style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Is it entirely family-run?’
‘The only Hogans in Pentiles are my father and myself. My brother’s CV is more glamorous. Liam’s an investment banker, and lives in London.’ He smiled. ‘I distribute tiles and live here in Pennington. I was making a detour through Campden Road to my place yesterday, trying to dodge rush hour traffic in the town centre.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘At which point you gave me the worst fright of my entire life.’
‘I gave you a fright?’ Sarah said indignantly. ‘For a moment my life flashed past before my eyes. I’ve got the scars to prove it, too.’ She held out her grazed palms.
He leaned forward to inspect them, and for a wild moment Sarah thought he was going to kiss them better, but he sat back, giving her the straight blue look again.
‘I apologise. Again. So, Miss Tracy. You know about my tiles. May I ask what you do with your life?’
Wishing it was more interesting, Sarah described her job briefly, then offered him another drink. And wished she hadn’t when he took this as a signal to leave.
‘I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,’ he said, getting to his feet, then smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Thank you for seeing me. And for the beer.’
When Sarah led the way inside he paused, his attention caught by a photograph on a side table. On their one and only excursion as a threesome Brian, who prided himself on his skill with a camera, had snapped Sarah and Davy laughing together from their perch on a five-barred gate. The result was so happy Sarah had framed it. Bright sunshine gleamed on two heads of glossy nut-brown hair, and picked out gold flecks in identical brown eyes.
‘She’s yours, of course,’ commented her visitor. ‘The likeness is remarkable. How old is she?’
‘Davina will be nine soon.’
‘Nine?’ His eyes were incredulous as he turned to look at her. ‘You must have been very young when she was born!’
Sarah nodded. ‘Eighteen.’ She went ahead of him along the hall to open the front door, and held out her hand to her unexpected guest. ‘It was very kind of you to come round, Mr Hogan. And I assure you that my dignity was the worst casualty during our encounter. Not counting my temper,’ she added ruefully. ‘I’m sorry I screamed at you like a fishwife.’
‘Hardly surprising—you’d had a hell of a shock. I was shattered myself.’ He took her hand very carefully for a moment, mindful of the grazes, and gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. ‘I hope your wounds heal soon, Mrs Tracy.’
‘Actually, it’s Miss Tracy,’ she corrected casually, and smiled. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Hogan.’
His sudden answering smile held a warmth Sarah responded to involuntarily. ‘It was my pleasure—a great pleasure,’ he assured her. ‘And I answer to Jake.’
CHAPTER TWO
SARAH was reading when her grandmother called in to report on the play. Margaret Parker’s eyebrows rose when she heard about the unexpected visitor.
‘Hogan? I’m sure I’ve heard that name somewhere quite recently.’
‘You probably read his success story in the local paper. He’s the brains behind Pentiles.’
‘The tiles we used in your bathroom? How impressive.’
‘He called this morning, too, while I was out. You were probably in the garden and didn’t hear the bell.’ Sarah gave her grandmother a challenging little smile. ‘Actually, I’m glad I was out. It meant I enjoyed a pleasant interlude in the garden with a very attractive stranger. Spiced up my Saturday evening no end.’
‘You’ve changed your tune since last night,’ said Margaret tartly. ‘Although you should be grateful to this Mr Hogan for making you miss the play.’ She looked down her nose. ‘The ex-soap star may have drawn the crowds in, but Oscar Wilde was probably spinning in his Paris grave at her interpretation of Lady Windermere.’
‘Oh, dear. You think Brian disapproved?’
‘Her costumes displayed so much cleavage I’m sure the male half of the audience were very happy.’
Sarah chuckled. ‘Brian’s not that sort.’
Margaret’s mouth tightened. ‘All men are that sort. As you very well know.’
Sarah took a while to get to sleep that night, trying to remember exactly what she’d read about Pentiles. She knew that Jacob Hogan had taken over the family business when quite young, and eventually turned it into its present success story. But to her annoyance she couldn’t remember if a wife had been mentioned in the article.
She sighed despondently. Not that it mattered. Men tended to lose interest in her once they found she came as a package with Davy. One look at her child’s photograph had probably killed all personal interest on Jake Hogan’s part. Brian, to his credit, had insisted that Sarah’s responsibilities as a single parent made no difference to their relationship. And in principle, she conceded, they probably hadn’t. Not that this had ever worried Sarah much because she had known from the beginning that, no matter how much her grandmother stressed Brian’s eligibility, there was no future in the relationship. Quite apart from the problem with Davy, he just didn’t appeal to Sarah in the normal male-female way.
Jake Hogan, on the other hand, appealed to her a lot. In every way. A fright and a graze or two were a small price to pay for meeting the most attractive man to enter her life to date, even if it was just a one-off experience.
Next morning Sarah drove out of town for a couple of miles to make for the Rogers home, where screams of laughter could be heard coming from the depths of its vast, wild garden when she arrived. Alison Rogers welcomed her into the house and took her straight to a big, comfortably untidy kitchen, where it was pleasant to sit for a while and chat over coffee while Don Rogers went to collect Polly and Davina.
‘Thank you so much for having Davy,’ Sarah said gratefully. ‘This was quite a big step for her. She’s never wanted a sleepover before, let alone a whole extra day away from home.’
‘She told me that,’ said Alison, pleased. ‘We’re flattered. And as far as we’re concerned Davy can make a return visit any time. It was far less trouble for us than keeping Polly entertained on her own. Now she’s a weekly boarder our daughter demands our undivided attention every minute of the day at weekends. I expect it’s the same with Davy.’
‘Absolutely!’
‘But you have to cope on your own, which must be hard.’ Alison bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to get personal. But Davy told us she’s never had a daddy.’
‘That’s right,’ said Sarah cheerfully. ‘Men don’t feature in Davy’s life, so I hope your husband didn’t find her too much of a nuisance.’
‘Don took to her on sight—as you can see.’ Alison got up to point through the window, where her large husband was tearing towards the house in mock terror, with two little girls chasing after him, screaming in delight.
Sarah laughed as she watched Don Rogers capture a little girl under each arm
