of the village school to get a quote, called Maybridge High and spoke to the school secretary who pointed her in the direction of teachers who would remember him. She left messages for them to call her back. That done, she hit the internet in order to find out what he’d been up to since he’d left Cranbrook. How he’d transformed himself from disaffected youth to millionaire. That was the big story.
She ran into a blank wall.
When Ms Webb said that Mr North did not speak to the press, she hadn’t been kidding.
Hal wasn’t one of those CEOs who courted publicity. He didn’t date supermodels, big himself up on television talk shows, or appear in Celebrity magazine attending showbiz parties. Of course he didn’t. If he’d done any of those things she would, undoubtedly, have seen him. And if he was happily married with a parcel of children he’d kept that to himself, as well.
The kiss that still burned on her lips suggested otherwise. Or, if he was married, the relationship was clearly more of a hobby than a full-time occupation.
No.
Despite the endless stream of girls who had made his life sweet when he was a youth living on the estate, she didn’t see him as a man who’d play the field once he’d found his mate.
‘Oh, get real,’ she muttered.
She knew nothing about him. Only that he made the air sizzle. Made her pulse race, her heart pound. Which was as ridiculous now as it had been when she was a pre-pubescent fantasist who would have fainted if he’d as much as winked at her.
Okay. She had the boy, the youth and by the time she left to pick up Ally from school, she had school photographs, anecdotes from teachers and enough general background to email Brian and ask him if she could go to London on a quest to fill in the more recent past. The fact that he agreed so readily, suggested he had already drawn a blank himself.
She’d just opened the back door when she heard the crunch of gravel. Gary with her bike.
Not Gary.
Like iron filings, a gazillion cells turned in one direction as if someone had switched on an electro-magnet. That had to explain the sudden dizziness as Hal North rounded the corner of the cottage, stopped as he saw her.
‘You’re on your way out?’ he asked.
‘I was just going to pick up Ally from school,’ she said, banging the door behind her and heading for the gate.
‘How’s your foot?’ he asked, falling in beside her.
‘What? Oh, good as new,’ she said. Not. Her heel was throbbing and walking on the gravel was painful. ‘What do you want, Hal?’
‘To explain about your bike.’ He looked at her foot, clearly not convinced. ‘Can I give you a lift? We can talk on the way.’
There was an ancient estate Land Rover parked at the gate and he opened the door. It was high and as she put her weight on her foot to haul herself up, she gave a little gasp and he put his hands on her backside and gave her a boost up.
‘Okay?’
Okay?
You went eight years without a man’s hand on your backside and then it happened twice in as many days…
‘Fine,’ she snapped and reached to the seat belt, any excuse to look away.
He climbed in beside her, teased the cranky old machine into life, then turned it and headed into the village.
‘So? What’s the verdict on my bike?’ she asked.
‘It’s a mess,’ he said, above the noise of the engine. ‘You’re going to need a new wheel and front mudguard. I’m doing my best to locate one.’
‘You could have phoned to tell me that.’ Then, aware that she had sounded less than grateful, ‘I meant you didn’t have to come specially.’
‘I was at this end of the estate.’
‘Inspecting your domain?’
He glanced at her. ‘Something like that,’ he said.
Damn! There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask and she’d blown her chance with a snarky remark. But while it was easy enough to be focussed, professional when he was just a name, a face on her computer, up close and personal—with the imprint of his hand on her bottom still warm in the memory—it was difficult to be dispassionate. Professional. Cool.
‘When were you going to tell me that you’ve bought Cranbrook Park?’ she asked, doing her best to recover the situation.
‘Would you have believed me if I’d told you this morning?’
‘We’ll never know,’ she said, as he pulled up in front the school. Then, rolling her eyes she said, ‘Probably not.’
‘No.’ Her honesty earned her one of those rare smiles. ‘And I knew you’d read about it in the paper on Monday.’
A group of mothers turned as one to see who had arrived. Gossip city.
‘I’d better go. I’m supposed to be supervising some workmen.’
‘You’re going to be a hands-on lord of the manor, then?’ It had been a very long time since she’d given anyone anything to talk about so she might as well make the most of it.
‘Just taking a few days out to play with my expensive new toy,’ he said, with the merest edge of self-mockery in response to her sarcasm.
‘Expensive, I have no doubt, but Cranbrook Park is not a toy.’
‘No. Like all my investments, it will have to work for its keep.’
‘How? What are you going to do with it?’
He leaned across her, threatening a sensory overload as his arm came within a whisker of her breast and she had a close-up of his cheekbone, a lungful of the scent of his skin, hair as he opened her door. ‘I’ll have someone bring your bike back when it’s fixed.’
She slid down onto the pavement, turned to face him.
‘Ask Gary,’ she said. ‘He might even be able to straighten out the wheel. He’s like you, good with his hands.’ And she blushed.
‘Goodbye, Claire.’
‘Goodbye, Hal. Thanks for the lift.’
She slammed the door shut and watched the old Land Rover move away through the village leaving her engulfed in the scent of hot metal and diesel.
Work for its keep…
Was that a warning that her days of paying a low rent in return for keeping the cottage in good repair were running out?
He’d warned her not to spend money on wallpaper…
All her hard work would mean nothing to him. Her cottage was pretty, her garden was a showpiece. It would fetch three times the rent she paid on the open market.
It wasn’t just her job that was under threat, but she was being forced to seriously consider the possibility that she would lose her home.
‘Mum!’ Ally flung herself at her.
‘Hi, angel. I’m home early so I thought I’d come and meet you. Do you want to ask Savannah if she’d like to come to tea?’
‘Absolutely not. I am never talking to her again.’
Oh, terrific.
* * *
He could have phoned, should have phoned, Hal knew, but like coming back to Cranbrook Park, he was drawn to Claire Thackeray by something he couldn’t explain.
Robert Cranbrook was right, he had obsessed about owning the Park, it had driven him and he’d commissioned plans for its future long before it had been on the market. He’d known it was only a matter of time.
It