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Travel to sophisticated European locations and meet sexy foreign men. In The Greek’s Chosen Wife by Lynne Graham, see what happens when gorgeous Greek Nikolas Angelis decides to make his convenient marriage real. The Mancini Marriage Bargain by Trish Morey is the conclusion of her exciting duet, THE ARRANGED BRIDES—we brought you the first book, Stolen by the Sheikh, last month.
Fly to more distant lands for Sandra Marton’s UNCUT story, The Desert Virgin. Feel the heat as ruthless troubleshooter Cameron Knight rescues innocent ballerina Leanna DeMarco. If you haven’t read an UNCUT story before, watch out—they’re almost too hot to handle!
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The Royal Marriage by Fiona Hood-Stewart is a classic tale of a young woman who has been promised in marriage to a royal prince. Only she’s determined not to be ruled by him and her declaration of independence begins in the bedroom!
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Their Scandalous Affair
Catherine George
MILLS & BOON
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All about the author…
Catherine George
CATHERINE GEORGE was born on the border between Wales and England in a village blessed with a library. Catherine was fervently encouraged to read by a like-minded mother and developed an addiction to reading.
At eighteen Catherine met the husband who eventually took her off to Brazil. He worked as chief engineer of a large gold-mining operation in Minas Gerais, which provided a popular background for several of Catherine’s early novels.
After nine happy years the education of their small son took them back to Britain, and soon afterward a daughter was born. But Catherine always found time to read, if only in the bath! When her husband’s job took him abroad again she enrolled in a creative writing course, and then read countless novels by Harlequin authors before trying a hand at one herself. Her first effort was not only accepted, but voted best of its genre for that year.
Catherine has written well over sixty novels since and has won another award along the way. But now she has come full circle. After Brazil, and in England the Wirral, Warwick and the Forest of Dean, the family home is now in the beautiful Welsh Marches—with access to a county library, several bookshops and a busy market hall with a treasure trove of secondhand paperbacks!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
THE early dinner had been a bad idea. The rest of the evening now yawned, with only the television in his hotel room for diversion. His own fault. One of his assistants should have made the trip. But occasionally the urge to escape from a desk was too powerful to resist. He smiled a little. Escape to a quiet market town was hardly a walk on the wild side.
He took out a pen and turned his newspaper over. He might as well stay in the bar until he’d finished the crossword. There was company of a sort here, at least.
But before he’d even solved the first clue everyone had left the bar at once in search of dinner. He shrugged. So much for company.
Four clues later he was juggling with an anagram when he noticed that company had arrived in the shape of a lone female. Tall and slender, but with curves in all the right places under a mannish suit, with dark hair pulled back from a narrow face. The matching dark eyes widened in dismay as she thrust a stray curl behind her ear with a hand that wore a diamond ring. Right hand, he noted in approval.
Unaware of the scrutiny, Avery Crawford made for the bar, her bright idea a lot less bright now she was actually here. With exasperating timing the room had emptied just before she arrived, leaving just one lone man reading a paper. Fat chance of fading into the background, then. She ordered mineral water from the barman, and sipped it as slowly as possible while she waited for people to arrive in search of pre-dinner drinks. This was one snag she hadn’t expected. If no one turned up in time she would just have to sit at a table on her own. Unless…
She took a speculative look at the man engrossed in the evening paper. Rather nice. Six feet two, judging by the length of leg stretched out under the table, probably the usual eyes of blue, too, with that sun-streaked hair. A check with the time confirmed she was running out of it—fast— and, taking a chance that her quarry wasn’t waiting for someone, she crossed the room to his table.
‘Would you mind very much if I sat here?’ she asked. ‘I’ve bought my own drink, and I’m not trying to pick you up or sell you anything. I just need to be inconspicuous for a while. I counted on the place being crowded, so I could fade into the background, but my luck’s out.’
‘I’d be delighted,’ he said promptly, indicating the chair beside him.
‘Thank you.’ She sat down, but shot up again at once in dismay. ‘Your name’s not Philip, by any chance?’
‘Afraid not; it’s Jonas. Jonas Mercer.’ He half rose to give her a mock-formal bow.
‘Thank heavens for that,’ she said with relief, and sat down again. ‘For one horrible moment I thought I’d blown it. How do you do? I’m Avery Crawford.’
His eyebrows rose above amused eyes as dark as her own. ‘Why do you need company while you wait for the lucky Philip?’
‘I’m not the one meeting him. I’m here as a sort of safety net for a friend.’
‘Safety net?’ he repeated, and sat back, relaxed, with the air of a man ready to be entertained. ‘Go on.’
Avery hesitated. ‘It’s really my friend’s story, not mine, but in the circumstances I don’t suppose she’ll mind. She’s coming here soon to meet someone.’
‘Then why does she need you along?’
‘Frances is divorced, lonely sometimes, and in a wild moment put an ad in the local paper. “Forty-something lady, slim, blonde, good sense of humour, would like to meet similar gentleman, etc.” Philip is one of the men who answered. But once she’d actually arranged to meet him here she got cold feet, so I came up with a plan.’
He grinned. ‘Let me guess! If she doesn’t like him you rush to the rescue?’
‘Exactly. Look,’ she added, ‘I must be keeping you from something. If you lend me your paper to hide behind I can leave you in peace.’
‘I was just killing time before going up to my room here,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t look now,’ he added in an undertone. ‘I think Philip may have arrived.’
The man eyeing the tables on his way to the bar had dark hair with a hint of silver at the temples, and wore a tweed jacket with a cut Avery’s professional eye noted with respect.
‘I hope you’re right,’ she muttered. ‘He looks promising. The right age group, too. The others on the shortlist were a bit elderly. I warned Frances about that. A forty-something male is likely to go for a twenty-something female with a bra size bigger than her IQ. Three down is chrysalis, by the way.’
‘So it is.’ Jonas pencilled it in and glanced towards the door. ‘Is this your friend?’
She glanced over her shoulder to see Frances White hesitating at the entrance, with the look of someone about to take to her heels and run. But the man waiting at the bar hurried forward, smiling. Avery buried her nose in the crossword again. ‘I dare not look,’ she whispered. ‘What’s happening?’
‘They’re sitting down together.’
‘Does she seem happy?’
‘They’re both laughing.’
Avery chanced a quick look and smiled, relieved. ‘My back-up probably won’t be needed. I should be able to go soon.’
‘You can’t leave yet!’ said Jonas promptly. ‘What’s the drill if your friend wants out?’
‘In a little while she’ll make for the cloakroom, and I’ll join her for instructions. When she goes back to Philip I ring her cellphone to announce some emergency, or, if Frances is happy to carry on, I just go home.’
Jonas Mercer shook his head. ‘I’ve got a better idea. After you talk to your friend I buy you a real drink and we finish the crossword together while we keep tabs on the stay of play. Unless,’ he added, ‘there’s someone waiting for you at home?’
‘Not a soul.’
‘Good.’ His eyes held hers for an instant before they returned to the crossword. ‘Just for the record, there’s no one waiting for me, either. And sixteen down is parapet.’
She eyed his bent head in disbelief while he filled in the clue. No one waiting here in the hotel, maybe, but back home it was sure to be a different story.
‘On your mark,’ he murmured a couple of clues later. ‘Your friend is on the move.’
Avery allowed time for Frances to reach their rendezvous, then got up too quickly and knocked her handbag over. Her companion jumped up to help her collect a few belongings, looming so much taller than expected as he straightened that Avery grinned, surprised.
‘What’s the joke?’ he demanded.
‘I’ll tell you when I get back.’ She strolled off, taking a quick look at Philip as she passed.
Frances was waiting impatiently for her. ‘Who’s the handsome stranger?’
‘Never mind that—don’t keep me in suspense. Is Philip interesting? Do you like him? Are you staying for a while or—?’
‘All of the above. I’m having dinner with him.’
Avery whistled. ‘Where?’
‘Right here in the hotel. He booked a meal just in case.’ Frances beamed as she patted Avery’s hand. ‘Thanks a lot, boss. Without you I’d have bottled out, which would have been a shame because Philip seems like a really charming man. And I think he likes me.’
‘Of course he likes you, woman! Have fun and give me a full report tomorrow.’
‘Are you going home now?’
Avery batted her eyelashes. ‘I’m staying on for a drink with my handsome stranger first. So scoot. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Avery renewed the discreet lipstick chosen for the operation, and thought about loosening her hair but with regret decided against it. Too obvious. She brushed a stray tendril back into the severe twist and rejoined Jonas.
He held out her cellphone. ‘It escaped from your bag.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked round, but there was no sign of Frances and her date.
‘They’ve gone,’ he informed her.
‘Philip’s booked dinner here.’
‘Then we can both relax. How about that drink?’
Avery asked for a glass of red wine, and eyed Jonas Mercer with frank curiosity as he went off to the bar to fetch it. Very tall and lean, with the muscular, co-ordinated look of someone who kept himself fit, he was attractive in a self-confident, all-male kind of way, rather than movie-star pretty. And in contrast to the decisive cut of his features there was a laid-back aura about him she found very appealing. Though normally she preferred her men dark and edgy. Men? She smiled bitterly. What men?
‘Still smiling at your joke?’ he asked, returning with her drink.
Avery looked blank for a moment, then laughed. ‘Oh, right. Earlier, when I was willing more people to arrive, I pegged you as “six feet two, eyes of blue”, but I was wrong on both counts.’
‘Only a couple of inches out. How about you? Five nine?’
‘In my bare feet, yes. In heels I tower a bit.’
‘Do you mind that?’
‘Not any more.’
‘But you did once?’
Avery raised an eyebrow as she sipped her drink. ‘Twenty questions now, instead of crosswords?’
He slid the paper towards her. ‘I finished it while you were away.’
‘In that case there’s no reason for me to stay.’
‘There’s a very compelling reason,’ he said, and smiled at her. ‘I’d like you to stay.’
‘Then I will—for just a little while.’ After literally forcing her company on him at the start Avery couldn’t help feeling flattered that he wanted more of it. ‘If I do will you ask more questions?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s what people do when they’ve just met. Indulge me. Tell me about Avery Crawford.’
She informed him that she was single, ran her own business, and owned a house on the outskirts of town. ‘Your turn now.’
‘Ditto, more or less,’ said Jonas. ‘I’m also single and own a house, but I help run the family business. I’m here on a reconnaissance trip. You live in a beautiful part of the world, Avery.’
She gave him a thumbnail sketch of the town, and told him to look out for the blue plaques which gave the past history of the older buildings, some of which dated back to the time of the Marcher lords. But as she finished her drink her stomach rumbled in ominous warning, reminding her she’d put no food in it since a sketchy breakfast.
With regret she got up before he could offer more wine, which would not only go straight to her head but to other parts likely to cause embarrassment to both of them. ‘Thank you for the drink, and for your invaluable help. Before I go, confess. What did you really think when I asked to join you?’
‘That it was my lucky day,’ he assured her promptly, and gave her a smile which took her breath away. ‘Must you go? It’s not late.’
‘I really have to get home.’
‘Then I’ll see you to your car.’
When they reached it Avery held out her hand, smiling, and he clasped it firmly in his. ‘Goodnight, Jonas. Thank you again.’
‘It was my pleasure—’ He broke off as someone called her name, and Avery waved to an acquaintance as she got in the car, raised a hand to Jonas Mercer and drove off.
She glanced in her mirror to see him standing on the hotel steps, and felt a lingering sensation she finally narrowed down to her body’s reaction to the grasp of a hard male hand. No wonder it was unfamiliar. It was so long since she’d experienced anything like it that she drove home more slowly than usual, to savour the novelty.
Avery’s pleasant glow vanished abruptly when her headlights picked out the man waiting in the porch at the front of her house.
‘Hi,’ said her visitor warily. ‘Long time no see.’
She slammed the car door, eyeing him with hostility. ‘What the devil are you doing here again, Paul?’
‘Give me a break, Avery.’ His handsome face lit with a persuasive smile. ‘Let’s be civilised and have a chat and a drink—or coffee, if you’ve had one too many at the Angel. Though, God knows, alcohol was never a weakness of yours.’
She stared at him with distaste as he slurred his words in a way she knew from past experience meant it was he who’d had one drink too many. ‘How do you know I was at the Angel?’
‘I saw you in the car park when I was leaving the pub across the road. I always sneak off there after a duty dinner with the parents. Who was the man?’
‘What possible interest could that be to you?’
His face took on a hurt look. ‘Do you have to be so damn belligerent, Avery? I’m here to do you a favour. Let me come in.’
‘No way. Don’t do this, Paul. I don’t want you in my house—’
Before she could stop him he whipped the keys from her hand. He held her off as he unlocked the door, then cursed volubly as the burglar alarm sounded. ‘Turn the bloody thing off, Avery!’
‘No fear.’ She smiled as sirens wailed in the distance. ‘Better make yourself scarce, Paul, or I’ll shop you to the police. Mummy and Daddy would just hate that.’
He hesitated, but as the sirens grew nearer he gave her a malevolent glare and made an unsteady run for the gate, tripping in his hurry to get away. Avery punched in the code for the alarm, smiling scornfully as the sirens receded into the distance. Paul Morrell had drunk too much to tell the difference between a police car and an ambulance making for the local hospital.
Her smile vanished as her cellphone rang. ‘How did you get this number?’ she snapped.
‘By devious means,’ said a deep, lazy voice very different from Paul Morrell’s but instantly recognisable, even on short acquaintance.
‘Oh.’ Colour flew into her cheeks. ‘I thought you were someone else.’
‘This is Jonas Mercer. We met earlier,’ he added helpfully.
‘I know—I know. Sorry I snarled.’
‘Something wrong?’
‘Nothing at all. I’m fine. But how did you get my number?’
‘When you left your phone behind I did some research.’ There was a pause. ‘Do you mind, Avery?’
‘I suppose not,’ she said slowly, rather surprised to find she didn’t mind at all.
‘Good. We were interrupted before I could ask to see you again. Have dinner with me tomorrow night.’
Avery stood very still, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. It was a long time since she’d accepted an invitation from a man, to dinner or anything else. She shrugged. Maybe it was time she did.
‘I promise to save the crossword until we meet,’ said Jonas.
‘A generous offer!’
‘Is that a yes?’
Suddenly the prospect of dinner with Jonas Mercer seemed like the perfect antidote to her encounter with Paul Morrell. ‘Why not? Thank you. But not the Angel, please.’
‘Your town; your choice. Just tell me when and where and I’ll pick you up.’
But Avery wasn’t about to give her address to a complete stranger, even one as appealing as Jonas Mercer. ‘If you’ll appear at the back door of the Angel about seven I’ll chauffeur you to the Fleece. It’s not far.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be waiting. Sleep well, Avery Crawford.’
She found she was smiling as she scrambled eggs later. And when she finally went yawning up to bed she felt pretty sure there would be no problem with insomnia after talking to Jonas Mercer—which was interesting. The encounter with a man she’d once been in love with had upset her so much she’d expected to lie awake all night, yet a few words from a virtual stranger and she was on an even keel again.
Avery slept so well she woke late the next morning and rushed out without breakfast to drive into town. Her thriving business functioned in a small shop in a short row of others just like it in Stow Street, near the largest car park in town. Frances arrived just after her, in such a euphoric mood it was obvious the evening had gone well. But before Avery could demand every last detail the rest of her little team arrived and the phone started ringing. The working day was in full flow, and she was due at her first appointment of the day.
‘I could be a while, Frances,’ she said, on her way out. ‘Squeezing Pansy Keith-Davidson into her grandmother’s wedding gown will take some doing.’
‘We’ll all pray for generous seams!’ Frances grinned conspiratorially. ‘I’ll fill you in about last night over lunch.’
Avery’s appointment was with one of the wealthiest families in the neighbourhood. To her gratitude, she was pressed to coffee and pastries before embarking on an assignment so time-consuming it took up the entire morning.
‘Quite a challenge,’ she told Frances, when she finally joined her in the café in Stow Street for lunch. ‘The bride’s mother told me quite frankly that she’d had her heart set on yards of train and a designer label originally, but Pansy read some article in a bridal magazine and changed her mind at the last minute. Vintage numbers are the latest must have, and if the number once belonged to Grandma it wins the jackpot.’
‘Can we do something with the dress?’ said Frances.
‘Oh, yes. It’s a slinky satin number, in thirties Hollywood style, but darling Pansy’s been on a punishing diet, so with inserts by you and some camouflaging embroidery from me all should be well. Mummy didn’t turn a hair when I warned her about the cost involved.’ Avery grinned. ‘And Pansy was so thrilled with my ideas she begged me to make dresses for the six little bridesmaids she decided on only yesterday, would you believe? The snag is the time frame. Due to the bride’s U-turn we’ll have to get our skates on. The wedding’s next month.’
‘We’ll manage that, no problem. Nice morning’s work, boss!’
‘Now, then, enough shop talk.’ Avery leaned forward, eyes sparkling. ‘Tell me about last night.’
Frances smiled dreamily. ‘It was lovely. Philip’s such a charming man it’s amazing he’s been a widower so long. His married daughter made him answer the ad, and he’s delighted now that she did.’
‘So he should be. What does he do?’
‘Accountant.’
‘You liked him, obviously?’
‘I took to him on sight—probably because he was almost as nervous as me to start with. But over dinner we talked non-stop, and he’s asked me out again on Saturday.’ Frances smiled radiantly. ‘Thank you, Avery. I owe you.’
‘Actually, you don’t owe me a thing. I’m having dinner with Jonas Mercer, the man from the Angel bar, tonight.’
‘Really?’ Frances’s eyes widened. ‘My word, that’s something new! What advantage does he have over the local male population?’
‘The fact that he’s not local, probably. But he’s quite a charmer, too.’ Avery grinned. ‘I’ll go halves for the ad you put in the paper.’
Avery rushed everyone off the premises dead on time that night, to get home to give her hair time to dry into its natural mane of exuberant curls. She fussed over her face more than usual, and changed her clothes twice before settling on jeans and a velvet jacket, irritated that she was behaving like an adolescent, and even more so when she found she’d arrived at the Angel car park a minute early.
But Jonas Mercer was there before her, in a khaki reefer jacket and needlecord jeans which suited his lanky dimensions even better than the suit of the night before.
‘Hello,’ she said, smiling. ‘You needn’t have waited outside. You must be cold.’
‘You said seven, and you strike me as a lady who means what she says.’ He folded himself into the passenger seat and turned to her in awe. ‘That’s a glorious head of hair you’ve got there, Ms Crawford!’
Avery pulled a face. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you had to fight it tooth and nail to make it stay up every day.’
‘Then why bother?’
‘To present a businesslike image to my clients.’
He eased his legs out of her way as she changed gear. ‘If your clients are men they’d prefer your hair the way it is now, believe me.’
‘I deal mainly with women.’ She described her morning in detail, amusing him with her tale of excited bride and stressed mother.
‘I took a stroll round town this afternoon,’ he told her, ‘and I spotted Avery Alterations in the row of shops near the main car park.’
‘That’s headquarters, where the actual work goes on, but I travel to private homes to do the initial fittings. Here we are,’ she added as the inn came into view.
She drove through an archway big enough to accommodate the coaches that had once rattled through it into the cobbled yard beyond. These days the Fleece’s courtyard was full of cars, and Avery was pleased to find a space wide enough to park in easily. As they crossed the cobbles to the back entrance Jonas sniffed the air with anticipation.
‘If the food matches the smells coming from the kitchen windows we’re obviously in for a treat. Popular place,’ he added as he followed Avery into the main bar. ‘You bag the table by the window and I’ll get the drinks. Red wine again?’
‘Yes, please.’
The inn was buzzing, as usual, and Avery sat back, prepared to enjoy herself, confident that the meal, whatever they chose from the menu, would be good. She smiled in acknowledgement as someone waved to her, amused when more than one pair of curious eyes followed Jonas as he rejoined her. Avery Crawford, dining out with a man!
‘This place has been serving food since the eighteenth century,’ she told him. ‘I had my first grown-up dinner here, as a treat for my eleventh birthday.’
‘So you’re a native of these parts? How long has Avery Alterations been functioning?’
‘In one form or another for about twenty-five years.’
Jonas eyed her in surprise. ‘The sums don’t add up.’
‘My mother started it up at home when I was small. She was a qualified tailor and taught me everything I know. Eventually I was able to make my own dresses for my university balls.’
‘Clever lady.’ Jonas leaned nearer as the noise level increased. ‘Was your degree in fine art?’
‘No, maths.’
He grinned. ‘Snap—mine too. Right, then, Ms Crawford, you’re the expert here. What do you recommend?’
Once they’d given their orders Avery eyed her companion expectantly. ‘So what did you do after you graduated?’
Jonas Mercer sat back, relaxed. ‘After a gap-year backpacking round the world, supposedly studying other people’s transport systems, I joined the family business, as I’d always intended. Once he was sure I was up to scratch, my father decided on semi-retirement. With his guiding hand, I help run the show pretty much as it’s been run for decades— independent of help from bank or City. We’re in haulage, warehousing, some construction work, and so on. Remunerative, but not exciting,’ he added.
‘I think any successful business run for that length of time with no outside financial help is very exciting indeed,’ Avery assured him. ‘I used to work in the City, once upon a time.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Did you, indeed? Why did you leave?’
‘I’ll tell you some other time—our dinner’s approaching.’
Over the meal, which was as excellent as Avery had promised, Jonas made no effort to press her about her change of career. Instead he talked about his mother’s passion for gardening and his father’s golf handicap, and the various Mercer relatives who worked with him.
‘I have plenty of help to carry the load,’ he said wryly. ‘Would you like coffee?’
Coffee had an air of finality about it. And because this type of evening was missing from her life these days Avery was reluctant to let it end yet. She hesitated for a moment, then suggested they go back to her place for the coffee.
‘If you’re willing to walk back into town afterwards,’ she added. ‘It’s not far.’
‘I’d like that very much,’ he said promptly, and signalled to a waiter for the bill.
When they arrived at the four-square Victorian villa of Avery’s birth, Jonas looked on in approval as she switched off the alarm. ‘A sensible precaution if you live alone. Do you?’ he added casually, looming tall in the narrow hallway.
‘Yes.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Or did you think I was after some light entertainment while the man in my life is away?’
He shook his head, unperturbed. ‘I was thinking more of relatives.’
Her eyes shadowed as she led the way down the long narrow hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. ‘Not any more.’
‘It’s a lot of house for one,’ Jonas commented as he followed her into the large, welcoming room.
She nodded. ‘I had thoughts about selling or letting it when it came to me. But it’s been in the family since my great-grandparents took possession of it from new, and in the end I decided to stay put because at first I ran the business from home.’ Avery switched on the kettle, and shot a look at the man lounging at ease in one of the rush-seated chairs, his endless legs stretched out under the table. ‘Would you prefer something else to coffee? Whisky, brandy—?’
He smiled. ‘Would it destroy my image forever to ask for a cup of tea?’
Which, Avery assumed, was his way of saying he had no misconceptions about what else was on offer. ‘Tea it is—in which case we ought to drink it out of my mother’s best china cups in the sitting room.’
‘I’d rather stay here. So what did you actually do in the City?’ he added as he watched her pour boiling water onto tea bags.
‘I was regarded as something of a prodigy. By the age of twenty-five I was a fund manager for one of the big insurance groups, handling billions in retail and pension-funds assets.’
‘High-flyer,’ said Jonas with respect.
‘So was Icarus! But instead of flying too near the sun, like him, I left the City because my mother was ill.’ Avery’s face was sober as she set two steaming mugs on the table. ‘So what exactly brings you to this neck of the woods, Mr Mercer?’ she asked, taking the chair opposite.
‘My father heard of some reasonable land in this area. I’m here to check it out for building purposes.’
Avery welcomed the idea if it meant return visits by Jonas Mercer. ‘And is the site suitable?’
‘I’ve come up against one or two snags, but I’ll iron them out before I leave.’ Something in the dark eyes belied the indolence of his posture. ‘I’d like to see you again before I do.’
‘When do you go?’
‘Friday, if all goes to plan.’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘I’m free on Thursday.’
‘I suppose it’s too much to hope for tomorrow evening as well?’
She shook her head regretfully. ‘I’m committed to a day of eye-crossing hand work tomorrow. I’ll be slaving away on it at home all day, and by evening I’ll be grumpy and tired, and no fit company for anyone.’
‘In that case—’ Jonas drained his mug and got up ‘—I’d better let you get to bed to shape up for it, and I’ll take myself off to practice patience until Thursday.’
‘I’ll look forward to that. Thank you for dinner, Jonas. I enjoyed the evening very much.’ To her surprise Avery felt flustered as she led the way to the front door. She was no schoolgirl on a first date, she reminded herself irritably. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss her goodnight.
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