Sweet Surrender (The Dysarts) by Catherine George Page B

gone already, so we’ll have coffee in the bar.’
    Kate’s hair was braided into a corn dolly plait, instead of the knot her companion had objected to previously, and she wore jeans and ankle boots and a Barbour jacket over a heavy pink sweater, but as she went through the portals of the elegant hotel she wished she’d chosen something smarter for her shopping spree.
    â€˜I’m not really dressed for a place like this,’ she muttered, as Jack ushered her into a bar crowded with businessmen talking shop before lunch.
    He gave her a morale-boosting look as he seated her at a corner table. ‘You look good to me,’ he informed her, which had such a ring of truth to it Kate relaxed, and watched Jack Spencer with frank curiosity when he went off to the bar to joke with the man behind it as he placed their order. Neither as tall as Alasdair, nor as lean as her brother, there was nevertheless an air of authority about Jack Spencer that made Kate wonder exactly what kind of building work he was involved in. And at his age what job was he interviewing for? She raised her eyebrows, impressed, when he returned to the table accompanied by a waiter with a tray of coffee and sandwiches.
    â€˜That was quick’ she said, when the waiter had departed, generously tipped.
    â€˜I said you were in a hurry. He must have thought these were for you,’ he added wryly, looking at the dainty, crustless selection.
    â€˜Eat them two at a time,’ she advised.
    He laughed, and asked what kind of shopping she’d been doing.
    â€˜Clothes to wear for the job. Other than that just window shopping with my mother. I miss that in Foychurch.’
    â€˜It can’t be the only thing you miss.’ Jack Spencer eyed her curiously. ‘What do you do for entertainment in a quiet place like that?’
    â€˜I keep very busy,’ she assured him. ‘Teaching is no nine-to-five job. And apart from the usual routine I run the after-school science club, help out on school trips and various fund-raising events, co-produce the school plays. Socially I see a film or share a meal in Hereford with colleagues, and so on. In summer I like grubbingabout in my cottage garden, and in winter I belong to the village dramatic society—’
    â€˜How about men?’ he asked abruptly. ‘The one I saw the other day, for starters?’
    Kate shrugged. ‘Alasdair’s an old college friend. He’s just returned from the States to work in this country.’
    He shot her a searching blue glance. ‘Does that mean he’ll be monopolising your social life from now on?’
    Deciding it was a waste of time to object to this man’s bluntness, Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t let any one person monopolise my social life, Mr Spencer—’
    â€˜Jack.’ He smiled at her. ‘Go on. It’s very easy to say. Try it.’
    She smiled back. ‘Jack, then.’
    â€˜Much better,’ he said with satisfaction, and held out his cup for a refill. ‘Besides this Alasdair, are there other men in your life?’
    â€˜Two I go out with occasionally at home. Separately, of course,’ she added demurely.
    Jack Spencer grinned, then sat back in his chair, his keen blue eyes challenging hers. ‘Right. I now know a little about you. But you haven’t asked me anything about myself. Does that mean you’re not interested?’
    â€˜No.’ She returned the look squarely. ‘Just polite.’
    He shrugged the impressive shoulders his suit jacket had obviously been custom-made to fit. ‘In which case I’ll supply answers to the questions you’re too polite to ask.’
    â€˜You don’t have to,’ she said hurriedly, but he leaned forward, invading her space. ‘I’m single, solvent, thirty-nine last birthday, and I build houses. That’s about it.’
    â€˜And you’re Abby’s uncle,’ she reminded him, as he