forgotten something and had come back to collect it. But, instead, it was Greg Hughes.
Her heart sank. She so wasn’t in the mood to talk to the photographer and, not for the first time, she wished she didn’t live over the café and could say she was on her way home.
She’d just finished cleaning the coffee machine when he strolled over with a proprietorial air to rest his elbows on the polished counter.
‘You heard anything yet?’ he asked rudely, without offering a greeting, and Abby turned from her task to give him a cool stare.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I said...’
‘Yes, I heard what you said.’ Abby regarded him with cold inquiry. ‘I just don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Greg scowled. ‘The development,’ he said impatiently. ‘Have you heard any more about the development?’ He paused. ‘I assume you’ve read your letter by now.’
‘Oh.’ The development and the developer were the last things she wanted to think about. ‘Then, yes, I’ve read the solicitor’s letter, and no, I haven’t heard anything else.’
Greg sniffed. ‘Well, it’s a rum affair, if you ask me,’ he said. ‘I want to know what kind of compensation they’re offering.’
‘Compensation?’
‘Yes. They’ve got to pay me something for the eighteen months that are left on my lease. Until they do, I won’t know what kind of replacement premises I’ll be able to afford.’
‘I see.’
‘’Course, you won’t have that problem, will you?’ he went on smugly. ‘By the time you get your marching orders, your lease will have run out.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You told me you only had six months left.’ Greg was unrepentant. ‘I just wondered, as you seemed to know the guy, if he’d given you a heads-up.’
Abby was tempted to lie and say she didn’t know Luke. But she couldn’t be sure that someone hadn’t seen them last week on the waste ground behind the shops.
‘I think I said I knew of his company,’ she said, hiding her crossed fingers. ‘I—well, I believe he was round here the other day, checking out his investment. Anonymously, apparently.’
‘Really?’ Clearly Greg hadn’t heard anything about this, and Abby realised belatedly that she’d virtually admitted recognising Luke.
But Greg didn’t pick her up on it, evidently assuming someone else had told her the news. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I wish I’d seen Morelli. I’d have felt like giving him a piece of my mind.’
‘Would you? That’s interesting.’
Abby started in surprise. She’d been so intent on not giving Greg any reason to suspect she knew more than she was saying that she hadn’t heard the door open. Which wasn’t surprising because the bell was definitely on its last legs.
Greg started, too, eyes turning apprehensively to look over his shoulder. But, he didn’t recognise the newcomer and a certain look of belligerence crossed his face.
‘Do you mind?’ he said, before Abby could say anything. ‘This is a private conversation.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Luke closed the door and crossed the café with lithe, easy grace. ‘I thought I heard my name mentioned. Something about giving me a piece of your mind, wasn’t it?’
Greg’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re Morelli?’ he exclaimed disbelievingly, and Abby couldn’t say she was surprised.
In jeans and a navy turtleneck, a leather jacket looking distinctly as if it had seen better days, Luke looked nothing like the successful entrepreneur she knew him to be.
Evidently, Greg was taken aback, as much by Luke’s appearance as by what he’d said. He turned back to Abby, raising his eyebrows in stunned inquiry, and she made an involuntary movement of her shoulders that she hoped Luke hadn’t seen.
‘So...?’ Luke joined Greg at the counter. ‘Do you want to tell me who you are? I don’t believe I caught your name.’
‘It’s Hughes. Greg Hughes,’ the man muttered unwillingly. ‘I own the photography studio next
Her heart sank. She so wasn’t in the mood to talk to the photographer and, not for the first time, she wished she didn’t live over the café and could say she was on her way home.
She’d just finished cleaning the coffee machine when he strolled over with a proprietorial air to rest his elbows on the polished counter.
‘You heard anything yet?’ he asked rudely, without offering a greeting, and Abby turned from her task to give him a cool stare.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I said...’
‘Yes, I heard what you said.’ Abby regarded him with cold inquiry. ‘I just don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Greg scowled. ‘The development,’ he said impatiently. ‘Have you heard any more about the development?’ He paused. ‘I assume you’ve read your letter by now.’
‘Oh.’ The development and the developer were the last things she wanted to think about. ‘Then, yes, I’ve read the solicitor’s letter, and no, I haven’t heard anything else.’
Greg sniffed. ‘Well, it’s a rum affair, if you ask me,’ he said. ‘I want to know what kind of compensation they’re offering.’
‘Compensation?’
‘Yes. They’ve got to pay me something for the eighteen months that are left on my lease. Until they do, I won’t know what kind of replacement premises I’ll be able to afford.’
‘I see.’
‘’Course, you won’t have that problem, will you?’ he went on smugly. ‘By the time you get your marching orders, your lease will have run out.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You told me you only had six months left.’ Greg was unrepentant. ‘I just wondered, as you seemed to know the guy, if he’d given you a heads-up.’
Abby was tempted to lie and say she didn’t know Luke. But she couldn’t be sure that someone hadn’t seen them last week on the waste ground behind the shops.
‘I think I said I knew of his company,’ she said, hiding her crossed fingers. ‘I—well, I believe he was round here the other day, checking out his investment. Anonymously, apparently.’
‘Really?’ Clearly Greg hadn’t heard anything about this, and Abby realised belatedly that she’d virtually admitted recognising Luke.
But Greg didn’t pick her up on it, evidently assuming someone else had told her the news. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I wish I’d seen Morelli. I’d have felt like giving him a piece of my mind.’
‘Would you? That’s interesting.’
Abby started in surprise. She’d been so intent on not giving Greg any reason to suspect she knew more than she was saying that she hadn’t heard the door open. Which wasn’t surprising because the bell was definitely on its last legs.
Greg started, too, eyes turning apprehensively to look over his shoulder. But, he didn’t recognise the newcomer and a certain look of belligerence crossed his face.
‘Do you mind?’ he said, before Abby could say anything. ‘This is a private conversation.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Luke closed the door and crossed the café with lithe, easy grace. ‘I thought I heard my name mentioned. Something about giving me a piece of your mind, wasn’t it?’
Greg’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re Morelli?’ he exclaimed disbelievingly, and Abby couldn’t say she was surprised.
In jeans and a navy turtleneck, a leather jacket looking distinctly as if it had seen better days, Luke looked nothing like the successful entrepreneur she knew him to be.
Evidently, Greg was taken aback, as much by Luke’s appearance as by what he’d said. He turned back to Abby, raising his eyebrows in stunned inquiry, and she made an involuntary movement of her shoulders that she hoped Luke hadn’t seen.
‘So...?’ Luke joined Greg at the counter. ‘Do you want to tell me who you are? I don’t believe I caught your name.’
‘It’s Hughes. Greg Hughes,’ the man muttered unwillingly. ‘I own the photography studio next
Similar Books
