particularly their children, which makes it very hard to remain ruthlessly single-minded indefinitely. You, fortunately, have had no such distractions.’
‘No.’ With a rueful curl to her mouth she looked down at her glass, wondering what he would have said had he known that if fate hadn’t intervened she would have had a child now. And not just any child. His child.
‘Come on,’ he said, surprisingly gently, perhaps sensing her sudden change of mood, probably thinking it was because of losing her previous position in the company. ‘I’ll take you home.’
The gallery lights below her flat had only just gone out when the huge white car pulled up outside.
‘Beth’s been working late,’ Grace commented, getting outof the car just as the gallery door opened and the curvy little brunette came out.
Exchanging a few words with her friend, Grace couldn’t help noticing the way Beth looked appreciatively at Seth who was moving around the bonnet of the gleaming white Mercedes.
‘How do you do it?’ she whispered to Grace, clearly awestruck.
Reluctantly, because Seth had overheard, Grace introduced Beth to him. What woman was safe from him? she despaired as the two of them shook hands and the gallery manager seemed to visibly melt beneath Seth’s devastating smile.
‘So, you’re the Seth Mason I’ve been hearing all about!’ All smiles herself, Beth sounded slightly breathless as she let Seth know with that unusually tactless remark that Grace had been discussing him with her. ‘Didn’t I see you at the opening night?’ She looked at Grace then back to the tall, rather untamed-looking man beside her for confirmation.
‘It’s…possible,’ Seth answered rather evasively.
‘It’s all right, Beth, I’ll lock up,’ Grace offered, relieved when her friend took the hint and tripped lightly away without causing Grace any further embarrassment, after falling over herself to express her pleasure at having met Seth.
‘Going to ask me in for coffee?’
He was standing there just behind her and, after he had just bought her the meal, Grace didn’t feel she could refuse.
When she complied somewhat uneasily, she saw him nod briefly to his driver.
‘You said coffee—not breakfast,’ she reminded him with her heart racing as the large saloon pulled away.
‘He was parked on double yellows. He’ll amuse himself without breaking any traffic regulations until I give him a call.’
Which told her , she thought, feeling suitably chastened. She was relieved though that the gallery door was still unlocked,which meant that she could take him through to the small sitting room at the back of the shop rather than up to the crowding intimacy of her flat.
Flicking on the lights and securing the doors behind him so that no one would think the gallery was still open, she left him browsing the display of paintings while she went through to the tiny kitchen behind the stock room and made two mugs of instant coffee, pouring milk into her own and remembering that, in the office, Seth always drank his black.
He was studying a simply framed pen-and-ink seascape which was concealed from public view in a small recess behind the counter when she came back. He stooped closer, reading the scrawled signature at the bottom.
‘Matthew Tyler.’
‘My father.’
He took the mug she handed to him. ‘Of course. I understand his paintings sell for thousands—tens of thousands—these days.’
Grace nodded.
‘I believe his sculptures aren’t doing so badly, either.’ When she didn’t respond with so much as a gesture this time, he tagged on, ‘You must be very proud of him.’
Was she?
To avoid answering, she took a hasty sip of her coffee and burnt her tongue in the process.
‘I didn’t really know him,’ she said, trying to sound noncommittal when she had recovered enough to speak.
‘And is this the only thing you have of his?’ He glanced at her briefly.
‘Besides this shop?’
She was reminded from his
‘No.’ With a rueful curl to her mouth she looked down at her glass, wondering what he would have said had he known that if fate hadn’t intervened she would have had a child now. And not just any child. His child.
‘Come on,’ he said, surprisingly gently, perhaps sensing her sudden change of mood, probably thinking it was because of losing her previous position in the company. ‘I’ll take you home.’
The gallery lights below her flat had only just gone out when the huge white car pulled up outside.
‘Beth’s been working late,’ Grace commented, getting outof the car just as the gallery door opened and the curvy little brunette came out.
Exchanging a few words with her friend, Grace couldn’t help noticing the way Beth looked appreciatively at Seth who was moving around the bonnet of the gleaming white Mercedes.
‘How do you do it?’ she whispered to Grace, clearly awestruck.
Reluctantly, because Seth had overheard, Grace introduced Beth to him. What woman was safe from him? she despaired as the two of them shook hands and the gallery manager seemed to visibly melt beneath Seth’s devastating smile.
‘So, you’re the Seth Mason I’ve been hearing all about!’ All smiles herself, Beth sounded slightly breathless as she let Seth know with that unusually tactless remark that Grace had been discussing him with her. ‘Didn’t I see you at the opening night?’ She looked at Grace then back to the tall, rather untamed-looking man beside her for confirmation.
‘It’s…possible,’ Seth answered rather evasively.
‘It’s all right, Beth, I’ll lock up,’ Grace offered, relieved when her friend took the hint and tripped lightly away without causing Grace any further embarrassment, after falling over herself to express her pleasure at having met Seth.
‘Going to ask me in for coffee?’
He was standing there just behind her and, after he had just bought her the meal, Grace didn’t feel she could refuse.
When she complied somewhat uneasily, she saw him nod briefly to his driver.
‘You said coffee—not breakfast,’ she reminded him with her heart racing as the large saloon pulled away.
‘He was parked on double yellows. He’ll amuse himself without breaking any traffic regulations until I give him a call.’
Which told her , she thought, feeling suitably chastened. She was relieved though that the gallery door was still unlocked,which meant that she could take him through to the small sitting room at the back of the shop rather than up to the crowding intimacy of her flat.
Flicking on the lights and securing the doors behind him so that no one would think the gallery was still open, she left him browsing the display of paintings while she went through to the tiny kitchen behind the stock room and made two mugs of instant coffee, pouring milk into her own and remembering that, in the office, Seth always drank his black.
He was studying a simply framed pen-and-ink seascape which was concealed from public view in a small recess behind the counter when she came back. He stooped closer, reading the scrawled signature at the bottom.
‘Matthew Tyler.’
‘My father.’
He took the mug she handed to him. ‘Of course. I understand his paintings sell for thousands—tens of thousands—these days.’
Grace nodded.
‘I believe his sculptures aren’t doing so badly, either.’ When she didn’t respond with so much as a gesture this time, he tagged on, ‘You must be very proud of him.’
Was she?
To avoid answering, she took a hasty sip of her coffee and burnt her tongue in the process.
‘I didn’t really know him,’ she said, trying to sound noncommittal when she had recovered enough to speak.
‘And is this the only thing you have of his?’ He glanced at her briefly.
‘Besides this shop?’
She was reminded from his
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