Cara Colter - SOS - Convenient Husband Required / Winning a Groom in 10 Dates - SOS - Convenient Husband Required / Winning a Groom in 10 Dates

‘You’re a school governor?’ He didn’t bother to suppress a grin, and yet why should he be surprised? She’d been born to sit on charitable committees, school boards. In the fullness of time she’d no doubt become a magistrate, like her grandfather. ‘I hope you’ve done something about those overflowing gutters.’

‘It was my first concern.’ For a moment there was the hint of a smile, the connection of a shared memory, before she turned to Jeremy Davidson. ‘Adam and I were at the High School at the same time, Jeremy. He was two years above me.’

‘I’m aware that Mr Wavell is one of our more successful ex-pupils,’ he said rather stiffly. ‘I’m delighted to meet you.’

He was another of those old school tie types. Elegant, educated. A front door visitor who would have met with James Coleridge’s approval. His manners were impeccable, even if his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘I have an Emma Davidson on my staff,’ he said. ‘I believe her husband is an art teacher. Is that simply a coincidence or is she your wife?’

‘She’s my wife,’ he admitted.

‘I thought she must be. You’re on half term break, I imagine. While she’s at work catching up with Saminderan employment law, you’re here, playing with honey pot labels—’

‘ Was my wife. We’re separated.’ His glance at May betrayed him. ‘Our divorce will be finalised in January.’

‘Well, that’s regrettable,’ he said. ‘Emma is a valued member of my organisation.’

‘These things happen.’

So they did. But not fast enough to save May, he thought. Were they having an affair? he wondered. Or was she saving herself for the big wedding? Or was he waiting to declare himself until he was free?

Best put him out of his misery. ‘Has May told you our good news?’ he asked.

‘Adam…’

She knew.

‘We’re getting married later this month,’ he continued, as if he hadn’t heard her.

Jeremy’s shocked expression told its own story and, before he could find the appropriate words, May swiftly intervened.

‘I can’t decide which design I like best, Adam. What do you think?’

He waited pointedly until Davidson moved out of his way, then put his hand on the desk and leaned forward, blocking him out with his shoulder.

They were pretty enough floral designs with ‘Coleridge House Honey’ in some fancy script. About right for a stall at a bazaar.

‘You produce handmade sweets too, don’t you?’ he asked her, looking at the shelf and picking up a fairly basic price list that, like the brochure, had obviously been printed on her computer. ‘Is this all the literature that you have?’

She nodded as he laid it, with the brochure, beside the labels.

‘There’s no consistency in design,’ he said. ‘Not in the colours, or even the fonts you’ve used. Nothing to make it leap out from the shelf. Coleridge House is a brand, May. You should get some professional help to develop that.’

‘Jeremy—’

‘There’s a rather good watercolour of the house in your bedroom. The country house, nostalgia thing would be a strong image and work well across the board. On labels, price lists and on the front of your workshop brochure.’

She looked up at him, a tiny frown creasing the space between her eyes.

‘Just a thought.’ With a touch to her shoulder, a curt nod to Davidson, he said, ‘I’ll call you later.’

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