Page 9 of Love By Sunset

As they sipped the wine, waiting for their food, Emily decided this might be a good time to get some answers to a few questions. She didn’t like the fact she was hiding something from him, but at the moment, ethics and confidentiality prevented her from explaining. However, any information she could gather might well assist his case, and if it looked as if Jake would really suffer because of her company’s plans, she could—and would—invoke their ethics clause. Which meant Approach would withdraw if there was no solution satisfactory to all parties.

Under the circumstances, perhaps she shouldn’t have accepted a casual date with him. But this was a man who wouldn’t much care what she did away from Solhaven as long as he got her into bed, and it seemed she was incapable of resisting the connection buzzing between them.

‘How long have you owned your café?’

And there it was again. A shadow falling over Jake’s face, which wiped away his sexy smile and dulled his laughing eyes. She saw his fingers grip the stem of the glass so tightly his knuckles showed white. Emily laid her hand over his until his tension eased a bit and he let go of the glass, his fingers curling instead round hers.

‘I don’t own it,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Well, I don’t think I do.’

‘Were you worrying about the café earlier today?’

He looked up, eyes wide as they fixed on Emily’s face. ‘I… yes, I was, okay? Look Emily, do we have to talk about this? Aren’t we here to have fun, do a bit of flirting?’ He tried a slight smile, but she could see something still troubled him as the gold depths of his eyes remained clouded.

Emily considered him, enjoying the warmth of his hand. He was facing a great deal of uncertainty and her heart felt sore for him. ‘Why don’t you tell me what the problem is? It might help you and I might be able to do something about it.’

‘What? How? I doubt it.’ He stared at the table as his fingers tightened over hers. ‘Why do you want to know, anyway?’

He had a point. What could she answer? That she was a partner in the firm sniffing round the estate, and their plans included razing his beloved cafe to the ground?

‘Maybe because every time it gets mentioned, you look miserable? I can see the place is important to you. Might help, just to talk it through?’ She’d shifted from probing for information to genuine sympathy, and it felt better. She was very much inclined to fight his corner and either preserve his café, or veto the purchase, even though she knew Gerry wouldn’t be thrilled if she did.

‘Yeah.’ Jake was now staring into the candle flame, which caught the gold of his eyes and reflected in his dark pupils. Shrugging his broad shoulders, he eventually explained. ‘The café was part of Henry’s property, and I’ve worked there since I was about twelve, washing up to pay him back for help with surfing stuff. I just kept moving up and learning until I was in charge. I’d been running it for a few years when he handed it over to me. Said I could take all the income, but I’d be responsible for all the outgoings, too.’

‘Formal handover?’ But Emily could already guess the answer.

Shifting in his chair, Jake sighed. ‘No, and that’s the problem. Just an agreement between the two of us. Then, after my accident, he said he’d write a will and leave the café to me. I only heard yesterday that there was no will. He died intestate, and the lot has gone to a nephew in New Zealand who’s going to sell. David told me… Dave’s a friend… some hot-shot development company is sniffing round.’

Emily looked down at her cutlery, picked up the knife, then put it down again. She was uncomfortable with the term hot-shot development company under these circumstances. ‘When did Henry Whitchurch die?’

They sat back in their chairs as the waiter brought their food. Jake released her hand, leaving her feeling oddly bereft.

Picking up his fork, he poked at the fish on his plate. ‘Just over six months ago. And don’t say anything. Dave’s already told me if there’d been a will, someone would have contacted me. I might have done something about it sooner, if I’d known what was happening, but I forgot, and it all just landed on me last night.’ He fell silent.

The discreet clink of cutlery on china punctuated soft-voiced conversations and occasional laugh. The air was redolent with the smells of good food. It seemed Jake and Emily were the only ones looking serious.

‘Okay.’ Emily sighed. ‘This seems a tough situation for you, and obviously finding this will would be good, but it clearly never reached his solicitor.’

‘Don’t think he had one.’

‘Witnesses?’

‘Well, no. No-one’s mentioned it or come forward. If they’d been local, they would’ve talked about it.’

‘What about his personal papers?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll see the estate agent’s solicitor next week and ask. It’s all I can think of to do.’ Putting his knife and fork down, Jake took a mouthful of wine and swallowed. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve got other assets, but Henry always said never to sell my property, and it was the best thing for a pension. The café is supposed to be my day-to-day living. It doesn’tmatter,’ he repeated, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.

‘Henry was a wise man,’ Emily murmured. ‘Leave it now, Jake. I’m sorry I asked.’

As far as she knew, Jake might have a small claim on the café because of the time he’d worked there, but the cost of pursuing it would undoubtably take everything he’d got, with no guarantee of success at the end. Maybe he could raise the money to buy it if he sold everything else he owned. It was an avenue which might be worth exploring if the nephew was willing to consider it. Out of the entire estate, though, the café and beach access were the plum, and the price would be high. She swallowed, tears gathering in her eyes, wishing her firm wasn’t involved.

It was her turn, now, to reach across the table and catch hold of his hand. ‘Will you be surfing tomorrow?’ she asked, hoping the catch in her voice would pass unnoticed and he would attribute the sheen of tears to the candlelight.

She watched as he searched her face, his brows creasing. ‘Emily?’

‘Look, I said I’m sorry. And I mean it. I now agree with you—maybe too late—this wasn’t a suitable topic of conversation on a date night.’

Better to forget about quizzing him, and forget about the business as well. She was on holiday. This was a holiday date which might or might not go further. Jake wasn’t a worried café owner about to lose everything he loved, but a surfer, not just of the waves, but women, too. He certainly wasn’t going to take their relationship seriously, so neither should she.

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