Her Secret Pregnancy. Sharon Kendrick

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      ‘Thanks for the few words of encouragement!’

      ‘That’s a fact, not a scare story. You know what they say—if you can’t stand the heat then get out of the kitchen!’ He gave a slow smile. ‘Want to tell me all about it, Donna—or are you worried about industrial espionage?’

      ‘No, my only worry is that I might lose my temper!’

      He laughed, enjoying the hidden fires of conflict, and his smile sent her blood pressure soaring. ‘Feel free,’ he murmured.

      Ignoring the sultry innuendo, Donna paused for effect. ‘I’ve bought The Buttress Guest House!’ she announced.

      Marcus narrowed his eyes. So. Not just in the same town, but on the same street. Neighbours as well as rivals? He hid a smile. Not really. No one in their right mind would dream of comparing a run-down boarding house to a five-star hotel! ‘You’re opening up a guest house?’

      ‘That’s not what I said,’ she contradicted. ‘I’ve bought it and converted it.’

      Of course she had, thought Marcus, as all the facts began to slot into place.

      The Buttress Guest House had gone bankrupt a couple of years ago and no one had wanted to touch it. It was small and it was tired—with tiny, impractical rooms and, more importantly, no parking facilities.

      But recently the house had seen a plumber’s van parked outside it for the best part of a month. Painters and decorators and French-polishers had been employed to work there. Hammers and drills had been heard as you walked past. Interesting pieces of furniture had been seen disappearing into the beautiful old house.

      Marcus, along with most other people in the town, had assumed that the house was being converted back to a private residence before being put on the property market again. Now it seemed he’d been wrong.

      ‘You’ve converted it,’ he breathed, and stared at her assessingly. ‘Into what?’

      ‘A tea-room, actually.’

      ‘A tea-room?’

      ‘That’s what I said!’

      He very nearly laughed, but something in the proud way she’d said it stopped him. ‘How quaint,’ he murmured.

      ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

      ‘It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment.’ He frowned, and instead of feeling angry he felt a maddening rush of the protectiveness she’d always used to bring out in him. ‘Have you taken any business advice, Donna? Seriously?’

      ‘If only you knew just how insulting that question sounded! Or maybe you do! Of course I took advice! And I did accounting at night school!’ Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because there’s no parking for any cars, that’s why!’ he exploded. ‘Didn’t it occur to you to ask why the place had been on the market for so long? Or did you think it was a bargain, just waiting for you to breeze along and buy it?’

      ‘For your information, I don’t need any parking!’

      ‘Oh, really?’

      ‘Yes, really! The property happens to be on the route of at least two official Winchester Walks. The tourist office know all about me. They’re going to help get me started and I’m hoping that word of mouth will do the rest. People won’t need cars—and that’s the kind of customer I want! People who are interested in history and sightseeing, and can be bothered to walk down the road for a cup of tea and a piece of cake instead of polluting the atmosphere in some horrible gas-guzzling machine!’

      There was silence.

      ‘You’re crazy!’ he said at last. ‘Crazy and impetuous!’

      ‘What’s the matter?’ She gave him a steady, cool look. ‘Do you think that being my own boss is too good for someone of my pedigree?’

      ‘What your mother did for a living didn’t concern me,’ he said coldly. ‘But the fact that you deceived me did. But then our whole relationship was built on a tissue of lies, wasn’t it?’

      ‘Relationship?’ she scorned. ‘Oh, come on, Marcus! To describe what we shared as a “relationship” is not only inaccurate—it’s insulting to relationships!’

      He sat back in his chair and studied her, the ice-blue eyes as cool as she had ever seen them. ‘So tell me—is this whole enterprise of yours some naive plan for revenge?’

      Donna blinked at him in genuine astonishment. ‘Revenge?’

      ‘It’s a natural progression, if you stop to think about it,’ he mused. ‘You striking out, in a primitive kind of way, to make me pay for what happened between us.’

      For a moment she was dumbfounded, and it took a few incredulous seconds before she could speak. ‘Marcus—please credit me with a little more intelligence than that. I’m not stupid enough to set myself up to be miserable—and pursuing some sort of vendetta against you would make anyone miserable.’

      ‘Maybe being miserable is a price worth paying.’ He shrugged. ‘Depends how badly you want to pay me back!’

      She gave him a look of undiluted amazement, realising that maybe he didn’t know her at all. ‘What a disgustingly over-inflated ego you have, Marcus! Do you really think that I would stake everything I own on a venture like this unless I thought I could make some kind of success of it?’

      ‘I have no idea. Maybe I’ve misjudged you,’ he said, sounding as though he didn’t think he had at all. ‘But in that case—how did you manage to keep it so quiet for so long?’ he mused. ‘And why?’

      ‘How?’ She smiled. ‘I hired a good lawyer. You said yourself that Tony Paxman was expensive. Well, he’s good—and you always get what you pay for—that’s something else I’ve learnt. As for why…’ She met his gaze steadily. ‘I suspected that you might try and block the sale if you knew who was behind it.’

      And she was right—damn her! Not because he feared competition—he’d always been able to deal with that. No, it was more to do with the effect she had on him…Marcus was silent as he dragged oxygen into his body and fought to swamp his instincts. He felt unwelcome heat invade him. She always made him want what he didn’t need…

      Seconds ticked by as his heart thundered and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stung like pin-pricks. He didn’t speak. Didn’t dare to. Not until he was sure that his feelings were under control once more. Only then did he speak, lacing his words with sarcasm. ‘So, it’s open warfare, is it, Donna?’ he drawled.

      ‘Of course not! I’m sure there’s room for both of us,’ she said mock-generously. ‘People will choose where they want to eat.’

      ‘As you did today,’ he remarked obscurely. ‘But maybe you had your own special reasons for wanting to eat here.’

      Donna held her breath. ‘Like what?’

      ‘Like me.’

      ‘You?’

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