Excerpt of Their Scandalous Affair by Catherine George

THE early dinner had been a bad idea. The rest of the evening now yawned, with only the television in his hotel room for diversion. His own fault. One of his assistants should have made the trip. But occasionally the urge to escape from a desk was too powerful to resist. He smiled a little. Escape to a quiet market town was hardly a walk on the wild side.

He took out a pen and turned his newspaper over. He might as well stay in the bar until he'd finished the crossword. There was company of a sort here, at least.

But before he'd even solved the first clue everyone had left the bar at once in search of dinner. He shrugged. So much for company.

Four clues later he was juggling with an anagram when he noticed that company had arrived in the shape of a lone female. Tall and slender, but with curves in all the right places under a mannish suit, with dark hair pulled back from a narrow face. The matching dark eyes widened in dismay as she thrust a stray curl behind her ear with a hand that wore a diamond ring. Right hand, he noted in approval.

Unaware of the scrutiny, Avery Crawford made for the bar, her bright idea a lot less bright now she was actually here. With exasperating timing the room had emptied just before she arrived, leaving just one lone man reading a paper. Fat chance of fading into the background, then. She ordered mineral water from the barman, and sipped it as slowly as possible while she waited for people to arrive in search of pre-dinner drinks. This was one snag she hadn't expected. If no one turned up in time she would just have to sit at a table on her own. Unless...

She took a speculative look at the man engrossed in the evening paper. Rather nice. Six feet two, judging by the length of leg stretched out under the table, probably the usual eyes of blue, too, with that sun-streaked hair. A check with the time confirmed she was running out of it — fast — and, taking a chance that her quarry wasn't waiting for someone, she crossed the room to his table.

"Would you mind very much if I sat here?" she asked. "I've bought my own drink, and I'm not trying to pick you up or sell you anything. I just need to be inconspicuous for a while. I counted on the place being crowded, so I could fade into the background, but my luck's out."

"I'd be delighted," he said promptly, indicating the chair beside him.

"Thank you." She sat down, but shot up again at once in dismay. "Your name's not Philip, by any chance?"

"Afraid not; it's Jonas. Jonas Mercer." He half rose to give her a mock-formal bow.

"Thank heavens for that," she said with relief, and sat down again. "For one horrible moment I thought I'd blown it. How do you do? I'm Avery Crawford."

His eyebrows rose above amused eyes as dark as her own. "Why do you need company while you wait for the lucky Philip?"

"I'm not the one meeting him. I'm here as a sort of safety net for a friend."

"Safety net?" he repeated, and sat back, relaxed, with the air of a man ready to be entertained. "Go on."

Avery hesitated. "It's really my friend's story, not mine, but in the circumstances I don't suppose she'll mind. She's coming here soon to meet someone."

"Then why does she need you along?" 'Frances is divorced, lonely sometimes, and in a wild moment put an ad in the local paper. "Forty-something lady, slim, blonde, good sense of humour, would like to meet similar gentleman, etc." Philip is one of the men who answered. But once she'd actually arranged to meet him here she got cold feet, so I came up with a plan."

He grinned. "Let me guess! If she doesn't like him you rush to the rescue?"

"Exactly. Look," she added, "I must be keeping you from something. If you lend me your paper to hide behind I can leave you in peace."

"I was just killing time before going up to my room here," he assured her. "Don't look now," he added in an undertone. "I think Philip may have arrived."

The man eyeing the tables on his way to the bar had dark hair with a hint of silver at the temples, and wore a tweed jacket with a cut Avery's professional eye noted with respect.

"I hope you're right," she muttered. "He looks promising. The right age group, too. The others on the shortlist were a bit elderly. I warned Frances about that. A forty- something male is likely to go for a twenty-something female with a bra size bigger than her IQ. Three down is chrysalis, by the way."

"So it is." Jonas pencilled it in and glanced towards the door. "Is this your friend?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see Frances White hesitating at the entrance, with the look of someone about to take to her heels and run. But the man waiting at the bar hurried forward, smiling. Avery buried her nose in the crossword again. "I dare not look," she whispered. "What's happening?"

"They're sitting down together." 'Does she seem happy?" 'They're both laughing." Avery chanced a quick look and smiled, relieved. "My back-up probably won't be needed. I should be able to go soon."

"You can't leave yet!" said Jonas promptly. "What's the drill if your friend wants out?"

"In a little while she'll make for the cloakroom, and I'll join her for instructions. When she goes back to Philip I ring her cellphone to announce some emergency, or, if Frances is happy to carry on, I just go home."

Jonas Mercer shook his head. "I've got a better idea. After you talk to your friend I buy you a real drink and we finish the crossword together while we keep tabs on the stay of play. Unless," he added, "there's someone waiting for you at home?"

"Not a soul." 'Good." His eyes held hers for an instant before they returned to the crossword. "Just for the record, there's no one waiting for me, either. And sixteen down is parapet."

She eyed his bent head in disbelief while he filled in the clue. No one waiting here in the hotel, maybe, but back home it was sure to be a different story.

"On your mark," he murmured a couple of clues later. "Your friend is on the move."

Avery allowed time for Frances to reach their rendezvous, then got up too quickly and knocked her handbag over. Her companion jumped up to help her collect a few belongings, looming so much taller than expected as he straightened that Avery grinned, surprised.

"What's the joke?" he demanded. "I'll tell you when I get back." She strolled off, taking a quick look at Philip as she passed.

Frances was waiting impatiently for her. "Who's the handsome stranger?"

"Never mind that — don't keep me in suspense. Is Philip interesting? Do you like him? Are you staying for a while or — ?" 'All of the above. I'm having dinner with him." Avery whistled. "Where?" 'Right here in the hotel. He booked a meal just in case." Frances beamed as she patted Avery's hand. "Thanks a lot, boss. Without you I'd have bottled out, which would have been a shame because Philip seems like a really charming man. And I think he likes me."

"Of course he likes you, woman! Have fun and give me a full report tomorrow."

"Are you going home now?" Avery batted her eyelashes. "I'm staying on for a drink with my handsome stranger first. So scoot. I'll see you in the morning."

Avery renewed the discreet lipstick chosen for the operation, and thought about loosening her hair but with regret decided against it. Too obvious. She brushed a stray tendril back into the severe twist and rejoined Jonas.

He held out her cellphone. "It escaped from your bag." 'Thank you." She looked round, but there was no sign of Frances and her date.

"They've gone," he informed her. "Philip's booked dinner here." 'Then we can both relax. How about that drink?" Avery asked for a glass of red wine, and eyed Jonas Mercer with frank curiosity as he went off to the bar to fetch it. Very tall and lean, with the muscular, co-ordinated look of someone who kept himself fit, he was attractive in a self-confident, all-male kind of way, rather than movie- star pretty. And in contrast to the decisive cut of his features there was a laid-back aura about him she found very appealing. Though normally she preferred her men dark and edgy. Men? She smiled bitterly. What men?

"Still smiling at your joke?" he asked, returning with her drink.

Avery looked blank for a moment, then laughed. "Oh, right. Earlier, when I was willing more people to arrive, I pegged you as "six feet two, eyes of blue", but I was wrong on both counts."

"Only a couple of inches out. How about you? Five nine?" 'In my bare feet, yes. In heels I tower a bit." 'Do you mind that?" 'Not any more." 'But you did once?" Avery raised an eyebrow as she sipped her drink. "Twenty questions now, instead of crosswords?"

He slid the paper towards her. "I finished it while you were away."

"In that case there's no reason for me to stay." 'There's a very compelling reason," he said, and smiled at her. "I'd like you to stay."

"Then I will — for just a little while." After literally forcing her company on him at the start Avery couldn't help feeling flattered that he wanted more of it. "If I do will you ask more questions?"

He shrugged. "It's what people do when they've just met. Indulge me. Tell me about Avery Crawford."

She informed him that she was single, ran her own business, and owned a house on the outskirts of town. "Your turn now."

"Ditto, more or less," said Jonas. "I'm also single and own a house, but I help run the family business. I'm here on a reconnaissance trip. You live in a beautiful part of the world, Avery."

She gave him a thumbnail sketch of the town, and told him to look out for the blue plaques which gave the past history of the older buildings, some of which dated back to the time of the Marcher lords. But as she finished her drink her stomach rumbled in ominous warning, reminding her she'd put no food in it since a sketchy breakfast.

With regret she got up before he could offer more wine, which would not only go straight to her head but to other parts likely to cause embarrassment to both of them. "Thank you for the drink, and for your invaluable help. Before I go, confess. What did you really think when I asked to join you?"

"That it was my lucky day," he assured her promptly, and gave her a smile which took her breath away. "Must you go? It's not late."

"I really have to get home." 'Then I'll see you to your car." When they reached it Avery held out her hand, smiling, and he clasped it firmly in his. "Goodnight, Jonas. Thank you again."

"It was my pleasure —" He broke off as someone called her name, and Avery waved to an acquaintance as she got in the car, raised a hand to Jonas Mercer and drove off.

She glanced in her mirror to see him standing on the hotel steps, and felt a lingering sensation she finally narrowed down to her body's reaction to the grasp of a hard male hand. No wonder it was unfamiliar. It was so long since she'd experienced anything like it that she drove home more slowly than usual, to savour the novelty.

Avery's pleasant glow vanished abruptly when her headlights picked out the man waiting in the porch at the front of her house.

"Hi," said her visitor warily. "Long time no see." She slammed the car door, eyeing him with hostility. "What the devil are you doing here again, Paul?"

"Give me a break, Avery." His handsome face lit with a persuasive smile. "Let's be civilised and have a chat and a drink — or coffee, if you've had one too many at the Angel. Though, God knows, alcohol was never a weakness of yours."

She stared at him with distaste as he slurred his words in a way she knew from past experience meant it was he who'd had one drink too many. "How do you know I was at the Angel?"

"I saw you in the car park when I was leaving the pub across the road. I always sneak off there after a duty dinner with the parents. Who was the man?"

"What possible interest could that be to you?" His face took on a hurt look. "Do you have to be so damn belligerent, Avery? I'm here to do you a favour. Let me come in."

"No way. Don't do this, Paul. I don't want you in my house —"

Before she could stop him he whipped the keys from her hand. He held her off as he unlocked the door, then cursed volubly as the burglar alarm sounded. "Turn the bloody thing off, Avery!"

"No fear." She smiled as sirens wailed in the distance. "Better make yourself scarce, Paul, or I'll shop you to the police. Mummy and Daddy would just hate that."

He hesitated, but as the sirens grew nearer he gave her a malevolent glare and made an unsteady run for the gate, tripping in his hurry to get away. Avery punched in the code for the alarm, smiling scornfully as the sirens receded into the distance. Paul Morrell had drunk too much to tell the difference between a police car and an ambulance making for the local hospital.