shoving a CD into the player, he backed the vehicle out onto the road.
So far he’d only seen a small part of the area. Cumbria and the Lake District were only a couple of hours’ drive west but, without much hesitation, Jack headed for the A1.
As he drove Jack wondered if he’d intended to visit Alnwick all along or whether Lisa’s taunts had piqued his interest. Either way, he refused to concede that he had any anticipation of seeing Grace again.
He was lucky enough to get parked in the town centre.
Despite the lowering clouds, there were plenty of people about, and Jack bought a map of the area before retiring to the nearest coffee shop to study it.
‘Looking for somewhere in particular?’
The pretty waitress who’d served him his coffee was standing at his shoulder and Jack looked up at her ruefully, wishing he had an answer for that.
‘Not specially,’ he replied non-committally. ‘I’ve never been to Alnwick before.’
‘Oh, you’re a tourist!’ The girl evidently thought she had him taped. ‘You’re from Ireland, aren’t you?’ She smiled flirtatiously. ‘I love your accent.’
‘Thanks.’ Jack grinned, amused in spite of himself. ‘Do you live in Alnwick?’
‘Just outside.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s too expensive to live in town.’
‘It is?’
‘Oh, God, yes.’ She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the proprietor of the café hadn’t noticed she was wasting time. ‘It’s just as well you’re not looking for a house.’ She dimpled. ‘Unless you’re a secret millionaire, of course.’
Jack looked down at the map again, not wanting to give her any ideas. Besides, he reminded himself, he hadn’t come here looking for property.
Or estate agents, if it came to that.
‘Are you staying in town?’
The girl was persistent and Jack decided he had to nip this in the bud.
‘No,’ he said neutrally, swallowing the last of his coffee and pulling out his wallet. ‘I’m heading north to—’ He cast a quick glance at the map. ‘To Bamburgh.’ He got to his feet. ‘I believe there’s a castle there, too.’
‘Are you interested in castles?’
When Jack started for the counter to pay his bill, she accompanied him, apparently indifferent to the customers still waiting to be served.
Avoiding a direct answer, he said, ‘Thanks for your advice.’ He accepted his change with an apologetic smile for the cashier, hoping he could get out of the café without offending the waitress hovering behind him.
But to his dismay, she followed him to the door.
‘If you need someone to show you around, I’ll be finished in an hour,’ she offered eagerly. And Jack was just about to break his own rules and blow her off when the door opened and another young woman came in.
‘Jack!’
‘Grace.’
Jack managed to keep his reaction under control. But he was fairly sure that Grace had immediately regretted the way his name had sprung so effortlessly to her lips.
However, it was the young waitress who looked the most put out.
‘Hi, Grace,’ she said grudgingly. Then, glancing at Jack, ‘Do you two know one another?’
‘Um—a little.’
Grace was offhand, and before Jack could say anything in his own defence the waitress spoke again.
‘Hey,’ she exclaimed disbelievingly. ‘Don’t tell me this is your boyfriend. I thought his name was Sean.’
In the circumstances, Grace was loath to say anything. She felt hot colour rising up into her face. Of all people to run into—again—it had to be Jack Connolly. And, judging from the other girl’s attitude, she wouldn’t be averse to him taking an interest in her.
And why should it bother her? thought Grace crossly.
Meanwhile, Jack was feeling significantly peeved. He was all too aware of how the situation must look to Grace and he didn’t like it.
‘Look, I’m leaving,’ he said, uncaring at that moment what either of them thought of him. He nodded to Grace. ‘See you around.’
GRACE CAME OUT of the café a few minutes later carrying three cups of cappuccino in a paper sack and a bag containing the sugary pastries Mr Hughes was partial to.
She didn’t enjoy this part of her job. But being the youngest in the agency, she was expected to do the coffee run. She supposed it was better than having to make it herself, but there were days, like today, when she had other things to think about.
Like explaining to William Grafton why his offer for the cottages at Culworth had been rejected.
She wasn’t looking forward to that, either, but Mr Hughes had been adamant that it was her responsibility.
‘You have to learn to handle awkward clients, Grace,’ he’d told her firmly. ‘In an agency like ours, we can’t just pick and choose.’
She could have said that handling awkward clients was the least of it. Handling a man who could lose her her job—however undesirable that job might be—was something else.
She glanced about her a little apprehensively as she crossed the street to the agency. But to her relief there was no sign of Jack Connolly waiting outside.
There was a big Lexus parked across the square that she thought might belong to him. But the vehicle was empty. Which was probably just as well.
Probably?
Impatient with herself for even doubting that scenario, she pushed open the door of the agency and stepped inside.
Only to find Jack Connolly standing in the reception area, showing every appearance of being interested in the properties displayed on the walls.
Not that she’d be expected to deal with him, she saw, with mixed feelings. Standing just beyond Jack was William Grafton, his broad, smug features lighting up when he saw her.
‘Grace,’ he exclaimed, and Grace was aware that his use of her name had attracted Jack’s attention. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. Grant tells me you have some news for me.’
Grace took a deep breath. Then, setting Elizabeth Fleming’s coffee on her desk, she did the same with her own before heading for the private office where Grant Hughes worked.
‘I won’t be a minute, Mr Grafton,’ she said, wondering if her
