The Vengance Affair Read online

  His frown had turned to puzzlement now. 'Jaz—' He broke off as a knock sounded on the back door.

  'Hello? Anyone home?' Without waiting for an an­swer to his call, Dennis, the builder, opened the door to look expectantly into the room.

  Where, Jaz knew, she and the famous Beau Garrett were standing far too close for two people who were supposed to be relative strangers!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bills, bills, nothing but— What...?

  Jaz's hand shook as she held the single sheet of paper, staring disbelievingly at the single sentence printed there. Only four words, but, nevertheless, those four words had the impact on her that they were obvi­ously supposed to.

  'Like mother, like daughter'.

  Like mother, like daughter—except Jaz was nothing like her mother. Nothing!

  She flung the letter down onto the cluttered desk-top in the garden-centre office where she had been opening her post, before standing up to pace restlessly, her gaze returning again and again to that unsigned letter.

  What did it mean? In what way was she supposed to be like her mother?

  The envelope, she suddenly realized. It would have a stamp on it with the time and place of postage, plus the address would have to have been written there too.

  No, the address had been printed by computer too— so much for her amateur sleuthing! And there was no postage stamp on it. Which meant it must have been delivered by hand.

  Jaz recoiled from the thought that it might have been someone local who had sent the anonymous letter to her, her stomach churning with distaste that she might actually know someone capable of doing this.

  But what other explanation was there? The letter had been laying on the floor with all the other letters deliv­ered while she'd been out at work all day, gathered up in their number and opened in all innocence of its con­tents.

  'Anyone here?'

  Jaz easily recognized that voice, moving quickly to gather up the letter and its envelope, to push them into the top drawer of the desk just as Beau Garrett let him­self into the office.

  'Yes?' she prompted slightly breathlessly, standing protectively in front of the desk—as if she thought that damning letter were going to leap out of its own volition and present itself to this man!

  Maybe she should show it to him? Maybe if she could share it with someone it wouldn't seem quite so—

  Ridiculous, she instantly told herself irritably. It was unpleasant—unbelievably so, if she were honest with herself!—but not anything that concerned this man. Certainly nothing she could 'share' with him, or anyone else.

  Beau frowned across the room at her. 'Are you okay?'

  She swallowed hard, forcing herself to relax as she smiled at him reassuringly. 'Of course.'

  His frown didn't alter. 'You're looking a little pale...?'

  Jaz gave a dismissive grimace. 'I'm probably hungry. Besides,' she added ruefully, 'I've just received the electricity bill!'

  Beau gave a derisive smile. 'That would do it.' He nodded understandingly. 'And talking of hungry—I'm just on my way out to the pub for dinner. I saw your light on, and wondered if, like me, you felt like giving cooking a miss for this evening?'

  Jaz stared at him. Had Beau Garrett just invited her out to dinner? Albeit the pub at the other end of the village...

  Yes, he had. And she could easily guess the reason for it!

  They hadn't parted on too friendly terms earlier to­day, Jaz making good her escape from the kitchen with Dennis's timely arrival. And she had left promptly at five o'clock without speaking to Beau Garrett again.

  The man obviously felt guilty about his teasing ear­lier today!

  He raised mocking dark brows at her lack of re­sponse. 'Pub. Food,' he enunciated slowly. 'My treat,' he added as she continued to look at him without speak­ing.

  That last remark evoked a response, her cheeks col­ouring angrily. 'I'm not in need of anyone's charity, Mr Garrett,' she snapped waspishly. Least of all yours, her tone clearly implied.

  His expression darkened irritably. 'And I'm not in the business of offering anyone charity—Miss Logan,' he bit out harshly. 'Merely suggesting we eat dinner together, and as such ensuring that you have enough strength to shift another load of junk from my garden tomorrow!'

  She deserved his impatient anger, and she knew it; she was just feeling shaken, and not a little sensitive, from receiving that anonymous letter.

  But what was it, after all? Amateur hour, that's what it was. Probably just some kid who liked playing with his computer and had read too many Agatha Christies than was good for him!

  'Besides,' Beau Garrett added abruptly, 'I hate eating alone.'

  When he put it like that...!

  Jaz gave a heavy sigh, relaxing slightly. 'Sorry if I sounded ungrateful,' she grimaced. 'Dinner at the pub sounds wonderful,' she accepted gracefully.

  It would also give her time and distance from that horrible letter. And when she got back later this evening she would throw the thing straight in the bin.

  'Do you have time to wait while I change out of these old clothes?' She had actually changed out of her work­ing clothes when she'd got in half an hour ago, but these faded denims and one of her father's old jumpers, al­though clean, were almost as disreputable.

  Beau gave a decisive shake of his head. 'You look fine. And I've been assured that they do "a marvelous steak" at the pub,' he added more practically.

  Jaz moved to pick up her heavy coat, laughing softly at his perfect imitation of Barbara Scott at the village shop. 'Did you ever think of taking up acting?' she prompted interestedly after locking up and following him out to the Range Rover.

  'Never!' he assured with a barely suppressed shudder. 'Did you never think of doing something other than follow in your father's footsteps?'

  Jaz gave him a considering look, that look cut short as the interior light of the powerful vehicle clicked off overhead. 'Saved by the light,' she drawled. 'And, no, I never considered doing anything else. I love garden­ing, love collecting the seeds, nurturing the seedlings, seeing them grow into beautiful blooms. My grand­mother—the designer of the rock garden,' she reminded dryly, 'she loved it too. You might say it's in the blood,' she added teasingly. And then felt the chill of ice in her veins.

  As that anonymous letter had already stated, she was her mother's daughter too!

  No, she wasn't, Jaz decided just as firmly. Her mother had been flighty and irresponsible, but most of all self-centered; none of which Jaz believed herself to be.

  'But you didn't properly answer my question,' she prompted Beau pointedly.

  He gave her a brief grin. 'No, I didn't, did I?'

  And he wasn't going to do so, either, his tone clearly implied.

  Oh, well, if he didn't want to talk about himself, that was his choice, Jaz shrugged inwardly. Although he was singularly different from any other man she knew if that really were the case; on the few dates she had accepted over the years those men couldn't seem to talk about anything else but themselves!

  Date? Having a meal at the local pub with Beau Garrett couldn't be considered a date. She—

  'What are you thinking about now?' Beau gave her a sideways glance as he drove the short distance to the pub.

  'Nothing,' she dismissed, warm colour in her cheeks; there was no way she could tell this man what she had been thinking.

  She still had no idea whether Beau Garrett was mar­ried or not. But she did know that, even if he wasn't, she certainly wasn't the type of woman to attract him. He was much older, not just because he was aged in his late thirties or early forties, but because he had far more experience of life than her. His arrogantly aristo­cratic good looks put him well out of her league. And for years he had been at the centre of the world of television, surrounded by beautiful and sophisticated women. Jaz well knew that, despite his earlier teasing words, she had neither of those attributes.

  'You aren't having dinner with a married man, if that's what's bothering you,' Bea
u drawled derisively.

  'How did you do that?' she gasped.

  'It really wasn't that difficult, Jaz,' he assured her mockingly. 'You asked me the other day whether my "family" would be joining me.' He gave a dismissive shrug, turning the Range Rover into the pub car park before turning off the engine to turn in his seat, his expression grim. 'I was married once, but that was over years ago,' he bit out harshly. 'I haven't been a monk since, but there's no one currently in my life.'

  'You really don't need to tell me any of this.' Jaz couldn't quite meet his gaze, her cheeks coloured hotly now.

  'No, I don't,' he acknowledged abruptly, opening the door and getting out of the vehicle. 'But I thought you might like to know anyway,' he added scornfully. 'Bearing in mind your warnings that this is a small vil­lage and people like to talk.'

  Jaz followed slowly. She had wanted to know his marital status, certainly didn't want to have dinner with a married man, even as innocently as this was; there had been enough talk about her family over the years without her adding to the gossip. But it somehow felt uncomfortable to know that a man as sophisticated as Beau had been all too aware of her misgivings.

  She could comfort herself by claiming she was out of practise in these things, but as she had never been in practise in the first place...!

  'I must seem extremely unsophisticated to you,' she muttered as the two of them walked towards the warmth of the pub.

  'Refreshingly naive,' Beau corrected lightly, reaching forward to open the door for her.

  For naive read gauche and silly, Jaz accepted heavily as she stepped into the tastefully lit and furnished pub, a glowing warmth giving off by the log fire at one end of the room.

  Beau looked around him interestedly. 'I didn't know places like this really existed,' he murmured apprecia­tively.

  'Ye Olde Country Pub.' Jaz nodded smilingly. 'I'm told that the beer's quite good too,' she added deri­sively.

  'Hey, give me a break; I've lived in London for the last thirty-nine years!' Beau chided as they made their way through the crowded room to a table closer to the fire.

  Was it only Jaz's imagination or was there a slight drop in conversation as they made their way across the room? And if there was, was it because of Beau Garrett's presence here, or her own?

  'Good evening, Jaz,' Tom, the jovial landlord greeted warmly. 'We don't see you in here too often,' he added welcomingly.

  Mainly because she couldn't afford to come in here too often. Although she didn't think it would go down too well with the locals anyway if she, a lone female, were to spend much time in here!

  But it was as if Tom's warm welcome had triggered a switch, several other people greeting her as Beau or­dered their drinks. Confirming for Jaz that there defi­nitely had been a lull in the conversation when they'd come in, whether deliberate or accidental.

  Or maybe she was just becoming over-sensitive be­cause of that stupid anonymous letter? It certainly hadn't helped her self-confidence any!

  'They seem quite a friendly lot,' Beau remarked as they took their drinks, and a bar menu, across to the table with them.

  Jaz recognized most of the people in the room, knew for the main part that they were friendly. Except it could have been one of them that had sent her that letter...

  No, she was being silly now; better to continue think­ing it had been some teenager who had nothing better to do. She certainly couldn't go around suspecting everyone she met.

  'They are,' she confirmed briskly before turning de­terminedly to look at the menu.

  Everything there made her mouth water, from the home-made chicken and ham pie, to the highly rec­ommended sirloin steak with fries, mushrooms and on­ion rings. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a steak!

  'Vegetable pasta, please.' She selected the cheapest thing on the menu before closing it firmly.

  'Really?' Beau raised dark brows. 'I quite fancied the sirloin myself.'

  Jaz swallowed as her mouth began to water again. She liked pasta, wouldn't have ordered it if she didn't, but it would be sheer torture to sit here and eat it next to Beau while he tucked into a juicy steak with all the trimmings!

  'You aren't a vegetarian, are you?' he prompted in­terestedly.

  She had considered it a few years ago—she had a feeling that most teenagers did at some time, but she had only to smell bacon frying in a pan to know that she could never be a true vegetarian. And her reaction to Beau's mention of steak only confirmed that!

  'No,' she confirmed ruefully. 'But it's very nice of you to invite me out, Beau, and I wouldn't want to—'

  'Two sirloin steaks,' Beau told the barmaid, Tom's daughter, as she came over to take their order, Tom's wife Bella cooking in the kitchen. 'Medium?' he prompted Jaz as Sharon waited to see how they would like their meat cooked.

  'Lovely. Thank you,' Jaz added awkwardly. 'How are the wedding arrangements coming along, Sharon?' she prompted the other girl to cover some of her em­barrassment at having Beau order her food in this ar­rogant way.

  'Fine,' Sharon confirmed abruptly, a tall leggy blonde who made no effort to hide the fact that she couldn't wait to retire from being a barmaid in her father's pub after her wedding in three weeks time to a local farmer. 'It will be about fifteen minutes.' Her voice warmed considerably when she spoke to Beau.

  Jaz didn't listen to Beau's answer, pretending a sud­den interest in one of the prints on the wall beside her, while inside she acknowledged with a heavy heart that some people's opinion of her would never change. Her mother had run off with someone else's husband, and so Jaz was viewed with the same suspicion when it came to any other woman's boyfriend or husband. It was ridiculous, of course, but fact nonetheless.

  She turned back to Beau just in time to see the look of admiration on his face as he watched Sharon walk away, her black skirt a little tighter than necessary, her legs long and shapely beneath its short length.

  And why shouldn't he look at the other woman ad­miringly; in comparison with his own companion, in her baggy jumper and patched denims, Sharon looked pos­itively elegant!

  Jaz was smiling derisively by the time Beau became aware of her gaze, dark brows rising questioningly over mocking grey eyes as he returned her gaze specula­tively.

  'It's a man thing.' He shrugged unapologetically.

  'Sharon is very pretty,' Jaz nodded noncommittally.

  'With legs like those she could look like Godzilla and get away with it!' Beau grinned, that scar down the side of his face once again giving him a piratical look.

  Her own legs weren't bad, Jaz thought disgruntledly. Except that she was rarely out of jeans or trousers in order to show them off! Maybe next time—

  Next time? She caught herself up short. What did she mean, next time? She didn't seriously think that Beau was going to make taking her out to dinner a regular occurrence, did she? Fat chance!

  'Why did you say you wanted pasta when it was re­ally the steak you wanted?'

  It took a couple of seconds for Jaz to realize that Beau had completely caught her off-guard by this .sud­den change of subject. But how could she explain, with­out sounding totally pathetic, that she always chose the cheapest thing off the menu on the rare occasions she was invited to eat out?

  She moistened dry lips. 'I wouldn't like to take ad­vantage of your generosity by—'

  'Jaz, who's responsible for giving you such a lack of self-worth that you don't even order the food you really want from a pub menu? Whoever it is, you really don't need them in your life,' he added grimly. '"With friends like that you don't need enemies",' he quoted disgustedly.

  It wasn't any one person who had given her that sense of making herself as inconspicuous as possible, more a series of circumstances. But they weren't cir­cumstances she intended sharing with Beau Garrett!

  'I think you're reading far too much into this, Beau,' she answered derisively. 'I was merely brought up to believe that it isn't polite to take advantage of another person's generosity.'
<
br />   'Let's get one thing clear, Jaz.' Beau turned in his seat so that he was looking directly at her, his expres­sion no less grim. 'I am not being generous, in fact you're the one doing me a favour; as I've already told you, I hate to eat out alone!'

  No doubt, being who he was, his face easily recog­nizable—as was obvious by the surreptitious looks he had already received from the other patrons here—eat­ing out alone could be something of a problem for him, encouraging people to actually come up and start talk­ing to him. Something she was sure, even on such short acquaintance, that Beau would not enjoy.

  'In that case,' she relaxed slightly '...I may have des­sert too!'

  'Good for you.' He nodded approvingly. 'Who knows, then you might even be able to help me uproot some of those overgrown fruit bushes tomorrow!'

  Of course, she had completely forgotten she was do­ing a job of work for this man. She would do well in future to remember that was his only interest in her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Not that there was too much chance of Jaz doing that over the next half-hour or so as Sharon seemed to go out of her way to make sure Beau would definitely know her the next time they met, curvaceous hips sway­ing above those long legs when she delivered the food to their table fifteen minutes later, her smile friendly towards him as she went through the list of condiments he could have with his steak, her voice huskily inviting when she returned ten minutes later to see if everything was okay with their meal.

  If Jaz had been asked, she could have said the only thing wrong with her meal was these constant interrup­tions from a woman who should know better when she was about to be married in three weeks time!

  'Everything is fine, thanks,' Beau responded lightly to the enquiry, the smile still curving his lips when he turned and found Jaz frowning at him. He gave a rueful shrug. 'She's just being friendly.'

  Friendly, my foot. What Sharon was being was delib­erately irritating to Jaz. She had gone to school with the other woman, the two of them of similar age, Sharon amongst the nastiest of taunters when Jaz's mother had run off with another man. Jaz had no idea what made people so cruel, but she very much doubted that Sharon had changed that much from when they had both been seventeen.