Tempted by Trouble (7 page)

‘There's no time now. Save it for Saturday,' she said.

‘Saturday?'

‘I'm sorry,' she said, arranging her face in a faintly puzzled frown, ‘but didn't you volunteer to be in charge of the sprinkles?'

‘Did I?' And there it was again. The barely-there smile that went straight to her knees.

‘And afterwards you can take Rosie back to Haughton Manor and tuck her up in your barn until Basil turns up,' she added, making an effort to be sensible.

Something else he'd volunteered to do before they'd both forgotten about Rosie, ice cream, Basil…

‘Oh, no! The letter!'

Sean should have been feeling only one emotion as he watched Elle race back down the path, long legs, long hair flying, to retrieve Basil's letter before her grandmother picked it up and read it.

Relief.

He'd come within a gnat's whisker of losing control, but Elle had just given him a get-out-of-jail-free card and it was long past time to remove himself from the temptation of those luscious lips, the danger of entanglement in a situation that should have a dedicated commitment-phobe running a mile.

‘Saturday it is, then,' he said to no one in particular as he shut Rosie's door, locked up, gave her a little pat. ‘I'll come over early and make sure you behave yourself.'

And he tried not to think about spending an afternoon in close confinement with Elle. The quick tutorial he'd promised her. Or the possessive way the guy who ran the Blue Boar had touched her arm.

 

Elle skidded to a stop in the doorway. Sorrel was standing by the table reading Basil's letter.

‘Where's Gran?' Elle asked.

‘Washing her hands. Tidying her hair. Getting ready for that “nice young man with the ice cream”,' Sorrel added, patting her hair, mimicking her grandmother perfectly.

‘There is no ice cream. At least not today.' She had half
expected Sean to follow her, but she was the one who'd said there was no time. ‘Sean's gone.'

‘Shame. I hoped you were getting serious attention from someone a little more appealing than Freddy,' her sister teased.

‘I've locked up.'

Elle had sensed Sean's presence a fraction of a second before he spoke. A subtle change in the light, the widening in Sorrel's eyes, a charge in the air that had the fine hairs on her skin springing to attention…

Sean put Rosie's keys on the kitchen table. ‘I'll come back later with the trailer and pick up the car.'

‘Oh, yes. Of course.' She forgotten all about his promise to take their car to the scrapyard. ‘I won't be here, but Sorrel…' her beautiful, elegant sister, the one in control of her hair, her figure, her life, if not her tongue ‘…will be here if you need a hand.'

‘If you give me the keys, I won't have to bother anyone,' he said.

‘Of course.' Elle took them from the key cupboard and dropped them into his palm, taking care not to touch him. ‘I'll leave the garage door unlocked.'

‘I'm not sure how much I can get for it,' he warned.

‘Get for it? I was told I'd have to pay to have it towed to the scrapyard.'

‘When you need towing you're in a buyer's market. I'll take a look at what needs doing, make a few calls. It's possible you'd do better advertising it on the Internet,' he told her.

‘I didn't expect you to go to all that trouble,' Elle protested.

‘Who'd buy it?' Sorrel asked at the same time.

He looked up. ‘You'd be surprised,' he said, answering her sister. Then, in the slightly awkward silence that followed, ‘I'll be here at about eleven on Saturday, if that's okay? It should give us plenty of time to run through everything before we go.'

‘Thanks.'

‘Tell your grandmother she can have all the ice cream she can eat then.'

‘She'll enjoy that,' Elle said.

He nodded and was gone.

Elle turned on her sister, hands to her cheeks. ‘Did he hear?'

‘Does it matter?' she asked.

‘“Getting serious attention?” Could you have made me sound more desperate?'

‘Elle, you
are
desperate. If you're not careful, you'll succumb to Freddy out of sheer frustration.'

‘Don't…' She took a deep breath. ‘Just don't…'

‘Only saying. You need to grab that one while he's available.'

‘He's not,' she said shortly. He might have come close to kissing her just now but he'd been firmly attached to the linen-clad blonde last night. Or she'd been firmly attached to him. Which amounted to the same thing. She should be grateful to Geli for turning up when she had.

Give her a little time and she would be.

‘But—'

‘The subject is closed,' Elle announced firmly.

‘Okay. But you could have cut the tension in here just now with a knife,' Sorrel remarked. ‘C-L-O-S-'

‘Okay, okay, okay.' Her sister held up the letter. ‘Tell me about Basil.'

Grateful for the change of subject, Elle took the letter from her, giving her a quick rundown on the story so far as she folded it up and put it back in the brown envelope, along with the documents and diary.

‘I'll do some digging on the ‘net. See what I can find out,' Sorrel said, beating her to the top of the range cellphone and switching it on.

‘I think you should stay away from the Blue Boar for a while. Freddy wasn't joking about offering you a job,' Elle warned.

‘I know. He gave me the whole fitting-around-college-work, great-tips hard sell this morning. I told him I'd think about it. I could do with a new laptop,' she mused. No…

‘I'll see what I can do,' Elle said. Maybe there was something in the attic that had been overlooked. That she could sell. ‘Just concentrate on college, get a good degree. When you're a millionaire you can run this family. Meanwhile, will you turn off that phone and give it to me?'

‘I'm sorry?'

Not half as sorry as she was, Elle thought, holding out her hand. Sorrel did not hand over the phone. ‘What?' Elle asked.

‘I'm eighteen, Elle. An adult.'

‘You're a student—'

‘I'm old enough to vote, fight for my country, buy a bottle of wine and drink it if I want to. I don't want to “run this family”, but I will run my own life,' Sorrel insisted.

‘How?' Elle demanded. ‘You don't even know how to use an iron!'

‘It's not rocket science.'

For a moment the room silently vibrated with years of unspoken resentment. Elle's dreams and thwarted ambitions, pushed aside while she stepped up to keep them together. A family.

‘No…' Elle took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘You don't understand,' she said. ‘I just don't want you to be…'

‘What? Like you?'

‘That would be a woman with no qualifications, no career.' No dream to inspire her. Just living from week to week, from hand to mouth, holding everything together. ‘Point made, I think.'

‘Elle…' Sorrel shook her head. ‘I could never be you. You saved us from being put into care, saved Gran from completely losing her marbles. But maybe it's time to think about saving yourself now.'

‘I don't need saving,' she insisted. Perhaps a little bit too
fiercely, too defensively. ‘But I'll think about it. If you'll forget about working at the Blue Boar.'

‘Oh, please. If I want a job, I can do better than skivvying for Freddy.' Elle was still struggling to catch her breath when she added, ‘In fact, with a phone like this, I'd never have to go near the place again. And you read Basil's letter. He's handed everything over to us. Asked us to take care of things'

‘Sorrel…'

‘He's got messages. Mostly people asking him to give them a ring,' she said, flicking through them. ‘You can't ignore them.'

‘Can't I?' Elle said dryly.

‘Oh, no, this is different. “Change in schedule.”' she read. ‘“Need van on Tuesday. Upper Haughton location. Eight a.m. Confirm. KS.”' She looked up. ‘What do you think that means?'

‘I've no idea.'

‘I could call him and find out?' she offered.

‘If you want to be useful, Sorrel,' Elle snapped, taking the phone out of her hand and switching it off, ‘prove how adult you are, you can start by organising some lunch for Geli and Gran.'

 

Sean wasted no time going back with the trailer to pick up Elle's old crock while she was at work.

Geli came out, standing pointedly, arms crossed, keeping an eye on him. A couple of neighbours walked slowly past, lingering by the gate. He kept his head down, his mouth shut and wished he'd waited until later. When Elle was home.

What better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than making ice cream? Maybe he could have persuaded her to take a walk by the river. They could have had a drink at the pub down by the lock. They might even have finished that kiss…

‘Do you want me to drive Rosie into the garage?' he asked Geli.

‘Did Elle ask you to?'

‘No.'

She shrugged, walked away.

He took a deep breath and told himself that Saturday was quite soon enough.

E
LLE
found Monday a mixed sort of day. It was her day off, which meant she didn't have to be on her feet for hours, a smile on her face no matter what.

On the downside, it was the day she tackled the business end of life. Paid bills. Dealt with ‘stuff'. She didn't enjoy it but, having lived with the results of her grandmother sticking her head in the sand and not dealing with it, she never put it off.

First thing every Monday morning, she holed up in the little office she'd made for herself in a bedroom which, back in the days when the Amery name was respected, had been the quarters of a live-in maid. At her desk, she could pretend that she was running her own business. Nothing huge. She'd never had her sister's ambition. But doing the accounts, balancing the books, planning menus, shopping lists, she could, for an hour a week, lose herself.

Today, thanks to Great-Uncle Basil, there was more ‘stuff' than usual. Messages to deal with. Appointments to cancel. No time for dreaming.

Having balanced the weekly accounts, checking every detail to make sure that nothing had been overlooked, she picked up the bells-and-whistles phone that had caught Sorrel's eye, turned it on and started with the most urgent of the messages.

‘Basil?' a hard male voice snapped before she could speak. ‘Where have you been?'

‘Actually, I'm not Basil,' Elle said. ‘My name is Lovage Amery…' it had to be the first time she'd voluntarily used the name but it had a rather more authoritative ring to it than Elle ‘…and I'm responding to a message left on his phone. Who am I speaking to?'

Always get a name. Make a note of any phone call. Confirm the relevant points in writing. Hard-learned lessons.

‘Sutherland. Sutherland Productions,' he said impatiently. She wrote it down. ‘Tell Basil I need the van in Upper Haughton at eight o'clock on Tuesday morning. We've got to shoot these outdoor scenes while the weather holds.' Scenes?

‘I'm sorry, Mr Sutherland. Basil has been called away and he won't be available—'

‘What do you mean, called away? Who are you?'

‘Lovage Amery,' she repeated.

‘You're what? His wife, daughter?'

‘Niece.' Allegedly.

‘Well, Lovage, here's the bottom line. Your uncle signed a contract with my production company. What's more, he took a deposit.'

Her heart missed a beat. ‘But he's not here,' she said, doing her best to keep calm. ‘He's away on business.'

‘Did he take the van with him?'

‘Well, no—'

‘Then what's the problem? The contract's for the van, a driver and a full load of ice cream. Just make sure it's in Upper Haughton at eight o'clock tomorrow morning.'

‘But you don't understand—'

‘No, love,
you
don't understand. If the van's not there, on time, ready to go on Tuesday morning, he's going to be responsible for all costs involved in finding a replacement.'

Elle felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. ‘Costs?'

‘The film crew, the actors on standby and if I lose the weather—'

Actors? What on earth had Basil got her into?

‘That won't be necessary,' she said quickly. ‘I'll be there.'

‘Don't be late.'

‘Can you tell me how long it's likely to take?' she said quickly before he hung up.

‘I've booked the van for the whole day, but an hour should do it, love,' he said, and then she was listening to the dialling tone.

Elle put down the phone and said, ‘
Lovage
. It's
Lovage
.' Then she tucked her hands beneath her arms to stop them shaking.

Her first call and already she was being threatened with the law by some bully of a man Basil had signed a contract with. Taken money from. Who called her ‘love'.

And there were dozens of messages…

She made it to the bathroom before she threw up, sank down onto the floor, head on her knees, arms around her legs, shivering. ‘Elle…?'

She gathered herself, looked up, saw the fear in her grandmother's eyes.

‘It's okay, Gran. Nothing to worry about.'

‘Really?'

‘Really,' she said, pushing herself to her feet. Her legs still felt wobbly hollow, but she managed a smile. ‘Just something I ate. I'm feeling much better now.'

Angry was better than sick. And she was very angry.

Angry with Sean, who'd mesmerised her with those blue eyes. Even when she doubted him, doubted Basil, she'd fallen under his spell.

Angry with herself for bothering to explain her trust issues as if she was in the wrong for doubting him, instead of sticking with her instincts, questioning his motives.

Angry that she'd allowed sentiment to override her natural
caution. Or was it simply lust turning her brain to mush? A genetic flaw…

It took her nearly an hour to return calls, check the diary for the next couple of months. Follow up bookings. And when she was done she had a list of dates, places, names and phone numbers of more than a dozen people who Basil had taken money from. Who expected Rosie to turn up and do her stuff. Seven birthday parties, not all of them for children, a silver wedding anniversary, a hen night, a wedding, a company party, a retirement and the film company. So much
‘fun'
.

Not.

Just a logistical nightmare to fit in around her working schedule.

As if that hadn't been enough, the post had brought Rosie's new logbook, proving that this hadn't been a spur of the moment thing.

It would have taken the licensing authority a minimum of a week to turn that around.

Basil had planned this. He'd taken deposits to fund his flight and now either she, or her grandmother, was Rosie's registered keeper. It made no difference. Elle, as always, was the one who'd have to deal with the fallout.

 

‘Thanks! Thanks a bunch!'

Sean was looking at proposals for the new treetop walk laid out on the map table when Elle burst into his office.

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair looked as if she'd been combing it with a pencil—or maybe a pen since she appeared to have a streak of ink at her temple—and her hazel eyes were blazing with golden sparks that lit up his office like the sun coming out on a dull day.

‘Lovage…' The name suited her so much better than the bland ‘Elle'. Felt so right on his tongue.

A seething little noise escaped her lips. ‘Don't you dare “Lovage” me. I am Elle. Elle for livid.'

‘I'm sorry, Sean.' Jess, the estate secretary, hurried in after her but he shook his head, waved her off. She shrugged and left the room.

The surveyor, avoiding his eyes, rolled up his drawings. ‘I'll take a look at this and get back to you later in the week, Sean,' he said, visibly smirking as he shut the door on his way out.

Not surprising. She looked like a brown hen he'd kept as a boy, her feathers ruffled up when the cockerel had taken liberties.

He fought the smile. She was mad enough already.

‘Problem?' he asked.

‘You could say that. I've got a television producer threatening to sue me if I don't turn up tomorrow on set with a full load of ice cream. Apparently, Basil not only signed a contract, he took a deposit,' she threw at him.

Any desire to laugh left him. He'd stood bail for the man's character and he'd let them both down.

‘It's not the only one.' She leaned against the map table, as if standing up was suddenly too much effort, and he turned a chair, took her arm and eased her into it. ‘I've spent half the morning going through his messages, his diary,' she said, looking up at him. ‘He's taken deposits for at least a dozen other events and while no one else, apart from the bride, is threatening to sue, they do all want Rosie, or their money back.'

He could have said a dozen things but while most of them would have made him feel better, none of them would have been of any use to Lovage.

‘Well, that explains why he didn't leave her with me,' he said grimly.

‘Does it? What difference would it have made?' she asked wanly.

‘I'd have told them to sue.'

She swallowed, even paler now. ‘I can't do that.'

No. He'd got the message. Loud and clear. Basil was family and, while he might be a liability, he was
her
liability. Family was something to be cherished, protected.

It wasn't something he'd ever encountered on a personal level—he'd just been a problem. One that he'd had to solve in his own way.

‘You didn't sign the contracts,' he pointed out.

‘Maybe not and, to be honest, I'm not quite sure how I stand legally with everyone else but the film company contracted for Rosie. And she's now officially registered to me.'

‘Would you like me to speak to them?'

She shook her head. ‘The film producer isn't going to make my Christmas card list but where else is he going to get another Rosie at such short notice? It's just an hour of my time.'

‘If you say so. What about the rest of the bookings?'

‘I don't have the money to pay back the deposits,' she said. ‘And the bride cried.'

‘I'll bet she did,' he muttered.

‘No… When her husband-to-be bought ice creams on their first date he gave her his chocolate flake. She knew right then and there that he was the one and only,' she explained.

‘He probably doesn't like chocolate.'

‘Sean!'

‘Sorry.'

‘Anyway, she wants to give him hers. It's to be a surprise. At their wedding,' she said.

‘And I'll bet you cried when she told you that,' he said knowingly, folding himself up in front of her so that she didn't have to look up.

‘No… Yes… Stupid.' She blinked, close to tears now, and he took her hands in his. They felt ridiculously small and they were shaking. And why wouldn't they? She'd been dumped on, threatened and been made responsible for fulfilling Basil's promises. Or paying back the deposits he'd taken.

And Sean had been an unwitting accessory.

Grasping her hands tightly to hold them steady, to reassure her that he wasn't going to abandon her to deal with this on her own, he said, ‘Not stupid.' It wouldn't have done it for him, but he appeared to be in a minority of one when it came to the
prospect of happy ever after. ‘It's her big day and if she wants an ice cream van to make it perfect then she must have it. Just tell me what I can do.'

‘Find Basil?' She raised long dark lashes. They were clumped together with the tears she hadn't been able to hold back and he lifted a thumb to wipe away one that had escaped, his hand lingering to cradle her cheek.

‘I'll do my best,' he promised, ‘but he could be anywhere.'

‘Probably not in a duck pond, though,' she said, her mouth tucking up at the corners, a precursor to a smile.

‘Probably not,' he agreed wryly. ‘Did you have any luck with finding out what RSG means?'

She shook her head. ‘I did wonder if it might be short for some casino where they were holding a high stakes game?'

‘We seem to be thinking along the same lines,' he said. ‘I'm beginning to have some sympathy with your grandfather cutting Basil out of his life.'

‘He doesn't need your sympathy and neither do I,' she said. ‘What I
do
need is a lesson in how to run the ice cream machine. It won't wait until Saturday.'

‘That's why you're here?' Sean asked. Not to yell at him for getting her involved. Just to ask for his help?

‘I'm sorry but your number isn't listed so I had to come and find you. And you're right, Rosie is cranky, at least until I got the hang of her.'

‘I said she had her moods, but you're right, cranky probably is nearer. But I don't understand. I put my number on the message I left at the Blue Boar.'

Elle shrugged. ‘I asked this morning, but no one could find it.'

‘But I gave it to…' He shook his head.

‘Who?' she demanded.

‘Your boss.' He'd written a brief apology, along with his phone number, on one of the pile of paper napkins brought to mop up the spillage. ‘He probably thought I was trying to pick you up.'

‘Probably,' she agreed. ‘I've worked there since I was eighteen. He still thinks of me as a kid needing to be protected.'

‘Does he? I'd have said Sorrel was nearer the mark.'

‘No,' she denied, much too quickly, a hot blush searing her cheeks.

‘Well, you know best,' he said shortly, rising to his feet. ‘Come on. Let's get out of here.'

As she got to her feet, he ushered her through the door. ‘I'll be out of the office for an hour or two, Jess,' he said as he passed her door.

Elle stopped. ‘I'm so sorry. I don't know what you must think of me,' she said to his secretary.

‘Don't worry about it.' His secretary gave her a knowing look. ‘I'm sure you had good cause.'

Elle turned to him. ‘I barged into a meeting, didn't I? I didn't think. I was just so angry.'

‘Jess is right. You had good cause,' he said, but she was frowning.

‘I thought you were a mechanic?'

‘I'm a bit of a jack of all trades,' he said evasively.

Jess's eyebrows rose slightly, but all she said was, ‘Don't forget that you've got a meeting with Sir Henry at one.'

He checked his watch and turned to Elle. ‘Did you come in Rosie?'

‘It seemed like a good idea. Since I don't have an ice cream machine on my bike,' she replied, making a brave stab at sarcasm, which was a relief. Reproach he could cope with. Tears were something else. It also meant that he didn't have to go to Longbourne.

‘It shouldn't be a problem,' he told Jess, ‘but if he turns up before I get back—'

‘I'll tell him that you were called away on a matter of urgency on the far side of the estate.'