Читать книгу A Perfect Night - Пенни Джордан, PENNY JORDAN - Страница 8

‘JENNY Crighton is giving an informal supper party in a few weeks’ time,’ Guy gave his cousin the date, ‘and she’s invited you to go along with us, Seb. You’ll enjoy it,’ he encouraged when he saw the way Seb was frowning.

He had called round to see him expressly to deliver Jenny’s invitation as well as to see how his cousin had settled in at Aarlston-Becker.

‘Shall I?’ Seb challenged him.

‘Which reminds me,’ Guy added before Seb could continue, ‘Chrissie said to tell you that you’re more than welcome to come round and dine with us any time you wish.’

‘Thanks, I really do appreciate the offer, but right now I’m so involved at work…’ Seb stopped and shook his head. Despite his misgivings about returning to the town of his birth, Seb had to admit that the sheer scope of the work he was involved with at Aarlston was proving enormously challenging and satisfying. The company was right at the forefront of research into and the creation of a new generation of drugs.

‘I had planned to drive over to Manchester that weekend to see Charlotte, but it seems she’s organised to go away with a group of friends, which means…’

‘Which means that you’ll be free to accept Jenny’s invitation,’ Guy told him firmly. ‘You’ll enjoy it. Saul is bound to be there. Have you met him yet? He’s head of a section of the Aarlston legal department and…’

‘Yes…I was introduced to him the other day. Nice chap…’

‘Have you found a house that appeals to you yet?’ Guy asked him.

‘Not so far. Ideally I’d like somewhere large enough for Charlotte to have her own space when she comes to stay, which means somewhere with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, but I don’t really want something quite as large as a three-or four-bedroom house, from a practical point of view if nothing else.’

‘Mmm…well there’s a large Edwardian house on the outskirts of town which was recently converted into a series of luxury apartments, although I think most of them have already been sold. From the sound of it one of them would suit you ideally.’

‘Mmm…who are the agents? It’s certainly worth looking into,’ Seb agreed.

The small terraced house he was currently renting was only two streets away from the one he had lived in as a child and Seb was finding staying in it faintly claustrophobic. His mother had moved away to live with her widowed sister following the death of Seb’s father and Seb had no immediate family left in the town, but it seemed that everywhere he turned he was confronted with the Cooke name and the Cooke features, battalion upon battalion of assorted aunts, uncles and cousins.

And as for the Jenny Crighton supper party, that was something he would have preferred to have got out of attending but he suspected that there was no way that Guy was going to allow him to do so.

There was a certain something in Guy’s voice when he mentioned Jenny Crighton’s name that made Seb wonder if those rumours about Guy’s feelings for Jenny before Chrissie had come into his life had been just mere rumour. Whatever the case though there was no doubt about the fact that he loved Chrissie now.

‘Mmm…that looks interesting,’ Olivia commented as she walked past Katie’s desk and saw the estate agent’s details lying there.

‘Who is the prospective purchaser?’ she asked curiously as she studied photographs of the elegantly shaped Edwardian rooms and the sweeping views of the grounds that surrounded the newly converted apartments.

‘Me, hopefully,’ Katie told her, adding ruefully, ‘although the price they are asking is rather high.’

‘Can’t you bargain them down?’ Olivia suggested practically.

Katie shook her head. ‘I doubt it, there are only two apartments left.’

‘Mmm…well I can see why they’ve sold so well, two double bedrooms, each with its own bathroom and dressing-room, a large sitting-room, dining-room and good-sized kitchen, and those views…’

‘Yes, and because this one is on the top floor it’s got its own balcony,’ Katie told her.

‘I went to view it with Dad last night and I must say that I was really impressed even if it’s still an awful lot of money, but with Mum and Dad so generously offering to help me out I can just about afford it.’

‘Well, you certainly won’t lose out by buying it,’ Olivia told her, ‘not with Aarlston-Becker expanding at the rate it is and the demand for housing expanding along with them.’

‘True…I see we’re getting an increasing number of farming clients applying for change of use in planning permission for some of their agricultural land.’

‘Yes, and there’s been a lot of controversy about it with a huge continuing debate in the local press. Those against any kind of new building on existing farmland are claiming that there are plenty of infill sites which should be used up first, while those who are in favour of granting planning permission insist the infill sites simply aren’t adequate to cope with the growing demand for housing, stating that the town’s prosperity is too closely linked with Aarlston to risk the threat of the company moving elsewhere because their employees can’t find homes.’

‘I should imagine that argument is something of a double-edged sword,’ Katie murmured thoughtfully.

‘Very much so,’ Olivia agreed. ‘The old die-hards are bitterly opposed to the Aarlston presence on the outskirts of the town claiming that it threatens its identity as a traditional market town in the centre of an agricultural area.’

‘It’s going to be a long-running battle, I suspect.’

After Olivia had left, Katie picked up the telephone receiver and punched in the number of the estate agents. There was no point in trying to persuade them to get the developers to drop the price of the apartment, she would just have to bite the bullet and offer the price they were asking. The apartment was, after all, perfect for her in every way, and if Olivia and her father were to be believed it would ultimately appreciate in value and prove to be a good financial investment.

While she was on the phone to the agents she decided that she would also arrange to look over the apartment again so that she could take proper measurements. Her mother had offered her some pieces of furniture she herself no longer needed including some very pretty antiques, but she would need to buy new carpets and curtains if the purchase went ahead.

Seb frowned as he studied the details of the apartment he had looked over the previous evening. On the top floor of the original Edwardian house it was one of a pair and ideally suited to his requirements. Guy had been right about that, it was exactly what he wanted even if the price was a little on the high side—not that that was a prime consideration for him—it was easily within his price range.

He had phoned Charlotte to tell her about it and she was going to travel to Haslewich from Manchester today after her classes had finished in order that she could see it. He had given her directions so that she could get a cab there and find it, and had arranged a time to meet. Afterwards he had promised to take her out for dinner.

One of the reasons Sandra had been so comfortable about accepting George’s overseas posting had been because they had known that the live-in, sixth form private college where Charlotte was studying, which specialised in her chosen subjects—and where she had begged her parents to be allowed to go—placed a huge priority on its students’ welfare and safety. It had been agreed that she could go, but only after a long, reassuring discussion with the school’s principal about the precautions they took to supervise the students and ensure their safety. Charlotte would, also, have the benefit of members of her father’s close-knit family on hand to turn to should she ever need to do so.

That of course had been before Seb himself had been headhunted by Aarlston-Becker and everything seemed to fall into place for him to be near his daughter.

Reaching for the telephone he punched in the numbers of the selling agents to confirm the appointment he had made to re-view the property this evening with Charlotte and to tell them that he was prepared to offer the full asking price.

The next stage of the purchase would involve him finding himself a solicitor and once again he suspected he would be wise to accept Guy’s advice and instruct Jon Crighton to act for him.

Katie glanced at her watch. Time for her to leave if she was to meet the agent on time. Tidying up her desk she reached for her mobile phone, popping it into her bag. They were having a spell of good weather with long sunshiny days and high temperatures, which made the wearing of traditional formal office clothes too heavy and uncomfortable.

Instead, aided and abetted by her mother and her cousin, Katie had paid a visit to Chester, which she had combined with a brief but very enjoyable lunch with Luke Crighton’s wife, Bobbie, and a whirlwind shopping trip that had resulted in the purchase of what she had complained to her mother was virtually a completely new wardrobe.

She had felt even more guilty about the extravagance of her purchases when her mother had insisted ‘these are my treat, Katie.’

Now though, as the elegant cut of the smart black linen mix, button-back dress swirled softly round her legs, she had to admit that she was glad she had allowed herself to be persuaded. The dress was smart enough for the office without being too stuffy or formal. She had also bought a complementary jacket to go with it, and a couple of wrap skirts which could also be worn with the jacket in addition to one of several tops in matching tones.

It had been a long time since she had had any new clothes. Although her work for the charity had not involved working at the front line, she had nevertheless been conscious of the fact that a huge discrepancy existed between her comfortably affluent Western lifestyle and those of the people they were trying to help, and besides…

She could feel the back of her throat starting to tighten with emotion. What had been the point in making herself look attractive, and allowing herself to feel womanly and sensual when she already knew that the man she wanted to be those things for would not and could not ever be hers?

Perhaps it was one of those ironic twists of their twinship that her own unrequited love for Louise’s husband Gareth should echo the love Louise had once had for a married man. But then Louise had found love with Gareth and although Katie doubted that she would ever find a man to match him, she knew, too, that for her own inner peace and happiness she had to find a way of moving her life forward and of leaving that love behind.

Katie walked towards the window of her small office and stared out into the busy town square. To one side of it stood the church and running parallel to it but outside her view was a prettily elegant close of Georgian houses where her father’s aunt, Ruth, lived with her American husband, Grant, whenever they were over in England.

The other three sides of the square were filled with a jumble of mixed-era buildings, Tudor wattle-and-daub cheek by jowl with Georgian town houses. The square itself had, thanks to the determination of its townspeople, retained much of its original medieval aura even if the stocks were now purely decorative and the original well had been turned into an ornamental fountain.

As young girls she and Louise used to call to see their father on their way home from school, specifically on ‘pocket-money’ days, hoping that he might be persuaded to add a little extra to the permitted allowance. They had giggled over the boys as they sat side by side beneath the trees on the bench donated by past worthy citizens. Together they had visited Aunt Ruth and helped her with her innovative displays of church flowers. Together they had attended regulation church services. Together they had cycled through the square to the small antique shop their mother had once half owned with Guy Cooke. Together…

As twins they had always been close, even though temperamentally they were in many ways so very different. Together they had gone to university and it had been there that they had both met Gareth Simmonds who had been one of the course lecturers.

Gareth with whom she had fallen quietly and idealistically in love…

Gareth who epitomised everything she had ever wanted in a man…Gareth who was so kind, so calm, so gentle and perceptive…Gareth who loved her sister, her twin…Gareth who could never be hers…

The view below her wavered and swam as her eyes filled with tears. Quickly she blinked them away. She had promised herself when Louise and Gareth married that she would find a way to stop loving him, that she would make herself accept him simply as her brother-in-law, as her beloved twin’s husband, but every time she saw him the ache of loneliness and pain she felt at seeing the two of them so happy together was still there. She knew that Louise was hurt by her rejection of her constant invitations to go and stay with them, and she knew, too, that the gulf that was developing between the two of them disturbed her parents, especially her mother, but what could she do? What could she say? There was no way she could admit what the real problem was. And now there was the additional pain of seeing Louise with her new baby—hers and Gareth’s child.

A small bitter smile twisted the softness of her mouth. Was she destined always to be wanted by men who were already committed to someone else; to always be ‘second best’? She knew that Gareth would never approach her with a view to an illicit affair the way her ex-boss had done. He loved Louise far too much for that. He was so totally unaware of Katie’s own anguished feelings that it seemed to her, in her present state of low self-esteem and self-respect, that it was almost as though she didn’t deserve to be loved or treated well, that something about her actively encouraged men to think they could treat her badly.

No man would ever have suggested to her twin that she should have a seedy, hole-in-the-corner sexual relationship with him. No man would dream of suggesting it to any of her female cousins either, she was sure of it. Even Maddy, her brother Max’s wife, who had always been regarded as the most downtrodden and to-be-pitied member of the family because of Max’s appalling uncaring behaviour towards her, had turned out far stronger and determined than any of them could ever have imagined. Look at the way she had taken control of their marriage and of Max following his return home after his attack.

At last year’s wedding of Bobbie’s twin sister, Samantha, all the family had remarked on how much of an adoring husband and father Max had become. He was even taking on his full share of parenting following the birth of their third child, another little boy, so that Maddy could continue with her work for the charity Aunt Ruth had originally set up. Once, the very idea of Max changing nappies and bathing babies would have been a total impossibility, but now…

So what was it about her that denied her the emotional happiness and support all the other Crighton women, both by birth and marriage, seemed to expect and get as their birthright? Sometimes she felt as though there was something about her that meant that she was forever condemned to live in other people’s shadows…other people’s or her twin’s.

She could still remember the plans that Louise had made for them as they were growing up, plans which involved the two of them practically running the world, or at least Louise running the world; with Katie’s devoted support. And Katie of course had willingly given her that support, that loyalty, that commitment, but now Louise had someone else in her life to give her those things…now Louise had the man that she, Katie, had loved and she, Katie…she, Katie had…nothing…

Outside in the square the church clock chimed the hour. Hastily Katie gathered her scattered thoughts. If she didn’t leave now she was going to be late for her appointment with the selling agent.

Reaching for her jacket she headed for the door.

Half an hour later when Katie drove into the visitor’s section of the apartment’s car park the only other person there was a young girl who was obviously quite patiently waiting for someone. Tall and slim, wearing jeans and a cropped white top she gave Katie a warm smile as she climbed out of her car. Instinctively Katie smiled back. The girl had long dark hair and widely spaced apart warm grey eyes. For some reason Katie felt that there was something familiar about her although she had no idea what because she was certain she had never seen her before.

‘Hi, I’m just waiting for my father,’ the girl told Katie. ‘I can see why he’s decided to buy one of the apartments, Mum will love the location. I don’t know where Dad is,’ she added, glancing at her watch. ‘He said to meet him at four-thirty. Has he telephoned you to say he’s going to be late for his viewing appointment?’

As she listened to her Katie realised that the girl must have mistaken her for the viewing agent, but before she could correct her mistake the girl continued, ‘I expect Dad’s already told you that he works for Aarlston-Becker. He’s head of their research department,’ she confided with touching daughterly pride. ‘I’m at a sixth form college in Manchester and we’ve got family in Haslewich so…

‘Oh, here he is now,’ she exclaimed as a large Mercedes swept round the curve of the gravel drive.

Behind it was the much smaller car driven by the estate agent which Katie recognised from her previous meeting with him, but she wasn’t paying either the agent or his car any attention, instead she was concentrating on the Mercedes—and its driver. Now she knew why the dark hair and grey eyes the young girl had seemed so familiar. The man now stepping out of his stationary car was none other than the man who had virtually tried to run her down on her first day at work.

It was plain from his expression that he had recognised her, too, but before Katie could challenge him over his behaviour the estate agent was hurrying to join them, announcing, ‘I do hope that neither of you mind but since you both want to view the properties at virtually the same time I thought we could combine the appointments.’

‘You’re buying one of the apartments?’

The words came out before Katie could silence them and she knew that her expression and tone of voice betrayed exactly what her feelings were.

The cold look she was thrown in disdainful response informed her that her dismay was more than matched by his reaction to the thought of having her as a neighbour, but since his daughter was flinging herself into his arms and hugging him lovingly and claiming his attention, Katie was relieved to recognise that he wasn’t going to be able to respond verbally to her impetuous and betraying comment.

‘Very well, if you’d like to come this way,’ the estate agent suggested.

‘You are interested in and are planning to purchase flat nine, Miss Crighton,’ he checked as he activated the main alarm system and lock to the entrance lobby to the apartments and waited to usher them inside before continuing, ‘And you are purchasing flat number ten, Mr Cooke, is that correct?’

Cooke…this man who looked nowhere near old enough to be the father of a teenage daughter was a Cooke, Katie reflected. Curiously she flicked a discreet look in his direction and then wished she hadn’t as she realised that he’d caught her studying him.

She looked away as quickly as she could, but not before she had recognised that he did indeed bear the very distinctive dark and sensual Cooke good looks—the rakish and very disturbing aura of maleness and danger they all seemed to have inherited in some measure or other from their long-ago gypsy ancestor.

‘In fact,’ the agent continued, as he led the way to the discreetly concealed lifts that serviced the house’s upper floors, ‘seeing as you are going to be close neighbours—yours are the only two apartments on the top floor—perhaps I should introduce you to one another.’

Turning to Katie and before either of them could stop him he announced, ‘Miss Katie Crighton…Mr Seb Cooke…’

She was a Crighton, so where exactly did she fit into the extensive family tree? Seb wondered curiously as he gave Katie a narrow-eyed contemplative look. He could see at close quarters she was far prettier than he had realised that day in the street.

Her eyes were veiled now as they mirrored her body language’s mute dislike of both the situation and him. Her hair, smoothly brushed instead of tousled by the breeze, hung in a thick soft wave down past her shoulders. The black dress she was wearing hinted at rather than revealed the femininity of her body.

It might not be revealing the lushly full curves of her breasts but he had a vivid memory of just how she and they had looked with the wind pressing the fabric of the top she had been wearing against their softness. In fact, unless his memory was playing tricks on him, she possessed a surprisingly voluptuous body for someone so slim.

Without realising how stern or disapproving it made him look Seb frowned. What on earth was he doing even registering the voluptuousness of an unknown young woman’s body, never mind remembering it? He may not have lived totally like a monk in the years since his divorce but the demands of his work coupled with his awareness of just what an appalling husband and father he had been ensured that he kept whatever relationships he had had to discreet liaisons with women who shared his beliefs that he was simply not good marriage material.

As she saw him frown, Katie immediately felt a return of her earlier dislike of him. Heightened by her lack of self-esteem, this fuelled her inner conviction that such a sensual, rawly male man, must surely find her lacking in the kind of feminine attributes that would appeal to him. Not that she would want to appeal to him. Not under any circumstances.

One look at him at close quarters had confirmed that he was most definitely not her type. Too aggressive, too arrogant and far, far too sexy. Oh yes, far, far too sexy, because, hidden away among all the other emotional burdens she was compelling herself to carry, Katie had what she considered to be a most uncool and unappealing secret and that was…

‘If you’re a Crighton, can I ask…Are you one of the twin Crightons?’

As Charlotte’s semi-shy but wholly warm voice broke into her thoughts, Katie focused bemusedly on her. Charlotte too, like her father, had heard all about the Crightons from Guy and Chrissie, but unlike her father she felt no self-consciousness about wanting to satisfy her curiosity about just where Katie fitted into the family jigsaw. For Charlotte, the most fascinating and interesting part of the Crighton family saga was the fact that they so regularly produced sets of twins.

‘Charlotte…’ Seb began warningly, but Katie shook her head. Unlike her father Charlotte was someone she had immediately felt at home with. She knew instinctively that the younger girl’s question was simply a natural expression of her justifiable curiosity and so it was easy for her to smile and nod her head, explaining easily, ‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am.’

‘Does your twin live in Haslewich too? Are you and she going to share the apartment?’ Charlotte pressed her.

Katie shook her head. ‘No.’ A small shadow crossed her face dulling her expression, a fact which Seb noticed but which Charlotte, too engrossed in waiting for her to answer and too youthfully immature to be aware of, did not.

‘No, Louise my twin is married and is presently living in Brussels with…Gareth, her husband…’

Now why had she hesitated and then stumbled so awkwardly over saying her brother-in-law’s name? Seb wondered thoughtfully as he caught the note of desolation in Katie’s voice. Had the two women fallen out perhaps…had a rift developed between them due to the fact that their closeness had been breeched because one of them had married?

Frowning, he stood back to allow Katie and Charlotte to step into the lift ahead of him. Why on earth was he wasting time wondering about a young woman whose acquaintance he had neither the time nor the desire to pursue? Without realising what he was doing Seb let his gaze drift down to Katie’s mouth. It was soft and full and oh, so infinitely kissable. He could just imagine how it would feel under his…how she would feel…how she would look, her eyes blind with a vulnerable haunted look of longing and desire that would make him want…

‘Here we are…This lift is, of course, exclusively for your use and both of you will have your own passkey.’

With a start Seb dragged his thoughts back to reality.

As Katie preceded Seb into the private hallway into which both their apartments opened she was aware of feeling distinctly wobbly. What on earth was happening to her? Why had she experienced that extraordinary sensation just now, as though…as though…

Instinctively she lifted her fingers to her lips. The only man she had ever fantasised about having kissed her, the only man she wanted to have kiss her with the kind of intimacy and passion she had just been imagining was Gareth. Gareth and not…as her thoughts skittered to a frantic halt, refusing to allow her to question just why she had experienced that extraordinary sensation of having her mouth so expertly and intimately kissed, and by a man she neither knew nor even wanted to know, she told herself that Gareth was just about as far removed from Seb Cooke as it was possible for two men to be. Gareth was gentle, kind, reassuringly safe in his manner, while Seb Cooke was aggressive and possessed the kind of sexual aura that…Katie shuddered. What on earth would she want with such a raw, dangerous outright hunk of male sexuality…?

‘This is your apartment,’ the agent was saying chirpily to her, unlocking the door for her. ‘As you know, you have the benefit of your own private balcony while your flat…’ he turned to Seb, ‘has the addition of an extra room which could be used as a third bedroom or a study.’ Still smiling he crossed the hallway and unlocked the other door.

Taking advantage of Seb’s preoccupation with the agent, Katie slipped inside her own apartment.

Five minutes later, having completed a closer inspection of all the rooms, she was forced to admit that she was unlikely to find anything that would suit her better. All the rooms were a good size, all the period decorative details had been retained, giving the apartment a feeling of elegance and even grandeur, and the views from the windows, which she had not really taken full account of on her previous visit, extended not just over the grounds of the house itself, all of which were there for the residents to enjoy and which were tended by a firm of gardeners, but over the surrounding countryside.

Left alone in his own apartment with Charlotte while the estate agent went to check to see if Katie had any questions she wanted to ask him, Seb turned to his daughter lifting one querying eyebrow as he asked her, ‘Well…’

‘It’s cool,’ Charlotte responded with a wide grin. ‘Love the bathrooms…Yours is even big enough to have a Jacuzzi fitted if you want one.’

‘If I want one,’ Seb agreed, adding firmly, ‘which I don’t…’

‘Dad, why haven’t you ever re-married?’ Charlotte asked him seriously now.

While Seb was frowningly wondering how best to answer her, she continued a little uncertainly,

‘It isn’t because of me is it…I mean I know that…well Mum never really said much about…about things, but I did once overhear her talking to George about it and she said that having me had been the final straw for you…’

Seb studied her downcast head wondering what on earth he could say. As close as they had grown the subject of his marriage to her mother and their subsequent divorce was not one they had ever discussed, and manlike he had always been reluctant to raise a subject which, he was forced to admit, did not reflect well on himself.

‘I rather think what your mother was trying to say was that my adolescent and totally selfish reaction to the demands a baby made on her time and our marriage were the last straw for her,’ Seb corrected Charlotte gently.

‘The reason our marriage didn’t survive was wholly and totally down to me, Charlotte…I was a selfish wretch, and far too immature when we got married to think about anyone other than myself. Your mother and I met at university, fell into what we believed was love but what, with a bit of perspective, I think we both soon realised was really only lust, married…and…and then you came along and you have no idea how much I regret the years I’ve lost with you and my own unforgivable selfishness…’

‘M-Mum did say once that had the pair of you been older or a bit more worldly-wise, you’d both have known that what you had together was wonderful for an intense and passionate affair, but not for marriage. She said, too, that while she was the one who initiated things between the two of you, you were the one with the old-fashioned moral principles who insisted that you should get married—if you were going to have sex.’

Seb grimaced. What Charlotte had just said was quite true. Eighteen months his senior, Sandra had had other boyfriends, other relationships, before she had met him—neither of them had come to their own affair as novice lovers. But with his own upbringing, his knowledge of what could happen in the aftermath of a passionate relationship for the woman who was left on her own, seen first-hand through the history of his own family—Cooke men had a certain notorious reputation for their alleged propensity to father children outside wedlock—he had felt it necessary to prove that he was different, above the kind of much criticised behaviour his name had branded him with. Perhaps his insistence on marrying Sandra had been a righteous and ridiculous piece of over-reaction, but if he was honest with himself Seb knew that, given the same situation again, he would probably have reacted in exactly the same way.

His father had always been a stern critic of the haphazard morals of some members of the Cooke clan. As a boy growing up, Seb could remember that there had been tight-lipped conversations between his parents about the sudden arrival of a new and unexpected member of the family who did not always carry his or her father’s name. Both of his parents had been insistent that that was a family inheritance of which they most certainly did not approve. And nor, no more so, did Seb.

Seb was brought back to the present as Charlotte squeezed his arm lovingly and kissed his cheek.

‘I’m glad we’ve had this little talk,’ she told him almost maternally. ‘And I wish that you could find someone nice to marry Dad…I liked Katie Crighton, didn’t you?’

Seb frowned as she looked at him, but Charlotte only returned his look with one of filial innocence and before Seb could warn her that even if he had been looking for someone, Katie Crighton was most definitely not his type, the estate agent had returned.

Ten minutes later as Seb drove out of the house’s grounds behind Katie and the estate agent, he made a mental note to get in touch with Jon Crighton and set the wheels in motion for the purchase of the apartment. Now that he had decided to buy and had had his offer accepted, he wanted to get the formalities over and done with as soon as possible so that he could move in.

As she drove out of the house’s grounds ahead of Seb Cooke, Katie was wishing that she might have had someone else, anyone else, but him, for her new and nearest neighbour. Not that she was likely to see much of him she acknowledged, on two counts. According to what Charlotte had told her she could guess that his job would be very demanding and from the way he had looked at her she had seen that he was as pleased about having her for a neighbour as she was him. What was his wife like? she wondered. Very glamorous and sexy no doubt. He was that kind of man—you could see at a glance. He just exuded sexuality…Not like Gareth. Gareth was a man for snuggling up to in front of a lovely log fire…Gareth was a comfort and reassurance, safe and…

And there was no way that anyone, any woman, would ever describe Seb Cooke as any of those things, but most especially safe. Why, you only had to think about his family’s reputation. There was a smouldering sexual energy about him that rubbed her up the wrong way and brought all of her own antagonism towards him out making her feel prickly and on her guard, wary and filled with unfamiliarly strong emotions.

Even the way he had looked at her. Katie tensed as she tried to banish the unwanted memory of that startling reaction she had experienced when she had almost felt as though she could sense the heat of his breath, his mouth on hers. It had been a mistake, an accident, a ridiculous fluke caused by heaven alone knew what mix up of signals inside her body. No doubt Seb himself would have an explanation for such awareness. He, after all, was the research scientist and no doubt fully au fait with the confusing mixture of chemicals and in-built programming which were responsible for what less rational people called ‘emotions.’

To her relief as she looked in her driving mirror she saw that they were going in opposite directions to their different destinations as she indicated to turn left to drive home to her parents’ house.