to have a little fun at March Calendar’s expense—as she had done earlier with him!—quite another for him to actually become involved with any of the Calendar sisters.
From all accounts, with Max’s recent—surprising!—engagement to January Calendar, his friend had already fallen into that particular trap; he didn’t think Jude would appreciate having Will do it too!
‘I CAN’T believe I’m actually doing this,’ March muttered as she rolled out the pastry for the apple pie.
May chuckled behind her as she laid the kitchen table for their evening meal.
‘Will Davenport had better eat this after I’ve gone to all this trouble!’ March added disgruntledly.
‘Why did you send him here if you don’t like him?’ May sounded puzzled. ‘Although, personally, I have to say I found him extremely charming.’
March continued to make the pie. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Will Davenport—she did, too much if the truth were told—but there was just something about him… Maybe she was imagining it, but she just had a feeling there was something he wasn’t telling them.
Which was pretty stupid, when she actually thought about it; considering they really knew very little about Will Davenport, not even the reason he was in the area on business, there was a lot they didn’t know about him!
‘I hope the studio is warmer now,’ May added worriedly, glancing out the kitchen window across to the garage/studio.
Will had arrived back at the farm over an hour ago, the lights on above the garage to show his occupancy, although they had seen nothing of the man himself.
Although that was soon going to change, March realized after a brief glance at the clock; in just over half an hour, Will was going to arrive for dinner.
‘Did he say anything to you about why he’s in the area?’ March prompted her sister casually as she cleared away her mess.
‘Just looking around,’ May answered distractedly, obviously still worried about the heating in the studio.
‘At what?’ March turned to her sister frowningly.
May shrugged. ‘He didn’t say.’
‘Why didn’t you ask?’ March sighed frustratedly. ‘I would have done.’
‘I know you would have done.’ Her sister gave a frustrated shake of her head. ‘You didn’t answer my question about why you don’t like him?’ she reminded shrewdly.
‘I don’t have to like the man in order to rent the studio to him,’ March snapped, totally avoiding meeting her sister’s probing gaze.
‘Mercenary.’ May laughed softly.
Not at all. But if she was going to manage to keep the farm at all then the studio would have to be let as much as possible to help pay the way. Which meant she couldn’t be too choosy about whom she let it to!
Until quite recently the three sisters had been unanimous in their determination to keep the farm. But all that had changed in the last few weeks. January had just become engaged to Max, and it was pretty obvious that they weren’t going to wait too long before getting married. And May, whose hobby was acting in the local amateur dramatic society, had recently been spotted by a film director who was interested in casting her in the film he was to make in the summer. Which left only March…
Maybe it didn’t make much sense, or maybe she was just being her normal stubborn self, but March didn’t want to sell the farm to this elusive Jude Marshall just so that he could include it in the neighbouring estate, which he had recently purchased, to make into an extensive health and country club! From the little she had been able to find out, the farm was to become part of the golf club he intended building on the complex. A golf club, for goodness’ sake—when her family had lived and worked on this farm for generations.
March turned from putting the pie in the oven, frowning slightly. ‘Talking about money—’
‘When aren’t we?’ May put in disgustedly.
March smiled in sympathy. ‘For once I wasn’t referring to our own lack of it.’ She grimaced. ‘There’s something going on at the agency that just doesn’t make sense to me. Well, it does. But—’ She broke off as a brief knock sounded on the kitchen door, rapidly followed by Will Davenport’s expected appearance. ‘Never mind,’ March told her sister dismissively. ‘I’ll talk to you about it some other time.’
‘Am I too early?’ Will hesitated in the doorway at March’s glare.
‘Of course not,’ May was the one to answer him welcomingly—cutting off March’s more blunt reply!—quickly pulling Will inside and shutting the door to keep out the cold.
Something March was grateful for, knowing herself overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of uncharacteristic shyness.
She hadn’t really thought that Will Davenport would actually want to rent the studio, had been, as he’d said earlier, just paying him back a little for his ungentlemanly behaviour of this morning. But now that he had decided to rent the studio, after all, she realized just how attracted she was to him.
Which was pretty stupid of her, in the circumstances; Will was only going to be around for a couple of weeks, would then leave to return to heaven knew where. Could even be—that dinner invitation apart!—returning to his wife and children, for all she knew!
But just looking at him beneath lowered lashes was enough to make her heart skip a beat. He was so tall his head almost brushed the beamed ceiling, that silver-blond hair falling endearingly across his forehead, blue eyes gleaming with good humour, lithely attractive in a thick blue sweater and faded blue denims.
Who was Will Davenport? More to the point, what was he doing in the area? Until she at least had the answer to those questions, perhaps she had better err on the side of caution—
Better err on the side of caution! What was wrong with her? Didn’t she have enough on her plate, trying to find ways in which she could keep the farm, without adding the complication of being attracted to Will Davenport?
‘Is that an apple pie I smell cooking?’ He sniffed the air appreciatively, blue eyes gleaming with laughter as he looked across at March challengingly.
Her mouth twisted derisively. ‘Somehow I doubt it,’ she drawled. ‘There is no smell of cooking from an Aga,’ she added as she took pity on his look of disappointment.
‘Your sister does love her little joke, doesn’t she?’ He grimaced at May.
‘More like a twisted sense of humour,’ May murmured affectionately, taking his jacket and hanging it behind the door. ‘I hope eating in the kitchen is okay with you,’ she added frowningly.
‘It happens to be the warmest room in the house,’ March put in bluntly; they always ate in the kitchen, so why apologize for it?
‘This is great,’ Will enthused. ‘Once I’m
