She blinked. ‘That soon?’
The intent leonine eyes held hers. ‘After my session with you and the pansies I envied the man I took for granted was your husband,’ he said, startling her. ‘So when our paths crossed again I seized the day when I found you were unattached. As any man in his right mind would. So, then, Joanna—I’ll see you on Tuesday.’
‘Well—yes, all right,’ she said warily.
‘Excellent. Give me your telephone number and tell me how to get to your place. I’ll pick you up at seven.’ He glanced up. ‘Dan’s signalling. I’ll just fetch our coffee. As you can hear, it’s busy out there.’
When he got back March sat close enough for Jo to feel conscious, suddenly, of muscular tanned arms, and the scent of soap and warm man. Odd. None of this had registered before. But now March had made it clear this was to be no one-off occasion, she felt physically aware of him as the attractive male specimen he undoubtedly was.
‘Doesn’t anyone else use this parlour?’ she asked.
‘Not much on a Sunday.’
She eyed him militantly as she sipped her coffee. ‘Right, then. How much was the bill?’
‘Your turn to pay on Tuesday,’ he said promptly.
‘In that case don’t expect Michelin stars!’
‘The food is irrelevant,’ he said dismissively. ‘It’s the company that matters.’
‘I’ll give it some thought.’ She sighed as she glanced at her watch. ‘I really must go.’
‘I’ll walk you to your car.’
‘I’m afraid it’s parked all the way back at the garden centre.’
‘All to the good. Longer walk.’
She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Though not much longer than the trek you took me on to find the pansies!’
His eyes gleamed unrepentantly. ‘I swear I don’t make a practice of kidnapping married ladies. I persuaded myself that a few innocent minutes in your company hardly counted as adultery.’
Her lips twitched. ‘Surely adultery has to be consensual?’
‘No idea. That’s one sin I’ve never committed.’
‘Do tell about the others!’
‘On Tuesday,’ he promised.
Joanna sent her compliments to the chef when she said goodnight to the landlord. Outside in the starry darkness she shivered a little, and March helped her into her sweater, then took her hand as they walked down the quiet road leading to the garden centre.
‘In case you stumble in uncharted territory,’ he said lightly.
‘Now we’ve left the pub behind it’s so quiet here,’ she commented, enjoying the contact.
‘Too quiet sometimes. Occasionally I need a fix of city lights.’
She looked up at him. ‘You live alone?’
‘Yes, Joanna,’ he said amused. ‘As I told you, I’m single.’
‘You could be living with your mother,’ she suggested cheekily.
‘She died some years ago; my father more recently.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Joanna squeezed his hand, full of sympathy for anyone who lacked parents. ‘Thank you for the meal, March. I enjoyed it—and the evening—very much.’
He smiled down at her as they reached her car. ‘So did I. A pity you have to go home so early.’ He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven on Tuesday.’
In her car mirror Jo could see March standing under the overhead light, watching her out of sight. She drove home in a thoughtful mood. It was useless to pretend she hadn’t been delighted with everything about the entire evening, including March’s demand to repeat it so soon. The unruly hair and easy laid-back manner—and those eyes—appealed to her strongly. He’d been so easy to talk to she’d been more forthcoming about herself than usual. Nevertheless, she had an idea that a very strong personality lay behind the effortless charm. No Jekyll and Hyde stuff—just a feeling that there was far more to him than met the eye—like a surname, she thought suddenly. Or maybe March was his surname. She’d forgotten to ask.
Chapter Two
WHEN she turned into Park Crescent later, Jo felt her usual rush of pleasure as she drew up outside her house. As simple as a child’s drawing, its white walls glimmered under the street lamp, and a welcome shone through the fanlight over the blue door, due to her father’s insistence on security lights. Until she’d been old enough to live here alone the house had been let out to tenants, but the moment the final lease had terminated Tom Logan had begun redecorating the entire house for his adored granddaughter, delighted that she’d chosen to revert to the original paint colours she’d helped choose for it in her teens.
When her phone rang the moment she got in Jo was surprised—and delighted—to find her caller was March. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘You’re home.’
‘Just this minute. Thank you again for supper.’
‘A small return for your company, Joanna. Now I know you’re safe and sound I’ll let you get that early night. Until Tuesday, then. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight—wait.’ But he’d rung off. So he was still plain March.
Jo thought long and hard about her hot gardener while she got ready for bed. He was obviously well educated, with the speech patterns and the air of bred-in-the-bone assurance common to the old Etonians she’d met in college. March had obviously been schooled if not at Eton, at some similar place of learning. But it was equally obvious that he was down on his luck these days. Jo frowned, wishing now that she’d insisted on paying her share of the meal. She might work for her father, but like all his employees she was well paid. So to avoid any hurt male pride on Tuesday she would treat March to some home cooking.
Feeding hungry male visitors was nothing unusual. Leo and Josh Carey, the twins who were her oldest and closest male friends, were both trainee doctors, and they worked such punishing hours at the local hospital they were only too glad to collapse at Jo’s kitchen table during an hour or two off and devour, either separately or together, whatever food she put in front of them.
‘Nice evening?’ said her father, when Jo arrived at Logan Development next morning.
‘Very pleasant. How’s Kate today?’ she added anxiously.
Jack heaved a sigh. ‘Tired. The baby’s not giving her much rest at night.’
‘You either, by the look of you,’ she said with concern. ‘How about some coffee?’
He patted her hand. ‘What would I do without you?’
‘Make your own coffee?’
He chuckled. ‘So, tell me about this gardener.’
She gave him a Cheshire Cat smile. ‘He’s a charmer. I like him.’
‘Charm,’ said her father darkly, ‘is not the most important qualification on a man’s CV. Are you seeing him again?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow night.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Are you, indeed? Does your mother know?’
‘Not yet. I’ll ring Kate later. Don’t worry, I’m a big girl now, boss.’ Jo smiled at him as she handed him a steaming cup, then made for her own office. ‘Time to get my nose to the grindstone.’
Jack Logan gazed after her as he drank the coffee, still, after all these years, amazed by his luck with the women in his life. He frowned,