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‘Mummy says you live in London now,’ said Emily, beaming up at Lowri. ‘Why aren’t you living with us?’
‘I’ve got a flat,’ said Lowri hastily, and Rupert snorted.
‘Fifth share of one, I hear.’
‘One girl is moving out next week, thank goodness.’ Lowri pulled a face. ‘Which means my rent will rise, but at least I’ll get a room with a wardrobe, and more chance of the bathroom.’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly at the sound of voices in the hall. One of them was vaguely familiar. She threw a questioning look at her cousin.
‘We’ve got two other guests today, love,’ explained Sarah. ‘After I met Adam Hawkridge in your shop the other afternoon he rang up and invited us out to something he calls brunch today. I told him we had company and asked him here instead, which meant including the current girlfriend, as usual.’
As Dominic showed the new guests into the conservatory Lowri got to her feet politely, wishing she’d worn something smarter than jeans and a striped cotton shirt as she shook hands with a leggy, narrow-hipped blonde encased in a ribbed white cashmere dress which drew all eyes to her startlingly prominent breasts. Adam Hawkridge, Lowri was relieved to see, wore jeans older than her own, plus a sweater over an open-necked shirt. He smiled at Lowri in gratifying recognition.
‘Well, well—the little cousin!’ He clasped her hand warmly. ‘This is my friend, Fiona Childe.’
Lowri murmured something suitable, then watched, amused, as the girl gushed over the house to Sarah, cooed at the children briefly then turned the full battery of her charms on Rupert.
‘Miss Thirty-two E, black lace,’ murmured a deep voice in Lowri’s ear, and she stiffened, swallowing a giggle.
‘Not today,’ she couldn’t help whispering. ‘It would show through.’
‘Really?’ Adam grinned down at her as he accepted a drink from Rupert. ‘How very interesting.’
‘What’s interesting?’ demanded Emily.
‘You are,’ said Adam promptly and sat down with Emily on his knee, stretching out a hand to Dominic at the same time. ‘Right then, you two, tell me what you’ve been up to.’
This man is preposterously attractive, thought Lowri as she watched him charm the children. Taken feature by feature, his heavy eyebrows and wide, slightly crooked mouth had no pretensions to good looks, and his forceful nose had suffered a dent at some time, but somehow the sum of it all added up to something irresistible. And quite apart from his looks Adam Hawkridge possessed effortless charm all the more powerful for the hint of steel under it all. Rake he might be, but a potently attractive one in every way, thought Lowri as she listened to the inanities Fiona was burbling about her hairdresser.
‘That’s a frightfully clever cut—where do you have yours done?’ she asked, eyeing Lowri’s boyish crop with interest. ‘Is the colour natural or do you have it tinted?’
‘Sloe-black, crow-black Welsh hair like Sarah’s,’ Rupert informed her.
‘There’s a man in the hair salon where I work,’ explained Lowri. ‘He did it half-price for me.’
‘You’re a hairdresser?’ exclaimed Fiona, flabbergasted.
‘No, I sell underwear.’
‘In the West End, not door to door,’ added Rupert, poker-faced.
‘How fascinating,’ said Fiona blankly, losing all interest in Lowri on the spot.
Adam Hawkridge, however, more than made up for the deficit. During the meal he installed himself next to Lowri, asking her all kinds of questions about herself in between telling Dominic and Emily about his recent trip to Japan.
‘How’s your father?’ asked Rupert later, refilling wineglasses.
‘Retiring soon,’ said Adam, sobering a little.
‘Does that mean you’ll be in charge of the company?’ asked Sarah.
‘Afraid so. All good things come to an end, so no more globe-trotting for yours truly. I’ll be a desk-bound sober citizen at last.’ He grinned challengingly. ‘Did I hear someone say “about time”?’
Fiona tossed back her hair, pouting. ‘Does that mean no more Ascot and Henley and so on?’
‘Afraid so—to the first two, anyway.’ The hazel eyes gleamed suggestively. ‘I might be able to fit in a bit of so-on now and again, perhaps.’
Fiona gave a little scream of laughter. ‘O-o-o-h, Adam!’
Sarah and Lowri sprang up simultaneously to clear away, avoiding each other’s eyes. They refused offers of help from the men, who went out into the garden with the children to play cricket, while Fiona remained firmly where she was, reclining on a wicker chaise with a pile of magazines,
‘What does he see in her?’ said Sarah in disapproval as she loaded the dishwasher.
‘Oh come on, Sal, two reasons hit you in the eye! She’s the black lace thirty-two E I sold him that day. Adam told me.’ Lowri grinned as she stored salad in a plastic container. ‘Mind you he’s got someone else on the go, too. He bought the same things in angel blush, thirty-six C.’
‘Typical! Next week he’ll probably be back for more of the same in two quite different sizes.’
‘Why do men go unfailingly for sexy underwear, I wonder? Does Rupert?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Pretty pointless, really.’
Lowri eyed her cousin curiously. ‘Why?’
‘Because the minute a man sees you decked out in that stuff he wants to take it off, of course!’
Lowri blushed to the roots of her hair.
Sarah eyed her narrowly. ‘Ah! You’ve already discovered that for yourself.’
‘Only once.’
‘Not a happy experience?’
‘No. My social life was pretty uncomplicated up to then, just enjoying dates with blokes I’d been to school with, and one or two men I’d met through my job. Then disaster struck. I got emotionally involved.’
‘What happened?’
‘Not a lot. The object of my affections forgot to mention he was married, the pig. It put me off men for a while. And since I’ve come up to London I haven’t met anyone at all.’ Lowri smiled ruefully. ‘I hoped I would, to be honest. But so far the streets of London aren’t exactly paved with eligible males eager to buy me romantic dinners.’
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear, we’ll have to do something about you,’ said Sarah, the light of battle in her eye. ‘I’ll ask Rupert—’
‘No, you won’t,’ interrupted Lowri promptly, ‘I came up to London to manage my own life, remember. Let me have a go at it for a bit on my own, please, Sal.’
Sarah patted her cheek. ‘Sorry—interfering again. Come on, let’s drag Miss Thirty-two E into the garden for some cricket.’
But Fiona refused to budge, too careful of her hairdo to set foot outside the conservatory. Sarah and Lowri left her to her magazines and went to join in some energetic fielding while the menfolk batted, bowled and kept wicket in turn.
‘How about you, Lowri?’ asked Adam, offering the bat to her. ‘Fancy your chances?’
‘I don’t mind having a try,’ she said demurely, and let him show her how to grip the handle correctly. She winked at Dominic, who grinned from ear to ear as Adam jogged down the lawn ready to deliver a nice, easy ball to the beginner. Rupert, hunkered down behind her to keep wicket, smothered a laugh as Lowri danced down the wicket to the tame delivery, smashing it away into the shrubbery with a perfect forward drive.
Adam stared, open-mouthed as Dominic raced to retrieve it. ‘I see, I see,’ he said ominously, scowling at Lowri. ‘Having me on, were you?’ He put up a hand to catch the ball then came sprinting down the wicket in earnest, letting fly a full toss which Lowri swiped over his head with ease to wild applause from the four Clares. She dealt with his three successive deliveries with equal disrespect, until she grew careless and lofted a ball which Dominic sprang up and took spectacularly with one hand, winning concerted applause all round, loudest of all from the bowler.
Adam came sprinting towards Lowri, his eyes hot with accusation. ‘Don’t tell me that was beginner’s luck!’
‘Nah!’ said Dominic scornfully. ‘Her Dad’s captain of the village cricket team where Lowri comes from. He taught her to play cricket when she was littler than Emily.’
‘No son, you see,’ said Lowri apologetically. ‘Dad had to teach his skills to me. Not,’ she added, ‘that I get to use them much.’
Adam grinned. ‘Did he teach you to bowl, too?’
‘Only tame medium pace stuff.’
He handed her the ball. ‘Right. Come on, then.’
‘It’s my turn to bat,’ pointed out Rupert, aggrieved, as Adam took his stance in front of the wicket.
‘Later—I want my revenge first!’
But Adam, swiping mightily at the third ball Lowri delivered, sent it straight through the window in the coach house office in a hail of broken glass, bringing the match to an early close.
Astonished by the howls of laughter from her hosts, Fiona burst from the conservatory to hurl recriminations at Adam, winning her deep disapproval from Emily, who slid a small comforting hand into his large one in consolation as he apologised profusely.
‘Don’t worry—Mrs Parks can type in the conservatory tomorrow,’ said Rupert, clapping him on the shoulder.
With promises to settle the bill for the damage, Adam took reluctant leave, prompted by a petulant reminder from Fiona that they were expected for dinner elsewhere that night. Despite her urgings he took his time in parting from Dominic and Emily, even contriving a private word with Lowri while Fiona went upstairs to make unnecessary repairs to her face.
‘For a pint-sized lady,’ he said, his eyes glinting, ‘you pack an almighty wallop, Lowri Morgan.’
‘It comes in useful from time to time,’ she admitted demurely.
‘For beating off importunate lovers?’
‘Not too many of those around,’ she said candidly.
Adam Hawkridge shook his shiny brown hair back, frowning. ‘Why not?’
‘I wish I knew,’ she said without thinking, then regretted it as she saw the gleam in his eyes.
‘It’s not personal preference, then? You don’t have anything deep-seated against my sex?’
‘Not too deep-seated, no,’ she said warily.
‘Splendid.’ He smiled and shook her hand. ‘I’m very glad Sarah invited me here today. Goodbye, little cousin.’
Lowri, pressed to stay for supper once the others had left, accepted with alacrity. She helped Emily get ready for bed, read her a story, then gave Sarah a hand with the meal, which Dominic was allowed to share before he too went off to bed and left the other three alone. Lowri found herself listening with shameless avidity when Sarah and Rupert discussed Adam Hawkridge’s future destiny as they lingered over coffee round the kitchen table.
‘A bit of a playboy, our Adam,’ mused Rupert, ‘but a brilliant electronics engineer just the same, with a definite flair for marketing. He’ll fill his father’s shoes very ably—far more than his brother would have done.’
‘Rupert was in school with Peter Hawkridge,’ explained Sarah.
‘I often spent part of the holidays with his family,’ added Rupert. ‘Adam was only a kid in those days, of course. Can’t be much more than early thirties even now. He’s packed such a lot in his life that one tends to forget his youth.’
‘Why isn’t his brother taking over the business?’ asked Lowri.
‘He’s dead, pet. Smashed himself up in his car when his wife went off with another man. Adam was at Harvard Business School at the time.’
‘Gosh, how tragic. What sort of business is it?’ added Lowri, trying not to sound too interested.
‘Hawke Electronics rents software to a worldwide clientele. Adam’s father built the company from scratch, and believes in ploughing back a fair percentage on research and development.’ Rupert held out his cup for more coffee. ‘And since Adam’s return from the States the number of software programmes they provide has tripled. He’s one bright cookie, our Adam. Dan Hawkridge is damn lucky to have such an able son to follow in his footsteps.’
‘Adam switched off a bit at the prospect at lunch, though, wouldn’t you say?’ said Sarah, joining her husband on the sofa.
Rupert put his arm round her. ‘The weight of future responsibility, I suppose. Once Adam’s in charge, Dan’s taking his wife off on the world cruise he’s promised her.’
‘In the meantime Adam will work his way through as many Fiona types as possible, I suppose, before he knuckles down,’ said Sarah acidly.
‘Does his taste always run to brainless blondes?’ asked Lowri, chuckling.
‘I don’t think our Adam specifies hair colour, precisely. His women do tend to be leggy and well endowed in the bosom department, now I come to think of it. Why?’ added Sarah in alarm. ‘You’re not thinking—?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Lowri promptly. ‘I’m neither leggy nor blonde, remember. I like Adam, that’s all. Dominic and Emily like him, too.’
‘They dote on him,’ agreed their mother. ‘Adam will make a good father when he’s ready. Retired rakes always do.’ She smiled up at Rupert. ‘As I know from experience!’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e211652f-4856-5a5c-af0e-a60845c597a2)
LOWRI had very little time for daydreams about Adam Hawkridge next day. The department was short-staffed due to influenza, and she was run off her feet during working hours. When she got back to the flat, weary and footsore, she forced herself to do a thorough cleaning job on the room vacated that day by the outgoing occupant, spent the evening arranging her things, then took a much needed shower before allowing herself the luxury of something to eat.
As Lowri emerged from the bathroom, Barbara, the owner of the flat, told her she was wanted on the phone. ‘Man. Very attractive voice.’
Lowrie flew to the telephone, blushing unseen at her own disappointment when she heard her father’s resonant tones. She assured him she was fine, told him about her day with Sarah, promised to ring more often and sent her love to Holly, at which Geraint Morgan coughed, hummed and hawed and finally blurted out the reason for his telephone call. Holly was pregnant. Lowri would soon have a little brother or sister.
Lowri congratulated her father enthusiastically, assured him she was overjoyed, then put the receiver down feeling rather odd. Deciding it was lack of food, she made herself scrambled eggs in the poky, chaotic kitchen, added a pot of tea and took her tray back to her room, in no mood now to join the others in the communal sitting-room. Later she rang Sarah to share the news.
‘You sound shattered,’ said Sarah bluntly.
‘I am, a bit. I’m really very happy for Dad, but it was a bit of a body-blow, just the same.’
‘Only natural. You two were so close after your mother died. Not your usual father/daughter arrangement.’
‘Sorry to moan at you, but I had to talk to someone.’
‘I’m glad you did—I can moan at you in exchange. Rupert’s Mrs Parks threw a wobbly today.’
‘Why?’
‘It started with the broken window in the office and the move into the conservatory while it was mended. Then Rupert topped it off with twice as much work as usual this morning because he was struck with inspiration last night and dictated into his machine into the small hours—’
‘Sarah, can’t you think of a way to keep him in bed?’ gurgled Lowri. ‘I’ll get you a sexy nightie at cost, if you like.’
