a break from business and asking the young woman he was presently seeing whether she fancied a trip to the Seychelles. Blue skies, blue water, tropical breezes, and five-star accommodation sounded pretty good to him, and he guessed it would sound pretty good to Jodi, too.
So why was he here in Ashford-St-James, lying to his father about checking out building regulations, to cross swords with a woman he’d sworn had nearly ruined his life? He was over her now, wasn’t he? Except for that niggling feeling of unfinished business where she was concerned.
‘Okay,’ he said, after a moment, ‘why don’t you tell me why you chose to leave a perfectly good job in London to move down here?’
Abby’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re not serious.’
‘Humour me.’
‘Why should I? What I do—or did—is nothing to do with you.’
Luke sighed. ‘I’d like to know. What happened to make you change your life so drastically?’
Abby shook her head. He thought she wasn’t going to answer him. Then she said flatly, ‘I got a divorce. That’s what happened. But you know that. So why are you asking these questions?’
Luke frowned. ‘I guess I’m wondering whether, after losing this business, you’ll be moving back to London.’
Abby stared at him for a moment without speaking. Then she turned and bent to deposit the cloth she’d been using below the counter.
‘I think you’d better go, Mr Morelli,’ she said. ‘I have no intention of answering any more of your questions.’
Luke watched her remove her apron and stow it in what appeared to be a laundry basket at the back of the serving area. Then she smoothed her hands down over what he could now see was a short pleated skirt above those long, spectacular legs.
If she was aware that he was watching her, she ignored it. She came to the end of the counter, and regarded him without a shred of liking in her cool gaze.
‘Please go,’ she said tersely. ‘I want to lock up.’
Luke’s hands dropped to his sides and he shoved his fingers into the back pockets of his jeans. Doing so tightened the fabric across his abdomen and he was instantly conscious of his semi-erection. His zip pressed uncomfortably against his groin and he was glad she was so intent on getting rid of him that she didn’t pay him any attention.
But he had one more parting shot. ‘I guess,’ he said provocatively as he strolled towards the outer door, ‘when Laurence threw you out, it would have been difficult to maintain your standard of living in the city. I hope he’s paying you some alimony. Losing this place will be quite a blow.’
He felt rather than saw her brush past him. Yanking open the door ahead of him, she said angrily, ‘Get out!’
Luke was in no hurry. ‘The truth hurts, doesn’t it?’ he remarked mockingly. ‘You should have considered the consequences before you thought of breaking your marriage vows.’
He was almost sure there were tears in her eyes now, but he refused to show her any remorse. It was time she started paying for what she’d done.
But as he stepped out into the street, he had to admit he didn’t feel the sense of closure he’d expected. It would come, though, he assured himself. Just as soon as he demolished the café and all the other businesses on this row.
But as the door slammed behind him he wished he didn’t feel such a bastard.
LUKE’S PLANE LANDED at Heathrow just after eight a.m.
His flight had been delayed in Hong Kong, and he’d had to kick his heels around the international airport there for more than three hours.
By the time he got out of the arrivals lounge at Heathrow and found his chauffeur, Felix, waiting for him, he was in no mood to make nice with anyone.
‘Good trip?’ queried Felix, getting behind the wheel, and Luke gave him a dour look.
‘How long have you been waiting?’ he asked, instead of answering the man, and Felix shrugged.
‘A couple of hours, give or take,’ he said pleasantly. ‘I checked the flight online and saw there’d been a delay. But I never trust those schedules. I prefer to come to the airport and see for myself.’
That, at least, drew a rueful smile from his employer.
‘They’re usually reliable, you know,’ Luke said drily. Then, hooking one ankle across his knee, he gazed out of the car’s windows at the overcast sky. ‘It’s been a long journey.’
‘I’ll bet.’ Felix glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. ‘Maybe you should have gone to Mahe, after all.’
‘Yeah.’
Luke conceded the point, but said nothing more. Maybe he should have taken Jodi to the Seychelles as he’d originally intended. But after that trip to Ashford-St-James, he’d been in no mood to spend time with another woman.
Instead, he’d spent a couple of weeks in Melbourne, catching up with what Ray Carpenter and his family were doing. And avoiding thinking about the development he’d been planning before he went away.
‘So,’ he said resignedly, ‘is there any news?’
‘I suppose it depends what you mean by news,’ replied Felix evenly. ‘Some guy involved with that site you’re hoping to develop in Wiltshire has started a petition. He’s claiming that the buildings you’re thinking of demolishing have historical significance and should be placed under a preservation order.’
Luke didn’t ask how the man had got his information. Somehow Felix always knew what was going on. But he didn’t have to think very hard to guess who he was talking about.
Greg Hughes!
So was Abby involved? He would have to find out.
* * *
It was almost dark when Abby got home after walking Harley. And raining quite heavily, too.
They’d circled the park a couple of times and then Abby had called at the local deli for groceries. She didn’t like to admit it, but it was true: Ashford-St-James did need a decent supermarket. One with its own parking area. That was one disadvantage about the café. There was nowhere to park nearby.
Not that she owned a car, she reflected with a sigh. She owned an old van that she used to collect supplies from the wholesalers, but that was all. And that had to be parked in the alley between the row of shops.
Her divorce from Harry had not been a pretty one, and, after paying for her mother’s funeral, Abby had been virtually broke. Only the modest price she’d got for her mother’s terraced house had enabled her to move away from London. But she’d been so desperate to escape, she’d have sacrificed any amount of money to be free.
She tried not to think about it these days. Leaving London had been the best thing she could have done. Had she stayed in the capital, she knew Harry would have found some way to hurt her. He was a vindictive man, and only the fear that his friends would make fun of him if he contested the divorce had forced him to let her go.
Abby let herself into the side door of the café premises and, after locking it and setting the dead bolt, she climbed the stairs to her apartment.
Harley frolicked ahead of her, full of beans after his walk. But Abby took the stairs a little more slowly, wondering how much longer she would be allowed to stay here.
It was a Friday evening, but, from her point of view, the weekend was usually her busiest time. Shoppers, who came into the small town at weekends to do their weekly shop, often came into the café for either coffee or lunch. But at least she’d have a whole day off on