His Defiant Mistress. Кэрол Мортимер

shook his head. ‘We met at Cambridge.’

      ‘Did you read the same subjects?’

      ‘No. His was Archaeology, mine Engineering. But we happened to meet on our first day, hit it off from the word go, and in our third year at Trinity we shared a double set—i.e. a communal living room with separate study/bedrooms.’

      Sarah smiled, able to picture it only too well. ‘I bet you had a fantastic time with all those clever girls around. Were there lots of parties?’

      ‘Too many. Towards the end we had to buckle down to more serious stuff. Steve and I both played cricket, but like me he had parents who made sure he worked through vacations unless we were on tour.’

      ‘Stephen couldn’t have earned much on archaeological digs!’

      ‘True. His Italian mother sent him off to Piedmont every summer, to work in her family’s renowned cooking school.’ Alex grinned. ‘Steve’s talent meant our dinner parties at Trinity were hot tickets.’

      ‘So he never did anything with his archaeology?’

      ‘No. As soon as he graduated he took off to France to cook.’

      ‘And you went back home to the Merrick Group?’

      ‘Exactly.’ Alex smiled his thanks up at the waitress, and put a sizeable tip on the tray as she set the coffee pot in front of Sarah.

      ‘Is it just coincidence that he opened a restaurant in this area?’ she asked.

      ‘No. After learning his craft in places like the River Café and the Savoy, he decided to open a place of his own. He asked me to keep a look out in this area, so when I heard through the grapevine that the Pheasant was going up for sale I told Steve to hotfoot it down here with Jane and take a look before it went on the open market.’

      ‘You get on well with his wife?’

      He nodded. ‘Jane was at Trinity with us.’

      A sort of private club, thought Sarah wistfully. ‘Does she do any cooking?’

      Alex laughed. ‘None at all. That girl can burn water. She’s the number-cruncher and takes care of the finances. She sees to the ordering, bullies the suppliers and does front of house. She’s away at the moment, visiting her parents, but you can meet her next time.’

      Stephen came out to intercept them as they were leaving. ‘Nice to see you again, Sarah. Come again soon.’

      ‘Not for a while,’ said Alex with regret. ‘I’m off to the London office tomorrow.’

      ‘Which doesn’t mean Sarah can’t come here alone—or with someone else,’ Stephen pointed out, and grinned at the look on his friend’s face as he escorted them to the door.

      On their way back, Alex shot a look at her. ‘Would you do that?’ he asked.

      Sarah eyed him curiously. ‘Would it matter to you if I did?’

      ‘It would if it was Dan Mason.’

      ‘How you do harp on about him. I won’t go out with him again for the simple reason that I don’t want to. But,’ she warned, ‘I refuse to boycott the Green Man just to avoid him. I enjoy my lunchtime sessions there.’

      Alex touched a hand to hers. ‘Dan must have gone back to the city by now.’

      ‘He hasn’t yet. He was still there when I went in with Harry today.’

      ‘Was he, now? I wonder what’s keeping him here so long this time,’ said Alex as he turned into Medlar House.

      ‘Could we stop talking about Dan Mason?’ Sarah snapped, and stalked in front of him to open the main door. She unlocked her own door, switched on lamps and closed the shutters, then switched on her blinking answer-machine to hear Harry’s familiar gruff tones telling her how much Ian earned. Sarah turned at last to find Alex watching her.

      ‘I’ll pass on more coffee.’ He took her hand to lead her to the sofa, and slid a document from his pocket. ‘I’ve sorted out storage for your furniture, so would you check the inventory Greg took this afternoon?’

      ‘Oh—right. Thank you.’ Sarah ran her eyes down the list, and nodded. ‘That’s the lot. Will you bill me?’

      ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘This is a personal arrangement between you and me, Sarah. So indulge me. Accept the storage rental as a gift from a friend.’

      She smiled ruefully. ‘I can hardly say no when you put it like that. Thank you, Alex.’

      He leaned back, long legs outstretched. ‘I could have stored it at my place, but I thought you might not go for that.’

      ‘Harry pointed out the Merrick house to me on our way to Westhope. What I could see of it from the road was impressive. Is that where you live?’

      ‘Not for years. When I was growing up we all lived there, but my grandfather and Aunt Isabel are the only occupants these days. I’ve got a place of my own a few miles from here. I moved out of the family home when my mother left.’

      ‘Do you see her often?’

      ‘Yes, of course. She lives near Stratford-upon-Avon. I spend Christmas and New Year with her, and she comes to stay at my place quite a lot.’

      Sarah turned her head to look at him curiously. ‘Doesn’t your father ever want you to spend Christmas with him?’

      ‘Not since he’s remarried. He takes his wife to a five-star hotel in a ski resort for New Year as her reward for enduring Christmas Day with my grandfather.’

      ‘But you never stay home to endure it, too?’

      ‘Old Edgar respects my wish to spend it with my mother. He doesn’t care for her successor.’

      ‘Do you like her?’

      ‘We rub along.’ Alex took her hand in his. ‘Where do you spend Christmas?’

      ‘It’s not something I’ve looked forward to since my mother died. Oliver used to take Dad and me out to Christmas dinner at some hotel, rather than risk my cooking, and he still does the same now it’s just the two of us.’ Sarah smiled brightly. ‘But let’s change the subject. I’d much rather hear your views on quick-drying membranes for my barns.’

      Alex threw back his head and laughed. ‘Not a topic of conversation I’ve discussed with any other woman!’

      ‘But one very dear to my heart right now. So, are you privy to any trade secrets I might find useful?’

      For a while, only too happy to have Sarah hanging on to his every word, Alex obliged her with everything he knew on the subject—which was considerable. ‘But now,’ he said at last, ‘let’s talk about the weekend. I’ll be back by then, so have lunch with me on Sunday. At my place, not the Pheasant.’

      ‘Can you cook, then?’

      ‘I was Stephen’s sous chef often enough in the old days to learn a thing or two,’ he assured her.

      ‘In that case, thank you. I’d like to.’

      ‘Good.’ Alex took a card from his wallet. ‘Here’s my address. I’ve drawn a rough map on the back.’

      Sarah eyed him narrowly as she took it. ‘You were sure I’d come, then?’

      ‘No. I lived in hope.’ He got up with a sigh. ‘I must go. Early start in the morning.’

      ‘Are you staying with your father?’

      He shook his head. ‘When I’m in town I put up at the flat over the group offices.’

      Sarah walked with him to the door. ‘Thank you for this evening.’

      ‘My pleasure—literally. Come about midday on Sunday—or I can drive over to