Читать книгу The Vengeance Affair - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 10

BILLS, bills, nothing but— What…?

Jaz’s hand shook as she held the single sheet of paper, staring disbelievingly at the single sentence printed there. Only four words, but, nevertheless, those four words had the impact on her that they were obviously supposed to.

‘Like mother, like daughter’.

Like mother, like daughter—except Jaz was nothing like her mother. Nothing!

She flung the letter down onto the cluttered desk-top in the garden-centre office where she had been opening her post, before standing up to pace restlessly, her gaze returning again and again to that unsigned letter.

What did it mean? In what way was she supposed to be like her mother?

The envelope, she suddenly realized. It would have a stamp on it with the time and place of postage, plus the address would have to have been written there too.

No, the address had been printed by computer too—so much for her amateur sleuthing! And there was no postage stamp on it. Which meant it must have been delivered by hand.

Jaz recoiled from the thought that it might have been someone local who had sent the anonymous letter to her, her stomach churning with distaste that she might actually know someone capable of doing this.

But what other explanation was there? The letter had been laying on the floor with all the other letters delivered while she’d been out at work all day, gathered up in their number and opened in all innocence of its contents.

‘Anyone here?’

Jaz easily recognized that voice, moving quickly to gather up the letter and its envelope, to push them into the top drawer of the desk just as Beau Garrett let himself into the office.

‘Yes?’ she prompted slightly breathlessly, standing protectively in front of the desk—as if she thought that damning letter were going to leap out of its own volition and present itself to this man!

Maybe she should show it to him? Maybe if she could share it with someone it wouldn’t seem quite so—

Ridiculous, she instantly told herself irritably. It was unpleasant—unbelievably so, if she were honest with herself!—but not anything that concerned this man. Certainly nothing she could ‘share’ with him, or anyone else.

Beau frowned across the room at her. ‘Are you okay?’

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to relax as she smiled at him reassuringly. ‘Of course.’

His frown didn’t alter. ‘You’re looking a little pale…?’

Jaz gave a dismissive grimace. ‘I’m probably hungry. Besides,’ she added ruefully, ‘I’ve just received the electricity bill!’

Beau gave a derisive smile. ‘That would do it.’ He nodded understandingly. ‘And talking of hungry—I’m just on my way out to the pub for dinner. I saw your light on, and wondered if, like me, you felt like giving cooking a miss for this evening?’

Jaz stared at him. Had Beau Garrett just invited her out to dinner? Albeit the pub at the other end of the village…

Yes, he had. And she could easily guess the reason for it!

They hadn’t parted on too friendly terms earlier today, Jaz making good her escape from the kitchen with Dennis’s timely arrival. And she had left promptly at five o’clock without speaking to Beau Garrett again.

The man obviously felt guilty about his teasing earlier today!

He raised mocking dark brows at her lack of response. ‘Pub. Food,’ he enunciated slowly. ‘My treat,’ he added as she continued to look at him without speaking.

That last remark evoked a response, her cheeks colouring angrily. ‘I’m not in need of anyone’s charity, Mr Garrett,’ she snapped waspishly. Least of all yours, her tone clearly implied.

His expression darkened irritably. ‘And I’m not in the business of offering anyone charity—Miss Logan,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Merely suggesting we eat dinner together, and as such ensuring that you have enough strength to shift another load of junk from my garden tomorrow!’

She deserved his impatient anger, and she knew it; she was just feeling shaken, and not a little sensitive, from receiving that anonymous letter.

But what was it, after all? Amateur hour, that’s what it was. Probably just some kid who liked playing with his computer and had read too many Agatha Christies than was good for him!

‘Besides,’ Beau Garrett added abruptly, ‘I hate eating alone.’

When he put it like that…!

Jaz gave a heavy sigh, relaxing slightly. ‘Sorry if I sounded ungrateful,’ she grimaced. ‘Dinner at the pub sounds wonderful,’ she accepted gracefully.

It would also give her time and distance from that horrible letter. And when she got back later this evening she would throw the thing straight in the bin.

‘Do you have time to wait while I change out of these old clothes?’ She had actually changed out of her working clothes when she’d got in half an hour ago, but these faded denims and one of her father’s old jumpers, although clean, were almost as disreputable.

Beau gave a decisive shake of his head. ‘You look fine. And I’ve been assured that they do “a marvelous steak” at the pub,’ he added more practically.

Jaz moved to pick up her heavy coat, laughing softly at his perfect imitation of Barbara Scott at the village shop. ‘Did you ever think of taking up acting?’ she prompted interestedly after locking up and following him out to the Range Rover.

‘Never!’ he assured with a barely suppressed shudder. ‘Did you never think of doing something other than follow in your father’s footsteps?’

Jaz gave him a considering look, that look cut short as the interior light of the powerful vehicle clicked off overhead. ‘Saved by the light,’ she drawled. ‘And, no, I never considered doing anything else. I love gardening, love collecting the seeds, nurturing the seedlings, seeing them grow into beautiful blooms. My grandmother—the designer of the rock garden,’ she reminded dryly, ‘she loved it too. You might say it’s in the blood,’ she added teasingly. And then felt the chill of ice in her veins.

As that anonymous letter had already stated, she was her mother’s daughter too!

No, she wasn’t, Jaz decided just as firmly. Her mother had been flighty and irresponsible, but most of all self-centred; none of which Jaz believed herself to be.

‘But you didn’t properly answer my question,’ she prompted Beau pointedly.

He gave her a brief grin. ‘No, I didn’t, did I?’

And he wasn’t going to do so, either, his tone clearly implied.

Oh, well, if he didn’t want to talk about himself, that was his choice, Jaz shrugged inwardly. Although he was singularly different from any other man she knew if that really were the case; on the few dates she had accepted over the years those men couldn’t seem to talk about anything else but themselves!

Date? Having a meal at the local pub with Beau Garrett couldn’t be considered a date. She—

‘What are you thinking about now?’ Beau gave her a sideways glance as he drove the short distance to the pub.

‘Nothing,’ she dismissed, warm colour in her cheeks; there was no way she could tell this man what she had been thinking.

She still had no idea whether Beau Garrett was married or not. But she did know that, even if he wasn’t, she certainly wasn’t the type of woman to attract him. He was much older, not just because he was aged in his late thirties or early forties, but because he had far more experience of life than her. His arrogantly aristocratic good looks put him well out of her league. And for years he had been at the centre of the world of television, surrounded by beautiful and sophisticated women. Jaz well knew that, despite his earlier teasing words, she had neither of those attributes.

‘You aren’t having dinner with a married man, if that’s what’s bothering you,’ Beau drawled derisively.

‘How did you do that?’ she gasped.

‘It really wasn’t that difficult, Jaz,’ he assured her mockingly. ‘You asked me the other day whether my “family” would be joining me.’ He gave a dismissive shrug, turning the Range Rover into the pub car park before turning off the engine to turn in his seat, his expression grim. ‘I was married once, but that was over years ago,’ he bit out harshly. ‘I haven’t been a monk since, but there’s no one currently in my life.’

‘You really don’t need to tell me any of this.’ Jaz couldn’t quite meet his gaze, her cheeks coloured hotly now.

‘No, I don’t,’ he acknowledged abruptly, opening the door and getting out of the vehicle. ‘But I thought you might like to know anyway,’ he added scornfully. ‘Bearing in mind your warnings that this is a small village and people like to talk.’

Jaz followed slowly. She had wanted to know his marital status, certainly didn’t want to have dinner with a married man, even as innocently as this was; there had been enough talk about her family over the years without her adding to the gossip. But it somehow felt uncomfortable to know that a man as sophisticated as Beau had been all too aware of her misgivings.

She could comfort herself by claiming she was out of practise in these things, but as she had never been in practise in the first place…!

‘I must seem extremely unsophisticated to you,’ she muttered as the two of them walked towards the warmth of the pub.

‘Refreshingly naïve,’ Beau corrected lightly, reaching forward to open the door for her.

For naïve read gauche and silly, Jaz accepted heavily as she stepped into the tastefully lit and furnished pub, a glowing warmth giving off by the log fire at one end of the room.

Beau looked around him interestedly. ‘I didn’t know places like this really existed,’ he murmured appreciatively.

‘Ye Olde Country Pub.’ Jaz nodded smilingly. ‘I’m told that the beer’s quite good too,’ she added derisively.

‘Hey, give me a break; I’ve lived in London for the last thirty-nine years!’ Beau chided as they made their way through the crowded room to a table closer to the fire.