The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress. Catherine George

his birthday, Mr Baker,’ said Sarah, and looked at him speculatively. ‘Actually, I’m glad you’re here today—’

      ‘He’s here every day,’ someone shouted.

      ‘But I’m not, so I must grab him while I can,’ she called back, grinning. ‘I hear you’re a very keen gardener, Mr Baker.’

      ‘I do a bit,’ he admitted warily.

      ‘When you can spare the time, would you come along to the cottages and give me some advice on planting?’

      ‘Any time you like,’ he assured her. ‘Let me get you another half.’

      ‘No, thanks—too much to do this afternoon,’ she said regretfully.

      There was immediate interest in exactly what, and the conversation was general for a moment, until a voice with the accents of expensive education rose above the hubbub to make itself heard to the landlord.

      ‘I’m looking for a Miss Carver, Eddy. Has she been in here today?’

      Sarah winced, wishing vainly she could make herself invisible. Resigned, she let Fred help her down from the stool and turned to face Alex Merrick. ‘You were asking for me?’

      His formal dark suit looked out of place in the homely environs of the Green Man’s public bar, but it was his look of blank astonishment that amused Sarah. Last night, because Oliver adored being seen with a ‘pretty young thing’, as he put it, she’d been tricked out in her best babe outfit, clinging black dress, killer heels, full warpaint and hair swept up in a knot of curls. Today the hair was rammed under a baseball cap, her face was as nature had made it, her overalls and trainers were covered in streaks of paint and glue and without her heels she was four inches shorter. She couldn’t blame the man for mistaking her for a boy apprentice, and felt grateful when Harry and Fred ranged themselves alongside her in protective, burly support.

      Alex glanced round the watchful faces in the bar, lips twitching. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Carver. I didn’t recognise you for a moment. My apologies for interrupting your lunch.’

      She shrugged. ‘Not at all. I was about to get back to work. What can I do for you?’

      ‘I’d like a word—in private. Today, if possible.’

      Sarah eyed him speculatively. ‘I generally finish about six. I can see you then, if you want.’

      ‘Thank you. Where?’

      ‘At the site. I’m sure you know where it is.’

      ‘I do. Until six, then. Good afternoon, gentlemen.’ He gave a comprehensive nod all round and walked out, leaving a brief lull in the conversation behind him before everyone started talking again.

      ‘You want to watch that one,’ said Harry.

      ‘Why?’ she asked, downing the last of her cider.

      ‘He’s a Merrick, for a start.’

      No need to remind her of that!

      ‘Besides, you’ve only got to look at him,’ said Fred. ‘Fancies his chance with the ladies.’

      ‘Not one dressed like this,’ she said, laughing.

      ‘Don’t you be too sure of that,’ said Fred darkly.

      Harry grinned, and drained his glass. ‘No need to worry. One swing of her lump hammer and he’ll be done for.’

      They left the pub to a burst of laughter, but Harry looked thoughtful as he drove back to the site. ‘Just the same, boss, I think I’d better stay behind out of sight in one of the cottages tonight. Just in case.’

      Sarah stared at him, surprised, ‘The man wants to talk to me, that’s all.’

      ‘Yes, but what about?’ said Harry grimly. ‘Word is that the Merricks were none too pleased when you got those cottages.’

      ‘Because they’re on land adjoining theirs?’

      He nodded. ‘So be warned. I reckon young Merrick’s going to make you an offer.’

      ‘So he can knock them down?’ Sarah’s mouth tightened in a way her father would have recognised only too well. ‘Not a chance.’

      It took work, but she finally persuaded Harry that she would be perfectly all right alone when he left.

      ‘Just the same,’ he said, as he got in his pick-up, ‘you be careful.’

      ‘I shall keep my trusty hammer close to hand,’ she assured him, only half joking.

      Once he’d gone, Sarah almost wished she’d asked Harry to stay after all. Which was ridiculous. It was broad daylight on a summer evening. What could happen? She thought about tidying herself up but couldn’t be bothered. Mr Alex Merrick would have to take her as she was. She leaned back against her car, arms folded and ankles crossed, blocking out the site’s building gear as she studied the cottages objectively. Harry had replaced the gingerbread trim over each front door, and soon he’d begin painting the exterior walls creamy white. The front gardens were just bare patches of earth as yet, but she would plant them up after some advice from Mr Baker. She’d lay some cobbles on the paths, get the waist-high dividing walls repointed, and once the lawns had been sown with seed…

      She turned her head as a Cherokee Jeep cruised down the lane.

      Alex Merrick sprang down from it, but instead of jumping to attention Sarah stayed leaning against her car.

      ‘Hello,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m a few minutes late. Thank you for waiting. I got held up.’

      ‘I didn’t notice the time,’ Sarah said with complete truth.

      ‘Because you were lost in rapt contemplation of your work. Understandable,’ he said, looking along the row. ‘The houses look good.’

      ‘Thank you. So why do you need to speak to me, Mr Merrick?’ she asked, cutting straight to the chase.

      The smile vanished. ‘I could have done this officially, requested a meeting at my office, but it’s probably better to talk here on site. What are your plans when the houses are finished?’

      ‘Why do you ask?’

      ‘Professional interest,’ he said briefly.

      She eyed him warily. ‘I shall put them up for sale to first-time buyers, or city dwellers with a fancy for a bolthole in the country.’

      ‘I can save you the trouble.’ He took in the cottages with a sweep of his hand. ‘On behalf of the Merrick Group I’ll buy all six from you—if the price is right.’

      She stood erect at last, eyeing him with suspicion. ‘What for, exactly?’

      Alex Merrick frowned, as though he couldn’t believe she wasn’t overwhelmed with delight. ‘The usual reasons, Miss Carver.’

      ‘I’d like to know exactly what they are, just the same. Because the land they stand on borders yours you might have demolition in mind—in which case nothing doing.’

      His eyebrows snapped together. ‘I assure you that provided they meet with Merrick standards I want them as they are. May I take a look?’

      ‘Of course. Follow me.’

      Sarah felt rather like a new mother showing off her baby as Alex followed her inside the first house. She’d done nothing about her own appearance, but she’d gone on a whirlwind tour of all the houses with broom and cleaning rags, determined to present them at their best in the evening sunlight pouring through the windows.

      She found she was holding her breath as Alex inspected the kitchen in the first cottage, but in the sitting room she relaxed a little as he nodded in approval at the horseshoe fire-grate gleaming like ebony under its creamy marble mantle. ‘Original feature, Miss Carver?’

      ‘Yes,