had felt more than a little guilty about that when he’d entered the estate agent’s a short time ago and recognized her as she sat behind the desk, but that guilt had since turned to admiration. March was absolutely beautiful when angry. Those unusual grey-green eyes sparkled with the emotion, her pale skin having a blushing hue, as for her mouth—!
But he wasn’t quite so comfortable with that quietly satisfied look on her face now…
‘Tell me, Mr Davenport…’ she leant across the desk confidingly ‘…are you particularly looking for somewhere here in town, or would somewhere further out be of any interest to you?’
Will eyed her warily. ‘That depends in which direction out it was,’ he answered guardedly.
As far as he was concerned, the job he did was completely harmless, moreover he was completely professional, but he had learnt from experience that not everyone looked on it in the same way. The fewer people who knew the reason for his presence in the area, the better it would be. For the moment.
‘Over towards the village of Paxton,’ March told him lightly. ‘If you don’t know where that is—’
‘I do,’ he cut in lightly. ‘Towards Paxton would be perfect.’
March looked startled. ‘It would…?’
‘Perfect,’ he repeated mockingly.
She could have no idea how perfect. In fact, it was exactly where he wanted to be. Staying in the area would mean he wouldn’t have to keep driving out there, could blend into the scenery more easily, and so not make himself quite so conspicuous to the locals. Certain locals in particular!
March looked a little less certain now. ‘The property I have in mind is on a farm in the area, not a cottage but a studio-conversion over a garage.’
‘Sounds good.’ He nodded. ‘When can I see it? I would really like to check out of the hotel and get moved in as quickly as possible,’ he added briskly at her surprised look.
She blinked at his decisiveness. ‘I’m not completely sure that the owners would be interested in a winter let, so I would have to call them first and check—’
‘Go ahead,’ he invited smoothly.
March looked totally nonplussed now. Obviously she wasn’t used to things moving quite this quickly. Well, she would have to get used to it, because Will didn’t have any time to waste, wanted to get the job done, and then get the hell out of Dodge City. Before anyone started baying for his blood!
‘Time is money, March,’ he prompted dryly.
She blinked, her expression suddenly becoming wistful. ‘My father used to say that,’ she explained huskily at his questioning look.
‘Used to?’ Will repeated softly.
March sat up straighter in her chair, that flush returning to her cheeks, as if she had said too much. ‘He died,’ she bit out abruptly, at the same time picking up the telephone. ‘I’ll call the farm now,’ she told him curtly.
Will watched March rather than listened to her conversation. She really was beautiful. Perhaps his time in Yorkshire wasn’t going to be quite as lonely as he had initially thought. If he could get past the prejudice she felt towards him because he had ‘usurped her parking spot’, that was!
‘Will one-thirty suit you for viewing, Mr Davenport?’ March looked enquiringly across the desk at him, her hand over the mouthpiece as she spoke. ‘Even farmers stop for lunch,’ she informed him dryly as he raised blond brows.
‘Fine,’ he snapped, knowing she was deliberately mocking him.
Was it so obvious that he had been born and lived in cities all his life? Probably. But he liked what he had seen of Yorkshire so far, and this part of the county was particularly beautiful.
Although he still had that niggling feeling that there was something not quite right about the property March was sending him to see. Perhaps the farmer had a particularly fierce bull he liked to set on strangers? Or perhaps a pack of hounds? Or perhaps she just found the idea amusing of placing Will, a man obviously used to the amenities of the city, on a farm?
It might be at that; as far as he was aware, he had never set foot on a farm in his life. But there was a first time for everything, and from the sound of it, the location was perfect…
‘That’s settled then, Mr Davenport,’ March told him briskly as she ended the call, writing an address down on a piece of paper before handing it to him. ‘I’m sure that either Mr Carter or Miss Jones would be only too pleased to accompany you—’
‘No, thanks,’ he cut in briskly. ‘I would rather find my own way around.’
She nodded. ‘But please feel free to call back and speak to either Mr Carter or Miss Jones if you find this particular rental unsuitable for your needs.’
Giving Will the clear impression that she already knew it wasn’t going to be!
Which only incited him into wanting to take that satisfied little smile off her beautiful face! ‘March, would you have dinner with me this evening?’
He almost laughed at the sudden stunned look on her face. Almost. Because even as he made the invitation he knew that he really did want her to have dinner with him…!
She was prickly and outspoken, absolutely nothing like a receptionist greeting the general public should be, but at the same time he liked her outspokenness, that sparkle in her eyes, and her beauty was indisputable.
She seemed to gather her scattered wits together with effort, straightening in her chair even as she began to shake her head. ‘I don’t think so, thank you, Mr Davenport,’ she refused tautly, those dark lashed grey-green eyes sparkling with indignation now.
He quirked blond brows. ‘No taking pity on a stranger in the area?’
Her mouth twisted derisively. ‘Being a stranger here, you may not have heard, Mr Davenport, but we had a stalker in the area until he was caught quite recently.’
As it happened, Will had heard—although he wasn’t quite sure he liked her implication!
‘As I recall, the man was a local,’ he reminded dryly.
‘Yes, he was,’ she confirmed abruptly, her cheeks pale now. ‘But that’s all the more reason to be doubly wary of strangers.’
He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and ask again—I won’t be a stranger then!’
March gave the ghost of a smile. ‘You can try,’ she challenged.
But he would be wasting his time, her words clearly implied. Pity. He would have liked to get to know her better.
‘Thanks, anyway, March.’ He stood up to leave. ‘I’m expected at one-thirty, you said?’
‘Lunchtime,’ she confirmed dryly.
Good, that would give him time to complete the other business he had in town. Although, so far, that was proving
