Alex conceded defeat. Whatever his opinion of Miss Hughes might be-and he wasn't entirely sure why he should have any misgivings in the first place-Guthrie was clearly delighted by his find. And he was the one who was going to have to work with her, and if she didn't do her job to his satisfaction he was the one who'd have to fire her, too. Alex, himself, couldn't object if she satisfied his manager. When he'd hired an a.s.sistant for him, he'd let his sympathies rule his head.

'Right,' he said now, using one hand to rake his aching scalp. 'I'll leave it up to you, Sam. I'm sure you know what you're doing.'

Guthrie took the implied reproof without comment, and Alex turned back to the Range Rover to drive up to the house. 'It was nice meeting you, Miss Hughes,' he said, over his shoulder. 'I'll see you later, Sam. Good luck.'

But, as he drove away, Alex wondered why he'd made such an issue of Sam Guthrie's decision.

What was there about the Hughes woman that caused him such a feeling of unease? Was it her slight resemblance to Alicia Sawyer that had thrown him? Why did he have the feeling that employing Kate Hughes might create problems he hadn't even thought of yet?

Was it because of the way she'd looked at him? He didn't kid himself that she'd been attracted to him, but there was no denying there'd been a guarded interest in her gaze. He rubbed his jaw again, feeling the harsh bristles with some disparagement. He was flattering himself if he thought there'd been anything more than curiosity in her face.

Perhaps she knew his history. He scowled. Dammit, of course she knew his history. It wasn't as if you could live in King's Montford without hearing the rumours about Pamela's death. And his own behaviour afterwards had only reinforced the speculation. Why in G.o.d's name had he let the Wyatts take Rachel away?

But he couldn't think about them. Not in his present mood. The attractions of the bottle were still far too easy to justify, and turning to drink hadn't helped him before. On the contrary, it was because he'd been so devastated by what had happened to Pamela that he'd buried his grief in a bottle in the first place, allowing Conrad Wyatt to destroy what was left of his reputation.

It was a week before he saw Kate Hughes again.

He knew Guthrie had taken her on. The old Scotsman, who had worked for the Kellermans for the past thirty years, had made a point of telling him he had. 'She's an intelligent la.s.sie,' he'd persisted, recognising Alex's scepticism. 'It'll be nice to have a female about the place again.'

Alex wasn't so sure. Apart from his long-standing a.s.sociation with Lacey Sheridan, he had had little time for women in recent years. Since Pamela's death, it had been a struggle to even hang onto the stables, and there was no doubt that opinion was still mixed about whether he'd had a hand in her death or not.

Which was why it was proving so hard to get his daughter back.

When Pamela was killed, he hadn't been able to think straight. He hadn't even known she was pregnant, for G.o.d's sake, and that news had left him reeling for weeks. He knew they'd been having problems, and the eventuality of them getting a divorce had crossed his mind. But Rachel had still been a baby. He'd been prepared to put up with a lot for her sake, but he hadn't realised that Pamela was having an affair.

When she died, all he'd really known for certain was that the baby she'd been carrying wasn't his.

It had been months since he and Pamela had slept together; months since they had shared a bed.

Not that that fact had helped his case; it had only reinforced the opinion that he'd had something to gain by her death. And the fact that her father had invested in the business, and would obviously pull his support if Pamela left him, had seemed to prove the point.

Still, that was behind him now, and despite his own reservations Alex had a.s.sured Guthrie that he had no objections to his decision to employ Kate Hughes. 'What was she doing before she applied for this position?' he'd asked idly, not sure why he really wanted to know.

'She worked for her father; but he died several months ago, and since then she's been looking for a job.'

'Ah.'

Alex had absorbed that information, aware of Guthrie's disapproval, and had decided not to ask the old man what her father's business was. He could always find out later-providing she stayed the course, he'd reminded himself dryly; but he doubted his manager would appreciate the pun.

Nevertheless, he felt an unwelcome charge of emotion a few days later, when he turned the corner into the stable yard and found their new employee forking hay into an empty stall. This was not what she was being paid for, and he objected to the familiarity. He had some valuable horseflesh boarded at the stables and he wondered if he'd been right to be suspicious about her.

Had she taken the job to enable her to snoop around?

He frowned. Not that she was alone. The stable-yard was busy, with one of the young apprentices walking two of the mares to cool them down after the morning's gallop. He could see Guthrie himself at the far end of the yard where the stable block angled into the barns and storerooms. He was talking to one of the owners, who had an appointment to see Alex at eleven o'clock.

She must have heard his boot-heels striking the concrete ap.r.o.n that ran along the side of the building nearest to her, because she straightened as he appeared, stretching her back. He didn't know if she was aware of it-though his instincts told him she probably was-but as she flexed her spine her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were clearly outlined beneath the fine angora of her sweater.

Her long legs were once again encased in black leggings, which hugged their shape with provocative intent. He could even see the slight cleft that shaped her bottom, and he was annoyed to feel an unfamiliar pressure in his trousers.

His frown deepened. It had been a pretty lousy week for him, one way and another. He'd heard from his solicitor that the latest hearing into his bid to regain custody of his four-year-old daughter had been put back yet again, due to the Wyatts' delaying tactics, and he dreaded to think what they were telling her. But the longer they could maintain guardianship of the child, the better chance they had of sustaining their position. They'd already started arguing that Rachel hardly knew him and that, in any case, his household was no fit place for a little girl.

To add to his frustration, Lacey appeared to have taken umbrage because he'd had to refuse her latest invitation. In other circ.u.mstances, a couple of days at the races would have appealed to him, but he'd been afraid it might give her the wrong idea. He liked Lacey; he was fond of her; she was fun to be with. But their primary connection-so far as he was concerned, at any rate-was horses. He despised himself for allowing s.e.x to get in the way of what had been a good friendship up till now.

In consequence, he was in no mood to be tactful with Kate Hughes. 'Exactly what do you think you're doing?' he demanded. 'I don't pay you to swill out the stalls. Or is this some kind of unpaid overtime?' He glanced at his watch. 'What is this? Your coffee break, or what?'

'I finished what I was doing, Mr Guthrie was with a client, and I could see Billy needed some help,' she retorted, with none of the deference he'd expected. Her voice was husky from her efforts and as she spoke the warm draught of her breath caressed his cheek. She seemed indifferent to his disapproval as she swept damp strands of hair behind her ears. 'Do you have a problem with that?'

Alex's mouth tightened. 'Obviously I do,' he told her shortly. 'And I'm not your father, Miss Hughes. If this is the way you used to speak to him, then perhaps you should remember where you are now.'

She coloured then, the skin of her neck and cheeks deepening to a fiery shade of pink. The change was appealing, giving her a vulnerability he hadn't expected, and his earlier reaction to her ignited in his gut.

'I'm sorry,' she said stiffly, and conversely he wanted to apologise for embarra.s.sing her. It was disconcerting how easily she could arouse unwelcome feelings, and he found himself shaking his head.

'No, I'm sorry,' he muttered ruefully, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets, almost as if he didn't trust himself not to reinforce his words with deeds. He grimaced. 'You'll have to forgive me. I don't usually take my grief out on the staff.'

'Your grief?' she echoed at once, and he realised how his statement could be misconstrued.

'Not literally,' he said dryly, his lips twitching at the prospect. 'No, I guess what I really mean is that I'm not in the best of moods.'

She moistened her lips with the tip of a pink tongue, her expression one of mild interest, and he guessed she expected him to explain. 'A personal matter,' he added briskly, surprised at the urge he had to confide in her. For G.o.d's sake, wasn't he in enough emotional turmoil as it was?

'They're the worst,' she said now, propping her chinon the handle of the pitchfork and looking up at him with sympathetic eyes. 'So you're not going to fire me today?'

'I'll give it more thought,' Alex promised lightly, finding himself fascinated by the impish smile that curled her lips. 'Does that mean you want to stay?'

'Why not?' Was she openly flirting with him now? He wondered if that was how she had disarmed Guthrie, who was usually known for his irascibility, not his charm. 'I just hope you'll have solved your problems by the time we meet again.'

'Unlikely,' remarked Alex wryly. Then, because he was becoming far too familiar with an employee, he brought their exchange to an abrupt halt. 'Excuse me,' he added, raising a hand in a gesture of farewell, and without waiting for her response he strode away across the yard.

But he was almost certain that she watched him go, the awareness of her eyes on his back causing an almost physical impact inside him. Irritation gripped him. He was behaving like an idiot even thinking about her, and the knowledge that he was becoming curious about her personal life really bugged him. Didn't he have enough to deal with as it was?

Nevertheless, her image remained in his thoughts for the remainder of the day and it was only sheer will-power that stopped him from asking Sam Guthrie what her background was. He could have checked the files. Whatever he lacked in a technical capacity, Guthrie was nothing if not thorough, and all her details would be neatly logged away in her personal folder.

But he didn't. Whether she'd been married, whether she was attached-she didn't wear a ring, but that meant nothing these days-whether she was in the habit of forming casual relationships was nothing to do with him. He had no intention of getting involved with anyone, least of all a woman he employed.

CHAPTER THREE.

KATEwatched Alex Kellerman walk away with a shiver of antic.i.p.ation running down her spine.

Despite the sudden way he had ended their conversation, she was sure she had made some progress in her quest to gain his confidence. He hadn't actually said anything; it was what he hadn't said that spoke volumes about his mood. She shivered again at the realisation that he had accepted her at face value. He had no idea that she was anything more than another employee.

Once again, using her own name had come in handy. Her National Insurance details were all in her married name. Of course, she hadn't corrected his a.s.sumption that she had never been married, but that was hardly an indictable offence.

She swallowed, turning back to forking hay with hands that weren't entirely steady. Talking to him had been more exhausting than she'd thought. Exhausting-and exhilarating, she admitted unwillingly. Whatever else he was, Alex Kellerman was definitely a most disturbing man.

Was that what Alicia Sawyer had thought?

Kate dug the fork into the bale of hay with more aggression than effect. She should know better than to start fantasising about Alex Kellerman, she told herself severely. If what she had heard was true, he was definitely not a man to be trusted.

Yet, in all honesty, she still knew precious little about him. Which was the main reason she had decided to apply for this job. Since his wife's death, there had been plenty of gossip, but nothing of substance. He seemed to have surrounded himself with people who weren't willing to talk.

Not to a stranger anyway, she amended, rubbing the back of her hand over her damp forehead.

Despite his apparently doubtful reputation, he evidently inspired a sense of loyalty in his staff. She hadn't heard anyone say a hard word against him, even though it was obvious that the stables were having a struggle to survive.

The only thing she had learned was that he was trying to regain custody of his daughter.

Apparently, her grandparents-her mother's parents, that was-had taken her away from Jamaica Hill just after their daughter had been killed. Which was reasonable enough, considering what Kate had read about Rachel's narrowly avoiding witnessing her mother's accident, but now they were refusing to give her up.

And, naturally, Alex wanted her back. She was his daughter, after all, and whatever kind of relationship he'd had with his wife Rachel was all he had left. Kate couldn't understand why he hadn't been granted custody before now, unless the Wyatts knew something about their son-in-law that they were using to keep the child themselves.

She frowned, picking up the fork again with renewed vigour. She wasn't here to speculate on Kellerman's relationship with his in-laws. She was here to find out what had happened to Alicia Sawyer, and so far she wasn't making a very satisfactory job of it.

Henry Sawyer wouldn't be pleased to think she was entertaining any sympathy for Alex Kellerman, she mused. When he'd turned up at her office a few days after giving her the a.s.signment and learned what little progress she'd made in those few days, he'd been well peeved.

She didn't know exactly what he'd expected, but as far as she was concerned she'd done everything she could.

Of course, he wasn't interested in hearing that she'd confirmed what he'd told her: that her contact in the local social security office had endorsed the fact that Alicia had worked for Alex Kellerman, and that as far as the authorities were aware she hadn't taken up any other employment since she left. Sawyer had already told her that the small account Alicia had had with the West Avon bank hadn't been drawn on for the past two months, and there were no credit card statements available either.

Kate had gone further, of course. She'd managed to find out that Alicia had no relatives in King's Montford, and that she hadn't been admitted to any hospital in the area under her own name.

She'd shown her photograph in job centres and travel agents, she'd even shown it at the bus and train stations, but without any satisfactory result. It seemed that Alicia Sawyer had disappeared, just as her husband had said.

'So what do you intend to do next?' he'd demanded. And when Kate had looked a little doubtful he'd produced the advertis.e.m.e.nt which she was sure was why he'd come in. 'That's Alicia's job,'

he'd declared, tossing the sc.r.a.p of newsprint onto the desk in front of her. 'Why don't you apply for that?'

Her initial response had been one of incredulity. At no time in her father's long career had he ever gone undercover to get information, and the idea of pa.s.sing herself off as a secretary had seemed completely over the top.

'Then I want my money back,' Sawyer had snapped angrily, and she could see he meant it.

Which would mean telling Joanne that the skiing trip was off.

She'd despised herself afterwards, of course. Giving into a man like Sawyer was not what being a private detective was all about. But there was no doubt that applying for the job was the best way of finding out what had happened to Alicia. So far, she'd had no luck in talking to anyone from the stables, and she'd consoled herself with the thought that her father might have had to amend his methods of detection in this case.

Which was how she came to be standing in the yard at Jamaica Hill helping Billy Roach with his ch.o.r.es. It was true she had finished the work that Mr Guthrie had given her, and she supposed she could have spent her free time reorganising the files. But Billy seemed her best bet as far as getting any information about Alicia Sawyer was concerned, and winning his grat.i.tude, and his confidence, would go a long way towards proving she could be trusted.

All the same, it was hard work, and her back was aching. If Kellerman hadn't still been standing in the yard, talking to Guthrie and his companion, she'd have packed it in and gone back to the office. It was cold, and although she was sweating as she worked any break in her activities caused her to shiver. Or was it the awareness of danger? Was Kellerman really as innocent as he'd have everyone believe?

He was coming towards her again now, accompanied by the man who had been talking to Mr Guthrie, and she had to force herself to meet his narrow-eyed gaze. He was talking to his companion, but he was looking at her, and she made herself offer a small smile in response.

But after he was gone reaction set in and she shuddered. G.o.d, was she really trying to make him believe she was the kind of woman who took pleasure in flirting with men? Until she'd come to the interview here, she hadn't even owned a pair of leggings, let alone worn them. When she'd first put them on, her initial thought had been to hide her backside.

She shook her head. She had to stop thinking so negatively. Whether it was an act or not, she had succeeded in drawing Kellerman's attention to herself. If he thought she was ripe for an affair, however, she would have to disabuse him. Gaining his confidence was one thing; prost.i.tuting herself to satisfy Sawyer was something else.

Nevertheless, as she drove home that evening, she was unwillingly aware that she wasn't entirely indifferent to Alex Kellerman's attraction, and talking to him hadn't been as difficult as she'd expected either. On the contrary, for the first time since Sean's death, she'd met a man she felt at ease with. What a pity he was going to hate her when he found out why she was there.

The following morning she got the chance she'd been waiting for. Guthrie was away for the morning, and he'd left her in nominal charge of the office, so that when Billy Roach came to tell the manager he'd finished cleaning the tack Kate suggested he should take a break and join her for coffee.

'I've had my break, Miss Hughes,' replied Billy, with a rueful grimace. At sixteen, and a little over five feet in height, he was the youngest apprentice in the yard. He was also the least intelligent, according to the manager. 'If Mr Guthrie's not here, I should be getting back.'

'Oh, must you?' Kate adopted her most winsome expression. 'So I've got to have my coffee on my own.' She allowed her tongue to circle her lips in what she hoped was a provocative gesture.

'I thought you might like to sit and chat with me for a while.'

'Well, I would.' Billy shifted a little uncomfortably. 'But I do have work to do. And if Mr Guthrie came back and found me here-'

'He won't.' Kate stepped past him to close the door, and then turned to smile at him encouragingly. 'He's gone to Bristol, as you know. I don't suppose he'll be back until later this afternoon.'

Billy still looked doubtful. 'I don't think the other men would like it,' he murmured uneasily.

'Well, while you're thinking about it, I'll pour us both a cup of coffee,' declared Kate, moving towards the filter. She cast him a smile over her shoulder. 'Relax. If anyone comes, I'll tell them it was my idea.'

'As if they'd believe that.'

Billy was still uncertain, and Kate realised she'd have to work very hard to allay his fears. 'If it's any consolation, I don't think Mr Kellerman would object if he found out. He seemed very impressed with your work when I spoke to him yesterday.'

'He did?'

Billy was staring at her with eager eyes now and Kate felt terribly guilty for leading him on. 'Oh, yes,' she said, concentrating on adding milk to the coffee to avoid looking at him. 'When I said I was helping you, he implied you were one of the best apprentices he'd ever had.'

'Really?' Billy took the mug she handed him now and perched on a corner of her desk. 'How about that?' He chuckled, his earlier doubts forgotten for the moment 'And I thought both he and Mr Guthrie thought I was thick!'

Kate shook her head, half wishing she hadn't been so effusive, but Billy didn't want to let it go.

'Perhaps I should ask for a rise,' he mused, arching an inquisitive brow. 'This job doesn't pay much, you know. If I wasn't still living at home, I wouldn't be able to pay the rent.'

'Oh...' Kate drew a hasty breath. 'Well, I'm not sure this is the best time to ask Mr Kellerman for a rise,' she declared, horrified that he might quote her on this. She glimpsed the truculence in his eyes, and hurried on, 'You know things are pretty tight at the moment. If I were you I'd wait until next year.'

'Things are always tight,' muttered Billy glumly, burying his nose in the beaker of coffee, but Kate was relieved to hear the resignation in his voice. That was one thing about Billy: he was easily persuaded, but she determined not to get herself into that kind of corner again.

'I-I suppose it's been hard for Mr Kellerman,' she ventured instead, deciding she couldn't afford to waste this chance, however reckless it might be. 'Since his wife was killed, I mean,' she added tentatively. 'It can't have been easy, picking up the pieces of his life.'

Billy regarded her across the rim of his cup. 'You like Mr Kellerman, don't you?' he said, getting exactly the wrong message. He lowered his cup and grinned at her. 'All the ladies like Mr Kellerman, you know? Or they used to.'

Kate sighed. 'I do not-that is, I was being objective. I meant-well, according to Mr Guthrie, there have been-problems at the yard.'

In fact, Sam Guthrie had told her nothing of his employer's problems, and she could only hope that Billy didn't know that, or betray her confidence to the manager. She grimaced. She didn't think it was likely. The old Scotsman treated Billy as a pair of hands and nothing more.

'Problems?' Billy looked blank for a moment, and Kate wondered if she was wasting her time talking to him. But then, drawing his brows together, Billy gave her a thoughtful look. 'I suppose you mean when Allie walked out?'