Grace headed for the windows. Despite the attractive appointments of the room, she was fascinated by the view. It was stunning. And familiar. It was still light outside, and she could see the rocky headland curving away, grassy cliffs beyond a low stone wall falling away to dunes.
The sea was calm at present, reflecting the reddening clouds that marked the sun’s descent. Lights glinted in the cottages that spilled down the hillside to the harbour and the small marina, the distant cry of gulls a lonely mournful lament.
The outer door slammed and Jack Connolly strode into the room to join them.
‘You’ll have to forgive the way I look,’ he said ruefully, flicking a hand at his paint-stained pants. ‘I’ve been on the boat all day and I haven’t had time to change.’
‘A boat? You’ve got a boat?’ Sean was enthusiastic. ‘Hey, what’s it like to be a millionaire?’
Grace, hearing Sean’s words, felt her stomach sink within her. Oh, God, why hadn’t she asked him how much Jack had inherited? Why had she simply assumed it would be a moderate sum?
What price now his condolences for Jack’s wife and his grandmother? Jack’s supposed grief had been forgotten. Sean had simply used it as an excuse to get her here.
Jack, to his credit, didn’t call Sean on it. ‘Let me offer you both a drink,’ he said. His eyes shifted to Grace as she reluctantly turned from the window. ‘What would you like?’
Well, not you, she thought childishly, disturbed in spite of herself by those heavy-lidded dark eyes. What was he really thinking? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
‘Got a beer?’
Sean didn’t wait for her response, but Jack apparently had more respect.
‘Um—just a soft drink for me, please,’ she said, remembering she was starting a new job the following day. The last thing she needed was to have to face her boss with a fuzzy head.
‘A soft drink?’ Sean rolled his eyes at Jack. ‘Can you believe this woman was brought up in a pub and she doesn’t like beer?’
The twitch of Jack’s lips could have meant anything. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said and disappeared out of the door.
It was only as Grace heard the faint squeaking sound as Jack crossed the hall that she realised his feet had been bare.
She looked at Sean then, but he only raised his eyebrows in a defensive gesture.
‘What? What?’ He glanced away to survey the huge comfortable sofas and armchairs, the heavy bookshelves and inlaid cabinets with an envious eye. ‘Some place, eh? I bet this furniture is worth a fortune. Aren’t you glad you came?’
‘Uh—no.’
Grace could hardly bear to look at him. She should have refused to come here. Sean was a pathological liar. She’d known that, but she’d also not wanted to cause an argument and endanger her mother’s health.
‘A millionaire’s pad,’ went on Sean, when she didn’t elaborate. He turned his attention to a picture hanging on the wall behind him. ‘Hey, this is a Turner! Can you believe that?’
Grace didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever way you looked at it, she was here under false pretences, and she didn’t like it. God knew, she didn’t care about Jack Connolly or his money. He couldn’t solve her problems.
Jack came back at that moment carrying two bottles of beer and a glass of cola.
‘Please—sit,’ he said, setting Grace’s glass on a low polished coffee table where several expensive yachting magazines were strewn in elegant disarray.
Deliberately? Grace didn’t think so. Despite the little she knew of the man, she didn’t think Jack Connolly would care what other people thought of his home.
Jack put Grace’s glass on the table and, to his relief, Grace seated herself on a plush velvet sofa beside the coffee table. And Sean, after accepting his beer from Jack, did the same.
‘Hey, great place you’ve got here,’ he said, waving his bottle around with a distinct lack of regard for the safety of its contents. ‘Where’d you get all this stuff? It looks expensive.’
Jack propped his hips against a small bureau he’d picked up in an auction room and said, ‘A lot of it was my gran’s. The rest I bought and restored myself.’
‘No way!’
Sean stared at him, and Jack could see the disbelief in the other man’s gaze.
‘Yes way,’ he said and took a mouthful of his beer. ‘It seemed a shame to get rid of it.’
Sean shook his head. ‘Since when have you been a furniture restorer, man? You’re an architect. You design houses, shopping centres, schools, that sort of thing.’
‘Yeah, well—’
Jack didn’t want to get into his reasons for doing what he’d done, but Sean wouldn’t let it go.
‘Oh, I get it,’ he said. ‘Now you’ve got private means, you don’t need a job.’
Jack bit back the retort that sprang to his lips and said instead, ‘Something like that.’ He took another gulp from his bottle. ‘Beer okay?’
‘Oh, yeah. It’s cold.’ Sean nodded. ‘Just the way I like it.’
Then he glanced suggestively at Grace. ‘Well, beer, anyway.’
Grace cringed. Why couldn’t Sean just drink his beer and stop being so crass? It was so embarrassing.
And, as if he’d sensed her discomfort, it was Jack who came to her rescue.
‘So what are you doing these days?’ he asked, addressing himself to the other man. ‘Still inventing computer games for that Japanese company?’
‘Well, no. As a matter of fact, I don’t work for Sunyata any more. I’ve been doing some consulting until I can get my own website off the ground. We can’t all have your advantages, can we, Jack?’
Jack blew out a breath. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He just wished this uncomfortable interview were over.
Forcing a smile to his lips, he met Grace’s unwilling gaze with a feeling of resignation. But he pressed on, anyway. ‘How about you, Grace?’ he asked.
‘Grace has a law degree,’ broke in Sean before she could say anything. There was pride in his voice, despite the lingering touch of animosity he’d revealed before. ‘She used to work for the Crown Prosecution Service.’
‘Really?’ Jack was impressed.
‘Not that there are jobs like that up here,’ Sean went on bitterly. ‘Grace has had to put her career on hold.’
Grace sighed. ‘I’m very happy with the job I’ve got,’ she averred shortly. ‘Can we talk about something else?’
‘But you, working for an estate agent!’ Sean was scathing. ‘You know you can do better than that.’
‘Sean!’
Grace stared at him with warning eyes, and, as if realising he wasn’t doing himself any favours, Sean grimaced.
‘It’s a living, I suppose,’ he conceded. ‘I may even try to find myself a job in Alnwick, too.’
Grace shook her head disbelievingly, but Sean’s expression didn’t change.
‘Well, I could,’ he insisted annoyingly. ‘I might enjoy a change of scene.’
‘I