A weekend with Jackson Baird. Could she enjoy it?

There was a dangerous part of her mind that was telling her she could enjoy it very much indeed.

‘Cara?’

‘Jackson. How nice.’ Cara might be on the other side of the Atlantic but her pleasure was tangible. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘I think I might have found a property that could suit both our needs.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. It’s been used as a horse stud in the past. It’s in a magnificent location and it sounds wonderful. Do you want to get on a plane and come and see it?’

Silence. Then, ‘Darling, I’m so busy.’

When was she not? Jackson grinned. ‘You mean you’ll leave it to me?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘And if I buy it and you don’t like it?’

‘Then you’ll just have to buy me another one.’

‘Oh, right. Cara-?’

‘Darling, I really can’t come. There’s something… Well, there’s something happening that’s taking all my attention, and I daren’t say anything about it yet in case it evaporates in the mist. But I trust you.’

He grinned again. Another scheme. His half-sister always had schemes, but he trusted her implicitly, as he knew she trusted him. ‘Millions wouldn’t,’ he told her.

‘But you’re one in a million. And don’t you know it?’

‘Yeah, and I love you, too.’

A chuckle and the line went dead, leaving Jackson staring down at the receiver.

Was this really a good idea?

‘Okay, I give up. You’re not going to ask me, are you?’

‘Sorry?’ Her friend stood on the doorstep late that night and Molly blinked. Angela was wearing a slinky, shimmery dress, her beads reached her waist and her hair was done up in some kind of fantastic arrangement of peacock feathers. Now she spun around for inspection.

‘I’m off to a Roaring Twenties party. Guy is turning thirty, poor lamb, so we’re having a last gasp at celebrating the twenties for him. Do you like my outfit?’