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As she had expected, both he and his wife had been drawn to Cherry Tree Cottage, which was a good-sized family house on the outskirts of a sleepy village. It had a wonderful garden, which was now rather neglected, its present owner being an old lady in her early eighties who was selling the house to go and live with her younger sister. It did have certain disadvantages—the roof was thatched, it had no mains drainage, and there was no central heating—but the price was a fair one, and Bill and Anne Markham were young enough to enjoy the challenge of taking on a house which, with some hard work and admittedly some money spent on it, could be made into a very attractive home.
She dropped them outside the Bull, having made arrangements to get in touch with them in the morning. As she started to drive away, she saw Oliver Tennant crossing the car park. She had forgotten for the moment that he too was staying at the pub.
Anxious to get away before he should see her and think that she was deliberately trying to court his attention, she moved the Volvo with less than her usual skill, grating the gears in a way which instantly brought his head up as he focused on her.
Furious with herself, all too conscious of her flushed face, Charlotte wished she had the savoir-faire to ignore the fact that he had changed direction and was now walking towards her, and to simply ignore him and drive away.
She couldn’t, though. Her father and her school had both been sticklers for good manners and so, gritting her teeth, she stayed where she was until Oliver had reached the car.
As he leaned down towards the open window of the Volvo she caught the clean fresh-air scent of his skin mingled with something else, something alien and male that made her own skin prickle with unexpected heat.
‘Thanks for sending the agreement back so quickly,’ he said easily. ‘I was hoping to have a word with you so that I could make a formal arrangement to move in.’
Her heart was thudding frantically for no reason at all that she could think of, as though it was responding to the unfamiliar dangerous excitement that quickened her pulse.
‘You haven’t even seen the rooms yet,’ Charlotte pointed out, striving to appear cool and businesslike. ‘They may not be what you’re looking for.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be fine, but, if you’re free for half an hour this evening, perhaps I could drive over, see them, and then we can discuss them properly.’
Charlotte looked at him uncertainly. Come round… Why did she feel so overwrought and tense whenever she saw him? She wasn’t a teenager any more. He was a physically compelling man, yes, but surely she was well beyond the age of reacting like this to mere physical appeal?
‘Is something wrong?’ she heard him saying. ‘Are you too busy tonight? A date, perhaps?’
Her head shot up, her eyes darkening with anger as she searched his face, wondering if he was deliberately making fun of her.
He must know, she was sure, that she didn’t have any dates…that there was no man in her life. But the blue eyes that looked back into hers were free of any hint of amusement; nor was there anything in his expression to suggest that he had been making fun of her.
She was getting too sensitive, she told herself tiredly. Too self-obsessed. Why should he care one way or the other about her personal life?
‘No…no, this evening will be fine,’ she agreed.
His mouth twitched suddenly, the amusement she had looked for before now lightening the blue eyes.
‘I’m flattered that you’re looking forward to it so much,’ he told her gravely, but she could hear the laughter behind the words, and just for a moment she was tempted to tell him exactly how she did feel about the prospect of having him as her lodger, but if she did that good manners would prompt him to look for accommodation elsewhere and then Vanessa would crow, believing that she was the one responsible for his decision.
‘Obviously I’ve got certain reservations,’ she told him as crisply as she could. ‘And I’m sure you must have as well.’
‘Are you? Why?’
The question surprised her. She stared at him, her mouth open, her eyes registering her feelings.
‘Well, we don’t know one another…and, in view of the fact that we’re business competitors—’
‘Ah…you’re trying to warn me that you intend to seduce me and steal all my business secrets, is that it?’
He was grinning now, a genuine, almost boyish grin that deepened the creases alongside his mouth and sent fans of tiny lines raying out from his eyes, and, looking at him, Charlotte felt that she had never hated anyone more in all her life.
He was laughing at her…making fun of her. A storm of emotion she couldn’t control boiled up inside her, and, angrily putting the car in gear, she said fiercely, ‘No doubt you think it very funny…the fact that I’m so sexless that it’s impossible to imagine me doing any such thing. Well, I don’t, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve already signed that tenancy agreement there’d be no way I’d take you on as a lodger now. You might think it amusing to make fun of people’s shortcomings. I don’t.’
