A Forbidden Temptation

by Anne Mather

  Prying?

  Grace swallowed a little convulsively. ‘She’s—she’s much better,’ she said. ‘Cancer takes some getting over. But thank you for asking.’

  Jack shrugged, turning his gaze towards the marina. But he could still see her eyes, open and candid, those words like a mirror to her soul.

  Sean was so lucky, he thought, whereas he was being less than honest with her. And he had no right to be provocative. It couldn’t be easy for her and Sean to spend so much time apart.

  All the same, he couldn’t deny that Grace’s mouth was so soft, so generous. A mouth he would very much like to taste...

  Not that he ever would, he assured himself grimly. He was celibate, he reminded himself. And he intended to stay that way.

  But there was nothing wrong with a little abstract speculation, was there?

  Abstract?

  Dragging his mind out of the gutter, he forced a polite smile. ‘So do you think Sean will like living in Rothburn?’ he asked, even though the idea of them setting up home somewhere in the vicinity filled him with dismay.

  ‘Oh...’ Grace was grateful to be distracted from her own thoughts. ‘Sean likes living in London.’ And that was true. She pushed herself away from the rail. ‘We’ll see.’

  Jack turned his back to the barrier, arms spread along the rail where she’d been leaning, hooking one foot onto a lower rung.

  He’d been on the verge of saying, Let me know what he decides, but it was really nothing to do with him. Besides, hadn’t he wanted to avoid Sean in the future? It would be a hell of a lot safer if they both moved away.

  ‘I’d better go.’

  Grace was uneasily aware of how disturbing Jack looked lounging against the rail. He was much broader than Sean and, with his arms spread wide, his chest looked strong and muscular.

  His stomach was flat, powerful thighs taut against the fabric of his jeans. Jeans that were worn to a much lighter shade in places, places where Grace determined not to look.

  Although she did.

  She couldn’t stop herself. The impressive bulge between his legs couldn’t help but draw her gaze. She felt an unfamiliar shivery sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  Which troubled her a lot.

  She blew out a breath.

  ‘Goodbye.’

  With a nervous lift of her hand, she started back along the pier towards the quayside. But she was intensely conscious of Jack’s eyes watching her, of how much less constrained she’d have felt if she hadn’t been wearing a skirt.

  ‘Goodbye, Grace.’

  The careless farewell drifted after her and she had to steel herself not to turn around and look back.

  * * *

  Jack spent the following weekend half anticipating that Sean would find an excuse to come and visit him again. But, despite his fears, Saturday and Sunday passed without incident.

  And he didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry.

  He knew he wouldn’t have objected to seeing Grace again, but it was probably just as well to cool that thought. In any case, he’d spent a goodly portion of both days on his boat, so it was possible he’d missed any visitors. Although knowing Sean, he doubted his temporary absence would have deterred him.

  It poured with rain Monday and Tuesday and even Wednesday morning was overcast.

  His housekeeper had phoned to say she wouldn’t be in that morning. And, unusually, Jack was feeling housebound. With the redecoration complete, and no other restoration project in prospect, he was restless.

  Emptying the remains of his coffee into the sink, he left the kitchen and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He’d take the car for a drive, he decided firmly. He felt like driving and there was nothing to keep him here.

  ‘Are you going out?’

  Jack was zipping up a pair of khaki pants when Lisa’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  He turned to find her slim form balanced on the edge of the windowsill. And he thought how typical it was that she hadn’t appeared for over a week, but now that he was planning on going out, she had to interfere.

  ‘Yeah, why not?’ He turned to pick up his leather jacket off the bed. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’

  Lisa sniffed. ‘You could get a job.’ She paused, pressing a scarlet-tipped nail to her lips. ‘You have too much spare time on your hands.’

  ‘And that’s my fault, is it?’

  Lisa’s lips pursed thoughtfully. ‘You’re going to see that girl, aren’t you?’

  Jack’s jaw dropped. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about.’

  Lisa slipped down off the windowsill and limped on her one high heel across the earth-toned carpet. ‘Even so, I doubt if Father Michael would approve.’

  Jack’s lips twitched with humour now. Father Michael had been the priest who’d married them. He’d also officiated at Lisa’s funeral, but he doubted she was referring to that.

  ‘I think Father Michael gave up on me a good time ago,’ he remarked at last. ‘And I’m sure he’d be the first to suggest I should move on with my life.’

  Lisa looked doubtful. ‘She’s very attractive, I suppose.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘Do I have to remind you she already has a boyfriend?’

  ‘You mean Sean Nesbitt?’

  ‘That’s right. Sean Nesbitt. He’s a mate. I’m not about to forget that, am I?’

  Lisa pulled a face. ‘Really?’

  ‘Hey, I don’t tell lies,’ retorted Jack, slotting his wallet and his mobile phone into his jacket pockets. ‘Which reminds me, you never did tell me where you were going the night you had the accident.’

  He didn’t get an answer and he didn’t really expect one. It was a question he’d asked many times before. He knew, without even looking again, that Lisa was gone.

  The Lexus was still standing on the drive and, dodging the rain, Jack got behind the wheel and started the powerful engine. Then, shoving a CD into the player, he backed the vehicle out onto the road.

  So far he’d only seen a small part of the area. Cumbria and the Lake District were only a couple of hours’ drive west but, without much hesitation, Jack headed for the A1.

  As he drove Jack wondered if he’d intended to visit Alnwick all along or whether Lisa’s taunts had piqued his interest. Either way, he refused to concede that he had any anticipation of seeing Grace again.

  He was lucky enough to get parked in the town centre.

  Despite the lowering clouds, there were plenty of people about, and Jack bought a map of the area before retiring to the nearest coffee shop to study it.

  ‘Looking for somewhere in particular?’

  The pretty waitress who’d served him his coffee was standing at his shoulder and Jack looked up at her ruefully, wishing he had an answer for that.

  ‘Not specially,’ he replied non-committally. ‘I’ve never been to Alnwick before.’

  ‘Oh, you’re a tourist!’ The girl evidently thought she had him taped. ‘You’re from Ireland, aren’t you?’ She smiled flirtatiously. ‘I love your accent.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Jack grinned, amused in spite of himself. ‘Do you live in Alnwick?’

  ‘Just outside.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s too expensive to live in town.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Oh, God, yes.’ She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the proprietor of the café hadn’t noticed she was wasting time. ‘It’s just as well you’re not looking for a house.’ She dimpled. ‘Unless you’re a secret millionaire, of course.’

  Jack looked down at the map again, not wanting to give her any ideas. Besides, he reminded himself, he hadn’t come here looking for property.

  Or estate agents, if it came to that.

  ‘Are
you staying in town?’

  The girl was persistent and Jack decided he had to nip this in the bud.

  ‘No,’ he said neutrally, swallowing the last of his coffee and pulling out his wallet. ‘I’m heading north to—’ He cast a quick glance at the map. ‘To Bamburgh.’ He got to his feet. ‘I believe there’s a castle there, too.’

  ‘Are you interested in castles?’

  When Jack started for the counter to pay his bill, she accompanied him, apparently indifferent to the customers still waiting to be served.

  Avoiding a direct answer, he said, ‘Thanks for your advice.’ He accepted his change with an apologetic smile for the cashier, hoping he could get out of the café without offending the waitress hovering behind him.

  But to his dismay, she followed him to the door.

  ‘If you need someone to show you around, I’ll be finished in an hour,’ she offered eagerly. And Jack was just about to break his own rules and blow her off when the door opened and another young woman came in.

  ‘Jack!’

  ‘Grace.’

  Jack managed to keep his reaction under control. But he was fairly sure that Grace had immediately regretted the way his name had sprung so effortlessly to her lips.

  However, it was the young waitress who looked the most put out.

  ‘Hi, Grace,’ she said grudgingly. Then, glancing at Jack, ‘Do you two know one another?’

  ‘Um—a little.’

  Grace was offhand, and before Jack could say anything in his own defence the waitress spoke again.

  ‘Hey,’ she exclaimed disbelievingly. ‘Don’t tell me this is your boyfriend. I thought his name was Sean.’

  In the circumstances, Grace was loath to say anything. She felt hot colour rising up into her face. Of all people to run into—again—it had to be Jack Connolly. And, judging from the other girl’s attitude, she wouldn’t be averse to him taking an interest in her.

  And why should it bother her? thought Grace crossly.

  Meanwhile, Jack was feeling significantly peeved. He was all too aware of how the situation must look to Grace and he didn’t like it.

  ‘Look, I’m leaving,’ he said, uncaring at that moment what either of them thought of him. He nodded to Grace. ‘See you around.’

  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.