A Forbidden Temptation

Jack frowned. He detected a slight local accent. Did she come from this area? If so, how on earth had she met Sean?

Realising he’d been silent for too long, he said awkwardly, ‘Do you know the area, Grace?’

‘I was born here,’ she began, but Sean didn’t let her finish.

‘Her parents own the village pub,’ he said quickly. ‘Grace left here when she went to university, and she’s been living in London since then.’

Jack nodded. At least that explained the connection. The last he’d heard, Sean had been working in London, too.

‘But I’ve left London now,’ Grace inserted flatly, giving Sean what Jack thought was a warning look. ‘My mother’s ill and I’ve decided to move back to Rothburn to be near her. Sean is still living in London. This is just a flying visit, isn’t it, Sean?’

There was no mistaking the accusation in that question. Jack felt his eyes go wide, and his inhibitions about this visit increased. Whatever was going on here, he didn’t want to be part of it. But they were evidently not the happy couple Sean was trying to convey.

‘We’ll see,’ Sean said now. Then, squaring his shoulders, he forced a grin for Jack’s benefit. ‘I bet you were wondering how I found you out.’

‘You could say that.’

‘Well, when Grace’s pa said an Irishman had bought this old place, I never dreamt it might be you,’ Sean continued. ‘It wasn’t until they mentioned your name that I put two and two together. Small world, eh?’

‘Isn’t it?’

Jack inclined his head. He hadn’t tried to hide his identity from the locals. But no one really knew him here; no one knew about Lisa.

He just hadn’t expected Sean Nesbitt to turn up.

‘So...’ Jack tried to inject a note of interest into his voice now. ‘Do you come up here every weekend to see Grace and her family?’

‘Yes—’

‘No!’

They both spoke at once, and Jack could see the sudden rush of colour that stained Grace’s cheeks.

‘I come as often as I can,’ amended Sean, his pale blue eyes darkening with sudden anger. ‘Come on, Grace, you know your parents are pleased to see me. Just because you’re feeling neglected, that’s no reason to embarrass Jack like this.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_746879a9-ef2c-56fe-af2b-32b2ff126a55)

GRACE WAS ANGRY.

She knew she shouldn’t have let herself be persuaded to come here with Sean, but what could she do? Apart from the obvious misconceptions it created, she didn’t like arguing with him in public. With Jack Connolly looking on, she felt hopelessly embarrassed. He was not the kind of man to be fooled by Sean’s lies.

The trouble was her parents expected her to marry Sean, and they would certainly have suspected something was wrong if she’d refused to come with him. For now she had to accept the situation. But she refused to let Sean make a fool of her.

It had been so different in the beginning. When she’d first met Sean, she’d been fascinated by his easy charm. Okay, she’d been young, and naïve, but that was in the days when she’d taken everything he said as gospel; when just being around such a popular older student had given her a feeling of pride.

How wrong she had been.

Her first mistake had been bringing him to meet her parents. With Sean’s promises of easy money, her father had been persuaded to mortgage the pub to help finance Sean’s fledgling website.

Grace had tried to stop him. Even though she’d believed she was going to marry Sean, she’d known the website was a huge gamble and her father knew little about websites or their uses.

But Tom Spencer hadn’t listened to her. He’d thought he was investing in her future and she’d loved him for it. But even then she’d had some sleepless nights worrying about what would happen if the website failed.

And it had. Like so much else where Sean was concerned, the dream hadn’t equalled the reality. Even now, her parents had no idea that Sean had lost their money. Which was why Grace had to do everything in her power to get it back.

Even if it meant lying about her relationship with Sean.

Her parents were still labouring under the illusion that Sean was only staying in London to advance his business. She knew they thought she should have stayed with him, but Grace had had enough. She’d stopped short of telling them about the scene that had finally ended their relationship. Until her mother had recovered her health, she couldn’t lay that on them, as well.

She’d let them think that she had been homesick. When the sickness she had felt had been of a different order altogether.

But Sean knew their affair was over. And if she had her way, soon she’d never have to see him again.

But now, here they were, standing in Jack Connolly’s doorway, and she for one would have liked to turn around and go home. It was obvious Connolly didn’t want them here. And she couldn’t exactly blame him. So why didn’t Sean get the message and put an end to this embarrassing stand-off?

Unfortunately, their host seemed to realise his manners just as Grace was searching for the words to get them out of this.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Come in.’ And he moved behind them to close the heavy door.

Grace was still wondering why Sean had wanted to come here, anyway. What was it he’d said: that Connolly had lost his wife in a car accident a couple of years ago and that this was his first opportunity to offer his condolences to the man? Grace had had to accept it when he’d strung that line to her father, but she’d have said Sean was the last person to offer sympathy to anyone. Unless there was something in it for him, she appended with the bitter knowledge of hindsight.

Or was she judging him too harshly?

And then she remembered another titbit he’d offered. Apparently Jack Connolly had inherited some money from his grandmother and that was how he’d been able to buy this place. Sean’s take on it—or rather the one he’d offered her father—was that Jack had wanted to get away from the pain of familiar places. He’d moved to Northumberland to find a place to lick his wounds in peace.

Having met Jack now, Grace took that with a pinch of salt. Whatever he was doing in Northumberland, he didn’t look like a man who had any wounds to lick. He seemed perfectly self-sufficient, and far too shrewd to need anyone’s sympathy.

She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d looked at her when he’d first seen her. It hadn’t been the look of a man who was drowning in grief. On the contrary, if she and Sean had still been together, she would have considered it offensive.

Were all men untrustworthy? she wondered. She didn’t think so, but she had no doubt that Jack Connolly wasn’t to be trusted, either.

It annoyed her that he was also drop-dead gorgeous. Even the thick stubble of a couple of days’ growth of beard on his chin couldn’t detract from the stark male beauty of his face.

His skin was darkly tanned, as if he’d been spending time in a sunnier climate. But, according to her father, he’d been living here throughout all the renovations he’d made to the house.

Unruly dark hair tumbled over his forehead and brushed the neckline of his sweatshirt. Thin lips below hollowed cheekbones only added to his sensual appeal.

They crossed the hall and entered a well-lit living room. Whatever she thought of Connolly himself, there was no denying the man had taste. Pale walls, dark wood, much of it antique from the look of it. And a Persian carpet on the floor that fairly melted beneath her feet.

Grace headed for the windows. Despite the attractive appointments of the room, she was fascinated by the view. It was stunning. And familiar. It was still light outside, and she could see the rocky headland curving away, grassy cliffs beyond a low stone wall falling away to dunes.

The sea was calm at present, reflecting the reddening clouds that marked the sun’s descent. Lights glinted in the cottages that spilled down the hillside to the harbour and the small marina, the distant cry of gulls a lonely mournful lament.

The outer door slammed and Jack Connolly strode into the room to join them.

‘You’ll have to forgive the way I look,’ he said ruefully, flicking a hand at his paint-stained pants. ‘I’ve been on the boat all day and I haven’t had time to change.’

‘A boat? You’ve got a boat?’ Sean was enthusiastic. ‘Hey, what’s it like to be a millionaire?’