One Reckless Night. Sara Craven
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‘You think you have an answer for everything,’ she said bitterly.
‘I often wish I had.’ She felt him lean forward to release the catch on a gate and looked round in swift alarm.
‘But this isn’t the Black Bull.’
‘Full marks for observation, Susie.’ He carried her up the path, then deposited her gently on the mat while he reached into his pocket for some keys. ‘You did say you wanted to look round Church House? Well, now’s your chance.’
‘But what right have you...?’ Her voice trailed away into stunned silence. Then, ‘My God,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s been you all the time, hasn’t it? You’re the caretaker. You’ve just been stringing me along all evening.’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t believe it.’
‘I hope,’ he said, gravely, ‘that you’re not going to reproach me, my dear Miss Smith, for not being entirely honest with you?’
His words seemed to hang in the air like a warning as he pushed open the front door, and turned to her. ‘Would you like me to lift you over the threshold?’
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Zanna said stormily. ‘I’d like to go back to the inn.’
‘And so you shall.’ His voice was almost soothing as he urged her into the hallway. ‘Just as soon as we’ve had some coffee.’
‘I don’t want any bloody coffee.’
‘Well, I do, so tough.’ He opened a door, switched on lights, and Zanna found the house taking shape, coming to life before her just as she’d always imagined. In spite of herself she felt interest, excitement building inside her.
‘And I’d take off that other shoe,’ Jake added over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen. ‘You don’t want a sprained ankle to add to your other woes.’
‘At least you admit they exist.’
‘I imagine I’m responsible for most of them—in your eyes anyway.’ He filled a kettle and set it on the Aga to boil. ‘And while we’re on the subject I may as well confess that I finished your car this afternoon. It’s working perfectly again and I parked it at the Bull before I met you for dinner.’
Zanna stared at him, shoe in hand, momentarily mute with outrage. But only momentarily. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me this earlier?’
‘Because I had this perverse compulsion to dance with you, Susie. To see you smile. To discover if there was a softer layer under all that autocracy and aggression.’
‘Don’t think I’m flattered by your interest,’ she almost spat back at him. ‘I presume, now that you’re curiosity’s been satisfied, I’m free to get out of this dump?’
‘Not immediately.’ He collected pottery mugs from the dresser and spooned coffee into them. ‘Unless, of course, you actually want to lose your licence?’
The fact that his comment was quite justified did not improve Zanna’s temper.
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