Rags To Riches: At Home With The Boss: The Secret Sinclair / The Nanny's Secret / A Home for the M.D.. Elizabeth Lane

about what he wanted. He knew that Sarah hated anything modern and minimalist. He’d steered clear of anything involving leather and chrome. He had stopped short of buying artwork, although he had been tempted by some small landscapes that would have been a terrific investment, but he had done his utmost with a bewildering range of colour options and had insisted that everything be kept period.

      ‘I can’t believe this is going to be our new home,’ Sarah murmured yet again, as she ran her hands lovingly over the Victorian fireplace in what would be her bedroom. A dreamy four-poster bed dominated the space, and the leaded windows overlooked the pretty garden. She could see Oliver on the swing, being pushed by Raoul’s very patient driver, and she waved at him.

      ‘Did you choose all this stuff yourself?’

      Raoul flushed. How cool was it to have a hand in choosing furnishings for a house? Not very. Especially when there had been a million and one other things clamouring for his attention at work. But he had been rattled by her rejection, and had realised that despite what he saw as an obvious way forward for them he could take nothing for granted.

      ‘I think I know what you like,’ he prevaricated, and received a warm smile in response.

      Sarah squashed the temptation to hug him. He did things like this and was it any wonder that her will-power was all over the place? She had expected to find a house that was functioning and kitted out in a fairly basic way. Instead there was nothing that wasn’t one hundred percent perfect, from the mellow velvet curtains in the sitting room to the faded elegant wallpaper in the bedroom.

      Oliver’s room, next to hers, was what any four-year-old boy would have dreamt of, with a bed in the shape of a racing car and wallpaper featuring all his favourite cartoon characters.

      Yet again she had to remind herself that she had done the right thing in turning her back on what had been on offer. Yet again she forced herself back onto the straight and narrow by telling herself that, however good Raoul was at being charming, going the extra mile and throwing money at something with a generosity that would render most people speechless, he was still a man who walked alone and always would. He was still a man with an inbuilt loathing of any form of commitment, which in his head was the equivalent of a prison sentence.

      Yet again she was forced to concede that his invitation to be his lover would have sounded the death knell for any ongoing amicable relationship they might foster, because she would have been the one to get hurt in the end. She knew that if she got too close to him it would be impossible to hold any of herself back.

      But the steps he had taken to ensure that she walked into a house that was brilliant in every way moved her.