CATHERINE GEORGE - His Defiant Mistress - The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress / The Venetian's Midnight Mistress / The Billionaire's Virgin Mistress

‘They were too dark as they were, so I had them stripped and treated, then lime-washed to get this bleached effect. The idea was to look almost like a ghost of the original structure. Would you like to see the bedrooms?’ added Alex, watching her face.

Sarah nodded eagerly, and started up the stairs. Along with his enjoyment of her trim back view, Alex felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he followed her. Unless he was much mistaken, Sarah Carver lusted after his house. Just as he’d hoped. The next step was to get her to lust after its owner. No, he thought, frowning. Not lust. That was too raw and basic for the feelings he wanted to arouse in her. Not that thinking of arousal of any kind was a good idea right now, when he was about to show her his bedroom.

Sarah stood at the gallery rail, admiration in her eyes as she gazed down at the floor below. ‘Did you do all this yourself?’

‘I was involved at every stage, certainly,’ he said, leaning beside her. ‘The interior design is mine, the staircase and so on. And the extra windows. Like you, I’m hooked on light and space.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘My room can hardly compare with this.’

‘But you worked on it yourself, so it’s your baby as much as this place is mine. I used to slog away here every weekend I could, and the occasional evening when the job allowed. Some weekends Kate Hargreaves took pity on me, and sent a hot meal over from the farm.’ Alex shrugged. ‘My father left to oversee the manufacturing side from the London office soon after I acquired this place, so I didn’t have too much time to spare for building work.’

‘Did you have a pleasant evening, by the way?’

‘Relatively, yes.’ Alex took her hand. ‘Take a look at the bedrooms, then I’ll feed you.’

To offset the dark wood of his plain, masculine bedroom furniture, the bedcovers in all the rooms were white. The master bedroom was large, as Sarah had expected, but the two guest rooms were anything but small, and all three had their own bathrooms, fitted to a standard her practised eye could now price very accurately.

‘My father thinks I went overboard with the white look,’ said Alex. ‘Too stark and monastic for his taste. His place in London leans to opulence and colour.’

‘I think yours is exactly right,’ said Sarah, and smiled at him. ‘Will you object if I take a leaf out of your book and do something similar at Westhope?’

‘I’ll consider myself flattered.’ He went out on to the landing, beckoning her to follow. ‘Come on, let’s eat. I’ll just throw some pasta in a pot and dinner will be ready.’

Sarah smiled as she followed him down the elegant curving stair. In the past the only meal a man had ever made for her had been pasta with sauce from a jar. Apparently the vice-chairman of the Merrick Group was no more inventive in his smart kitchen than the boyfriends who had worried her father so much at one time.

Alex pulled out a chair at the dining table. ‘Sit down, madam, and I shall bring in the food in exactly five minutes.’

‘What are we having?’

‘Nothing fancy.’ Alex lit two candles in heavy glass holders and went off to the kitchen. When he came back with two steaming bowls, Sarah received hers with a mental apology to the chef.

‘ Gnocchi di patate pomodoro e rucola ,’ he announced grandly. ‘Potato dumplings with tomato sauce and rocket.’ He poured the wine and sat down, smiling at her as he raised his glass. ‘Your health, Sarah.’

‘Yours too,’ she said, toasting him. She eyed her meal with respect. ‘This looks—and smells—wonderful.’ She drank some wine, grated cheese over the gnocchi , and then put the first fluffy, melting forkful in her mouth. ‘Mmm,’ she said indistinctly, as the flavour of the sauce hit her tastebuds. ‘It tastes wonderful, too.’

‘Good. I enjoy seeing a woman eat.’

‘It’s one of my favourite pastimes!’

Alex eyed her curiously. ‘What are the others?’

She looked up from her plate. ‘Other what?’

‘Pastimes.’

Sarah thought about it. ‘I enjoy my work so much I suppose you could list that as a pastime. I don’t seem to have time for anything else other than reading—at least not in summer. This winter I’m going to make an effort to go to concerts and plays, and visit exhibitions and so on. Last winter I was too busy fitting up my flat to go out much, except for a couple of weekends I spent in London with former flatmates.’

‘You’ve been back only twice?’

‘The first weekend was fine, because I hadn’t been gone long. But the second weekend was a mistake because by that time I was totally out of the loop.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Once you’re gone, you’re gone.’

‘These weren’t close friends, obviously?’

‘No, but I’ll always be grateful to them, because they were kind to me after Dad died. I shared their flat after the family home was sold.’ She looked at him expectantly as she went on eating. ‘What kind of things do you do in your spare time?’

Alex smiled ruefully. ‘I used to play village cricket, but these days I can’t count on being free for net practice sessions, or even for a match itself, so I’ve given it up and run a bit instead. I cycle as well, but sometimes life’s so hectic that lately I’ve been glad just to potter in my bit of garden on a Sunday, or watch cricket instead of actually playing.’

‘You must have more of a social life than that!’

‘Corporate entertaining mostly.’ His mouth turned down. ‘I get invited to private dinner parties quite a bit, too, but I accept only if I’m sure there’s no catch.’

Sarah looked at him for a moment. ‘A helping hand for the host’s career?’

He shook his head. ‘Unwilling partner for the hostess’s single best friend.’

‘Tricky! That kind of dinner party doesn’t feature in my life,’ said Sarah thankfully. She eyed the rustic loaf. ‘I’d love a chunk of that to wipe out my bowl.’

Alex laughed, and jumped up to cut it for her. ‘We’ll both have some.’

Sarah mopped up every last drop of sauce with her bread, then sat back, licking her lips. ‘It’s a sin to waste any of that sauce.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘How clever of you to make gnocchi. I’ve heard it’s a pretty ticklish process. You must give me your recipe.’

Alex got up to refill her glass, but Sarah shook her head.

‘No more; I’ve got to drive home.’

‘Confession time.’ His eyes gleamed in the candlelight that burned brighter now it was darkening rapidly outside. ‘I made the sauce from scratch, I swear, but Steve gave me the gnocchi. I called in on my way home this morning and asked if he had any fresh pasta to spare, but he said his gnocchi would impress you more than the usual spaghetti.’

Sarah laughed. ‘He was right. It was delicious.’

‘Stay where you are,’ he added as he collected plates. ‘Dinner’s not over yet.’

Sarah looked round with envy when he’d disappeared into the kitchen, liking the idea of a next time. She felt so at home here. Probably because on a grander scale the vaulted ceiling and open space gave the same sense of breathing room as her flat.

Alex came in to switch on lamps. ‘It’s raining hard out there.’

Sarah could hear it drumming on the roof as he went to fetch the next course. It gave her the feeling of security experienced in childhood when she’d been tucked up in bed listening to rain spattering against the windows. She smiled at Alex as he came back. ‘I love that sound.’

‘So do I.’ He put a tray on the table, with coffee and a luscious looking dessert. ‘I cadged this from Steve, too. Chocolate and almond tart. You’ll like it.’