Morelli's Mistress (Harlequin Presents) Read Online Free Page B

morning, without arousing any protests from their occupants.
    Luke himself had never been to Ashford-St-James before. He’d only learned of the possible opportunity for developing the site from his father.
    Charles Gifford, the owner of the properties, had been an old golfing partner of Oliver Morelli’s. When he’d died, Gifford’s son had wasted no time in informing his father’s solicitor that as soon as probate was granted he was going to sell the row of shops in Ashford.
    Prior knowledge had given Luke an advantage. And, although it was a small development compared to the work the Morelli Corporation undertook these days, Luke had sensed that Oliver Morelli wanted to feel he was contributing to his son’s success.
    Which was why the five businesses in question had been given six months’ notice. It had also been Luke’s father’s suggestion that the tenants be given a decent interval of time to find themselves other accommodation.
    Not that that was going to be easy, thought Luke, deciding to park his car in the centre of town and explore the place on foot. From what he’d heard, the shops in South Road were small concerns, more suited to the last century than this.
    As far as he could see, the stores in High Road were upmarket clothes shops and jewellers. There were one or two phone outlets and a couple of coffee shops, but nothing along the lines of the businesses his father had described to him.
    Conversely, there appeared to be few food shops. He could quite see why the local council were in favour of building a supermarket.
    Nevertheless, it was an attractive place, the mellow stonework of a church with its bell tower providing a focal point. The church stood beside a park, where a small lake provided a home for a family of ducks. Although it was early in the season, there were flowers already blooming in the planters that edged the market square, and the trees in the park had most of their foliage.
    It was all very old English and very civilised. The kind of place that was attracting newcomers from London. People who were eager to escape the rat race; who wanted a slower pace of living, without losing all the benefits of the city.
    Luke left his car near the town centre and strolled along the main street to where South Road ran at right angles to the high street. His father had given him directions and it was easy to find the row of properties Luke had taken an option on.
    According to the details Luke had been given, there was a gift shop, a shop that sold woollens, a photo studio, and a bridal outfitters. The fifth property was a café-cum-bookshop, which the solicitor had told him was probably the most successful, financially speaking.
    Luke crossed the road at the lights and strolled past the first of the shops. This was the bridal shop, with an extravagant lace wedding dress occupying the central position in a window full of bridal gear.
    The photo studio was next door, its window draped with a purple backdrop in front of which resided a single digital camera.
    At least it was a digital camera, thought Luke, wondering if people still sat for formal portraits these days. Maybe the photographer made his living filming weddings or christenings. Perhaps he teamed up with the bridal outfitters, and they kept each other informed.
    He grinned to himself, and moved on to the next business. This was the café, with the gift shop beyond. The gift shop appeared to have a window filled with an array of soft toys and knick-knacks that any serious shopper would call junk. But obviously some people liked it or the shop would have closed before now.
    Luke wasn’t much interested in the woollen shop, so he paused outside the café-cum-bookshop.
    He glanced at his watch. It was after ten. He supposed he could legitimately call in for a coffee. The place was called Harley’s, and there was an appetising array of scones and cakes visible on trays at the counter.
    There was also a number of bistro tables and chairs,