The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,59

avoid seeing Alex again, Sarah knew from experience that Oliver refused to be rushed when it came to food. And since in this case it was excellent, she did her best to enjoy it while she described her current work on the barns.

‘No wonder you’re looking thinner,’ said Oliver with disapproval. ‘Do you cook for yourself when you get home at night?’

‘I don’t have to. Mrs Grover cooks for the three of us at lunchtime.’ Sarah explained the catering arrangement. ‘Now, tell me about your latest case. Have you been defending anyone famous?’

While Oliver enjoyed his usual ripe Stilton, Sarah pushed some ice cream round a dish, but put her spoon down when Helen Alexander came back with another woman in tow.

‘Miss Merrick,’ said Oliver, rising to his feet. ‘How good to see you. Let me introduce you to my goddaughter, Sarah Carver.’

Isabel Merrick turned familiar grey eyes on Sarah. ‘How do you do, my dear? Helen tells me you’re in the same line of business as my family.’

Sarah smiled. ‘On a very much smaller scale.’

‘What have you done with Edgar today?’ asked Oliver.

‘Our invaluable housekeeper is giving Father his lunch to let me off for an hour or two,’ said Bel Merrick, rolling her eyes. ‘But I’d better be back in good time for his afternoon tea.’

‘I’ll do that today,’ said Helen firmly. ‘You shouldn’t let him ride roughshod over you, Bel.’

‘You mustn’t bore Miss Carver with our family secrets, Mother,’ interrupted Alex as he joined them.

‘Old Edgar’s tyranny is no secret,’ said Oliver wryly.

‘Very true,’ agreed Helen. ‘It keeps him alive. Are you staying the night with Sarah, Oliver?’

‘No room at her place, m’dear. I’m in my usual berth at the Green Dragon in Hereford.’

‘A favourite haunt of yours, I seem to remember.’ She turned to Sarah. ‘Next Sunday at about four, then?’

Sarah smiled warmly. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

In the general chorus of goodbyes Sarah and Alex pointedly ignored each other—something duly noted by Oliver once they were alone.

‘Daggers drawn, obviously,’ he said, beckoning to a waitress. ‘Have some coffee and tell me why the electricity positively crackles between you and young Alex.’

‘We had a disagreement over something trivial,’ she said flatly, and changed the subject.

The encounter with Alex gave Sarah such a restless night that Harry eyed her warily when he picked her up next morning.

‘Bad head?’

‘Bad night.’ She tapped her Thermos of coffee. ‘A couple more cups of this and I’ll be fine.’ She explained about Oliver’s visit. ‘I ate too much lunch yesterday.’

‘Not something you do any other day,’ he said sharply. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’

‘Your sister always gives me too much,’ she protested.

‘You give half of it to Nero most times. What are you fretting about, boss? Is it the job?’

‘No, Harry. I love the work.’ She shrugged. ‘But, as you know by now, some days I feel a bit down.’

‘When you miss your father?’

‘Yes,’ she said, which was only half the truth. The other half was Alex Merrick’s fault. She’d persuaded herself she was getting over him. But one look at him yesterday had made it clear that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Her mouth set. She’d get there in the end.

Sarah was glad when Friday arrived, and she had two days off to look forward to.

‘Will you be wanting me on Saturday this week, boss?’ asked Ian as they were packing up.

‘No. We’re well on schedule,’ she said, patting Nero. ‘I need tomorrow off for stocking up on food—’

‘And eating some of it,’ muttered Harry.

‘For heaven’s sake, stop nagging me—’ She took in a deep breath. ‘Sorry—sorry! I’m a bit tired—which is no excuse for shouting at you, Harry.’

‘Let’s get you home,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s been a long day.’

Sarah was glad, not for the first time, that she wasn’t driving on the way back. Harry had suggested he took on this job from day one, and after insisting she paid for petrol Sarah had been only too happy to agree.

‘You can rip at me again if you like,’ he said, once they were underway, ‘but you’d do well to stay in bed for a bit in the morning before you do that shopping.’

‘I certainly will. I’m looking forward to it,’ she agreed, yawning. ‘But cleaning comes before shopping. Not the windows,’ she added hastily. ‘They still look fine.’

Harry’s lips twitched. ‘I’m not offering to do that lot again in a hurry. Not after the day we’ve had, that’s for sure.’

‘That’s the trouble with our kind of work,’

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