Rival Attractions & Innocent Secretary(9)

As Charlotte got up to say her goodbyes to the twins, they both clung to  her legs. Laughing, she picked the little girl up and carried her down  the path with her. Sophy came with her carrying her son, but neither  twin would let Charlotte open the gate and leave until they had had  several hugs and kisses.

'I'm really grateful to you for giving me this job,' Sophy told her as  she retrieved her children and Charlotte slipped through the gate.

'Don't be,' Charlotte told her firmly. 'I'm the one who's going to be grateful to you over the next few months.'

She was just about to move over to her car when a familiar dark blue  Jaguar pulled up in front of her. Her heart started thumping as Oliver  Tennant got out. How had he managed to track her down here? He must have  either rung or been in to the office. What did he want?

He was coming towards her; she could feel the tension curling her  stomach. He gave her a smile, and then to her shock turned aside to say  easily to Sophy, 'Mrs Williams, I'm sorry to bother you, but I  understand that you might be selling your house.'

Charlotte was stunned. She had heard of the keen business tactics of the  more entrepreneurial of London's agents, but this! Her mouth dropped  open, even her chagrin in realising that Oliver Tennant had not, as she  had first supposed so stupidly, been looking for her forgotten as she  fumed over his effrontery.

She could feel Sophy's surprise, and hear the awkwardness in her  friend's voice as she said hesitantly, 'Well, no … I'm afraid I'm not.'  She turned to Charlotte, looking for guidance.

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte said as calmly as she could, 'You go in, if you want to, Sophy. I'll deal with this.'

She could see Oliver Tennant frowning as Sophy scooped up her children and hurried indoors.

'I've heard of being quick off the mark,' she said bitterly, 'but this  almost amounts to sharp practice. This isn't London, Mr Tennant. Out  here we wait to be invited to act in a sale. We don't go out and chivvy  our clients like salesmen.'

She was bitterly, furiously angry, and shockingly mingled with that  anger was something almost close to pain … as though something inside her  hurt at finding this incontrovertible evidence that Oliver Tennant was  every bit as bad and unscrupulous in business as she had feared he would  be. Pain … what a ridiculous idea. She ought to be feeling triumph, not  pain.                       
       
           



       

'I could argue the point that sales people are exactly what we are,'  Oliver told her, so obviously unperturbed that she was silenced.  'However, in this instance I'm afraid you have rather jumped to  conclusions. I haven't come out here to persuade Mrs Williams to give me  her business. I simply want to discuss with her the possibility of my  buying her house. I need somewhere to live … something short-term and  convenient while I look around for a more suitable property. If all goes  well down here I may sell out the London end of the business and work  exclusively from here.'

If all goes well …  If he managed to steal virtually all her business, he  meant, Charlotte acknowledged, hating him for putting her in the wrong,  and hating herself even more for making such a fool of herself …

'I presume that that little bit of play-acting about the house not being  for sale was directed at me as a fellow agent rather than as a  prospective purchaser and, that being the case, I have no objection to  going through you. If I could make an appointment to view … '

He was laughing at her, Charlotte was sure of it. Well, she knew how to stop him doing so.

'Those might be your business methods, Mr Tennant,' she told him  crisply. 'They aren't mine. The reason Sophy told you the house wasn't  for sale was quite simply because it isn't.'

'But I'd heard … ' He was frowning now, looking more irritated than remorseful.

'She was considering selling it … but … circumstances have changed, and she's decided not to.'

'So it looks as if we've both lost out,' Oliver told her. 'Pity … I can't  stay at the Bull forever, and I'm not having any luck at all in finding  rented accommodation.'

Charlotte bared her teeth at him and said saccharinely, 'Why don't you  ask Vanessa to help you? She has at least three guest bedrooms empty … I'm  sure she'd be delighted to offer you one.'

The look he gave her wasn't amused.

'I'm sure she would,' he agreed coolly.

He was blocking her path to her car, inadvertently she was sure, but  suddenly, looking up at him-and she had quite a long way to look up,  Charlotte realised warily-for the first time in her life she suddenly  felt very, very vulnerable and fragile.

How ridiculous. He wasn't threatening her in any way. Any fool could see  that he was a totally non-violent man, for all the powerful strength of  his body. Whatever else she might consider him capable of doing, she  couldn't deny that there was something about him that suggested he was  the kind of man who would always be protective of those weaker than  himself. There was almost a gentleness about him …

As she stared up at him, confused by her own feelings, by her awareness  that in other circumstances this was a man she would very much have  liked to have as a friend … or a lover … she felt her skin grow hot and,  without thinking, heard herself saying breathlessly, 'I'm sorry if I  misjudged your … your motives. I expect I did rather over-react, but  things haven't been easy for Sophy. She was widowed some months ago. She  desperately wants to keep her house and her independence. She was  considering selling, but it wasn't something she wanted to do.'

She saw that he was frowning.

'I'm sorry to hear that. Is there no one who can help her … family?'

'She has parents, but-' Realising suddenly just how far she had dropped  her guard, she said quickly, 'This is what happens, you see, when you  get a property boom. Those at the lowest end of the market lose out. If  Sophy sold her house, what chance would she have of ever rebuying, once  the influx of London yuppies had pushed up local prices? Those with  properties think only of the profit they're going to make. They don't  think of the people who haven't yet got their feet on the first rung of  the ladder … young couples, often with very low wages.'

'That isn't the fault of the agents,' Oliver told her quietly.

'No,' Charlotte agreed. 'It's the effect of market forces. We all know  that, but you can't deny that there are unscrupulous, greedy agents.'

'Just as there are unscrupulous and greedy buyers and sellers,' Oliver  agreed evenly, and then almost abruptly he added, 'Look, I know you  don't like the fact that I'm opening up here, but I honestly believe  that there is enough business for both of us. It isn't my intention to  force your agency to close.'

His assumption that should it be his intention he could do so infuriated  Charlotte, her anger overwhelming her earlier softening awareness of  the man behind the image she had mentally created for him.                       
       
           



       

Not trusting herself to speak, she wheeled round sharply on her heel and unlocked her car door.

Mercifully this time it started at the first turn of the key, although  Charlotte knew that her hands were shaking when she drove carefully  away, her body intensely aware of the man standing on the pavement  watching her, although she didn't betray by a single sideways glance her  knowledge that he was there.

Why was this happening? she wondered miserably as she drove back to her  office. She didn't want to feel like this about any man; she had got to  an age where she had believed that she never would. She liked her  placid, safe life; the fear of being hurt, of being found wanting, of  being rejected had successfully protected her from the dangers of any  potential involvement.

So why on earth now, when she should be safely past all this kind of  nonsense, was she suffering these pangs of emotion and sensation, and  for Oliver Tennant of all men?

It was a question she couldn't answer.





CHAPTER FOUR


'WELL, I think this shade would be perfect, especially with the wood you've chosen for the units.'

'Mm. I like this brighter yellow,' Sheila argued.

Sophy had started work with them on Monday morning, and now the three of  them were sitting round the desk in the upper room studying paint-shade  charts.

As good as her word, Sheila had produced the names and addresses of  three painters and a couple of joiners. Choosing the wood for the  kitchen units had been relatively easy. Charlotte had fallen immediately  and heavily in love with the satin sheen of a pretty cherrywood, but  choosing the paint for the walls was proving to be more of a problem.

Now, rather hesitantly, she produced a magazine and said quietly, 'I was wondering about this wallpaper … but I'm not sure.'