a deep breath. Then, setting Elizabeth Fleming’s coffee on her desk, she did the same with her own before heading for the private office where Grant Hughes worked.

‘I won’t be a minute, Mr Grafton,’ she said, wondering if her day could get any worse.

By the time she’d given Mr Hughes his coffee and doughnuts, Elizabeth Fleming, Mr Hughes’s assistant, had left her desk to attend to Jack personally. The two of them were currently huddled cosily beside a free-standing display.

William Grafton, meanwhile, had seated himself in the clients’ chair beside her desk.

‘Well?’ Grafton said as soon as she was seated, and Grace took the opportunity to take a sip of her coffee before getting down to business.

She needed the boost of caffeine, and if Grafton didn’t like it, it was just too bad.

‘Grant says you’ve heard from the vendor,’ he prompted, when she didn’t immediately answer him. ‘I hope it’s good news.’

Grace sighed. ‘I’m afraid not, Mr Grafton. The offer you made has been rejected.’ She paused, consulting the papers on her desk, as if she needed confirmation of what she already knew. ‘Mrs Naughton wants considerably more than you offered for the properties.’

Grafton snorted, once again drawing Jack’s attention.

Despite his apparent absorption in what Mrs Fleming was saying, he was evidently listening to their conversation, too.

‘Those cottages are practically dropping to bits,’ Grafton exclaimed, his blunt fist coming down hard on Grace’s desk, dispelling any other thoughts. ‘The old woman knows that. This is just a ploy to get me to offer more.’

He scowled across the desk. ‘I want you to get in touch with her again and tell her it’s not going to work. She’s not dealing with some amateur, you know. When William Grafton wants something, he gets it. You tell her that.’

‘Mr Grafton—’

‘You heard what I said.’

Rudely, Grafton thrust back his chair, the legs scraping noisily over the wooden floor. Then, after adjusting the collar of his oilskin jacket, he leant forward again.

‘You sort this out, Grace, there’s a good girl. I’m relying on you.’ He tapped his nose with his forefinger. ‘No one ever said William Grafton wasn’t a generous man. Know what I mean?’ He started towards the door. ‘Don’t let me down.’

Grace could hardly contain her anger. The patronising man! How dared he call her ‘a good girl’? And he actually expected her to be flattered because he was giving her his business.

She caught her breath and, as she did so, she was made aware that Jack Connolly must have heard what was said, as well. And how humiliating was that?

All the same, she had to wonder what he was doing here. She didn’t believe in coincidence. He must have come here deliberately.

But why?

To see her?

The idea was provocative. And exciting.

But she couldn’t let him see how she was feeling. He had a bad enough opinion of her as it was.

She took a generous gulp of her coffee and got to her feet just as Elizabeth Fleming approached her desk.

‘Have you a minute, Grace?’

Grace blew out a breath. ‘Um—yes. Sure.’ She tamped down a feeling of apprehension. ‘How can I help?’

Elizabeth gave her a rueful smile. A middle-aged woman, in her late fifties, she’d been kind to Grace, easing her introduction to the agency and generally being on hand if she was needed.

‘Those cottages,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The ones at Culworth. Are they still for sale?’

Grace blinked. ‘You mean the cottages Mr Grafton offered for?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Elizabeth pulled a wry face. ‘I assume you’ve told Mr Grafton his offer was declined.’

‘Well, yes.’ Grace’s brows drew together. ‘He wants me to speak to Mrs Naughton again.’

‘Has he increased his offer?’

‘No.’

‘I see.’ Elizabeth pulled her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Well, I’m pretty sure if that’s the case Mrs Naughton won’t be interested.’

Grace sighed. ‘I did try to tell him that.’

‘I’m sure you did.’ Elizabeth frowned. ‘The thing is I’ve got another client who’d like to view them.’

‘To view the cottages?’

Grace’s eyes went automatically to Jack, but his face was expressionless.

Not that she was deceived. He had obviously heard what she and Grafton had been talking about. Heavens, she knew he had. What on earth was he playing at?

‘Yes.’ Elizabeth was going on, completely unaware of Grace’s agitation. ‘But unfortunately I’ve got the Lawsons coming at twelve o’clock. I don’t have time to go out to Culworth this morning, and Mr Connolly wants to see the cottages today.’

Does he?

Grace bit her lip, trying not to let Elizabeth see how uneasy she was.

‘So—what?’ she asked tightly. ‘Do you want me to go?’

‘Would you?’ Elizabeth looked relieved. ‘I’d be really grateful.’ She paused. ‘I mean, it may come to nothing, but apparently Mr Connolly’s an architect and he’s looking for development property in the area.’ She grimaced. ‘I’d love it if you could tell William Grafton that Mrs Naughton has had another offer.’

Grace would love that, too, she admitted wryly. She had few illusions that Jack was serious, but she couldn’t let Elizabeth down, so, with a rueful smile, she said, ‘Okay. I’ll do it.’ She turned to pick up her coffee. ‘I hope...Mr Connolly...has his own transport.’

As if she didn’t know that Jack’s Lexus was parked on the square outside.

‘Oh, I’m sure he has.’

Elizabeth turned back to speak to her client, and Grace swallowed the remains of her coffee.

Okay, she thought, he wouldn’t be the first client she’d had whose intentions might be less than honourable, but she assured herself she could handle it.

And she was probably wrong, anyway.

Feeling eyes upon her, she looked up to find Jack watching her. And chided herself for the sudden frisson of excitement that zinged along her nerves at his cool-eyed stare.

She turned away, but the image of his dark, good-looking face and lean muscled frame stayed with her as she gathered her handbag from the drawer and slipped on her olive-green jacket.

‘Mr Connolly has his own car.’

Elizabeth was back at her side, her anxious expression an indication that she wasn’t totally unaware of Grace’s reluctance to deal with this client.

She moistened her lips. ‘Are you all right, Grace?’

‘Good. I’m good.’ Grace forced a smile. ‘Does—does Mr Connolly know the way to Culworth?’

‘He says he’ll follow you,’ said Elizabeth at once. She sighed. ‘You know, I would take him myself if it weren’t for the Lawsons—’

‘I know.’ Grace managed to infuse a little more enthusiasm into her voice. ‘I’m grateful for your confidence in me. Is Mr Connolly ready to go now?’

‘I’m ready.’

Grace had been unaware of Jack’s approach, and his low attractive voice caused another shiver to feather her spine.

Elizabeth turned to him with obvious pleasure. ‘Miss Spencer will take care of you,’ she said, patting Grace’s arm encouragingly. ‘I’ll see you later, right?’

‘Right.’

Jack nodded, and Grace was obliged to pick up her handbag and precede him across the room and out of the door.

She waited until they were out of hearing distance and then turned impatiently towards him.

‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’

Jack’s dark brows rose at the obvious accusation in her voice.

‘I understood we were going to view a row of run-down cottages at some place called Culworth. Isn’t that right?’

Grace sighed. ‘Like you’re interested in seeing a row of derelict cottages.’

Jack pushed his thumbs into the front pockets of his khakis. ‘I am.’

Grace stared at him frustratedly, wishing she didn’t have this almost visceral awareness of his masculinity. She struggled to suppress those totally unwelcome feelings and said, ‘Why would you be interested in the Culworth cottages? You’re not a property developer. It’s kind of you to try to help me deal with Mr Grafton, but he’s not likely to go away just because someone else has shown an interest.’

‘I know that.’

Jack conceded the point, not altogether comfortable with his reasons for getting involved. But when he’d heard Grafton, mouthing off about what he wanted Grace to do, he’d known an immediate urge to thwart the man, any way he could.

‘But I am an architect,’ he went on mildly. ‘With time on my hands.’ He paused. ‘It occurred to me that buying another property and developing it—’

‘There are six cottages,’ broke in Grace helplessly, but Jack only lifted his shoulders in a dismissive gesture.

‘So? It will be a challenge.’

Grace shook her head. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Don’t I?’ Jack shrugged. ‘Forgive me if I think I know my own mind better than you do.’

His words were cooler now, reminding her that she was still an employee of the agency. Whatever her personal feelings might be, Mr Hughes wouldn’t be pleased if she inadvertently offended another possible valuable client.

‘All right.’ Grace pursed her lips. ‘I’ll get my car.’

Jack’s dark eyes assessed her. ‘Or we could both go in mine,’ he offered evenly, but she just gave him a speaking look.

‘I don’t think, so,’ she said stiffly, looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’m parked at the back of the agency. Just give me a couple of minutes to bring my car round.’

Jack made a gesture of assent, wondering seriously why he was doing this. And she was right. This wasn’t why he’d come to Alnwick.

Pushing his hands into his jacket pockets, he watched her walk away with a feeling of irritation. He even played with the idea of just getting into his car and driving away, but he knew he wouldn’t do that.

For some reason, the rigid cut of her spine and the provocative sway of her hips assaulted his senses. It was crazy, because she was so obviously not interested in him, either as a client, or a friend. And anything else...

But he arrested his thoughts there before they took him places he really didn’t want to go. Well, not in the middle of Alnwick High Street, he mused drily as a small red Civic turned the corner at the end of the block and drove towards him.

It was Grace, and, grateful for the distraction, Jack strode across the square and climbed behind the wheel of the Lexus. His eyes met Grace’s briefly, and then, with a courteous wave of his hand, he allowed her to lead the way.

They drove north for a couple of miles before turning towards the sea. It appeared at fleeting intervals as the road wound through a series of hidden bends and blind summits to a small hamlet perched on cliffs above a rocky cove.