One Summer in Cornwall Karen King (positive books to read TXT) 📖

to open. Estelle must have been looking out for him. He sighed. He’d got himself into a bit of a mess with Estelle. He never should have gone out with her the other night, or at least not let her drive him there, which then led to her dropping him back, them having a couple of drinks, then her staying over. He always avoided getting involved with clients, but Estelle was strong-minded, beautiful and hard to resist. Still, he’d almost finished the painting now and then she would hopefully go back to Paris.

Estelle was waiting on the front steps for him. ‘Good morning.’ She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Mum and I will be ready on the lawn in a few minutes.’ Then she leant closer and whispered in his ear. ‘Thanks for the other night. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.’

Marcus had to smile at the innuendo in her voice. She really was a terrible flirt. It had been very tempting when she’d come on to him on Sunday night but he had resisted, showing her the spare room instead and saying apologetically, ‘You’re gorgeous, Estelle, I’m flattered but I never mix business with pleasure.’

‘Oh, you’re such a bore,’ she’d told him, leaning in to snog him, her hand moving down to his crotch. For a brief moment, he’d been tempted again but he’d pulled away reluctantly. ‘And you are very tempting, so I’m going to bed now – alone – while I can still say no.’

He’d learnt that it always paid to let women down gently, especially rich, successful women like Estelle who were used to getting what they wanted. And maybe if she wasn’t his client’s daughter, he would have been tempted, but he’d learnt to his cost that there were always complications if you mixed business with pleasures. It took a long time to build a good professional reputation, but it could be destroyed in no time by someone with a grudge, and he sensed that Estelle would want more than a ‘one-off’ and would want to be the one to call the shots. He didn’t want to be on call for anyone. He wanted to be free. He’d agreed to her appeal to come along to a dinner dance as her plus one, when the friend who was going to partner her had suddenly come down with a stomach bug, because she had pleaded, saying she didn’t want to go alone and it was too late to ask anyone else. It had been a fun evening but it wasn’t a partnership he wanted to continue. Being a rich woman’s plaything didn’t appeal to him at all, although he could imagine what some of his mates at the Old Salt pub would say. They’d tell him to ‘get in there’ but it wasn’t his style. Those days were behind him. He preferred to spend his time painting and surfing, and yes, now and again he was tempted to spend the night with someone but it was always no strings attached and although that is exactly what Estelle had promised, he didn’t trust her to keep to that. He had a plan for his life and didn’t want anyone interfering with that.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Felicity rushed over. Both women were dressed in crinoline dresses and carrying parasols, as in the manner of Victorian women. Felicity looked elegant and Estelle looked sensational, but then Estelle would look sensational in anything. Felicity handed Marcus a blanket. ‘Spread this over the grass, will you, dear?’

When Marcus had spread out the blanket, the two women sat down on it, smoothing the skirts of their dresses out, and Marcus continued with his painting. He had to admit that Estelle’s idea of having her and her mother picnicking on the lawn in front of the house, dressed as Victorian ladies of the manor was a good one, much better than just the house, as Felicity had originally suggested, although it meant extra work for him to meet the already-tight deadline he’d been given. The painting was almost complete now, thank goodness, and he was hoping Estelle would return to Paris then, which would get her out of his life without him having to hurt her feelings.

Chapter Twelve

After breakfast, Hattie, Mali and Lou decided to go for a walk around Port Medden. Hattie glanced at the cottage next door as they passed; there was still no sign of life. ‘I haven’t seen my other neighbour yet,’ she told Mali. ‘I was wondering if the cottage was a holiday let, but it seems lived-in to me.’

‘Someone called Winnie lives there. She’s a widow and has gone away for a couple of weeks to look after her sister who’s been in hospital. Marcus told me; he’s watering the plants for her,’ Mali added, obviously seeing Hattie’s surprised expression. ‘He’s a nice guy, you two just got off on the wrong foot.’

Hattie snorted. ‘You can say that again. He was downright rude.’ He’d apologised though, hadn’t he? And if they were living next door to each other, she didn’t want to be at loggerheads with him. It had been kind of him to offer her the use of his wi-fi though, and Mali was right, he was easy on the eye. An image of Marcus’s super-fit torso flashed across her mind. She batted it away. It took more than a sexy body to attract her. Not that she wanted to be attracted to anyone. Especially Marcus. She wanted to get her life straight, not mess it up.

They were passing an estate agency now, so paused to take a look at the prices of the cottages. Mali gasped and pointed to a picture of a cottage very similar to Fisherman’s Rest. ‘Look at how much they’re asking for this! I didn’t realise the cottages were worth that much.’

Hattie stared at the property in the window in surprise. ‘Neither did I!’ Mind, this cottage was a