The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,33
his arm round her as he badly wanted to. ‘Tell me what Miss Property Developer has in mind for her next project. Purely as a friend,’ he added piously, ‘not as competition.’
‘Oh, I know that. You made it clear that my kind of project is just chicken feed in the eyes of the Merrick Group,’ she reminded him tartly.
‘Only to set your mind at rest,’ he assured her. ‘So talk to me, Sarah. I’m interested.’
‘Curious, you mean!’ she said, laughing, secretly only too happy to talk at length about her plans for the barns at Westhope Farm.
Alex listened intently, made constructive comments and suggestions, and even offered Sarah any help she might need.
‘For free?’
‘Of course,’ he assured her. ‘What else are friends for?’
It was late before Alex forced himself to his feet. ‘It’s time we were both in bed.’ He eyed the sleeping platform and grinned. ‘But for various reasons not, alas, together.’ He took her hand and kissed her cheek. ‘Now we’ve agreed to be friends, let’s have dinner tomorrow night.’
Sarah had to admire his style. ‘Why not? Where?’
‘You’ll probably laugh,’ he said, the crooked smile much in evidence.
‘Try me.’
‘I’d like to go back to Stephen’s place and have you all to myself this time, without Oliver Moore watching me like a hawk, or Dan smirking at me. Just you and me, Sarah. Two friends enjoying a meal together.’
In bed later, Sarah tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her first business triumph would have been enough to keep her awake, but Alex’s visit was adding to her insomnia. His visit had been such a welcome interruption to her evening it was hard, now, to believe she’d ever looked on him as the enemy. It would be good, more than good, to have him as a friend. In fact, given the slightest encouragement, she would look on him as a lot more than just a friend—She shot upright as her phone rang.
‘Hi,’ said Alex.
Sarah subsided against her pillows. ‘Hi.’
‘Did I wake you?’
‘No.’
‘The glow of your first success keeping you awake?’
‘That’s only part of it.’
‘So what else is on your mind?’
‘I’ve realised I’ve agreed to a truce with the enemy,’ she said bluntly.
Alex’s laugh sent a tingle down her spine. ‘Only I’m not the enemy any more, Sarah, am I?’
‘No,’ she admitted, after a pause. ‘Which is pretty hard to believe.’
‘I’ll help you work on that tomorrow. Now, I’ll tell you why I rang.’
‘Not just to say goodnight?’
‘That too. But I was on my way to bed before I remembered we still haven’t settled about what to do with your furniture, Sarah.’
She groaned. ‘Not again! I got so carried away with all my talk about barn conversions the furniture went out of my head. I’ll contact my storage people and ask them to fetch it.’
‘Why not store it down here? You can use one of our container units for a very reasonable fee—much cheaper than in London.’
‘Oliver paid for the storage. My only outlay was getting it transported down here.’
‘Where it might as well stay, ready to use in future when the barns are finished.’
‘That depends on what you mean by a reasonable fee!’
‘We’ll discuss it tomorrow over dinner. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’ Sarah closed her phone, then went straight to sleep with a smile on her face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SARAH WOKE next morning to a feeling of well being. And this, she admitted, was not just due to her success on the first rung of the property ladder. Her new relationship with Alex was the icing on the cake—and the cherry on top. Even if he was a Merrick. He was a clever lad all round, she conceded, as she got ready for her trip with Harry. Alex was obviously brilliant at his job, or he wouldn’t be vice-chairman of the Merrick Group at his age. Though apparently being born a Merrick wasn’t enough to make it automatic. But it surprised her that he’d worked through most of his vacations. She’d imagined him sunning himself in the Bahamas or skiing in Gstaad, certainly not slogging away on building sites.
When Harry arrived to collect her his eyes were twinkling in his weatherbeaten face. ‘Who’s a clever girl, then?’ he said as she got up beside him.
‘I am,’ said Sarah, beaming. ‘But then, look what wonderful help I had!’
‘Get away with you. By the way, Mavis is sorry she can’t cook lunch today; she was called away late last night. My niece went into labour about midnight.’
‘Oh, wow! Panic stations, then. Didn’t Grandpa want to go too?’