‘Most of it. I’m driving her to Worcester to stay with her grandparents later this afternoon, but only for a couple of days. She’s invited to a party on Saturday.’
‘It’s a disco,’ Joanna informed him.
He smiled indulgently. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a really good time, sweetheart. Are you going along as chaperon, Kate?’
She laughed. ‘And spoil the fun? No way; I’m just the chauffeur. Come back and have some coffee with us, Tom. Or better still, stay and share our roast chicken.’
He shook his head, his eyes on Joanna as she yearned over the dog. ‘That’s very kind of you, but Jack’s due back from London in time for supper and I’m chef.’
‘Are you sure you won’t come back and just rest for a moment first?’ asked Kate in an undertone. ‘You don’t look at all well.’
‘I overdid it on the golf course yesterday, that’s all, love. If you like dogs, Joanna,’ he added, ‘I’ll bring Bran to see you another time.’
‘I could walk him in the park for you,’ she offered eagerly.
‘I may take you up on that.’ He turned to Kate and, to her surprise, hugged her close again as he said goodbye.
‘Come and see us soon and, in the meantime, go easy on the golf.’ She kissed his cheek affectionately.
‘Goodbye, Mr Logan.’ Jo bent to stroke the wagging dog one last time. ‘See you later, Bran.’
Kate sent Joanna upstairs to pack while she checked on the vegetables roasting in the oven with the chicken, and then stood gazing out of the window.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Jo, returning with a holdall.
‘I’m really quite worried about Mr Logan. He looked very unwell—and normally he’s as fit as a fiddle.’
‘I hope he’s not ill. I liked him—and I just adored Bran.’ Joanna sighed. ‘I love dogs, but Mum didn’t, so I couldn’t have one.’
‘Neither could I, same reason,’ said Kate, and got up briskly. ‘Right then, let’s get this lunch on the table. And no seconds today,’ she warned. ‘Grandma will probably have an enormous tea waiting for you.’
The drive to Worcester through the afternoon sunshine was pleasant, and the Suttons so welcoming that Kate gave in to their urging and spent an hour with them before leaving. And was glad she had when she got home. Without Jo the house seemed deadly quiet. Kate rang her to report in then stretched out on the chaise with a book and the Sunday papers. And wondered how Jack had spent his weekend.
At that precise moment Jack Logan was on his way home from London in determined mood. He’d spent the previous evening with a woman who was attractive, intelligent and very good company when their various commitments allowed them to spend time together. Hester Morris was a high-flyer with a successful career in advertising, and outspoken about having no desire for marriage and children. He liked her very much, and enjoyed their no-strings relationship. But their first evening together since Kate’s reappearance had been oddly unsatisfactory and, cursing himself for a fool, Jack had pleaded an oncoming migraine after dinner and rung for a taxi. Hester had taken it in her stride and Jack had kissed her cheek, promised to get in touch soon, and went back to his own bed to avoid sharing Hester’s. He’d never had a migraine in his life, but on the spur of the moment it had been the only excuse he could think of to avoid hurting someone he valued as a friend.
As he turned off the motorway to make for home Jack looked truth in the face. Life with Kate for a friend was a hell of a sight more bearable than life without her. He’d call round tonight and tell her that, and hope to God she hadn’t changed her mind since he saw her last. Her niece would be home for the Easter vacation by now, of course, but the little girl would surely be in bed if he left it late enough. He smiled sardonically. After forcing himself to keep away from Kate for weeks, his welcome was unlikely to be warm whatever time it was. After supper he would ask his father to keep Bran until tomorrow so he could stay with Kate long enough to make his peace—if she let him through the door.
Kate had just laid a tray with a chicken sandwich and a cup of coffee when the bell rang. Her heart took a flying leap against her ribs as she went into the hall. Jack Logan was the only man tall enough to identify through the fanlight over the front door. She clamped down on a rush of delight and smiled coolly as she opened the door.
‘Why, hello, Jack. This is a surprise.’
‘Let me in, please,’ he said brusquely.
‘Why?’ she demanded, angered by his peremptory tone.
‘I have something to show you.’
‘You’re interrupting my supper.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, because we need to talk. This is important, Kate.’
‘It had better be. Close the door behind you.’
Jack followed her into the sitting room, eyeing the tray on the Pembroke table. ‘One sandwich? Not much of a supper.’