by Anne Mather
‘Great!’
It was only as Sean turned to go back to the car that Jack realised he hadn’t changed since he got back from the marina. His cargo pants were smudged with paint and his black sweatshirt had seen better days.
Ah, well, they would have to take him as they found him, he thought resignedly. He hadn’t been expecting visitors. And wasn’t that the truth?
Sean had circled the car to open the passenger-side door to allow a young woman to get out. But she forestalled his efforts, sliding out of the car before he reached her door. From his position in the doorway, Jack could only see that she was tall and slim, and dressed in jeans and a white tee shirt.
Sean was only of average height and build and in her high-heeled boots she was almost as tall as he was. She also had a mass of curly red-gold hair, presently caught up in a ponytail.
She didn’t immediately look his way and Jack wondered if she was as unenthusiastic about this visit as he was. But Sean was a friend and he couldn’t disappoint him. Not as he appeared to have come quite some distance to see him.
Sean attempted to put an arm about the girl’s waist to draw her forward, and Jack felt a momentary pang of envy. How long was it since he’d had a woman in his arms?
But to his surprise, the girl shrugged Sean off, striding towards the house with a determination that wasn’t matched by the expression on her face.
Uh-oh, trouble in paradise, mused Jack wryly. He must be right. She hadn’t wanted to come here.
Then he caught his breath. He felt suddenly as if he’d been stabbed in his solar plexus. His involuntary reaction stunned him, the surge of heat invading his lower body feeling like a fire in his gut.
His response was totally unexpected. Not to say inappropriate, as well. He didn’t do lust, but that was what he was feeling at that moment. Dammit, she was Sean’s girlfriend; he’d said so. And just because they’d apparently had a lovers’ tiff didn’t mean he had the right to pick up the slack.
But she was striking. High, rounded breasts, pointed nipples clearly outlined by the thin cotton of her tee. Her thighs were slim and shapely, and she had the kind of legs that seemed to go on for ever.
Thank God for his baggy cargo pants. He had the feeling he had more than his reaction to hide. He almost broke out in a sweat at the possibility that Sean might notice.
He couldn’t believe this was why Lisa had been so keen for him to open the door. Yet, wasn’t it just the kind of quirky thing she would do? She’d enjoyed baiting him in life and she still enjoyed baiting him now.
Of course, Sean’s girlfriend was nothing like Lisa. Lisa had been petite, blonde, bubbly. And okay, yes, she’d been flirtatious. But judging by the look he was getting from this girl, she was anything but flirtatious. She was regarding him with cool—what? Indifference? Contempt? As if she’d guessed exactly what was going through his mind.
Right.
Stepping back, he made room for them to come into the house, and Sean quickly made the introductions.
‘Grace Spencer, meet Jack Connolly,’ he said cheerfully, and, despite the look from her amazingly green eyes, Jack was obliged to take the hand the girl reluctantly offered him.
‘Hi,’ he said, aware that her slim fingers were cool against his suddenly sweating palm.
‘Hello.’ Her voice was as cool as her expression. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Sean asked me to come with him, to show him how to get here.’
‘I— No. Of course not.’
Jack frowned. He detected a slight local accent. Did she come from this area? If so, how on earth had she met Sean?
Realising he’d been silent for too long, he said awkwardly, ‘Do you know the area, Grace?’
‘I was born here,’ she began, but Sean didn’t let her finish.
‘Her parents own the village pub,’ he said quickly. ‘Grace left here when she went to university, and she’s been living in London since then.’
Jack nodded. At least that explained the connection. The last he’d heard, Sean had been working in London, too.
‘But I’ve left London now,’ Grace inserted flatly, giving Sean what Jack thought was a warning look. ‘My mother’s ill and I’ve decided to move back to Rothburn to be near her. Sean is still living in London. This is just a flying visit, isn’t it, Sean?’
There was no mistaking the accusation in that question. Jack felt his eyes go wide, and his inhibitions about this visit increased. Whatever was going on here, he didn’t want to be part of it. But they were evidently not the happy couple Sean was trying to convey.
‘We’ll see,’ Sean said now. Then, squaring his shoulders, he forced a grin for Jack’s benefit. ‘I bet you were wondering how I found you out.’
‘You could say that.’
‘Well, when Grace’s pa said an Irishman had bought this old place, I never dreamt it might be you,’ Sean continued. ‘It wasn’t until they mentioned your name that I put two and two together. Small world, eh?’
‘Isn’t it?’
Jack inclined his head. He hadn’t tried to hide his identity from the locals. But no one really knew him here; no one knew about Lisa.
He just hadn’t expected Sean Nesbitt to turn up.
‘So...’ Jack tried to inject a note of interest into his voice now. ‘Do you come up here every weekend to see Grace and her family?’
‘Yes—’
‘No!’
They both spoke at once, and Jack could see the sudden rush of colour that stained Grace’s cheeks.
‘I come as often as I can,’ amended Sean, his pale blue eyes darkening with sudden anger. ‘Come on, Grace, you know your parents are pleased to see me. Just because you’re feeling neglected, that’s no reason to embarrass Jack like this.’
CHAPTER TWO
GRACE WAS ANGRY.
She knew she shouldn’t have let herself be persuaded to come here with Sean, but what could she do? Apart from the obvious misconceptions it created, she didn’t like arguing with him in public. With Jack Connolly looking on, she felt hopelessly embarrassed. He was not the kind of man to be fooled by Sean’s lies.
The trouble was her parents expected her to marry Sean, and they would certainly have suspected something was wrong if she’d refused to come with him. For now she had to accept the situation. But she refused to let Sean make a fool of her.
It had been so different in the beginning. When she’d first met Sean, she’d been fascinated by his easy charm. Okay, she’d been young, and naïve, but that was in the days when she’d taken everything he said as gospel; when just being around such a popular older student had given her a feeling of pride.
How wrong she had been.
Her first mistake had been bringing him to meet her parents. With Sean’s promises of easy money, her father had been persuaded to mortgage the pub to help finance Sean’s fledgling website.
Grace had tried to stop him. Even though she’d believed she was going to marry Sean, she’d known the website was a huge gamble and her father knew little about websites or their uses.
But Tom Spencer hadn’t listened to her. He’d thought he was investing in her future and she’d loved him for it. But even then she’d had some sleepless nights worrying about what would happen if the website failed.
And it had. Like so much else where Sean was concerned, the dream hadn’t equalled the reality. Even now, her parents had no idea that Sean had lost their money. Which was why Grace had to do everything in her power to get it back.
Even if it meant lying about her relationship with Sean.
Her parents were still labouring under the illusion that Sean was only staying in London to advance his business. She knew they thought she should have stayed with him, but Grace had had enough. She’d stopped short of telling them about the scene that had finally ended
their relationship. Until her mother had recovered her health, she couldn’t lay that on them, as well.
She’d let them think that she had been homesick. When the sickness she had felt had been of a different order altogether.
But Sean knew their affair was over. And if she had her way, soon she’d never have to see him again.
But now, here they were, standing in Jack Connolly’s doorway, and she for one would have liked to turn around and go home. It was obvious Connolly didn’t want them here. And she couldn’t exactly blame him. So why didn’t Sean get the message and put an end to this embarrassing stand-off?
Unfortunately, their host seemed to realise his manners just as Grace was searching for the words to get them out of this.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Come in.’ And he moved behind them to close the heavy door.
Grace was still wondering why Sean had wanted to come here, anyway. What was it he’d said: that Connolly had lost his wife in a car accident a couple of years ago and that this was his first opportunity to offer his condolences to the man? Grace had had to accept it when he’d strung that line to her father, but she’d have said Sean was the last person to offer sympathy to anyone. Unless there was something in it for him, she appended with the bitter knowledge of hindsight.
Or was she judging him too harshly?
And then she remembered another titbit he’d offered. Apparently Jack Connolly had inherited some money from his grandmother and that was how he’d been able to buy this place. Sean’s take on it—or rather the one he’d offered her father—was that Jack had wanted to get away from the pain of familiar places. He’d moved to Northumberland to find a place to lick his wounds in peace.
Having met Jack now, Grace took that with a pinch of salt. Whatever he was doing in Northumberland, he didn’t look like a man who had any wounds to lick. He seemed perfectly self-sufficient, and far too shrewd to need anyone’s sympathy.
She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d looked at her when he’d first seen her. It hadn’t been the look of a man who was drowning in grief. On the contrary, if she and Sean had still been together, she would have considered it offensive.
Were all men untrustworthy? she wondered. She didn’t think so, but she had no doubt that Jack Connolly wasn’t to be trusted, either.
It annoyed her that he was also drop-dead gorgeous. Even the thick stubble of a couple of days’ growth of beard on his chin couldn’t detract from the stark male beauty of his face.
His skin was darkly tanned, as if he’d been spending time in a sunnier climate. But, according to her father, he’d been living here throughout all the renovations he’d made to the house.
Unruly dark hair tumbled over his forehead and brushed the neckline of his sweatshirt. Thin lips below hollowed cheekbones only added to his sensual appeal.
They crossed the hall and entered a well-lit living room. Whatever she thought of Connolly himself, there was no denying the man had taste. Pale walls, dark wood, much of it antique from the look of it. And a Persian carpet on the floor that fairly melted beneath her feet.
Grace headed for the windows. Despite the attractive appointments of the room, she was fascinated by the view. It was stunning. And familiar. It was still light outside, and she could see the rocky headland curving away, grassy cliffs beyond a low stone wall falling away to dunes.
The sea was calm at present, reflecting the reddening clouds that marked the sun’s descent. Lights glinted in the cottages that spilled down the hillside to the harbour and the small marina, the distant cry of gulls a lonely mournful lament.
The outer door slammed and Jack Connolly strode into the room to join them.
‘You’ll have to forgive the way I look,’ he said ruefully, flicking a hand at his paint-stained pants. ‘I’ve been on the boat all day and I haven’t had time to change.’
‘A boat? You’ve got a boat?’ Sean was enthusiastic. ‘Hey, what’s it like to be a millionaire?’
Grace, hearing Sean’s words, felt her stomach sink within her. Oh, God, why hadn’t she asked him how much Jack had inherited? Why had she simply assumed it would be a moderate sum?
What price now his condolences for Jack’s wife and his grandmother? Jack’s supposed grief had been forgotten. Sean had simply used it as an excuse to get her here.
Jack, to his credit, didn’t call Sean on it. ‘Let me offer you both a drink,’ he said. His eyes shifted to Grace as she reluctantly turned from the window. ‘What would you like?’
Well, not you, she thought childishly, disturbed in spite of herself by those heavy-lidded dark eyes. What was he really thinking? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
‘Got a beer?’
Sean didn’t wait for her response, but Jack apparently had more respect.
‘Um—just a soft drink for me, please,’ she said, remembering she was starting a new job the following day. The last thing she needed was to have to face her boss with a fuzzy head.
‘A soft drink?’ Sean rolled his eyes at Jack. ‘Can you believe this woman was brought up in a pub and she doesn’t like beer?’
The twitch of Jack’s lips could have meant anything. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said and disappeared out of the door.
It was only as Grace heard the faint squeaking sound as Jack crossed the hall that she realised his feet had been bare.
She looked at Sean then, but he only raised his eyebrows in a defensive gesture.
‘What? What?’ He glanced away to survey the huge comfortable sofas and armchairs, the heavy bookshelves and inlaid cabinets with an envious eye. ‘Some place, eh? I bet this furniture is worth a fortune. Aren’t you glad you came?’
‘Uh—no.’
Grace could hardly bear to look at him. She should have refused to come here. Sean was a pathological liar. She’d known that, but she’d also not wanted to cause an argument and endanger her mother’s health.
‘A millionaire’s pad,’ went on Sean, when she didn’t elaborate. He turned his attention to a picture hanging on the wall behind him. ‘Hey, this is a Turner! Can you believe that?’
Grace didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever way you looked at it, she was here under false pretences, and she didn’t like it. God knew, she didn’t care about Jack Connolly or his money. He couldn’t solve her problems.
Jack came back at that moment carrying two bottles of beer and a glass of cola.
‘Please—sit,’ he said, setting Grace’s glass on a low polished coffee table where several expensive yachting magazines were strewn in elegant disarray.
Deliberately? Grace didn’t think so. Despite the little she knew of the man, she didn’t think Jack Connolly would care what other people thought of his home.
Jack put Grace’s glass on the table and, to his relief, Grace seated herself on a plush velvet sofa beside the coffee table. And Sean, after accepting his beer from Jack, did the same.
‘Hey, great place you’ve got here,’ he said, waving his bottle around with a distinct lack of regard for the safety of its contents. ‘Where’d you get all this stuff? It looks expensive.’
Jack propped his hips against a small bureau he’d picked up in an auction room and said, ‘A lot of it was my gran’s. The rest I bought and restored myself.’
‘No way!’
Sean stared at him, and Jack could see the disbelief in the other man’s gaze.
‘Yes way,’ he said and took a mouthful of his beer. ‘It seemed a shame to get rid of it.’
Sean shook his head. ‘Since when have you been a furniture restorer, man? You’re an architect. You design houses, shopping centres, schools, that sort of thing.’
‘Yeah, well—’
Jack didn’t want to get into his reasons for doing what he’d done, but Sean wouldn’t let it go.
‘Oh, I get it,’ he said. �
��Now you’ve got private means, you don’t need a job.’
Jack bit back the retort that sprang to his lips and said instead, ‘Something like that.’ He took another gulp from his bottle. ‘Beer okay?’
‘Oh, yeah. It’s cold.’ Sean nodded. ‘Just the way I like it.’
Then he glanced suggestively at Grace. ‘Well, beer, anyway.’
Grace cringed. Why couldn’t Sean just drink his beer and stop being so crass? It was so embarrassing.
And, as if he’d sensed her discomfort, it was Jack who came to her rescue.
‘So what are you doing these days?’ he asked, addressing himself to the other man. ‘Still inventing computer games for that Japanese company?’
‘Well, no. As a matter of fact, I don’t work for Sunyata any more. I’ve been doing some consulting until I can get my own website off the ground. We can’t all have your advantages, can we, Jack?’
Jack blew out a breath. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He just wished this uncomfortable interview were over.
Forcing a smile to his lips, he met Grace’s unwilling gaze with a feeling of resignation. But he pressed on, anyway. ‘How about you, Grace?’ he asked.
‘Grace has a law degree,’ broke in Sean before she could say anything. There was pride in his voice, despite the lingering touch of animosity he’d revealed before. ‘She used to work for the Crown Prosecution Service.’
‘Really?’ Jack was impressed.
‘Not that there are jobs like that up here,’ Sean went on bitterly. ‘Grace has had to put her career on hold.’
Grace sighed. ‘I’m very happy with the job I’ve got,’ she averred shortly. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
‘But you, working for an estate agent!’ Sean was scathing. ‘You know you can do better than that.’
‘Sean!’
Grace stared at him with warning eyes, and, as if realising he wasn’t doing himself any favours, Sean grimaced.
‘It’s a living, I suppose,’ he conceded. ‘I may even try to find myself a job in Alnwick, too.’