‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ Dan gave her his irritatingly cocky smile. ‘With you around I’ll be visiting the old folks more often in future.’
Sarah got up to leave. ‘Around doesn’t mean available.’
‘I put that badly,’ said Dan penitently, on their way to the car. ‘Have I shot myself in the foot?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Then let’s do this again. I’m here until the weekend. What day would suit you?’
‘Sorry. I’ll be too busy getting to grips with the new project.’
When they reached Medlar House Dan turned off the engine and undid his seat belt. ‘I’d love a look at your flat.’
She shook her head. ‘I have to be up early in the morning, so I’ll just say thank you for the meal and wish you goodnight, Dan.’
He bent his head to kiss her, but Sarah put a hand on his shoulder and held him off, then released the seat belt and got out of the car. ‘Thank you for dinner,’ she repeated, as he followed her to the door. ‘And for a pleasant evening.’
‘Pleasant!’ he repeated, an ugly set to his mouth. ‘You really know how to cut a guy down to size.’
She smiled as she put her key in the door. ‘Something you’re not used to, I imagine?’
‘No. Women like me as a rule.’ He eyed her, baffled. ‘I just wanted a kiss, for God’s sake.’
‘But I didn’t,’ said Sarah gently. ‘Goodnight.’
Odd, she thought later, as she got ready for bed. Dan Mason was good-looking, and obviously clever to have done so well in his career. But he seemed to feel that his possessions were his main attributes. And he was probably right, because for some reason the thought of having him kiss her had made her skin crawl. Tonight had been a mistake. It served her right for breaking her rule about socialising with anyone local. She should have spent the evening with her book. Now she’d have to stay away from the Green Man until he’d gone back to the loft apartment he’d described in such mind-numbing detail.
Sarah woke long before the alarm went off next morning, aware the moment she opened her eyes that this was a memorable day in her life. She had no doubt about what to wear. This occasion really did call for a suit. And not just any old suit she’d worn to the office, but the raspberry-red number she’d bought for the wedding of one of her former flatmate, a couple of months before. The jacket’s nipped-in waist and cleverly cut skirt were flattering, and with four-inch heels to give her height she could face up to Alex Merrick and whoever else he had on board.
By ten-thirty her solicitor hadn’t arrived, and Sarah was just about to take off without him when her doorbell rang. About time, she thought irritably as she lifted the receiver.
‘Sarah,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Oliver?’
‘Yes, darling. Charles Selby’s here, too, so come along.’
Sarah locked her door, then rushed out into the courtyard to embrace her godfather’s substantial person. ‘It’s so lovely to see you, but what on earth are you doing here?’
‘Is that the way to greet someone who rose at the crack of dawn to fly to your side?’ he asked, and kissed her cheek fondly, then looked her in the eye. ‘I wanted to make sure you hadn’t suffered a change of heart.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I haven’t.’
‘Good. In that case my professional support will do no harm. Selby here has no objection.’
‘Forgive my bad manners, Mr Selby.’ Sarah turned to him in remorse. ‘Good morning.’
The solicitor shook her hand, smiling. ‘Good morning, Miss Carver. I’ll follow you to the Merrick Group offices.’
Oliver ushered her into his Daimler, smiling rather smugly. ‘I didn’t mention my presence here beforehand, in case something unforeseen cropped up to prevent it. And my usual hotel room is free for me tonight, so I shall drive back first thing in the morning. You look utterly delightful, Sarah.’
‘Good to know, because it took work,’ she said with feeling, and beamed at Oliver. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’
The Merrick Group offices were housed a few miles away, in a purpose-built modern building surrounded by manicured gardens. The woman at a reception desk flanked by banks of greenery smiled in enquiry at their approach.
‘Miss Carver for Mr Merrick. These gentlemen are my lawyers,’ Sarah said grandly.
The receptionist rang through to report their arrival, then conducted them across a gleaming expanse of parquet to a trio of lifts, and told them where to find Mr Merrick’s office on the top floor.
Sarah grinned at Oliver as the lift doors closed on them. ‘What cheek, talking about my lawyers! I hope you didn’t mind.’
‘Since both Selby and I are lawyers, not at all,’ Oliver assured her.
‘A pity you couldn’t have worn your wig and gown,’ she said with regret. ‘Though you look impressive enough just the way you are.’
He was immaculate, as usual, his silver hair expertly styled, his superb three piece suit complete with watch chain. Mr Selby was similarly dressed, but his receding hair and smaller stature were no contest against the magnificence of Oliver Moore QC.
A tall young man in stylish spectacles greeted them as the lift doors opened on the top floor.
‘Good morning, Miss Carver. I’m Gregory Harris, Mr Merrick’s assistant.’
‘Good morning. This is my solicitor, Mr Charles Selby, also Mr Oliver Moore QC.’ A statement which impressed, just as she’d intended.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. Please follow me.’
Alex got to his feet as the trio followed Greg into his office, his eyes narrowing as he saw two men flanking the vision of elegance approaching his desk. She’d pulled a fast one again, by springing not just her solicitor but a Lincoln’s Inn Queen’s Counsel on him as well. ‘Good morning, Miss Carver—gentlemen. How nice to see you, Mr Moore.’
‘You too, my boy,’ said Oliver affably. ‘I come in loco parentis for Sarah. I trust you have no objection to my presence?’
‘None at all,’ said Alex, equally affable.
‘Good morning, Mr Merrick,’ said Sarah. ‘May I introduce Mr Charles Selby, my solicitor?’
There was a round of hand-shaking, including an introduction to Lewis Francis, the Merrick Group legal representative.
‘Coffee?’ suggested Alex.
Sarah opened her mouth to refuse, but Oliver nodded genially.
‘That would be very pleasant—I had an early start.’
And, instead of getting straight down to business, as she would have preferred, Sarah was forced to make pleasant conversation with Lewis Francis while coffee was consumed, along with croissants and French pastries, which Sarah refused. She was hard put to it to swallow the coffee, let alone try chomping on a pastry. It seemed an age before Greg Harris came in to clear away and they could finally get down to business.
‘Carry on then, Lewis,’ said Alex at last.
Lewis Francis opened the file in front of him. ‘All six houses on the property known as Medlar Farm Cottages met the standards of the building inspection, therefore the price remains as agreed privately by Miss Carver and Mr Merrick. This sum has now been paid into Miss Carver’s account, if she would like to check before signing the necessary documents.’
‘Ring