Free The Seduction Game by Sara Craven Page A

until the Bank Holiday was over.
    First thing on Tuesday morning, I’ll come in and see Mr Hanman, she thought. Find out what the delay is.
    It was aggravating, but at least she’d taken the first step, she consoled herself as she drove home.
    Back at the house, she put on one of her father’s old shirts as an overall, tied her hair up in a scarf, and threw herself determinedly into her preparations. She’d already decided to begin with the dining room, and tugged the furniture into the centre of the room, covering it with dust sheets.
    She deliberately kept away from the front of the house, not wanting to catch any untoward glimpses of Caroline or her master, but when it was time to take down the curtains she found she had little choice.
    Because Adam was right there, facing the house, sitting at an easel which he’d set up near the jetty, apparently absorbed in painting.
    ‘Bloody nerve,’ Tara muttered under her breath, jerking the inoffensive curtains free from their rings with more force than the task required.
    And yet there was no reason for her to be het up. Plenty of other painters had used Silver Creek House and its environs as their subject before this, and there’d been no objections from her or anyone else in the family. Indeed, her mother was prone to taking them cups of coffee, sandwiches, and homemade lemonade on hot days.
    But pigs would fly before she offered Adam Barnard as much as the crumbs from the bread bin, she vowed as she descended from her steps, the curtains draped over her arm.
    She worked feverishly, cleaning the paintwork with sugar soap, filling and smoothing, until a plaintive protest from Melusine alerted her to the fact it was already midday.
    She fed Melusine, then heated herself a can of chicken soup, pouring it into a mug and sipping it, perched on the shrouded dining-room table while she contemplated the next stage of her labours. She’d chosen a creamy primrose emulsion for the walls, and she was itching to get started, knowing it would take two coats to cover the rather dingy blue presently in place.
    When the knock sounded at the front door she stiffened, her mouth tightening. No prizes for guessing who that was, she thought. Sitting where he was, he couldn’t have missed all the activity inside the house. Indeed, when she’d been rubbing down part of the windowframe he’d even waved to her. And now curiosity had brought him over.
    She drank the last of her soup, put down the mug, and went reluctantly to answer the door. At the last moment she switched her scowl for a look of haughty enquiry, and was glad when she threw the door open and discovered it wasn’t Adam at all, but a complete stranger. A stocky man with a moustache and a crumpled grey suit.
    ‘Good afternoon, madam.’ His smile seemed to have too many teeth. ‘We’re visiting homes in the neighbourhood, offering spot cash for antiques and collectables. I’d be happy to give you a free valuation on any item.’
    ‘No, thank you,’ said Tara, and went to close the door, only to find his foot was in it
    ‘Why don’t you have a little look round, madam?’ he urged. ‘You’d be surprised how many unwanted items you could have tucked away, just waiting to make money for you.’
    ‘There’s nothing,’ Tara said coldly. His insistence was irritating, she thought, noting over his shoulder that Adam and his easel had vanished.
    ‘I could always have a look-see for myself.’ He’d taken a step forward and was blocking the doorway. ‘Even if it’s just to update your contents valuation for insurance. You’d be surprised how many people are under-insured and have reason to be grateful to me. Or maybe I could have a word with your husband?’ he added insinuatingly.
    He’d taken another step forward, forcing Tara to fall back, and now he was actually in the hall. His neck bulged over his collar, and under the cheap suit his shoulders looked uncomfortably wide.
    She lifted her chin. ‘No, you can’t,’