The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,15
‘You may laugh, but it wasn’t at all funny at the time.’
‘No, indeed. And you ruined your suit—or Nero did.’
‘No point in sending him a bill, either. Nor,’ he added quickly, ‘will I send one to you, Miss Carver. I shall write tonight off to experience. Thanks for the coffee.’
‘The least I could do after you’d risked life and limb to make sure I was safe,’ she assured him, and eyed him curiously. ‘But why did you feel you had to?’
‘Because I want the cottages. I had to make sure they wouldn’t be vandalised,’ he lied.
‘I see. By the way, did Nero actually hurt you?’
Alex shook his head and raised a muscular leg to show her an unmarked shin through the rip. ‘I had a fight to detach him from my bespoke suiting, but he stopped short of actually savaging me.’
‘So no worry about rabies, then?’
He blenched. ‘Good God! I hadn’t thought of that.’
She eyed him with derision. ‘You’re in no danger from an aristocrat like Nero.’
‘Just the same,’ he said with feeling, ‘ I’ll give your property a wide berth from now on—at night, at least.’
‘Very wise.’ She opened the door, but Alex seemed in no hurry to leave.
‘How about changing your mind?’ he asked casually.
‘About what, exactly?’
‘Having dinner with me one evening. We could just talk business, if that would make the idea more attractive.’ He listened to himself in disbelief. This kind of persuasion wasn’t his style. Probably because he’d never had to use any.
‘No—thank you,’ she said distantly.
His jaw clenched. ‘Why not? Do you find me repulsive?’
‘No.’
‘Then have you sworn off men as some kind of vow?’
Instead of saying Just you, Alex Merrick, as she yearned to, Sarah shook her head. ‘I’m just not socialising with anyone right now.’
‘Except Oliver Moore,’ he reminded her.
‘That’s right.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘After all, he is my godfather.’
‘So you said.’ Alex moved closer, struck by sudden compassion. ‘Are you still in mourning for your father? Surely he would want you to get on with your life?’
Sarah’s smile vanished. ‘As I keep pointing out, my life is my concern, and no one else’s, Mr Merrick.’
‘Message received,’ he said stiffly. ‘Goodnight, Miss Carver.’
Sarah felt very thoughtful as she climbed back up to bed later. If she were honest, and she tried hard to be most of the time, she knew she should have told Greg Harris that she’d arranged a night watchman for the cottages. But Alex’s highhanded message had really ticked her off. Though he’d certainly paid for it. Sarah grinned at the thought of the vice-chairman of the Merrick Group fighting off a large German Shepherd.
But what had actually sent Alex storming round here afterwards? He’d been so blazingly angry when she’d opened the door to him Sarah had felt a thrill of apprehension, afraid for a split second that he’d throw her on the floor and take his revenge in the time-honoured way. He’d certainly been hot to vent his rage in some way on the person responsible for his clash with Nero. But she hadn’t known he’d check up on her himself—had she? Sarah thought about it, and reluctantly admitted that she’d been aware of the possibility. Visiting the cottages to make sure she was safe had been a chivalrous gesture, and maybe—just maybe—she’d hoped that he would do it. But she would have expected Nero just to bark, not launch himself at Alex in attack mode. She would have a word with Ian on the subject. Injury to innocent visitors was something to be avoided. But, chivalrous or not, she reminded herself tartly, Alex’s name was still Merrick. And her reaction to it was still the same as the first time she’d heard it.
On her very first day at Barclay Homes she’d found that the firm was actually a subsidiary of the Merrick Group, which had swallowed up other building firms in the area. A small outfit like her father’s had never stood a chance. Sarah knew with the logical part of her that the Merrick Group had not caused his death. But the illogical, emotional side of her still held them accountable.
CHAPTER FOUR
SARAH SAW no more of Alex Merrick after their midnight encounter. But to her surprise—and disgust—she kept wondering if he’d ring, or call in again. To counteract this she worked like a demon on the last touches to the cottages while Harry painted the exteriors, and Ian moved into number two at night, rather than spoil any of Sarah’s work on the show house.