Falling for the Secret Millionaire (11 page)

‘I can't actually remember the last time I went to the beach,' she said.

‘Me, neither. I really love this part of the coast. When the tide's out you can walk for miles across the sand, and you've got the seal colony just down the road at Blakeney.'

‘You fell in love with Norfolk when you worked on the hotel, didn't you?' she asked.

‘I very nearly ended up moving here,' he said, ‘but London suits me better.'

‘So is that your big dream? Living by the sea?'

‘I love the sea, but I'm happy where I am,' he said.

She enjoyed the food, which was beautifully presented and tasted even better than it looked. Though her fingers brushed against his a couple of times when they shared the sweet potato fries, and her skin tingled where he'd touched her.

To distract herself, she said, ‘There was something I wanted to show you yesterday. I found something in the archives.' She found the photographs she'd taken and handed her phone to him.

He looked at the front of the postcard, zoomed in on the script, and smiled. ‘Well, how about that—a photograph of someone who danced there and saw a Capra film.'

‘I thought of you,' she said. ‘With the Capra stuff.'

‘What a fantastic find.'

‘There was a newspaper article, too.' She took the phone back to find her notes for him. ‘The print's so tiny that a photograph wouldn't have helped, so I took notes. The outside of the building wasn't originally all white, and there's a sun ray on that semi-circle. Do you think I could get that back?'

‘You need to talk to the builder—it depends on the condition of the brickwork underneath. But it's a possibility.' He gave her another of those knee-melting smiles. ‘This is amazing. A real connection to the past. Thanks for sharing this with me.'

She almost told him that he was the one person she'd really wanted to share it with; but she knew he saw this as just business, so she'd be sensible and keep it light between them. ‘I did look to see if there was a photograph of the warehouse in that scrapbook, but I'm afraid there wasn't anything.'

‘I doubt there would be postcards of the warehouse.' He shrugged. ‘People didn't really pay that much attention to industrial buildings, except for things like train stations and museums.'

Once they'd said goodbye to Pete, Gabriel drove a little way down the road to the car park.

‘Good—the tide's out,' he said.

‘How do you know?'

‘Because the car park's dry—I learned that one the hard way,' he said with a grin, ‘though fortunately not in this car.'

Once they'd parked, he took a bag from the boot of the car.

‘What's that?'

‘Something we need to do, Georgy.'

Obviously he wasn't going to tell her until he was ready, so she let it go. She took her shoes off at the edge of the beach, as did he. As she walked along with her shoes in one hand, her other hand brushed against his a couple of times, and every single nerve-end was aware of him. With a partner, she thought, this place would be so romantic. But Gabriel wasn't her partner. Romance wasn't in the equation, not with Gabriel and not with anyone else.

‘Is that a wreck out there?' she asked.

‘Yes. It's not a good idea to walk out to it, though, as when the tide changes it comes in really quickly. And it comes in far enough to flood the road to the car park.' He stopped. ‘Here will do nicely.'

‘For what?'

‘This.' He took a kite from the bag.

She burst out laughing. Now she understood why he'd called her Georgy again. ‘I've never flown a kite before,' she reminded him.

‘It's been a while for me,' he admitted. ‘But this is the perfect place to start.'

‘The wind's blowing my hair into my eyes. I need to tie my hair back,' she said, flustered. The idea of intense businessman Gabriel Hunter being carefree was something she found it hard to get her head around. She wasn't the carefree sort, either. But she was a different person when she was with him—Georgygirl. Just as she had a feeling that he was different when he was with her.

He waited while she put an elastic hairband in her hair, then handed her the kite. ‘Stand with your back to the wind, hold the kite up, let out the line a little, and it will lift. Then you pull on the line so it climbs.'

She couldn't get the hang of it and the kite nosedived into the sand again and again. ‘I'd better let you have this back before I wreck it,' she said eventually.

‘No. Try it like this,' he said, and stood behind her with his hands over hers, guiding her so that the kite actually went up into the air, this time. He felt warm and strong, and Nicole couldn't help leaning back into him.

He tensed for a moment; then he wrapped one arm round her waist, holding her close to him.

Neither of them said a word, just concentrated on flying the kite; but Nicole was so aware of Gabriel's cheek pressed against hers, the warmth of his skin and the tiny prickle of new stubble. She could feel his heart beating against her back, firm and steady, and she was sure he could probably feel her own heart racing. Taking a risk, she laid her arm over his, curling her hand round his elbow.

They stood there for what felt like for ever, just holding each other close.

Then he slowly wound the kite in and dropped it on the sand, and twisted her round to face him.

‘Nicole,' he said, and his eyes were very bright.

She couldn't help looking at his mouth.

And then he dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers. So soft, so sweet, so gentle.

It felt as if someone had lit touch-paper inside her.

She slid her arms round his neck, drawing him closer, and let him deepen the kiss. Then she closed her eyes and completely lost herself in the way he made her feel, the warmth of his mouth moving against hers, the way he was holding her.

And then he broke the kiss.

‘Nicole.' His voice was huskier, deeper. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.'

‘Neither should I.' What an idiot she'd been. Had she learned nothing from Jeff? She was a cold fish, useless at relationships.

‘I... Maybe we need to get back to London,' he said.

She seized on the excuse gratefully. ‘Yes. I have a lot to do for the cinema and I'm sure you're busy, too.'

* * *

No. He wasn't. He could delegate every single thing that he had on his desk for the next month and spend all his time with her.

That was what he wanted to do.

But that kiss had been a mistake. She'd backed away from him. He'd taken it too far, too fast and he knew he needed to let her regroup. He'd let himself be carried away by the fun of kite-flying. Acted on impulse. Blown it.

They walked back to the car, and he was careful this time not to let his hand brush against hers. And he kept the roof up in the car on the way back.

‘No wind in your hair this time?' she asked.

He shrugged. ‘It is what it is.'

‘Why do you always say that?'

‘It's something Vijay taught me. If you're in a situation and you can't change it, you need to accept that and make the best of it. Don't waste your energy in trying to change something that you can't change; focus instead on what you can do.'

‘It's a good philosophy.'

He smiled. ‘I would say it's very Zen—except he's a Hindu, not a Buddhist.'

* * *

Nicole had a feeling that Gabriel had been very lonely when he grew up and the Khans had been the first ones to make him really feel part of the family; whereas she'd always grown up knowing she was loved, by her mother and her godparents and the rest of her mother's friends. It didn't matter that she didn't have a big family by blood, or that her father had been a liar and a cheat, or that her grandparents were estranged.

She wondered how she'd moved from that to her place at the bank, where she'd never really been part of the team and had only really felt accepted on her very last day there.

It is what it is.

She couldn't change the past: but she could change her future.

So, when Gabriel parked outside her flat, she turned to face him. ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?'

* * *

‘Coffee?' Gabriel stared at her. ‘Is that a good idea?'

‘You're not a predator, Gabriel.'

‘Thank you for that.' So maybe she'd forgiven him for that kiss?

‘Come and have coffee,' she said.

‘OK. That'd be nice.' He followed her upstairs to her first-floor flat. The front door opened into a small lobby with five doors leading off. ‘Storage cupboard, bathroom, kitchen, living room, bedroom,' she said, indicating the doors in turn. ‘Do go and sit down.'

The walls in her living room were painted a pale primrose-yellow, and the floors were polished wood with a blue patterned rug in the centre. French doors at the far end of the room led onto a small balcony, and just in front of them was a glass-topped bistro table with two chairs. He was half surprised not to see a desk in the room, but assumed that was probably in her bedroom—not that he was going to ask. There were a couple of fairly anonymous framed prints on the walls, and on the mantelpiece there were a couple of framed photographs. The older woman with Nicole looked so much like her that Gabriel realised straight away she had to be Nicole's mother; the younger woman in the other photograph was wearing a bridal dress and Nicole appeared to be wearing a bridesmaid's outfit, so he assumed this was her best friend Jessie.

Looking at the photos felt a bit like spying; and he felt too awkward to sit on the sofa. In the end, he went through to the kitchen—which was as tidy and neat as her living room.

‘Can I help?' he asked.

‘No, you're fine. Do you want a sandwich or anything?'

He shook his head. What he really wanted was to be back on that beach with her in his arms, kissing him back. But that was a subject that could really blow up in his face. He needed to take this carefully. ‘Thanks, but just coffee will do me.'

‘Here.' She handed him a mug, and ushered him back into the living room. She took her laptop from a drawer and said, ‘I was going to put a note on the Surrey Quays website tonight. As you're part of it, too, I thought maybe we could do this together.'

Was she suggesting that he told everyone who he was? He looked warily at her. ‘I kind of like my anonymity there.'

‘So be Clarence. You don't have to tell them you're Gabriel.'

‘Are you going to out yourself?' he asked.

‘I kind of have to, given that I've inherited the Electric Palace—but I think everyone's going to respond to me as Georgygirl. Nobody knows Nicole the banker.'

But was she Nicole, Georgy, or a mixture of the two? And could she drop the protective shell of being the hard-headed banker and become the woman he thought she really was? Because, with her, he found that he was the man he wanted to be. Not the one who kept his tongue bitten and seethed in silent frustration when he kept failing to earn his father's respect: the man who thought outside the box and saw the world in full colour.

She put her mug on the coffee table, signed into the Surrey Quays forum, and started to type.

‘I guess “Electric Palace—news” is probably the best subject line to use,' she said.

‘Probably,' he agreed.

She typed rapidly, then passed the laptop to him so he could see the screen properly. ‘Do you think this will do?'

Sorry I've been AWOL for a bit. I've been getting my head round the fact that I'm the new owner of the Electric Palace—it was left to me in a will. It needs a bit of work, but my boss has given me a six-month sabbatical and I'm going to use it to see if I can get it up and running again.

I'm planning to start showing films in a couple of months—a mix of blockbusters, classics and art-house films, and maybe showcase the work of new local film-makers. I have a few ideas about what to do with the upper room—the old ballroom—and I really want it to be used as part of the community. If anyone's looking for a regular room for a dance class or teaching craft work or that sort of thing, give me a yell. And if anyone has photographs I can borrow to enlarge for the walls, I'd be really grateful.

Cheers, Georgygirl x

‘So you're not going to ask for help restoring the place?' he asked.

She shook her head. ‘That feels kind of greedy and rude.'

‘There's a saying, shy bairns get naught,' he reminded her.

‘And there's another saying, nobody likes pushy people. If people offer to help, that's a different thing.' She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Someone fairly wise keeps telling me “it is what it is”.'

‘I guess.' He smiled. ‘So what now?'

‘We wait and see if anyone replies.'

‘And you and me?' The question had to be asked. They couldn't keep pretending.

She sucked in a breath. ‘I don't know. I've got a business to set up. I don't have time for a relationship. The same goes for you.'

‘What if I think it's worth making time?'

She sighed. ‘I'm not very good at relationships.'

‘Neither am I.'

‘So we ought to be sensible. Anyway, we're business rivals, so we're both off limits to each other.'

‘Not so much rivals as working together. Collaborating. The wedding stuff, for starters,' he reminded her.

‘We haven't agreed that.'

‘I know, but it's a win for both of us, Nicole. We both get what we want. And it doesn't matter whose idea it was in the first place. It works.'

‘Maybe.'

But this time there was no coolness in her voice—she sounded unsure, but he didn't think it was because she didn't trust his judgement. It felt more as if she had no confidence in herself. Hadn't she just said she wasn't good at relationships?