by Anne Mather
The small parking area was busy, she saw, with a smart little Audi and a more sedate Honda filling the space. But there was no sign of the expensive Lexus SUV and Grace’s heart sank.
She’d been so sure she’d find Jack here.
According to what she’d heard in the agency—though no one had actually discussed the matter with her, of course—planning permission for the cottages had been granted without a hitch. With Mrs Naughton’s active participation, the whole deal had been accomplished in a little over three weeks.
Of course, Grace reflected now, there was no real reason why Jack should be here at present. If work had started—and it certainly looked as though it had, judging from the unusual activity—he was hardly likely to play an active role.
He might supervise from time to time, but she doubted he’d want to get his hands dirty. She sighed. She should have gone to his house, after all. Despite her reluctance to set tongues wagging if she did.
She also knew she should have tried to contact him sooner.
It was nearly a month now since Sean had dragged her out to Jack’s house. Nearly a month since she’d been embarrassed and humiliated. Nearly a month, and no word from Sean about paying her father back the money he’d borrowed.
And nearly a month since she’d assured herself she’d never see Jack Connolly again.
The way he’d looked at her! She shuddered at the memory. It was so obvious he’d thought she’d been as much to blame for what had happened as Sean.
Perhaps he’d even thought that that was why she’d practically thrown herself at him that morning at the cottage. It was certainly a possibility, despite her original reluctance to go with him.
So why had she come?
Grace thrust open the car door and got out.
It was a beautiful sunny morning, much different from the last time she was here. Even the church looked more appealing, the trees around it colourful now with blossom. And on the horizon, the sea looked bluer than she’d ever seen it.
She could smell the salt on the air, feel its scent coating her skin. And decided to walk along the cliff and see how the cottages were faring. She had nothing else to do until lunch.
As soon as she started along the cliff path she saw the Lexus.
It was parked a few yards from the cottages, with several other vehicles between it and a loaded skip.
Another pickup and two vans showed that work was already in progress, and Grace’s determination faltered at the realisation that she wasn’t going to be able to speak to Jack alone.
Her footsteps slowed. She might as well turn back, she thought. She wasn’t supposed to be here, anyway. But her morning’s viewing had finished early and she wasn’t expected back in the office until half past one.
Then a man emerged from one of the cottages and saw her.
It wasn’t Jack, but he came towards her, clearly wondering if she needed help. He was a good-looking man, in his late forties, she estimated, and she had the feeling that she’d seen him before.
‘I shouldn’t come any nearer,’ he said, indicating the hard hat he was wearing. ‘Health and Safety will have my guts for garters if I let you look around.’
Grace managed a faint smile, realising who he was at the same time that he recognised her.
‘You’re Tom Spencer’s daughter, aren’t you?’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve seen you in the pub.’
Grace’s smile got even thinner. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she mumbled now, wondering what the chances were of her meeting someone from Rothburn this far off the beaten track.
But, of course, it was like Jack to employ a builder he knew and approved of. Bob Grady’s company had been partly responsible for the sympathetic renovation of Lindisfarne House.
‘I knew it.’ Grady looked pleased with his deduction. ‘But what are you doing out here? You work for an estate agent these days, don’t you? Don’t tell me Jack has got the properties on the market already!’
‘Oh, no. No!’
Grace couldn’t let him think that, couldn’t risk him going into the agency and mentioning her visit to Mr Hughes. It would be hard enough as it was, explaining her visit to her father. Because she had no doubt that Grady would mention it, the first chance he got.
‘So, is it Jack you want to see?’
The man was persistent, but just then Grace had a brilliant idea.
‘No,’ she said, adopting a note of rueful innocence. ‘But I was the one who showed Mr Connolly the cottages when he first became interested. As I was out this way, I thought I’d have a look and see how the development was progressing.’
‘Ah.’
If Grady found her explanation just a tiny bit convenient, he didn’t say so. Thankfully, he went on, before she could say something else to embarrass herself. ‘As far as the development is concerned, it’s hardly got off the ground.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘There’s been a problem?’
‘That’s right.’ Grady grimaced. ‘We’ve found serious faults in the foundations and we may have to demolish most of the standing walls.’
Grace swallowed. ‘I see.’
‘Yeah.’ Grady turned to survey the group of buildings behind him. ‘Jack’s brought another architect out to look at the place and he’s consulting with him at present. He’s got an idea that we might be able to pour concrete into the existing bedrock. That way we might not have to bulldoze the whole site.’
Grace shook her head. ‘Is he very annoyed?’ she murmured without thinking, and Grady gave her a curious look.
‘Annoyed?’ he echoed. ‘Well, Jack’s not pleased, I can tell you that. But if anyone can solve the problem, he can. He’s won awards for developments he’s designed in Ireland, you know.’
Grace hadn’t known, but it didn’t surprise her. She had the feeling that anything Jack did, he’d do well.
Incredibly well, she thought. Like making love to a woman. Something told her he’d be as expert at that as he was at everything else.
She shivered suddenly, in spite of the warmth of the day. She was remembering how it had felt to have his hands upon her, the raw sexuality of his mouth.
Oh, God, she thought, she had definitely not been wise to come here. Not when even the memory of his scent assaulted her senses, aroused an insistent need that hadn’t been assuaged.
She was trying to remember what Grady had said so she could answer him, when the man spoke again.
‘Here’s Jack now,’ he said. ‘And that’s the other architect with him. Let’s hope they’ve got some good news. I don’t want to have to lay my men off again.’
Grace’s throat tightened at the sight of the two men walking towards them. She found it incredibly hard to breathe suddenly as she saw Jack recognise her. Particularly when there was no sign of welcome on his face.
He was wearing jeans again today, the same faded jeans she’d seen before, that hung low on his hips and emphasised his lean athletic frame.
A black cotton shirt, the sleeves turned back over sinewy forearms, hung half open and exposed the strong brown column of his throat.
Both men were wearing hard hats like Grady, but Jack hauled his off as they reached the parked vehicles. He opened the boot of the Lexus and tossed the hat inside.
His dark hair was untidy, evidence of the many times he’d raked his fingers through it. It had grown in the weeks since she’d seen him, and overlapped his collar by a couple of inches at the back.
‘You’ve got a visitor, Jack,’ Grady said, without waiting for Grace to introduce herself. ‘She says she was the one who showed you the cottages in the first place.’
‘Yeah. That’s right.’ Jack was too well-mannered to make any other response.
Grace squared her shoulders beneath her neatly buttoned shirt and met his gaze with a guarded stare.
‘Mr Grady’s been telling me you’ve found some problems,’ she said politely. ‘Perhaps you should take it up with Mrs Naughton. She might be prepared to buy the cottages back.’
‘In a pig’s eye,’ said Jack succinctly and then turned to his builder. ‘Ralph thinks we can use concrete to shore up the foundations. It’s not as if we’re planning on building a multistorey car park on the site.’
Grady’s relief was palpable. ‘Hell, that’s great, Jack,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘I’ll get on to the yard right away. They should be able to fit us in at the beginning of next week.’
‘You do that.’
Jack’s eyes flickered over Grace’s burning face before moving on to the man beside him.
‘Thanks for your input, Ralph. It’s much appreciated.’
‘My pleasure.’ The older man lifted a hand in a deprecatory gesture. ‘You’d have done the same for me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get going. Goodbye, Bob. Goodbye, Ms Spencer.’
‘Oh—goodbye.’
Grace was touched that he’d thought to include her in his farewells, particularly as Jack hadn’t bothered to introduce them.
But then, she evidently wasn’t Jack’s favourite person at the moment. She shifted uncomfortably. She shouldn’t have come here. She should go, too.
‘I’ll come with you,’ she called after Ralph’s departing figure, unable to bring herself to use his name. It would have been too familiar.
However, Jack intervened. ‘No, that’s okay, Ralph,’ he said as the other man turned. ‘I want to have a word with Ms Spencer myself.’ He nodded at Bob Grady as Ralph waved a hand before continuing on his way. ‘Do you want to go and tell your men what’s going on?’
‘Oh—sure.’
Grady looked a little disappointed at being dismissed so arbitrarily. But, join the club, thought Grace, not exactly thrilled at Jack’s arrogance herself.
Yet she couldn’t deny the frisson of excitement she felt when Jack came towards her. Whatever way she might want to play this, she couldn’t ignore his magnetism. Couldn’t prevent her instinctive reaction to his dark masculine beauty.
CHAPTER TEN
‘LET’S WALK,’ JACK SAID, indicating the path that led past the row of cottages and out onto the cliff. ‘I’d suggest we talk in my car, but I know we’d be observed.’
‘And that matters to you?’
Grace spoke tartly, and Jack gave her a smouldering look.
‘I’d assumed it would matter to you,’ he said harshly, urging her to move forward. ‘I’d rather not give Grady’s men any more to gossip about in the Bay Horse tonight.’
‘Oh, God!’ Grace swallowed. ‘Do you think they will?’
‘It’s a fair bet.’ Jack was sardonic now.
Grace sighed. ‘If I’d known you’d employed someone from Rothburn—’
‘You wouldn’t have come, I know.’ Jack shrugged. ‘It wasn’t the most sensible idea you’ve ever had.’
Grace’s throat tightened. ‘I needed to speak to you.’
‘I gathered that.’
He fell into step beside her as they passed the cottages and Grace was sure she could feel at least half a dozen pairs of eyes mapping their path. Jack seemed indifferent to her fears, however, adapting his long stride to the restrictions of her suit skirt. But even so, her high heels made it difficult to keep pace.
Beyond the cottages, the route became more uneven, unused in recent years except by walkers or children heading for the steps that led down to the cove.
The breeze was stronger here, but Grace was grateful for it. Despite opening the collar of her shirt, she could feel perspiration trickling down between her breasts.
‘So,’ he said, when they were safely out of earshot of their audience. ‘Do you want to tell me what this is all about?’
Grace’s tongue circled her dry lips and she couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder. Jack wasn’t touching her, but she was supremely aware of him, anyway. And she was sure that anyone watching them would be able to read her body language like an open book.
His warmth, his heat, enveloped her with an uncontrollable sensuality. The clean male scent of his body invading every susceptible pore of her skin.
They’d reached the rocky steps that zigzagged down the cliff to the cove, and Grace halted.
‘Um—do you think we could go down to the beach?’ she suggested, realising too late how provocative that must sound.
But at least they’d be out of sight of prying eyes, she consoled herself. She didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability she was experiencing at present.
Jack stared at her. Then his eyes dropped insolently down the length of her body. Their darkness deepened as they moved over her neat white shirt and narrow black skirt. And her legs in transparent black tights wobbled uncertainly.
‘Can you see yourself going down those steps in those heels?’ he asked incredulously.
And she breathed a little more easily when his gaze returned to her face.
‘I can take my shoes off,’ she said at once, bending to do so with more bravado than sense. ‘There. You see!’ she added. ‘No problem.’
Despite her assertion, Jack suspected he should refuse her request and insist they remain on the cliff top. At least up here he could kid himself he retained a modicum of good sense.
He’d been down to the cove only once before, but he knew it would be deserted at this time of day. It was unlikely that anyone would brave the water. Despite its beauty, the sea was cold.
He’d be crazy to agree.
Nevertheless, he found himself saying, ‘Okay. But I’ll go ahead. Just in case it’s not as easy as you think.’
Grace nodded, feeling a little breathless before she’d even started. Which was ridiculous, really. The hard part would be climbing back up again.
Jack, in rubber-soled trainers, had no problem with the steps. They were uneven, but fairly easy to negotiate, so long as he didn’t look back.
On the rare occasions when he did—just to check that she was all right, he assured himself—the view was tantalising. Beneath her skirt, long legs stretched provocatively up to her crotch.
Grace had her own troubles to contend with.
The urge to use Jack’s shoulder as a crutch being the most insistent. She knew that beneath his shirt, his skin would feel warm and reassuring. And if she slipped...
But she restrained those thoughts, concentrating instead on keeping her feet. Unfortunately, in her bid to appear unconcerned, she hadn’t given any thought to fallen stones or broken edges. By the time she stepped down onto the sand, her tights had been shredded in a dozen different places.
Jack was waiting for her and the wry amusement in his gaze was the last straw.
‘Just turn away,’ she snapped, and, when he did, she ripped off the offending articles, stuffing them into the toes of one of her shoes before saying, ‘All right. You can look now.’
It wasn’t the most sensible thing she might have said, but she doubted anything would have stopped Jack from staring at her. And without her tights, she definitely felt more exposed. Unlike his skin, her legs looked pale and uninteresting, a stark contrast to the darkness of her skirt.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, and she wondered what he was really thinking when he looked at her.
That for someone who was supposed to be going out with another man, she was absurdly reckless with her reputation? Whatever puerile excuse had brought her out here?
‘I’m good,’ she said now, putting her shoes down at the foot of the steps and smoothing nervous fingers over her skirt.
Grace pushed her toes into the sand to avoid looking at him. She’d decided it would be easier to say what she had to say if they weren’t st
anding face-to-face.
Jack surveyed the cove that was little more than half a mile from end to end. ‘Let’s go this way. I believe there are some caves near the rocks.’
‘Caves!’
The word escaped on a squeak that Grace managed to disguise by clearing her throat.
But, heavens, she didn’t want to go caving with him. Even if the idea did have its temptations.
She frowned then. She wasn’t here to repeat past mistakes, she reminded herself severely. She just wanted Jack to understand that Sean’s request for finance had nothing to do with her.
‘Yes, caves.’ Apparently Jack hadn’t noticed her exclamation. ‘According to one of the locals, they used to connect with a tunnel from some castle near here.’
‘Really?’
Grace tried to sound interested, but her awareness of him had jumped to a new level since they’d reached the beach. Without her heels, he was so much bigger than she was, for one thing. And for another, his apparent ability to ignore what had happened between them previously caught her on the raw.
‘The guy says the tunnel’s been blocked off now because of the dangers of a roof fall,’ Jack continued on, regardless. ‘Or that’s his story. Who knows? Maybe smuggling still goes on along this coast.’
Grace cleared her throat again. ‘I—I doubt it’s a big concern in these parts,’ she murmured, trying to match his detachment. ‘The tides are too unstable. And there are currents under the water.’
She forced a smile. ‘Besides, some of the locals love to tell a good tale.’
Jack glanced sideways at her. Then his brows drew together. ‘What’s the matter, Grace? Wishing you’d stayed where we were?’
‘No!’
‘Sure?’ Jack sounded sceptical. ‘You’re not worried about what might happen now we’re alone together?’
Grace’s jaw dropped. ‘No!’
‘That’s good.’ Jack nodded. ‘Because I can tell you you’ve got nothing to fear from me.’
Never mind what Grace was thinking, he was regretting giving in to her suggestion to come down here. It was so remote, so isolated. And whatever he’d told her, at least one part of his body wasn’t listening to his brain.