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‘He said, of course, unless you know more than one Mitchell Grey?’
How on earth had he got this number? The card had given the office number but that was all. Kay took the phone, holding it gingerly as she said, ‘Hallo? This is Kay Sherwood.’
‘Good evening, Mrs Sherwood.’ The deep voice held the texture of seductively soft velvet over finely honed steel. ‘I hope you don’t mind my calling you at home; I did try the number you gave me but a Mr Brown—your brother, I understand?—told me I was more likely to catch you at home at this time of the day.’
Cheers, thanks, Peter. Kay tried to inject a note of enthusiasm into her voice when she said, ‘Not at all, Mr Grey. How can I help you?’
There was the briefest of pauses before the compelling voice spoke again. ‘I wondered if you are free tomorrow evening?’
It would be true to say Kay had never been so surprised in her life. She knew her mouth had dropped open, and something in her face even stopped the squabbling of the twins because they, like her mother, were now staring at her curiously.
Kay’s brain was racing, her thoughts tumbling over each other. He couldn’t mean he was suggesting a date? He couldn’t, could he? No, he must mean some sort of job. An evening delivery maybe? That must be it.
And then she was disabused of this idea when he added, ‘I’ve tickets for the theatre, and I thought perhaps a spot of dinner first?’
Say something, Kay told herself. Anything. Except yes. She moistened her lips. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Grey, but I’m busy tomorrow night,’ she lied politely.
‘Next week some time?’
She stared frantically at the three very interested faces at the kitchen table, and when no help was forthcoming said carefully, ‘I’m sorry but this is really a very busy time for us at the moment and it’s all hands to the plough.’
‘You don’t take time out to eat?’ he asked smoothly, continuing before she had a chance to reply, ‘How about lunch instead, then? And before you tell me how sorry you are again, perhaps I ought to mention that I was hoping to discuss a business proposition I had in mind.’
So it hadn’t been a date! Kay was so relieved she spoke without thinking, not realising how her voice had changed. ‘A business proposition? Oh, of course, Mr Grey,’ she said eagerly. ‘Shall we say Monday?’
‘Let’s.’ It was dry in the extreme. ‘I’ll call at your office at one o’clock. Goodbye, Mrs Sherwood.’
And he had put down the phone before it dawned on her that one didn’t normally suggest theatre and dinner to discuss a business proposal.
CHAPTER TWO
IF KAY picked up the telephone once on Monday morning to cancel her lunch with Mitchell Grey, she picked it up a hundred times. She’d thought of little else during the weekend, going over their conversation in her mind until her brain was buzzing and her nerves were frazzled.
One moment she was telling herself that it was the height of arrogance to think that a man like him—clearly very wealthy, successful and drop-dead gorgeous—would ask her for a date, and that the proposed meeting must—must—be a business one. Then the memory of his voice when he had suggested the theatre and dinner would reverberate in her head, firing the panic button.
She had telephoned Peter as soon as she had put down the phone from Mitchell Grey on Friday afternoon, but her brother hadn’t been particularly helpful.
‘Why did I give him your home number?’ Peter said breezily when she challenged him. ‘Well, why not? It’s not a secret, is it? You’re not ex-directory or anything like that.’
Kay bit down on her lip and prayed for patience. She loved Peter dearly, and his wife and two boys meant a great deal to her, but just at that moment in time she could have hit him hard without a shred of remorse.
After a few more minutes of questioning, Peter grew impatient. ‘What do you mean, how did he sound?’ he asked her irritably. ‘What sort of dumb question is that? I told you—he phoned up and wanted to speak to you, said he’d talked to you earlier in the day and there was something more he wanted to discuss. When I said you weren’t around he asked if you’d got a number where he could contact you, and so I said yes. Not the deepest or most meaningful conversation in the world admittedly, but there it is.’
Kay mentally cancelled the new sound system she’d been planning to buy him for Christmas and substituted a pair of socks instead. ‘I don’t want to see him,’ she said tightly.
‘Don’t, then.’ Peter spoke with true brotherly compassion.
‘It’s not as easy as that. What if he does want to discuss something that would do the firm some good? What then?’
‘Kay, correct me if I’m wrong but we’re talking lunch here, aren’t we? The guy isn’t suggesting you go up and see his etchings or nip off to Bournemouth for a dirty weekend. What’s your problem?’
She slammed the phone down then, telling the twins their uncle was the most irritating man in the world before they all got ready to leave for the autumn fête whereby her mind was taken off Mitchell Grey for a little while.
Peter’s last words came back to her now as she glanced nervously at her wrist-watch. Ten minutes and counting. She shut her eyes tightly for a second before she opened them again, speaking out loud into the small office they rented on the ground floor of a converted house. ‘So, what is your problem?’
She didn’t know, she admitted miserably, which wasn’t like her. She was a practical person at heart, not given to flights of fancy or goose-pimply feelings, but there was something about Mitchell Grey…
It didn’t help that both Peter and Tom were out on deliveries either, which meant she was waiting all alone without any conversation to take her mind off the forthcoming encounter. Peter might be the most exasperating soul on earth at times, and Tom could be nearly as bad, but at least there was never a dull moment when the two of them were around. Of course she could have wandered in to either the watch repairer’s or the accountant’s—the two other offices on the ground floor of the premises—and passed the time of day for a while, but with no one else to man the phone it would have been an indulgence.
