replied Abby, glad there was no tremor in her voice. ‘Is that all?’
Luke scowled. ‘Is this how you treat all your customers? Because if so—’
‘You’re not really a customer, Mr Morelli, are you? You’re on a fact-finding mission. And I can always refuse to serve you. I have that right.’
Luke blew out a breath. He glanced about him, as if recognising there was no privacy here. ‘Well, tell me a good place to eat and I’ll buy you dinner this evening instead.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr Morelli.’ Abby refused to allow any trace of the temptation his words offered to show. With some relief she saw that two of her other customers had moved towards the till. ‘I’ll get your coffee.’
Luke had no choice but to let her go, and Abby hurried across to the counter. She had a few words with her departing regulars, rang up their tab, and then set about preparing the Americano Luke had asked for.
Her hands were shaking a little, but the machine did most of the work. She set his cup on a tray, added a small jug of cream and a sugar bowl containing both real and artificial sweeteners, and then turned back to deliver his coffee.
But Luke had gone. The table where he’d been sitting before their exchange was empty.
Setting the tray on the counter, she couldn’t deny a sinking feeling in her stomach. Although she’d been shocked to see him, she’d never expected him to leave so precipitately.
So what? Did she want to see him again? After everything that had happened, was she fool enough to believe anything good could come of this encounter?
The day stretched endlessly ahead of her. It was an effort to think of anything but how unnerving it had been to see Luke again.
She’d thought about him many times, especially after her divorce was made final. But she’d known that, as far as he was concerned, she was still a liar and a cheat.
So why had he offered her dinner?
The café—and the bookshop—closed at four o’clock most days, and Abby wasn’t usually eager to return to her flat upstairs where Harley was waiting for her.
Today, however, she couldn’t wait to put on her coat, grab Harley’s leash, and escape from the building. Luke’s appearance had been a damning confirmation that his plans were going ahead.
Until then, she’d clung to the hope that they might not get planning permission, or they’d discover the ground was too damp for a development of that kind. But those hopes had now been shattered.
At the back of the row of shops, there was a stretch of open land, and Greg Hughes had said that that was another reason why Gifford’s son was selling the properties. His father had owned the land, too, and, together with the shops that faced the street, the developers would have room for not only a car park, always useful in a town, but possibly a movie theatre, as well.
Still, for the moment, the land was unoccupied, and Harley really appreciated the opportunity to be let off the leash.
He wasn’t a young dog, but he still had plenty of energy and Abby bent and picked up a twig and threw it across the grass.
Straight into the path of a man who was coming from the opposite direction.
Luke Morelli.
* * *
Abby reached the outer door and peered outside. Fortunately the floodlights were still on and she could see the dark green Aston Martin standing in a pool of light.
To her relief, its occupant didn’t appear to have got out of the car. No doubt the rain—or perhaps the fact that he didn’t know the address he wanted—was giving him pause.
Was it Luke Morelli? The rain made it difficult to see clearly. It certainly looked like him, so she had to take that chance. She couldn’t allow her husband to come home and find him here.
She remembered too well the bruises on her breasts and stomach Harry had inflicted weeks ago when he’d discovered she’d had lunch with one of the professors from the university.
The fact that she could no longer wear her wedding ring, because he’d twisted her fingers so badly that the swelling was taking ages to go down, was another reason to turn on her. He was absurdly possessive. Particularly as God knew how many times he’d been unfaithful to her in the past.
Something she’d never even thought of.
Until now.
And she wasn’t really interested in Luke Morelli, she insisted to herself as she ran across the gravel car park to where the car was waiting. He’d brought her home from the hen party a week ago. That was all. He hadn’t even kissed her goodnight.
Although he’d wanted to. She was fairly sure of that. There’d been a moment, before she’d thrust open her door and hurriedly said goodnight, when she’d thought he was going to lean across the console and touch her. And she’d wanted him to, she acknowledged. Just for a moment, she’d wanted to feel like a desirable woman again.
It was Luke, and without hesitation Abby pulled open the car door and got inside. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked, indicating the rain. ‘It’s an awful night.’
‘It just got a whole lot better,’ said Luke with a grin. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Oh, you know...’ Abby waved an airy hand. ‘I was just looking out of the window, and I thought I recognised your car.’
‘And you thought you’d come down and apologise for not ringing me,’ suggested Luke drily. ‘Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to find you?’
Abby’s lips parted. ‘You’ve been looking for me?’ She hoped the alarm wasn’t evident in her voice.
‘Well, I’ve been trawling through the university webpages,’ he admitted. ‘But as I didn’t know your surname or what the hell subject you were researching, I was just wasting my time.’
‘Oh.’ Abby’s relief was almost palpable.
‘So Ray, the guy I was with at the wine bar, suggested checking out your apartment.’ He looked up at the apartment building. ‘This is a classy place, isn’t it?’ His eyes darkened. ‘I don’t know whether I can afford you.’
‘Oh—don’t be silly. I—I share the apartment with—with a friend,’ she stammered, not wanting him to think her job was anything special. ‘Um—she’s expecting me back. We were just going to have supper.’ She reached for the door handle. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got to go.’
Luke hesitated. ‘You don’t feel like going out for a meal instead?’
‘I can’t.’ Abby knew she was tempting fate, even sitting here in Luke’s car. ‘I’m sorry. Some—some other time, perhaps.’
Now why had she said that?
‘Okay.’ Luke seized on the compromise. ‘How about tomorrow night? I could pick you up here about eight. We could have dinner and then maybe
