Читать книгу Tempted By A Caffarelli - Melanie Milburne - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I JUST RAN into Mr Compton on my way to work,’ Chloe said the following morning. ‘He said Rafe Caffarelli came in again yesterday.’

‘He just had coffee.’ Poppy turned to put the cream she had just whipped back in the fridge. ‘Quite frankly, I don’t know why he bothers. What’s the point of going to a tearoom if you don’t drink tea and you don’t eat cake?’

‘Mr Compton also told me Rafe asked you to provide evening meals for him up at the manor.’ Chloe picked up her apron and began to tie it around her waist. ‘That’s exciting. The way to a man’s heart and all that. What are you going to cook for him?’

‘I’m not cooking for him.’

Chloe blinked. ‘Are you crazy? He’s going to pay you, isn’t he?’

Poppy set her mouth stubbornly. ‘That’s not the point.’

‘I’ll cook for him, then,’ Chloe said. ‘I’ll do three meals a day and morning and afternoon tea. I’ll even give him breakfast in bed. God, I’m having a hot flush just thinking about it. I bet he’s amazing between the sheets. He looks like he pumps some serious iron. I bet he could go all night.’

Poppy gave her a withering look. ‘There is more to a man than how he looks. What about intellect and morals? What about personal values?’

Chloe grinned at her. ‘You fancy him like rotten, don’t you? Go on—admit it. And I reckon he fancies you. Mr Compton reckons so too. Why else would he come in for coffee two days in a row?’

Poppy stalked over to put the cupcakes on the glass cake-stand. ‘Raffaele Caffarelli has had more lovers than you and I have had hot dinners. He thinks that just because he wants something or someone he can have it. His sense of entitlement is beyond arrogant. It’s deplorable.’

Chloe’s eyes began to twinkle. ‘You really are all fired up over him, aren’t you? This can’t just be about your house. Why do you dislike him so much?’

Poppy carried the cake-stand out to the tearoom. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’

Chloe followed close behind. ‘Mr Compton said Rafe’s going to turn Dalrymple Manor into a luxury hotel and spa. It could be really good for the village if he does. There’d be heaps of jobs for the locals, and we might even get a bit of extra business as a result.’

Poppy plonked the cake-stand down and turned to glare her. ‘For the last four-hundred-and-seventy-five years, the manor has been a family home. Generations of the Dalrymple family have been born and have died there. Turning it into a plush hotel will totally destroy its character and desecrate its history.’

‘I expect Rafe Caffarelli will do a very tasteful conversion,’ Chloe put in. ‘I checked out some of his other developments online. He’s big on keeping things in context architecturally. He draws up most of the preliminary plans himself.’

Poppy was still on her soapbox and wasn’t stepping down any time soon. The thought of the paparazzi hiding in the hedges in her beloved village to get their prized shot of hedonistic celebrities partying up at the manor was sickening. ‘Lord Dalrymple will be spinning in his grave if this preposterous project goes ahead. What was his cousin thinking of, selling to a developer? Why couldn’t they have sold to a private family instead? Another family could bring life and vibrancy to the place instead of filthy rich people wining and dining and partying at all hours.’

‘You really love that old place, don’t you?’

Poppy blew out a long breath. ‘I know it sounds ridiculously sentimental but I think Dalrymple Manor needs a family to make it come alive again. It’s spent the last sixty years grieving. You can feel the sadness when you walk in there. It’s almost palpable. The stairs creak with it, sometimes even the foundations groan with it.’

Chloe’s eyes rounded. ‘Are you saying it’s haunted?’

‘I used to think so when I was a kid, but no, it’s just a sad old place that needs to be filled with love and laughter and family again.’

‘Maybe Rafe Caffarelli will settle down there with one of his lovers,’ Chloe suggested.

‘I can’t see that happening,’ Poppy said with an expression of disdain. ‘He doesn’t keep a lover more than a month or two. Playboys like him don’t settle down, they just change partners.’

Chloe gave her a speculative look. ‘So I take it I’m not the only one who’s done a little online searching on the illustrious Rafe Caffarelli?’

Poppy went back to the kitchen with her head at a haughty height. ‘I’m not the least bit interested in what that man does or who he does it with. I have much better things to do with my time.’

* * *

Just before lunch Mr Underwood, Poppy’s landlord, came in to the tearoom. He usually came in on a Friday afternoon for a cup of tea and a slice of the cake of the day. Poppy desperately hoped this Tuesday visit wasn’t a business one. She had a list of expenses to see to on the dower house. The place needed painting inside and out, and the garden needed urgent attention. There was an elm tree close to her bedroom that needed lopping as it was keeping her awake at night with its branches scratching at the window. Even a modest rise in rent at the shop would just about cripple her financially now.

‘Your usual, Mr Underwood?’ she said with a bright and hopeful smile.

‘Er, can I have a word, Poppy?’ John Underwood asked.

‘Sure.’ Poppy’s smile tightened on her face. Please don’t ask for more rent.

‘I thought I should let you know I’ve been made an offer on the building,’ John said. ‘It’s a good one, the best I’ve had, so I’m going to take it.’

She frowned. ‘But I didn’t realise you were even thinking of selling.’

‘I’ve been toying with the idea for a while. Jean wants to travel a bit more. We’ve got three young grandchildren in the States now and we want to spend a bit more time with them. I’m selling this building and another investment property I have in Shropshire.’

Poppy felt suspicion move up her spine like a file of sugar ants. ‘Who made the offer?’

‘I’m not at liberty to say,’ he said. ‘The buyer insisted on total confidentiality until all the paperwork is done.’

She pursed her lips as the rage simmered inside her. ‘I just bet he did.’

John looked uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t want to do the wrong thing by you, Poppy. You and Chloe are the best tenants I’ve had. But at the end of the day this is a business decision. It’s not personal.’

Oh yes it is, Poppy thought sourly. ‘We’ve still got another year on the lease. That won’t change, will it?’

‘Not unless the new owner wants to redevelop.’

‘Did he say what he intended to do with it?’

‘No, he just seemed really keen to acquire this particular building. He said he instantly fell in love with its old-world charm.’

‘Ruthless’ didn’t even come close to describing Rafe Caffarelli, Poppy thought. He was clever and calculating, much more than she had realised. But she wasn’t going down without a fight. There was no way she was going to let him have things all his own way. Did he really think he could twist her arm? Blackmail her into his bed by charging her an outrageously high rent? What sort of woman did he think she was? ‘Will the new owner expect a rise in rent, do you think?’

‘You’d have to discuss that with him.’

She gave him an ironic look. ‘How can I if he wants to remain anonymous?’

‘I expect the rent will be handled through an agency,’ John said. ‘Anyway, I just thought I should let you know I’ve sold. I’m not one for keeping secrets but he seemed to think it was necessary.’

Poppy ground her teeth behind her tight smile. ‘I’m sure he has his reasons.’

She stalked out to the kitchen once John Underwood had left. ‘Grrrh! I’m going to punch him on the nose. I’m going to scratch his eyes out. I’m going to give him a black eye. I’m going to kick him in the you-know-where.’

Chloe blinked in confusion. ‘But I thought you liked Mr Underwood. What’s he done—put up the rent or something?’

‘Not Mr Underwood,’ Poppy said through clenched teeth. ‘Rafe Caffarelli. He’s bought the shop. I know it’s him, even though Mr Underwood didn’t actually say so. It’s supposed to be a secret. And I know why—Rafe Caffarelli wants to blackmail me into his bed.’

Chloe’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. ‘Hey, have I missed something somewhere? Back up a little bit. Did you say he wants to sleep with you? Did he actually say that out loud?’

‘Not in as many words, but I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me.’ Poppy clenched her hands into fists. ‘I won’t do it.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Chloe said. ‘What are you thinking, Poppy? He’s gorgeous. He’s rich. He’s everything a woman could want in a man.’

Poppy set her mouth. ‘Not this woman.’

‘You’re mad,’ Chloe said. ‘What would it hurt to have a little fling with him? He would probably give you heaps and heaps of ridiculously expensive jewellery at the end of it. You could sell them and retire.’

Poppy threw her a look of reproach. ‘I had no idea you were so shallow.’

Chloe shrugged. ‘Not shallow, just pragmatic. Think about it. When are you going to get the chance to move in his sort of circles? It’d be worth it just for the publicity. It’d really put the tearoom on the map.’

‘I am not going to sleep with Rafe Caffarelli in order to bring more customers in the door.’ Poppy folded her arms tightly across her chest. ‘I have far more self-respect than that.’

‘You’re stuck in the dark ages,’ Chloe said. ‘Who waits for Mr Right these days? Most girls lose their virginity before they leave school. You’re twenty-five for God’s sake. Think of all the sex you’re going to have to have to catch up.’

‘I don’t think about sex.’ Well, not until recently.

‘That’s because you don’t know what you’re missing. It’s not wrong to have sex before you get married. Not in this day and age.’

‘I’m not necessarily waiting until I get married,’ Poppy said. ‘I’m waiting until I feel sure it’s really what I want, and that the man is right for me.’

‘It’s because of what happened to your mum, isn’t it?’ Chloe said. ‘It’s made you gun-shy.’

‘Maybe a bit,’ Poppy confessed. ‘OK, more than a bit. It ruined her life to be cast aside like that. She never got over it. She was truly heartbroken. She loved my father and he treated her like a silly little toy he had grown tired of. And it didn’t just wreck her life, it ruined my gran’s life because she got landed with a little kid to bring up.’

‘Your gran loved bringing you up.’

Poppy let out a sigh. ‘But my mother died so young and she didn’t get to do all the things she wanted to do. I don’t want that to happen to me. I want to have control over my future.’

‘There are some things in life that you just can’t control.’

‘I know, but I’m going to focus on the ones I can.’ Poppy untied her apron and tossed it on the nearest chair. ‘Starting right now.’

* * *

Rafe was working on some preliminary sketches in the makeshift study he’d set up at the manor when he heard a car rumble up the driveway. He knew who it was without looking through the window. Only someone with an axe to grind would slam their car door, stomp across the gravel, to put their finger on the doorbell and leave it there. He smiled as the tinny sound assaulted his eardrums. How boring had his life been before meeting Poppy Silverton?

This was the most fun he’d had in years.

‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ he said as he opened the door. ‘People will talk.’

Her toffee-brown eyes were slitted, her hands were fisted and her slim body was rigid. ‘You...you calculating, low-life swine.’

He raised a brow at her. ‘It’s nice to see you too.’

She vibrated on the spot like a battery-operated tin soldier. ‘I can’t believe how ruthless you are. You bought my shop!’

‘So? I’m a property developer. I buy property.’

Her pretty little mouth was white-tipped with fury. ‘I know what you’re doing but it won’t work.’

Rafe leaned casually against the doorjamb. ‘What is it you think I’m doing?’

‘You’re going to blackmail me.’ She glowered at him darkly. ‘You must know I can barely afford the rent as it is. But it won’t work. I won’t prostitute myself to someone like you.’

He tapped his index finger against his lips for a moment. ‘Mmm, I can see I have some work to do to improve the impression you have of me. What makes you think I’m going to raise the rent?’

She looked at him warily. ‘You mean...you’re not?’

He shook his head.

‘But why did you buy the shop?’

‘I like it.’

She narrowed her eyes again. ‘You...like it?’

‘It’s unique.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I like the idea of a traditional tearoom. It’s classy. It makes a nice change from the somewhat impersonal and boring coffee chains.’

A little pleat of scepticism appeared between her eyes. ‘You don’t even drink tea.’

‘That’s true, but maybe I haven’t tasted the perfect cup. A cheap, dusty tea bag jiggled in a Styrofoam cup is probably nothing like the real deal. Maybe you could educate me in the art of drinking proper, high-quality leaf tea.’

She was still looking at him in suspicion. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re not really talking about tea?’

Rafe gave her a lazy smile. ‘What else could I be talking about?’

Her cheeks went a deep shade of rose and her soft mouth flattened primly. ‘If you want to taste proper tea, then come to the tearoom four o’clock this afternoon.’

He held her gaze in a smouldering little lockdown. ‘I’d prefer a private lesson. I don’t want to be distracted by other customers. It might ruin the experience for me.’

She gave him a flinty ‘I know what you’re up to’ look. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Come at five-thirty. I’ll put the closed sign on the door.’

‘It’s a date.’

Rafe watched as she turned on her heel and stomped back to her car. He gave her a wave as she drove away but she didn’t return it. With a toss of that fiery head, she put her car into gear and rattled off down the drive, leaving a billowing cloud of dust in her wake.