you up here at about a quarter to four.’
‘But…’ He had already moved on. She hurried after him. ‘Why don’t you take your aunt?’
‘My aunt employed you to advise her and, since you are being paid handsomely for your expertise, I intend to take full advantage of your knowledge. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some phone calls to make. I won’t be in for lunch.’ He didn’t wait for her reply and she was left standing open-mouthed in the hall.
Catching sight of herself in a mirror, she shut her mouth quickly. ‘Watch it, Kate,’ she warned her reflection, and pulled a face at herself.
But in the event it hadn’t been quite as bad as she had expected. Jay Warwick had a first-class business brain. His meteoric success in the cut-throat world of television was testament to that. And having made his decision to let her stay—and she was in no doubt that if he had wanted her to go he would have found a way to get rid of her—he had obviously decided to establish a reasonable working relationship. In the interests of keeping Tisha happy. She took herself off to the pantry to make an inventory of baking tins. It was a soothing, monotonous job, requiring total concentration.
‘You’re very quiet, Miss Thornley.’ Jay Warwick changed gear as the road straightened and glanced across at her.
‘I didn’t realise I was expected to provide witty conversation as well as cook.’
‘Only if you feel up to it.’ He approached a tricky stretch of road and gave it his full attention and so missed the infuriated glance she threw at him. The road narrowed as it approached the small town of Oulton Market and Jay was forced to wait for a slow-moving tractor before he could park in the market square. Before she could release her seatbelt he was round the car and opening the door for her.
‘Now,’ he said, briskly, ‘We have the Copper Kettle and Martha’s Kitchen to choose from.’ He indicated two tearooms that gleamed at one another across the square. ‘Or should we try both?’
‘Oh, in the interests of market research I’m sure we should. Although it might look a little odd.’
‘And since presumably we’ll have to eat something, it could also prove rather fattening.’
She allowed her eyes to drift down his lean figure. ‘I don’t think so. Unless you’re trying to tell me that you run five miles a day and play squash three times a week?’
‘I get the feeling you would relish the idea of my suffering, Kate. But you’re quite right, I’m naturally skinny.’
‘Fishing for compliments won’t work with me, Mr Warwick. You already know what a very attractive man you are.’
‘You’re getting careless. That was almost a compliment.’
‘Was it? I can assure you it wasn’t meant to be.’
He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I begin to see why Tisha was impressed so with you. Which reminds me that she asked me to pick up a prescription for her.’
As they walked across the square to the chemist, Kate became increasingly aware that they were the centre of attention.
‘You’re attracting rather a lot of interest,’ she said, finally.
‘Not me. These people have known me all my life. You’re the one arousing local curiosity. You’re not quite my usual style, you see, so I’m afraid you’ll be the subject of ill-informed speculation over dinner-tables throughout the parish tonight.’ The idea did not appear to amuse him.
‘I imagine you’re referring to your famous weakness for leggy blondes? Surely they don’t get invited to Fullerton Hall? The sleeping arrangements are somewhat restricted. And I would have thought they preferred to stay a little nearer the bright lights.’
‘Would you?’ He pocketed the prescription and turned an expressionless gaze upon her. Then a touch of derision touched his smile. ‘The fortitude of some girls would probably amaze you. They’ll do anything to get on television. Even sleep alone.’ She swallowed hard as he took her arm and headed for Martha’s Kitchen. Apparently satisfied with the impression he had made, he handed her a menu. ‘What can I offer you?’
Kate had not needed to look at the menu, using it only as a shield to recover her composure. ‘A scone, please with fresh cream and raspberry jam.’
‘Is that all?
‘For the purposes of market research, Mr Warwick, it will do well enough.’ The waitress brought their tea. ‘I’ll pour, shall I? I don’t imagine you’ve had much experience with all those willing ladies eager to pander to your every whim.’
He bared his teeth at her as she poured two cups of tea. The waitress returned with their scones and Kate considered the offering.
Jay took the cup she handed to him and raised an enquiring brow as she broke the scone open, sniffed it, then pushed the plate away. ‘Well?’ he asked, slightly startled by this performance.
‘This is a mass-produced scone. It could be purchased in a packet in any supermarket and will last for days.’
‘Isn’t that good?’
Kate propped her elbows on the table and leaned her face on her hands. ‘That is a matter of opinion, Mr Warwick. But it isn’t what Tisha has in mind, and if this is the kind of stuff you’re prepared to offer your customers you certainly don’t need me.’
Jay Warwick regarded her over the edge of his teacup. ‘I thought we’d already established that.’
Kate stiffened. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’ she said, furious with herself for being lulled into a false sense of security. If she was the one to crack, his aunt could hardly blame him.
He produced a note and, dropping it on the table, rose to his feet. ‘How long do you think you will be able to stand it?’
‘As long as you can dish it out,’ she retorted.
His smile was grudging. ‘Have you seen enough? Or should we check up on the Copper Kettle?’
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mr Warwick. At Fullerton Hall, as I’m sure you already know since you seem to be quite bright, you’ll have a captive audience. And this place, at least, offers no incentive to escape.’
‘That was nearly another compliment,’ he said, a little brusquely, opening the car door for her. ‘Aren’t you afraid it will go to my head?’
Kate glanced up at him as she tucked her seatbelt into place. ‘I’m sure an ego as large as yours can handle it.’
His eyes darkened and she saw with a sudden shock that she had made him angry. ‘Damn you,’ he said, and shut the door with rather more force than was necessary and turned away.
‘Jay!’
He narrowed his eyes against the slanting sun and cursed softly under his breath. ‘Hello, Mike.’
‘I didn’t realise you were home.’ A man, a little above average in height and with soft brown hair, hurried across the square towards them. He glanced in the car at Kate and then, pointedly,
