The Vengance Affair

by Carole Mortimer

  'Thank you,' she accepted huskily as she stuffed the cheque into her denims pocket. 'Eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, then.'

  He winced as the sound of banging could be heard from the front of the house, Dennis still in the process of putting up the scaffolding in preparation of repairing the roof when Jaz arrived a short time ago. 'Make it nine o'clock,' Beau Garrett suggested. 'If the place is going to be like a building site for the foreseeable fu­ture, I might as well arrange it so that I have some peace in the mornings, at least until after nine o'clock!'

  Having accepted and been present at Madelaine's drinks party last Friday, peace was something Jaz didn't think this man was going to find too much of in the immediate future. Every other hostess in the village, from Barbara Scott at the shop to Betty Booth, the pretty young wife of the vicar, was going to be inviting him to lunch or dinner. Invitations, if he didn't want to cause offence, he would find it hard to refuse, having accepted Madelaine's.

  Although somehow Jaz didn't think Beau Garrett par­ticularly cared whether or not he offended people!

  Oh, well, that was his problem. Her own, more im-mediate concern was cashing his cheque so that she might have some money herself for a change.

  'That's fine with me,' she agreed lightly, hesitating as she turned to leave. 'I should keep an eye on Dennis, if I were you,' she added with a rueful grimace. 'He has a habit of setting up the scaffolding and then for­getting to come back to start the job.'

  Beau Garrett's mouth set in a grim line. 'Not this one, he won't'

  No, he probably wouldn't, Jaz conceded inwardly as she went back out to her van. Even work-shy Dennis must have already realized that Beau Garrett wasn't a man to cross.

  Something she had better remember herself if she wanted to keep her own job at The Old Vicarage.

  If only just being here didn't bring back such vivid memories for her. Memories she would much rather forget.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

  Jaz turned frowningly at the sound of Beau Garrett's furious voice, struggling to hold a rather large rock in her arms as she did so. 'Sorry?' The wind was strong this morning, whipping her hair into her face and eyes, so that she looked at him through the screen of her tousled hair as he strode purposefully down the garden towards her.

  'I said,' he grated much closer to her, reaching out to take the rock from her arms and drop it disgustedly into the wheelbarrow beside them, 'what do you think you're doing?' His eyes glittered silver as Jaz was fi­nally able to brush the hair from her eyes and look at him.

  And then wished she hadn't.

  Not that he wasn't worth looking at, virilely attractive in faded denims and a navy-blue sweater to keep out the cold. But the anger she could see in his face, that scar shown in stark relief, were enough to make her take a step backwards.

  She moistened wind-dry lips. 'Don't worry, I'm not throwing these rocks away—'

  'I don't care if you smash them to pieces and scatter them to the wind,' he cut in harshly. 'What I want to know is why you're picking them up in the first place!'

  Jaz's apprehension at his obvious anger turned to confusion. 'Exactly what I told you I would do,' she answered slowly. 'Clearing away all the debris so that I can see what we have to work with.'

  She had arrived at The Old Vicarage just over an hour ago, Beau Garrett obviously out when she'd got there: his Range Rover had been missing from the driveway, and there had been no answer to the ringing of the doorbell, only Dennis up on the roof industriously hammering away.

  So Jaz had simply let herself into the garden by the side gate, had already half filled the skip at the side of the house that had been delivered yesterday, with old bicycles and other rubbish that had no practical use. In fact, she couldn't imagine how an old bath could pos­sibly have found its way amongst the weeds; as far as she was aware, apart from the kitchen, Beau Garrett hadn't yet started on the redecorating of the other rooms in the house. But she had dumped that into the skip along with the other accumulating rubbish.

  Beau Garrett's expression was darkly disapproving. 'I presumed when we agreed that you would do the work that you would have someone to help you.'

  Jaz raised dark brows. 'Such as?'

  'Such as a labourer of some kind to do the heavy work,' he bit out impatiently.

  'Ah.' Jaz straightened knowingly, realizing that her five feet four inches in height were far from imposing. 'A man, you mean?'

  'Well, of course I mean a man,' he came back with barely constrained irritation. 'I had no idea that you in­tended doing all this heavy work yourself.'

  'Mr Garrett—-'

  'Beau,' he snapped.

  'Beau,' she complied with a nod. 'Apart from old Fred at the garden centre, I don't have anyone working for me. I'm a one-man band—'

  'One-woman band,' he corrected grimly.

  'And that's the problem,' she guessed ruefully.

  'Of course that's the problem!' he snapped. 'I can't possibly allow you to collect all this rubbish up and carry it out to the skip—'

  'I'm using a wheelbarrow,' she pointed out practi­cally.

  'Wheeling it out to the skip, then,' he corrected with no show of a lessening of his impatience.

  She gave him a reassuring smile. 'I realize I'm not very big, but I'm really quite strong, you know.'

  His gaze raked over her scathingly, obviously not at all impressed with her height or her size-ten frame. 'You may be,' he allowed skeptically. 'But there's no way I'm going to let you clear all this lot on your own.' He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed all the rubbish still scattered about the weed-engulfed garden.

  And there was no way that Jaz was going to use some of the precious money he had given her in order to hire a labourer for a couple of days to help with the clear­ance! Especially when she knew she was perfectly ca­pable of doing it herself.

  'I'll help you,' Beau told her dryly as he seemed to read at least some of her thoughts.

  But hopefully he couldn't read the ones she was hav­ing now!

  Beau Garrett, television star, urbanely elegant man, always voted in the top five in the 'sexiest men on tele­vision' poll that came out each year, was going to shift stones and debris like some common labourer?

  Worse—he was going to shift stones and debris like a common labourer alongside her!

  She may have given up any interest in love mar-riage, but that didn't mean she was immune to men, that she couldn't be totally aware of one in a sexual way. As she was totally aware of Beau Garrett...

  Top five 'sexiest men on television' be damned—this man was too lethally attractive for his own—or anyone else's!—good.

  She shook her head. 'I don't think that's a good idea—'

  'Why not?' he rasped impatiently.

  Jaz had no intention of telling him the real reason 'why not'; the truth being that, dressed in disreputable denims and a ragged sweater, her face hot and sweaty from lifting heavy weights, she felt about as feminine as one of the rusted bicycles she had thrown in the skip!

  Not that she thought a man like Beau Garrett would have looked at her twice even if she were looking her best, but she still had her pride, even if he did think she made 'a scarecrow look well dressed'.

  No matter how determined she may have been on Monday afternoon not to let him see how hurt she had been by that insulting remark, it had definitely hit a raw nerve...

  She shrugged. 'My insurance wouldn't cover any in­juries you—'

  'Insurance be damned,' Beau Garrett cut in sca­thingly. 'This is my garden, and as such my rubbish, and if I choose to help clear it away then that's my problem, not yours.'

  Jaz could clearly see the challenge in his gaze. 'I'm not sure an insurance company would see it quite that way—' She broke off, knowing her protests to be com­pletely wasted as he moved determinedly to pick up one of the larger stones that littered this particular corner of the garden.

  'Where could all these rocks hav
e come from?' he muttered disgustedly as he dumped it into the wheel­barrow.

  'My grandmother's rock garden...?' she suggested with a grimace.

  'I should have guessed!' Beau shot her a rueful glance as he continued to load the rocks into the barrow.

  'Mmm,' Jaz nodded, blue eyes glittering mischie­vously. 'She was very fond of her rock garden.'

  He paused before bending to pick up another rock, one dark brow raised over mocking grey eyes. 'Are you going to help or just stand there watching me all day?'

  Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. 'Sorry. I— I just can't believe you're actually doing this.' She gave a dazed shake of her head even as she moved to pick up one of the smaller rocks.

  'Believe it,' he muttered through clenched teeth as he dumped another huge rock none-too-gently on top of the others. 'Besides...' he straightened, running his hands down his denim-clad thighs to remove the dirt '...you don't seriously think, now that I've seen you're managing here alone, that I could just calmly go back into the house and read the newspaper, do you?' His expression was grim.

  Jaz gave a shrug. 'You could always try pretending that you hadn't seen me.'

  'No,' he bit out, 'I couldn't.' A frown furrowed his brow as he looked down at all the rocks still remaining on the ground. 'If we put all these in the skip there won't be any room for anything else.'

  'Oh, but they aren't going in the skip,' she assured him happily.

  His frown deepened. 'In that case, what do you intend doing with them?'

  'Don't worry.' She laughed. 'I'm not the sort to steal them to use for another job!'

  Beau gave a disgusted shake of his head. 'I didn't for a moment think that you were!'

  Jaz grinned. 'Then, in answer to your question, I'm going to store them in the greenhouse.'

  He gave a grimace. 'The last time I looked in there it was full of cigarette butts and empty beer cans; I think some of the local kids have been using it to hold small parties!'

  'Already disposed of in the skip,' she assured him, prevented from wheeling the barrow over the garden to the greenhouse as Beau neatly took over the handles.

  'And exactly why are we keeping these particular rocks?' he prompted impatiently, barely breathing hard from the effort of lifting the heavy weight across the garden.

  'So that I can eventually make another rock garden.' Jaz studiously ignored his disapproving frown as she helped transfer the rocks to the greenhouse. It was what he was paying her for, after all!

  'Right,' he acknowledged self-derisively.

  They worked in companionable silence, after that. Well...as companionable as it could be for Jaz when she was aware of everything about him, from his tousled dark hair, lithe body, to the long muscular length of his legs.

  If anyone had told her a week ago that she would be working alongside Beau Garrett, of all people, she would have laughed in their faces!

  'Time for a coffee break, I think,' he decided crisply ten minutes later when the rocks were neatly stacked in the greenhouse.

  'Oh, but—' She broke off her protest as he looked at her down the length of that arrogant nose. No doubt that look had as equal success in silencing the guests on his television programme!

  'Coffee break. Now. In the house,' he bit out suc­cinctly.

  She quirked dark brows derisively. 'Will Dennis be joining us too?'

  Beau's mouth twisted scathingly. 'Hardly.'

  She shook her head. 'Then you have no need to worry about me, either. I brought a flask of coffee with me in the van,' she assured him.

  And then felt totally embarrassed by the admission. Although why she should do so she had no idea; she always took a flask of coffee and a packed lunch when she was off working for the day. And thanks to Beau Garrett's cheque she had been able to put something a little more interesting than jam in the sandwiches!

  'Save it for later,' he dismissed uninterestedly, not waiting for her reply before striding off towards the house.

  Because he was used to being listened to and obeyed, Jaz guessed ruefully as she trailed along reluctantly be­hind him. She was afraid he would have to get used to a much slower response if he intended remaining in Aberton.

  Although not this time, Jaz allowed self-derisively, feeling slightly guilty as she could still hear Dennis working up on the roof, but quite happy to drink a cup of coffee herself if it was the same brew Beau had made for her on Monday.

  It was, its delicious aroma quickly filling the warmth of the kitchen. Jaz crossed the room with sock-covered feet to sit at the table, having left her muddy boots outside on the step.

  'Mmm, that smells good,' she accepted gratefully as Beau placed the steaming mug on the table in front of her. 'Er—I wasn't being rude before when I made that remark about you shifting the rocks,' she began awk­wardly. 'It's just that the last time I saw you it was on public television, interviewing Catherine what's-her-name, the Oscar-winner.'

  He stiffened, his expression bleak, his eyes glittering hardly. 'A beautiful lady,' he allowed tightly as he moved away to get his own coffee.

  'Very.' Jaz nodded, frowning as he kept the rigidness of his back turned towards her.

  She hadn't intended to annoy him by mentioning his television programme—although from his suddenly frosty manner that's obviously what she had succeeded in doing!

  'Mr—Beau,' she amended as he turned that silver glare on her. 'I'm sorry if I—'

  'Life is going to become extremely tedious over the next few weeks if you keep apologizing every ten minutes!' he bit out tautly, a humourless smile curving his lips as he looked at her challengingly.

  Once again Jaz felt the embarrassed colour in her cheeks. Even if she was completely aware that Beau Garrett had deliberately turned the tables on her...

  Beau was giving her a considering look now, further enhancing that blush in her cheeks. 'You have a look of Catherine yourself, you know,' he finally murmured slowly.

  'Yeah—right!' She came back with the same scornful comment she had heard from a friend's teenage son a couple of weeks ago.

  Although her smile wavered, and then disappeared completely as she found no answering humour in Beau Garrett's face.

  She continued to frown at him for several long minutes, and Beau silently returned the steadiness of her gaze. 'You were just trying to change the subject,' she finally accused dryly.

  'True,' he acknowledged unabashedly—nothing in his expression to confirm or deny his reference to her resembling the beautiful actress.

  Not that Jaz had taken him seriously for a moment; with her wild dark hair and make-upless face, her clothes ready for the ragbag, she bore absolutely no resemblance to the beautifully elegant actress who ap­peared so strikingly on the big screen. It had merely been said as a ploy to distract her from her remark con­cerning Beau's television programme.

  Although she still had no idea what the problem was with her mentioning something that was obviously so successful...

  She sighed heavily. 'I think the Catherine Zeta-Jones remark was a little mean of you,' she grimaced.

  'Coffee break over,' Beau decided abruptly. 'And I wasn't being in the least "mean" with the Catherine Z J remark,' he added mockingly, that rapier-sharp gaze narrowed on her flushed face now. 'It's your mouth, I think,' he said slowly—just when Jaz had decided she really couldn't stand his all-seeing scrutiny a moment longer! 'The top lip is a perfect bow, the bottom lip sensuously full.'

  A perfect bow...? Sensuously full...!

  Her next movement was purely instinctive, her tongue moving moistly across that perfect bow and sen­suously full bottom lip, her breath catching in her throat as she saw that Beau Garrett's gaze was riveted on the movement.

  She may be twenty-five in years, but in experience she was a mere babe-in-arms. Especially where a man of Beau Garrett's charisma was concerned! There had been few dates in her teen years, even fewer in her twenties, and she couldn't remember anyone who had ever looked at her with such frankly male appraisal. It wasn't c
omfortable.

  She gave a dismissive shake of her head. 'I think you need to get your eyesight checked!'

  The smile he gave at this remark was the most gen­uine Jaz had ever seen him give, revealing even white teeth, grey eyes gleaming warmly, taking years off him as he looked almost boyish.

  Wow! Jaz allowed inwardly, finding herself the mes­merized one now.

  Which wasn't going to do her, or anyone else, any good whatsoever!

  Beau gave a rueful shake of his head. 'Are you sug­gesting that I've become short-sighted in my old age?' he drawled ruefully.

  Old age! When he smiled like that he definitely only looked in his late thirties, and rakishly attractive to boot. Too much so for her peace of mind!

  She quickly drank down her cooling coffee before standing up noisily, not quite meeting his gaze now. 'Time I got back to work,' she mumbled awkwardly.

  'Jaz...?' he murmured softly as she hurried across the room to the door.

  She paused, drawing in a controlling breath, drawing back her shoulders before turning to face him. 'Yes?' she prompted tautly.

  He walked softly across the room to stand in front of her, his gaze questioning now. 'I'm sure I can't be the first man to tell you how beautiful you are—'

  'Now you're going too far!' She frowned in rebuke, disappointment her main emotion.

  She had actually been starting to like him, appreci­ated rather than resented his old-fashioned view that shifting rocks was 'a man's work'. But now he was just being deliberately cruel.

  'Thanks for the coffee, Mr Garrett, but the entertain­ment's over; I'm going back to work,' she told him abruptly before turning away.

  Strong fingers dug into her upper arms as he reached out to hold her firmly in front of him, his gaze searching as she glared up at him resentfully.

  Living in the village had been far from easy since her mother had run off, village people, as Jaz knew to her cost, having long memories. But she had been born here, had no intention of being driven out of her birth­right because of the viciousness of some of the gossip. And, with time, it had lessened, finally fading almost completely; she certainly didn't need Beau Garrett, a complete stranger to the area, coming here and tor­menting her in another way!