Tempted by Trouble (14 page)

‘It's okay. I'm glad it was there for you. All well?'

‘Yes. Gran decided to go off and look for Basil. She caught the bus to Melchester, but got off when she recognised a pub they all used to go to. It was all changed inside and when he wasn't there she panicked.'

‘Have you asked her what RSG means?'

‘On the way home. No joy.'

‘Just a thought. What are you doing?' he asked. ‘Right now?'

‘Right now.'

‘I'm lying with my head in the dent you made in my pillow.'

‘I wish I was still there,' he murmured.

‘Me too.' Wished he was lying beside her instead of just being a disembodied voice in her ear. ‘I wish you were here, lying beside me, holding me. Kissing me.'

‘You'll have to move over,' he said.

‘Get here and I will,' she said, then, as there was a tap on her door, she realised that the sound in her ear was the dialling tone.

‘Come in…'

The door swung open.

‘Sean…'

‘Your wish is my command.'

She didn't speak, just moved over and he came and sat beside her, kicked off one of his shoes.

‘Sean! Mabel has just eaten half a pound of Parmesan cheese!' Sorrel called up the stairs.

‘Mabel?' Elle queried.

‘A dog.' He pushed his foot back into the shoe, took her hand, pulled her to her feet, held her for a moment. Kissed her. ‘It's
a long story. Maybe we should go for a walk while I tell you. I suspect, right now, she's a walking time bomb.'

 

‘Where on earth did she come from?' Elle asked as they headed across the Common towards the riverbank. ‘If I'd imagined you with a dog it would have been some glossy pedigree, not that sorry excuse for a mutt.'

‘Her owner died. She had nowhere to go.'

‘So you took her in?' The commitment-phobic male who didn't have as much as a goldfish in his spare and beautifully furnished home? Why wasn't she buying that? ‘Between waking up this afternoon and now?'

‘It was an emergency.'

‘So would that be permanently? Or until you can find a good home for her?' she asked.

‘A dog isn't just for Christmas, Elle.'

‘A pity more people didn't realise that. I suppose you could change her name,' she said.

‘Wouldn't that confuse her?'

‘Actually, I don't think dogs care what you call them. As long as you call them.'

‘And what about you? Are you Elle this evening? Or Lovage?' he said.

‘Is there a difference?' she asked carelessly. As if she didn't know.

‘There is a touch of split personality about you. This morning you were most definitely Lovage. Warm, loving, with passion simmering just beneath the surface. You were Lovage when I arrived just now, but you seem to have morphed into the practical, down-to-earth Elle.'

‘Is that a problem?'

‘No. I like you both,' he said.

They walked beside the river, with Mabel eagerly sniffing every tree. Called at the pub for a drink. Had something to eat sitting outside. Were home by nine.

Sean shut Mabel in the Land Rover, then walked Elle as far
as the side gate. ‘What have we got this week with Rosie?' he asked.

‘We?'

‘I feel bad about abandoning you to Rosie's moods yesterday.'

‘I coped. I will cope. It's my business, Sean, and I'm taking it seriously.'

‘Does that mean you'll be giving in your notice at the Blue Boar?' he asked casually.

‘Not yet. Not until I know Rosie is capable of supporting us. I need to know that I have some money coming in.'

‘Scared?'

‘Witless. So thank you. I would be grateful for your help at the company reception on Wednesday,' she said.

‘That would be a black lace dress affair?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘Then nothing will keep me away. Anything else?'

Oh, yes. What she wanted, had wanted all evening with a scratchy kind of longing, was for him to kiss her witless. Be the man she'd left in her bed that morning. But he was right. She was being practical, careful Elle and he was taking his cue from her. Being a friend.

‘Don't worry about Wednesday. You're a busy man and Sorrel is going to help me,' she assured him.

He put a hand against the wall behind her, leaning in, backing her up so that she could feel the warm brick catching at her hair, pulling it free from the restraining plait. ‘That would be the Sorrel who's been working all week to get
Scoop!
up and running. The same Sorrel who isn't supposed to be deflected by anything until she's got a first class degree?'

She could feel his breath against her temple. Her own breath seemed stuck somewhere between in and out and going nowhere.

A hot, sexy friend who was turning her insides to mush and tossing sense out of the window.

‘Good point,' she gasped. ‘But if you take her place, who'll look after Mabel?'

Elle being practical. Showing him how commitment worked.

‘Geli said she'd dog-sit any time.'

‘Geli? When?' Then, catching on, ‘Is this one of her waifs and strays?'

‘Not now. I'm on a month's trial, but I'm not giving her back.'

‘Wednesday, then. Six o'clock.'

‘I'll be here.'

She swallowed. ‘Great. Can Mabel wait while you have a cup of…tea?'

Sean smiled at the way she'd carefully avoided the ‘coffee' euphemism.

‘I'm sorry.'

Truly sorry. He'd had time to think this afternoon. About Elle. About himself. About the two of them. He didn't want this to be some casual relationship that they fell into and then out of as quickly. He wanted to get to know her. Wanted her to get to know him. It was too important to rush, but right now this slow courting was scrambling his brain.

He loved the fact that they had talked this evening, shared the small stuff, laughed a lot. But it was a good thing that it was Elle in residence tonight because otherwise he wouldn't have been responsible for his actions.

‘I'm afraid Mabel is not quite as house-trained as I was led to believe. She'll chew the seat to shreds if I leave her in the car. You might get Sorrel to run the Trades Descriptions Act by Geli.'

‘What can I say?'

‘Kiss me?' he suggested.

She swallowed. ‘Kiss me,' she whispered.

And he cradled Elle's head in his hands and kissed her. A
long, lingering kiss that left him wanting more. Hopefully left her wanting more too. And then he walked away while he still could.

 

Mabel chewed Sean's boots, chased the ducks, stole his breakfast while he had his back turned and rolled in anything disgusting that she could find.

But then she lay on his feet beneath his desk in the office, sneaked onto the sofa at night and pressed against him to have her ears rubbed, woke him with a wet nose under his chin. And she was quick. She'd learned that while he'd tolerate the loss of his breakfast and was prepared to hose her down no matter how bad she smelled, the ducks were off limits.

And he learned, too. Learned that, like the land, people responded more readily to warmth than prickly reserve. Olivia was relaxed and was coming up with ideas for the stable block that had him eating his words. And she and Hattie were ganging up to promote the Orangery as a wedding venue. He should have hated it, but found himself enjoying the tussle. And Elle had been part of that, punting for wedding business for Rosie when they'd all had supper together at the barn with Henry and the children, down for the long weekend, after the Steam Fair.

And he'd retrieved the box that contained his mother's possessions, found a photograph of his mother.

‘Your father took this,' Elle said, when he showed it to her.

‘How do you know that?'

‘Look at her eyes. They're shining. Anyone can see that she's looking at the man she loves. She was lovely.'

‘Yes, she was. I hadn't realised.'

‘Put it in a frame. Remember her, Sean.'

 

Elle loved having Sean at her side at evening functions. Excluding the hen night. Those girls might be wearing angel
wings but when they were out for fun any man was game and she was beginning to think of him as hers.

It was dangerous, risking-the-heart territory, but that was what a heart was for. To give. And she'd already given hers. It was his. All he had to do was take it.

Sean… Well, he seemed to feel that he needed to prove something to her. Or maybe to himself. That he wasn't like her father. Or his.

That he didn't just want one thing. That he was fine with her family. Maybe getting that way with his own. Healing…

No problem. Some things were worth waiting for. Meanwhile, she had him for walks, for supper occasionally, and for kisses that made it increasingly hard to say goodnight.

And she still had the ‘call me' option. His birthday, as she'd discovered from Olivia, wasn't that far off.

 

Sean felt his heart expand under Elle's warmth. She filled his evenings with fun, his heart with love. Shared quiet days with him with only Mabel at their heels while they explored the river, lay in the meadow, hidden from the world as the wild flowers reached full height. While he tested a strength, a certainty growing in him that he was more than he believed. While she learned to trust that he would be there for her. Always.

‘I
'M REALLY
sorry, Freddy, but I can't work tomorrow. In fact, I need to talk to you about my hours.'

She'd switched shifts with the girl who owed her from the previous week but Freddy had found out and had called her in early, apparently furious. As if it made any difference to him as long as he had staff cover.

‘Saturday is a big day and you are my top waitress but clearly you have more interesting things to do these days,' he said, tossing the
Country Chronicle
on his desk, open at the article featuring the television shoot in Upper Haughton. ‘You appear to be running your own business around mine.'

She hadn't seen the new edition of the magazine but, as there was a large photograph of her standing in front of Rosie, describing her as ‘local events entrepreneur, Elle Amery' there was no point in denying it.

‘This was on the sixth?' he said. ‘The same day as the “family crisis” that kept you from work?'

‘It was a family crisis. My great-uncle has disappeared and I had to stand in for him. He'd signed a contract with the film company and they were going to sue if someone didn't turn up.'

Freddy didn't look impressed. Well, she wasn't sure she'd have believed her, either.
…I had to spend the morning filming a television programme; I didn't want to do it, honest, but I didn't have any choice…
Not the world's most convincing excuse.

‘I suppose this is why you've been swapping your shifts, letting other women take them when you're too busy for the day job? Did you think I wouldn't notice?'

‘I never left you without cover,' she said, wondering why on earth she was feeling so guilty. It wasn't as if he'd paid her for the day she'd missed. ‘It's why I can't work on Saturday. Rosie, that's the ice cream van,' she explained, ‘is booked for a wedding.'

‘I see. And yet I seem to remember that not long ago you were asking me for extra hours because of yet another financial crisis at Chez Amery.'

‘It was all very sudden, Freddy—'

‘And then, of course, there's the small matter of the dress you ruined.'

‘Excuse me?'

‘The Honourable Miss Pickering, the young lady whose dress you drenched while you were flirting with her boyfriend, brought in the receipt. She expects compensation.'

‘A few drops of water wouldn't ruin a linen dress,' she protested.

‘She said it was wild silk.'

‘Not in a million years. She's trying it on.'

Freddy reached out, touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘No, my dear. I think that would be you.'

She took a step back. ‘Me?'

‘Little innocent, Elle Amery. Leading me on with those big eyes. Promising me. Soon, soon… But always making me wait a little longer. All lies.'

‘Freddy,' she said sharply, hoping to make him snap out of it, get a grip. She backed away, stumbling against a chair. He
was on her before she could move, trapped against the edge of his desk, the wall to one side, Freddy the other.

‘I've been good to you, Elle. So good to you. And so patient.' She tried not to flinch as he stroked her jaw, but almost fainted as his thumb brushed over her lips. He caught her with his other hand, his fingers biting into her arm as he held her up, pushing her back against the desk with his body. ‘Very good and very patient and it's time to stop playing the innocent little girl with me.'

‘Freddy…' This time the word was squeezed through her throat as he leaned closer.

‘But you're not a little girl any more, are you?'

Oh, no. No, no, no…The words were filling her head but they couldn't make it through the fear blocking her throat, a great hard lump…

‘I saw the way you looked at that man. He left a note and his telephone number, but I won't have you picking up men right under my nose.'

This was her fault.

Freddy had always been protective of her. She'd been so young when she'd started working for him and he knew her history, the trouble she and her family were in. She'd been grateful for his help, even though she'd always known, on some subconscious level, that it was more than a fatherly interest. That she needed to take care.

But the job had been too important and she'd ignored the warning voices, pushing them to the back of her mind. And everything had been fine, under control. Until this moment, she had never felt threatened by him.

‘I've seen you with him. Walking across the Common when you should have been here, with me…' Noooo…

If she didn't do something, scream, use her knee, fight him, he was going to touch her, kiss her. Do something much worse.

Cleaners. Where were the cleaners?

But it was as if her vocal cords were set in concrete and, like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, nothing was getting through from her brain to her limbs.

His breath was on her cheek, his mouth inches from her own and the further back she leaned to escape him the more vulnerable she became.

She was close to blacking out, gasping for breath, when a sharp rap on the door had Freddy spinning round, leaving her slumped against the wall, struggling for breath.

‘Who let you in?' Freddy gasped. ‘We're not open.'

‘A cleaner was just leaving but I'm not here to eat.' Sean stepped from the shadow of the lobby and into the office, his face set in the expressionless mask that she'd seen once before.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you at work, Elle, but when I went to the house your grandmother told me that Mr Frederickson had called and asked you to come in early.'

‘This is a private staff meeting—'

‘I can see exactly what this is…' Sean's voice was so cold that Elle shivered ‘…but your quickie over the desk is going to have to wait until I've passed on a message.'

What? Then, bypassing the ‘quickie' remark, ‘What message? Have you found Basil? Where? Where is he?' It came out as little more than a croak.

He didn't answer, simply handed her a postcard with a picture of Brighton Pavilion on one side. On the other was a brief message:

‘He's okay,' she said.

‘Apparently. RSG
is
the Royal St George. But it's a hospital.'

Sean turned away from her flushed cheeks, tousled hair, the
unfastened top button on her shirt, calling himself every kind of fool.

He'd seen it on that Saturday night, when Freddy had pawed her and she'd smiled right back at him.

He'd seen the way she'd blushed when Sorrel had teased her about the man, changed the subject when Geli had been rather more forthright. The way she'd brushed aside his warning that Freddy's interest was more than fatherly.

Idiot that he was, it had never occurred to him that she would go to such lengths to keep her job. Keep her family. Even when she'd told him that she would do anything for them.

Damn Basil. Damn Rosie. Damn his own foolishness for falling for the blushing innocence. No one that innocent could have played him so sweetly, drawing him in despite his determination to run, not walk away. Left him weak with frustrated longing with phone teasing innuendo.

That she was her mother's daughter there could be no doubt. While he'd been daydreaming about days on the river, walking her through the wild flower meadow that he'd regenerated, his head in the clouds, she'd have had him over Rosie's counter that first Sunday if her sisters hadn't come home unexpectedly.

He didn't have a problem with that. She was free to do what she wanted, with whom she wanted. It was her dishonesty that curdled in his gullet.

At least with Charlotte there had been no pretence.

But Elle had made him believe in the possibility of forever, made him want it. Him. Sean McElroy. The man who'd seen it all and had known it was all hogwash, pie in the sky, a cloud cuckoo land fantasy from the day he was born. Who always kept relationships casual, never got emotionally involved. Who wasn't going to mess up his life grabbing for something as ephemeral as love, fall into the trap of caring enough to get hurt. Fall in love.

That he couldn't forgive.

But it finally explained why she was adamant that Sorrel should not take a job at the Blue Boar. Elle was the sacrifice,
although not much of one if the way she'd been panting for it was any indication.

He stopped, turned.

Stupid, foolish girl. Why hadn't she gone to someone, asked for help?

 

Elle watched Sean walk away. He was going to leave her? He really believed she'd been a willing participant?

While fear had paralysed her, anger sent a shot of adrenaline surging through her and as Freddy made another grab for her she handed him off, jamming the heel of her hand beneath his nose then walked away.

Sean, far enough away to confirm that he'd been about to walk away and leave her, had apparently changed his mind and was coming back. Too late. She walked past him without a word.

‘Elle…'

She didn't look round, didn't stop.

Behind her, the door of the Blue Boar was flung open. ‘If you go now, Elle,' Freddy called after her, ‘you won't have a job to come back to.'

‘Constructive dismissal. Sexual harassment. Assault. You'll be hearing from my solicitor,' she said, not bothering to turn around, not missing a stride, the adrenaline still pumping hard. She'd been listening when her sister had been talking about employment law.

About to add that the Honourable Miss Pickering could go whistle for her dress, she didn't bother. Freddy had been lying about that. She'd known it the minute he'd said the dress was silk.

Behind her, she heard a car door close, the throaty purr of its engine and Sean pulled alongside her in the Jaguar she'd once borrowed with such a light heart.

‘Get in, Elle,' he said, leaning across, pushing the passenger door open.

One glance confirmed that he looked as grim as she felt but
she didn't slow down from the headlong charge that was taking her home. She had to keep moving. The minute she stopped, the adrenaline would run out and she'd collapse in a shivering heap. She simply told him, in the fewest syllables possible, to leave her alone.

He cruised along the kerb, keeping pace with her. ‘At least let me take you home.'

‘You left me.' She kept walking. While her legs kept moving she was in control. ‘I can't believe you thought I was lying back and taking one just to keep my job.' He didn't deny it. ‘Well, I did tell you I'd do anything for my family. I guess you believed me.'

‘If you'd seen it from where I was standing…'

‘I am
not
my mother,' she declared. ‘I am not
your
mother either!'

Realising that she was attracting attention from the bus queue, she crossed the road and walked across the Common. Sean abandoned his car and came after her.

‘Shall I take you to the police?' he asked.

‘And say what? It's his word against mine. He'll say I was willing and you'd back him up, wouldn't you?' she snarled.

She took out her phone as she walked, leaving messages for both Sorrel and Geli on their voicemail not to go near the Blue Boar on any account.

Sean kept pace with her but did not speak again, made no attempt to touch her, hold her, comfort her. He simply walked with her until she reached her gate and then watched her go inside.

 

Elle went straight upstairs, stood under the shower, letting the water mingle with the stupid tears that were stupidly pouring down her stupid cheeks. All tears did was make your eyes red. It was only when the water ran cold and she began to shiver that she made an effort to pull herself together, try an old trick her mother had taught her. Look for something positive in everything bad.

Freddy's attack had shaken her. It had been vile. But it had forced her to face up to something that deep down she knew, had been doing her best to ignore as she clung to her safety net.

Sean… Well, he had, whether he believed it or not, rescued her. And he had warned her about Freddy. Which made her a fool if nothing worse, she acknowledged as she plugged in the hairdryer. He'd also brought her good news of Basil who'd apparently been afraid he was dying and was now living it up in Brighton.

She picked up the postcard that she'd been clutching as she walked home. Winced. Realised that her hand was swollen. Just how hard had she hit Freddy?

No. She refused to waste another second of her life thinking about him. From now on she would devote herself to making
Scoop!
a success.

Not just something to fit in around the ‘day' job but something to build on, make her own. Her dream. And as she dried her hair she crowded out the horror of what had just happened by making lists in her head of the stuff she still had to do.

That was scary too but, the minute she stopped, Sean McElroy filled the vacuum. His blue eyes. The way his hair fell across his forehead, his jeans clung to his backside. His expressionless face as he'd stood in the doorway of Freddy's office seeing yet another woman who had no moral core.

Sean, who had no concept of permanency in relationships. Who assumed the worst because he never looked for the best.

She wanted to weep again. Not for herself, or for the possibility of something special that they'd lost, but for his impoverished life.

She sighed. Time to put the bad stuff behind her, go and find Gran and tell her that Basil was okay. That he'd be home soon. Home. Not some rented cottage on the Haughton Manor estate, but here, where he belonged.

Looking on the bright side, she now had all the time in the world to get stuff ready for the wedding.

She folded up the Blue Boar's black uniform, not sure what to do with it—returning it was not an option—and pulled on a pair of the brightest shorts she could find, with a tank top, and went, barefoot, into the kitchen.