CHAPTER THREE

      JAY let himself out of the kitchen door, as he always did for his morning run. The old manor house felt asleep. He did some stretches, looking at the way the early-morning sun turned the Cotswold stone to the colour of warm butter. He smiled. His grandfather’s house smiled back at him.

      He stopped stretching and started off on the familiar route, his trainers picking up damp from the dew-wet grass.

      Across the kitchen garden. Through the iron gate in the wall and into the woods. Along the grassy track that followed the stream back up the hill. It was easy, this first part of the course, a gentle slope and an even surface to run on. He found his pace and let his thoughts wander.

      It had been an easy journey last night. The roads had been nearly empty. He had been in bed just after two. That was not so different from the hours he kept in London. Lethal if he were in serious training, of course. Only he wasn’t. It was a long time since he had competed, except in the boardroom.

      A long time since I have had to try at anything.

      Except he had had to try last night. Suze had been right. He had been surprised to find that the girl with the voluptuous mouth was so hostile to working for him.

      No, he corrected himself, she was hostile to working for Culp and Christopher. She did not know him. At least, he hoped it was Culp and Christopher.

      Anyway, he had followed Suze’s advice. He had challenged her. And before she knew where she was, she was promising to turn up on Monday morning and make him eat his words. That had made him feel as if he had won a victory.

      Careful, he told himself wryly. You don’t want a resurgence of the old male animal. Not at work. Not after last time.

      But the thought of Zoe Brown making him eat his words set his feet pounding faster all the same.