LITMIR.BIZ

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cottages are practically dropping to bits,’ Grafton exclaimed, his blunt fist coming down hard on Grace’s desk, dispelling any other thoughts. ‘The old woman knows that. This is just a ploy to get me to offer more.’

      He scowled across the desk. ‘I want you to get in touch with her again and tell her it’s not going to work. She’s not dealing with some amateur, you know. When William Grafton wants something, he gets it. You tell her that.’

      ‘Mr Grafton—’

      ‘You heard what I said.’

      Rudely, Grafton thrust back his chair, the legs scraping noisily over the wooden floor. Then, after adjusting the collar of his oilskin jacket, he leant forward again.

      ‘You sort this out, Grace, there’s a good girl. I’m relying on you.’ He tapped his nose with his forefinger. ‘No one ever said William Grafton wasn’t a generous man. Know what I mean?’ He started towards the door. ‘Don’t let me down.’

      Grace could hardly contain her anger. The patronising man! How dared he call her ‘a good girl’? And he actually expected her to be flattered because he was giving her his business.

      She caught her breath and, as she did so, she was made aware that Jack Connolly must have heard what was said, as well. And how humiliating was that?

      All the same, she had to wonder what he was doing here. She didn’t believe in coincidence. He must have come here deliberately.

      But why?

      To see her?

      The idea was provocative. And exciting.

      But she couldn’t let him see how she was feeling. He had a bad enough opinion of her as it was.

      She took a generous gulp of her coffee and got to her feet just as Elizabeth Fleming approached her desk.

      ‘Have you a minute, Grace?’

      Grace blew out a breath. ‘Um—yes. Sure.’ She tamped down a feeling of apprehension. ‘How can I help?’

      Elizabeth gave her a rueful smile. A middle-aged woman, in her late fifties, she’d been kind to Grace, easing her introduction to the agency and generally being on hand if she was needed.

      ‘Those cottages,’ she said in a low voice. ‘The ones at Culworth. Are they still for sale?’

      Grace blinked. ‘You mean the cottages Mr Grafton offered for?’

      ‘I’m afraid so.’ Elizabeth pulled a wry face. ‘I assume you’ve told Mr Grafton his offer was declined.’

      ‘Well, yes.’ Grace’s brows drew together. ‘He wants me to speak to Mrs Naughton again.’

      ‘Has he increased his offer?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I see.’ Elizabeth pulled her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Well, I’m pretty sure if that’s the case Mrs Naughton won’t be interested.’

      Grace sighed. ‘I did try to tell him that.’

      ‘I’m sure you did.’ Elizabeth frowned. ‘The thing is I’ve got another client who’d like to view them.’

      ‘To view the cottages?’

      Grace’s eyes went automatically to Jack, but his face was expressionless.

      Not that she was deceived. He had obviously heard what she and Grafton had been talking about. Heavens, she knew he had. What on earth was he playing at?

      ‘Yes.’ Elizabeth was going on, completely unaware of Grace’s agitation. ‘But unfortunately I’ve got the Lawsons coming at twelve o’clock. I don’t have time to go out to Culworth this morning, and Mr Connolly wants to see the cottages today.’

      Does he?

      Grace bit her lip, trying not to let Elizabeth see how uneasy she was.

      ‘So—what?’ she asked tightly. ‘Do you want me to go?’

      ‘Would you?’ Elizabeth looked relieved. ‘I’d be really grateful.’ She paused. ‘I mean, it may come to nothing, but apparently Mr Connolly’s an architect and he’s looking for development property in the area.’ She grimaced. ‘I’d love it if you could tell William Grafton that Mrs Naughton has had another offer.’

      Grace would love that, too, she admitted wryly. She had few illusions that Jack was serious, but she couldn’t let Elizabeth down, so, with a rueful smile, she said, ‘Okay. I’ll do it.’ She turned to pick up her coffee. ‘I hope...Mr Connolly...has his own transport.’

      As if she didn’t know that Jack’s Lexus was parked on the square outside.

      ‘Oh, I’m sure he has.’

      Elizabeth turned back to speak to her client, and Grace swallowed the remains of her coffee.

      Okay, she thought, he wouldn’t be the first client she’d had whose intentions might be less than honourable, but she assured herself she could handle it.

      And she was probably wrong, anyway.

      Feeling eyes upon her, she looked up to find Jack watching her. And chided herself for the sudden frisson of excitement that zinged along her nerves at his cool-eyed stare.

      She turned away, but the image of his dark, good-looking face and lean muscled frame stayed with her as she gathered her handbag from the drawer and slipped on her olive-green jacket.

      ‘Mr Connolly has his own car.’

      Elizabeth was back at her side, her anxious expression an indication that she wasn’t totally unaware of Grace’s reluctance to deal with this client.

      She moistened her lips. ‘Are you all right, Grace?’

      ‘Good. I’m good.’ Grace forced a smile. ‘Does—does Mr Connolly know the way to Culworth?’

      ‘He says he’ll follow you,’ said Elizabeth at once. She sighed. ‘You know, I would take him myself if it weren’t for the Lawsons—’

      ‘I know.’ Grace managed to infuse a little more enthusiasm into her voice. ‘I’m grateful for your confidence in me. Is Mr Connolly ready to go now?’

      ‘I’m ready.’

      Grace had been unaware of Jack’s approach, and his low attractive voice caused another shiver to feather her spine.

      Elizabeth turned to him with obvious pleasure. ‘Miss Spencer will take care of you,’ she said, patting Grace’s arm encouragingly. ‘I’ll see you later, right?’

      ‘Right.’

      Jack nodded, and Grace was obliged to pick up her handbag and precede him across the room and out of the door.

      She waited until they were out of hearing distance and then turned impatiently towards him.

      ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’

      Jack’s dark brows rose at the obvious accusation in her voice.

      ‘I understood we were going to view a row of run-down cottages at some place called Culworth. Isn’t that right?’

      Grace sighed. ‘Like you’re interested in seeing a row of derelict cottages.’

      Jack pushed his thumbs into the front pockets of his khakis. ‘I am.’

      Grace stared at him frustratedly, wishing she didn’t have this almost visceral awareness of his masculinity. She struggled to suppress those totally unwelcome feelings and said, ‘Why would you be interested in the Culworth cottages? You’re not a property developer. It’s kind of you to try to help me deal with Mr Grafton, but he’s not likely to go away just because someone else has shown an interest.’

      ‘I know that.’

      Jack conceded the point,

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