Rival Attractions & Innocent Secretary(15)

She didn't want to risk seeing Oliver Tennant in person again, not until  she had managed to have a severe talk with herself about the stupidity  of reacting so dangerously to him, and so she sent the signed tenancy  agreement round to his office in Sophy's charge and then announced to  Sheila that she would be out of the office for the rest of the day,  showing prospective clients round some of their properties.

'I'm meeting a couple who are planning to relocate here from the north  of England. They're retiring and at one time they had family connections  with this area. I think they'll probably go for Cherry Tree Cottage.'                       
       
           



       

'Mm. It needs a lot of work doing on it.'

'Yes, but he's taking early retirement and, as I understand it, isn't in  a desperate hurry to move down here. The house will be close enough to  the village for them. It has a good-sized garden plus a paddock.  Apparently they have grandchildren, who will be coming to stay, so  they'll be able to make full use of these attic bedrooms.'

'Well, good luck,' Sheila told her.

So far Charlotte had only spoken to the Markhams over the telephone.  When she met them at the Bull, they proved to be a pleasant couple in  their mid-fifties. Bill Markham had the ruddy skin of a man used to  being outdoors; his wife Anne seemed a sensible, placid woman, who was  plainly quite happy to go along with her husband's plans to move them  away from their present commuter-belt home to a more rural area.

They had done their homework on the area well, Charlotte discovered, as  they set off in her Volvo to view the first property. They were the type  of client she most enjoyed dealing with-discerning, without being  obsessed with finding a property which matched some impossible dream.  She was not surprised when, at the end of the day, Bill Markham asked  her if they could contact her in the morning with a view to revisiting  three of the five properties they had seen.

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.'

She was ready to move away, not caring that he was still leaning against  the car, when to her shock he reached inside the open window and deftly  cut the engine.

While she was still in shock, he said crisply, 'I wasn't making fun of  you-far from it-and as for your being sexless … ' He was frowning now as  he registered her white face and trembling hands.

Charlotte barely heard the sound he made under his breath. Hearing him  repeat her own words had devastated her. What had possessed her? Why on  earth had she reacted like that … laid herself open to him like that,  revealing how much his amusement had hurt her?

She was stunned by her own behaviour. Her deepest private feelings were  something she never discussed with anyone, and for her to have voiced  them in front of this man who was virtually a stranger …

She felt sick and shaky, disorientated and vaguely light-headed.

'Get out.'

Get out? She focused on the hard-boned male face, absently noting the  steely look in the blue eyes. He was angry with her, and no wonder. He  didn't want to be burdened with her adolescent emotional soul-baring.  What on earth had possessed her? she asked herself again.

'If it weren't for the fact that we're standing in this very public place, I'd be tempted to show you just how wrong you are!'

Charlotte stared at him, unable to believe her ears. He couldn't have  meant what she thought he had meant. He wouldn't be implying that he  found her desirable.

'I'm going home,' she told him huskily. 'Please move out of the way, so that I can drive.'

'You're not driving anywhere, you little fool. You're in no fit state.  Now, are you going to get out of that car under your own steam, or am I  going to have to drag you out?'