much to the place—so there’s obviously some work to do. Everything’s still sound enough, but it’ll need decorating throughout, and I shall have great fun choosing the right sort of furniture. It’s going to be so wonderful to relax here whenever I can get away.’ She looked across at him, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, her eyes shining at the prospect.
‘So,’ Adam said slowly, ‘you’ve bought the cottage purely as a holiday home? You never intended it to be a permanent dwelling…or maybe a home for your family to share?’
‘I don’t have any family,’ Melody said, rather curtly. ‘This is going to be just for me.’
‘How often are you likely to be able to get here?’ he persisted.
Melody looked away quickly. What right did this man have to interrogate her? she thought. It was none of his business.
‘As often as I can,’ she said firmly. ‘A lot will depend on how things are at work.’ She paused, before adding, ‘I’m fund manager for one of the big banks,’ thinking that she might as well tell him what she did, how she earned her living, before he asked.
He picked up his fork then, and began to eat slowly. Well, what else had he thought? he asked himself. This was clearly a dynamic businesswoman whose daily bread was not likely to be earned in this or any other backwater. ‘You won’t exactly be number one in the popularity stakes,’ he said casually. ‘The locals don’t take too kindly to absentee property owners… people responsible for killing off villages like these. They want folk to live here and be part of the genuine life of the place—help to keep the school and the post office and the pubs going.’
Melody kept her eyes on her plate, trying not to seethe at the clearly admonishing tone in his remark. Of course she knew exactly what he was talking about. The press regularly ran features about the problem. And she reluctantly had to admit that she hadn’t given herself time to really think this through—hadn’t got to the point of wondering how often she’d be driving from town, or how long her visits might last. But that didn’t stop her thoroughly resenting this stranger giving her a lecture!
‘C’est la vie,’ she said coolly.
In those few seconds the cordiality of the occasion seemed to have vanished, and neither spoke for a while as they ate. Then she looked up. ‘Let’s talk about you and your plans,’ she said, in a way she recognised as her formal business voice. ‘If you had succeeded this morning you would obviously have had every intention of living at the cottage permanently, then? Which would have meant abandoning your job in the Far East?’
He returned her gaze, and the eyes which earlier had appeared a friendly blue-black colour now seemed to have acquired a hardened edge. ‘Good heavens, no,’ he replied casually. ‘I can hardly abandon my job—seeing that I’m a partner in the family firm over there.’ He finished his meal and put down his knife and fork. ‘My father and I transferred the business from England some years ago.’
Well, well, Melody thought cynically. This man, who’d just told her off for helping to ‘kill off’ the village, thought nothing of taking his family firm out of the country, obviously throwing employees out of work! Talk about double standards! She couldn’t let that pass!
‘So you were obviously not “number one in the popularity stakes”?’ she said, echoing his own words to her. ‘With your ex-staff, I mean. What a miserable bombshell that must have been for them.’
Adam frowned. ‘Wedidn’t take the decision lightly,’ he said slowly, throwing her a glance which held a hint of disdain at her comments. ‘We were able to give them all handsome redundancy payments, and my father—who is very well known in the industry—used his influence to find places for many of the men with our competitors.’ He paused. ‘He is a very thoughtful man…it caused him a great deal of worry at the time.’
‘Mmm,’ Melody murmured enigmatically, not wanting to let him off the hook too lightly, yet knowing full well the difficult position companies like his often found themselves in. Her doctorate in Business Studies and Law, together with her masterly understanding of today’s commercial world, made it difficult for her not to sympathise.
‘So,’ she said, as she finished her glass of water, ‘if you had managed to secure Gatehouse Cottage this morning, what would your plans have been for taking possession?’
‘Oh, I didn’t have any,’ he replied. ‘I wasn’t bidding for myself. I was there on behalf of friends of mine who have a very special reason for wanting to own it. Friends who’ve lived in the village all their lives and who have no intention of ever moving away,’ he added significantly.
Why was she being made to feel so guilty? Melody asked herself. This morning’s business transaction was legal and above board, with the best man winning! It was her good luck—and her considerable financial resources—that had made her the one to buy the cottage, yet the impression she was getting was that she had no right to own the place, and that everyone would hate her for it! This was not the way it was meant to turn out, and being with Adam Whoever-He-Was was making her feel uneasy.
She made a move to go, picking up her bag from the side of the chair.
‘Thank you very much for my lunch,’ she said, glancing across at him. ‘I enjoyed the crab cakes enormously, and I shall come back for some more before I go home.’
He stood up then, tilting his chiselled lips in a half-smile. ‘Glad you liked them,’ he said. ‘Um…wouldn’t you like coffee before you go?’
‘No, thanks. Not for me,’ Melody said. ‘I must get back to my hotel—I’m moving out from the Red House today—do you know it? It’s very comfortable.’
‘Of course I know the Red House. Everyone knows the Red House,’ he said off-handedly. ‘It’s got a formidable reputation in the area. So why are you moving out?’
‘I thought I’d come closer to the village. To my new property,’ Melody said neatly, throwing him a glance. ‘I rang a B&B that I’d noticed—there are quite a few of them to choose from! Luckily they had a vacancy, so I’ll be staying there for a week or two.’
Adam settled the bill at the bar, and they went out into the warm afternoon sunshine. He stood by the side of her car as she opened the door to get in.
‘Can you find your way back to the Red House from here?’ he asked. ‘Or would you like me to lead the way?’
‘Oh, there’s no need for that—thanks anyway,’ Melody said quickly. ‘I don’t have any problems with route-finding, and I was making mental notes of the direction we were going in as we drove here.’ She smiled up at him through the open window. ‘And I’m used to reading road signs.’
He shrugged briefly—as if to say, Well, I was only offering—then watched her reverse expertly in the confined space of the car park and drive away with a brief wave of her hand as she went.
Adam got into his own car and waited for a moment before switching on the engine. He felt instinctively that this was a rather unusual woman who didn’t fit in to his personal categories for the female race. He was certainly attracted to her and, although her petite stature gave her an air of vulnerability, she gave every impression of being someone who was well able to look after herself. Not to mention the fact that she was clearly a very experienced driver who had no difficulty in finding her way around! Now, why should that disturb him in a woman? he asked himself. Most females were rubbish at map-reading, or at even knowing their norths from their souths! But not, apparently, this one!
He stared pensively out of the window for a second. Whether she was brilliant behind the wheel or not wasn’t particularly relevant anyway…all he knew was that she was certainly a very intriguing woman—at any rate, she’d intrigued him more than anyone had done for a very long time!
He swept out of the car park, smiling briefly to himself, painfully aware that his present, overpowering sensation was one of wanting to cover those dainty,