Good Girl or Gold-Digger? (3 page)

‘Without enough money to run the place, you’re not going to be able to make it accessible to people or afford the restoration costs. You’ll go under. So you need to compromise.’

‘That’s why we’re looking at sponsorship deals.’ It was the whole point as to why he’d come to see them, wasn’t it? To see what they could offer him and what he could offer them?

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. ‘You’re not a woman who compromises easily, are you?’

Daisy thought of her ex-boyfriends and how the last three had tried to change her. If a man couldn’t accept her for who she was and wanted to make her into a different person, someone she wasn’t, then she wasn’t interested. And the same went for her business. If the price of his investment was changing Bell’s, making it all about the money instead of all about the heritage and fun, then she wasn’t interested. If she had to, she’d take a part-time job to earn extra cash that she could feed into the fairground, to give them a breathing space until they found a sponsor who understood where they were coming from. ‘I’m glad you realise that.’ She lifted her chin a fraction higher. ‘And don’t be fooled by my name. I’m not a delicate little flower.’

‘Daisy.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘You’re right. “Boots” suits you better.’

‘Boots?’

He indicated her Doc Martens. ‘And then there’s the Cockney rhyming slang.’

Daisy roots: boots. She knew that. Although normally she loved puns, and adored tormenting her brothers with them, it annoyed her that Felix was being clever with her. She was about to say something tart when he spoke again.

‘Have dinner with me at my hotel tonight.’

It sounded more like an order than a request, raising her hackles higher still. Why did he want to have dinner with her anyway? Was he trying to come on to her?

‘A working dinner,’ he clarified.

She could feel the blush staining her cheeks; clearly he’d worked out what she was thinking. Well, of course he hadn’t been coming on to her. Men like Felix Gisbourne dated glamorous women who wore high heels and nail polish and earrings and expensive hairdos. He wouldn’t be interested in the likes of her.

Besides, she wasn’t interested in him as anything more than an investor. Couldn’t be. The fairground was too important.

‘Sure. I think Bill’s free, too.’

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was thinking just you and me. If you’ve been working as his number two for as long as he says you have, then you’ll have the answers, and I won’t have to drag him away from his family.’

Another assumption: that she didn’t have anyone in her life to be dragged away from. Then again, he was right, so there was no point in arguing; she had no plans to spend her evening with anyone other than Titan.

‘By the way,’ he added, ‘the hotel isn’t really a jeans and boiler suits place.’

For a moment, she thought about telling him to get lost. In a truly pithy manner.

But then she thought of Bill, and the people who
depended on them for jobs, and forced her temper to simmer. ‘Just tell me where and when to meet you.’

‘Seven o’clock.’

He named a hotel five miles away, on the coast, the poshest one in the area; its restaurant had two Michelin stars. And it wasn’t really within cycling distance—not with a skirt on, anyway—so she’d better organise a taxi. ‘That’s fine,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ll see you at seven.’

His smile did weird things to her stomach. Oh, this was bad. She had to ignore the surge of attraction. Even if there hadn’t been a business deal in the way, they were too different for it to work, because she wasn’t suitable girlfriend-material.

‘I’ll look forward to it, Boots.’ He sketched a salute, following up with another of those devastating smiles. She’d bet he knew the effect it had on women. ‘I’ll find my own way over to Bill.’

‘I’ll take you.’

‘You’re busy. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.’

Too late. He already had disturbed her.

‘À bientôt,’
he said softly. ‘Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.’

Like she had been for their meeting this morning? That had been an aberration, she thought. As Felix Gisbourne was about to find out.

D
AISY
headed back to the workshop and grabbed her mobile phone. She speed-dialled her sister-in-law, willing Alexis to be there; she almost sagged with relief when the line connected and the answering machine didn’t kick in.

‘Lexy? It’s Daisy. I need your help.’

‘Sure, hon. What’s up?’

Before she’d had children, Alexis Bell had been a make-up artist—a seriously good one. If someone could make a silk purse out of the sow’s ear Daisy knew herself to be, it would be her sister-in-law. ‘I need a makeover. And I need it, um, right now.’

‘Excuse me? Am I hallucinating, or have you been drinking?’

‘Neither.’ Daisy explained the situation.

‘He said
what?’
There was a dangerous edge to Alexis’s voice.

Daisy repeated it.

‘When are you meeting him?’

‘Seven.’

‘Get over here by half-past five and we’ll sort it.’

‘Thanks, Lexy. I owe you.’

Daisy just about managed to concentrate on her work for the rest of the day. At ten to five, she collected her bicycle from the back of the workshop, and Titan jumped gracefully into the wicker basket on the front, settling onto his cushion. She cycled home, fed the cat, picked up some fresh underwear, then called at the village shop just in time to pick up some flowers for Alexis before cycling over to Ben and Alexis’s house. She was grateful that her oldest and favourite brother had decided to settle in the next village; it made life much easier.

Alexis greeted her with a hug. ‘They’re lovely, hon, but you didn’t need to buy me flowers. I’m going to enjoy glamming you up.’

Not too much, Daisy hoped.

‘So where are you going?’

Daisy named the hotel, and Alexis whistled. ‘Right. Go and have a shower and wash your hair. I,’ Alexis told her firmly, ‘will deal with the rest. Luckily, you’re the same size as me.’ She grinned.

‘I’m really grateful for this,’ Daisy said humbly.

‘If you’re that grateful,’ Alexis said, moisturising Daisy’s face and then drying her hair, ‘you’d let me do this more often.’

‘It’d be wasted on the fairground.’

‘When you’re in chief mechanic mode, yes, but not when you’re doing talks to schools. Though we’ll argue about that later. As well as the fact that you really hurt Ben last week. If you’d called him, you know he would’ve come straight over and helped you clear up.’

Daisy shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re too proud. And I bet Annie told you to call him.’

‘Yes.’ Daisy sighed. ‘OK, take it as read that I’m a
horrible woman and I don’t deserve your help. But, please, just make me look
girly
enough for tonight.’

Alexis hugged her. ‘You’re not horrible. I love you and so does Ben. I know he doesn’t agree with your career choices, but he’s learning to lump it—and he really would’ve helped out if you’d given him the chance.’

‘And treated me like a baby.’ Daisy couldn’t help glowering.

‘Honey, you’re his little sister. And he’s a bloke—he’s hardwired to do the overprotective big brother thing, so you’re just wasting energy if you fight it. He’s not going to change. But, if it makes you feel better, he tells me you’re better at fixing things than he is—and yes, I know he doesn’t tell you that. That’s men for you. Now, sit still and close your eyes.’

Given the array of cosmetics on the table, Daisy was feeling just a little nervous. But she sat still and let Alexis paint her face and finish her hair. Then she changed into the dress and low-heeled court shoes Alexis lent her, which was followed by a speedy lesson from her sister-in-law in how to walk like a model on a catwalk.

‘Right. You can look in the mirror now,’ Alexis said.

Daisy barely recognised herself as the petite, curvy woman whose hair was a mass of shining waves.

‘This is really me?’ She blinked. ‘Blimey, Lexy. You’re even better than I thought you were. Thank you so much.’

At that moment, the front door opened. Ben did a double-take. ‘Who are you and what have you done with my little sister?’

‘Ha, ha.’ Daisy scowled at him.

‘Daze, you look amazing. For you to wear a dress and let Lexy do your face, he must be special.’

‘I’m not going on a date,’ Daisy said through clenched teeth.

‘Dressed like that?’ He spread his hands. ‘No way. It has to be a man.’

‘Yes, and it’s
business.
So don’t you dare breathe a word to Mum, or I’ll tie you to a tree and wax your chest. Slowly.’

Laughing, Ben held up his hands in surrender. ‘Why on earth did the parents call you Daisy? They should’ve called you Godzilla.’

‘Well, excuse me, I have to go home and beat my chest before I book a taxi.’

‘You can’t cycle home in that dress.’ He looked at his wife and then at Daisy. ‘I’ll stick your bike in the back of the car and drive you.’

‘I can manage,’ Daisy said, with dignity.

‘Yes, but you don’t have to.’ He sighed. ‘You’re so ridiculously independent.’

‘Because I hate you treating me as if I’m a baby.’

‘Well, you
are
my baby sister. OK, OK, I know.’ He held his hands up in surrender again. ‘So what’s the business?’

She told him.

‘Are you sure about this? Because if this guy thinks you’re part of the deal…’

‘He doesn’t,’ she cut in gently. ‘And you don’t have to look after me, Ben. I’m a big girl now.’ She kissed him, leaving him a perfect lipstick-imprint on his cheek. ‘Though I appreciate you watching my back.’

‘Hmm.’ He looked faintly embarrassed. ‘Why don’t you borrow the MG, Daze? It’ll save you waiting for a taxi. I’ll drop your bike back at yours, and you can bring my car back tomorrow.’

‘You’d trust me with your car?’ She knew how her brother felt about his old classic car.

‘Sure. You understand what’s under the bonnet. You’ll treat her as she deserves.’

Daisy swallowed the lump in her throat. Was this Ben’s way of telling her that he saw her as an adult after all? ‘Thanks, Ben. I love you.’

‘Good.’ He smiled at her. ‘I would ruffle your hair, but then Lexy would kill me for messing up her hard work. Go knock his socks off, kid. And if he says a word out of line—’

‘I’ll tell him my favourite brother’s bigger than he is and will come and sort him out,’ she teased, and hugged him again, before hugging Alexis, too. ‘See you later. And thanks for the support. You two are wonderful.’

She drove to the coast. Ben was right, driving the MG did make her feel like a million dollars, but at the same time her stomach was tied in knots. Not just because so much depended on tonight: it was the thought of meeting Felix himself.

This wasn’t a date, she reminded herself.

But it felt weirdly like one.

Worse, she was looking forward to seeing him. Fencing with him. Which she really shouldn’t—not when the fairground was depending on her. She had to keep things strictly business. Even if Felix Gisbourne did have an incredibly sensual mouth that made her want to trace it with the tip of her forefinger, before reaching up to kiss him really, really slowly.

Which was utterly ridiculous, and she should know better.

She parked and walked into the hotel reception at five
minutes to seven, remembering Alexis’s instructions to do the catwalk strut.

‘Mr Gisbourne is expecting me,’ she said.

‘Miss Bell?’

‘Ms,’ Daisy corrected with a smile.

‘Of course. If you’d like to wait over there, madam?’

Butterflies stampeded in her stomach as she sat down. Did it make her look too keen, being early? On the other hand, she’d failed to turn up for their meeting that morning, so maybe this would redress the balance. Would he make her wait, just to make the point about punctuality, or would he come down straight away?

The doors of the lift slid open and he walked out of the lift. He was wearing a dark grey suit—a slightly different cut, she noticed, so it wasn’t the one he’d worn to the fairground—teamed with a pristine white shirt and another understated silk tie. The butterflies in her stomach did a victory roll as he glanced over to her and she saw his jaw drop.

Willing her face to look calm and confident and completely belie how she really felt, she stood up and sashayed towards him.

No way could the pocket Venus in the hotel lobby be Daisy Bell.

Felix had to look twice, and then a third time.

But she strode confidently towards him and he realised that it really was her.

He would never have guessed in a million years that she’d scrub up so well. Her hair was the colour of a new conker, and just as shiny, falling in soft waves to her shoulders; it was a crime to keep it stuffed inside that oversized cap she wore at work. And that shapeless
boiler suit had hidden a perfect hourglass shape. Her little black dress was demure and understated, no plunging neckline or clinging skirts, but it showed off her curves to perfection. If she’d worn elbow-length gloves and a big hat, she could’ve been a ringer for Audrey Hepburn.

Daisy Bell was utterly gorgeous. She was nothing like the women he usually dated, and absolutely nothing like the women that his mother was perpetually lining up for him. But she was pure energy, combined with a quick wit and a sassy mouth wrapped in a body that made all his hormones go straight into party mode.

Felix couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt an attraction this strong.

And he
wanted.
So badly that it shocked him to the core.

‘No jeans or boiler suits, you said. I trust this passes muster?’ she asked coolly.

His comment had clearly stung. Felix unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. ‘I apologise for that. I wasn’t having a go at you.’

‘No?’

‘Wrong phrase. I meant simply that there was a dress code, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable if…’ He grimaced. ‘I’m digging myself into a bigger hole here.’

‘Indeed.’

He sighed. ‘Bill warned me you were touchy about sexism and could give as good as you get.’

‘Did he, now?’ she asked dryly.

He knew it was a rhetorical question, so he didn’t bother answering it; instead, he said quietly, ‘You look stunning.’

She looked utterly taken aback, and then she blushed. Right to the roots of her hair, giving Felix all kinds of thoughts that he had no intention of giving voice to. And
intriguing him, too; it seemed as if she wasn’t used to compliments. Strange. Daisy Bell was seriously striking, when she wasn’t hiding behind her chief-mechanic clothes. Surely men told her all the time how beautiful she was?

And that look in her eyes, quickly masked, told him that the attraction was mutual—even though he was pretty sure he was nothing like the men she usually dated, either.

There was a definite connection between them.

So what were they going to do about this?

Mixing business and pleasure was a mistake he didn’t make. Ever. But Daisy Bell really tempted him to break all his rules. Tempted him to reach out and twirl a strand of her hair round his forefinger, to see if it felt as soft and silky as it looked. To kiss her, to find out if her sea-green eyes turned the colour of jade when she was aroused.

She looked at his mouth, and he knew from her expression that she was thinking exactly the same thing—wondering what it would be like. How he would taste. How electric it would be between them…

He needed to get this back on professional terms, and fast. He held his hand out to her. ‘Thank you for coming to meet me tonight, Daisy. Shall we go and eat—and talk business?’

Daisy let Felix take her hand, and it felt as if the blood had started to fizz in her veins. She knew it was the same for him, too, because colour slashed across his cheekbones. He blushed just as he’d made her blush all over with a compliment—one that she’d seen in his eyes was genuine, not just a line he was spinning her.

What on earth was happening? She never, but never, behaved like this.

Part of her wanted to turn tail and run back to the safety of her boiler suit and her workshop. But part of her was intrigued by the possibility that she could reduce this quick, clever man to a puddle of hormones, the same way he affected her. Just supposing…

No. This was business. She couldn’t let sex get in the way of the most important thing in her life—saving the fairground. It was too much of a risk.

She took a deep breath and let him lead her through to the dining room. The waiter ushered them to their table, but Felix was the one who held the chair out for her. He had perfect manners as well as a perfect body.

She really shouldn’t be thinking about his body.

‘Thank you,’ she said politely.

He gave her a slight bow. ‘Pleasure.’

Every single female in the room was staring at him, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe he was used to it. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed.

He glanced at the wine list and asked, ‘Would you prefer red or white?’

‘Not for me, thanks—I’m driving—but don’t feel that you have to go without,’ she said politely.

He smiled. ‘Water’s fine for me. Still or sparkling?’

‘Sparkling, please.’

He gave the order to the waiter, and she skimmed down the menu. ‘I’m torn between the lamb and the salmon.’ Unable to resist the pun, she looked at him over the edge of the menu. ‘Do you think they’d let me have a moggie bag?’

He glanced over at the plates of the other diners. ‘The portions here aren’t that big. But, if you can’t manage it, we can ask.’

He’d taken her seriously? She laughed. ‘Mr Gisbourne, you’re being very slow tonight. Hel-lo—
moggie
bag?’

‘Very funny.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I didn’t pick it up first time round because I’m distracted. Because someone is wearing lapis lazuli right where I’d really, really like to kiss her.’

Suddenly, Daisy was the one who was distracted—imagining it. Felix’s mouth was gorgeous, well-shaped, with tiny grooves at each side that told her he laughed a lot. How would it feel, tracing a path across her skin, skimming her collarbone the way her borrowed necklace did?

He’d just said something incredibly suggestive. Outrageous, even. But she didn’t think he was the kind of man who made that sort of comment to a woman he’d only just met: instead, she had the distinct feeling that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud without realising it. Felix the businessman might possibly have admitted to being distracted, but he definitely wouldn’t have said what was distracting him. That’d be tantamount to handing his business opponent a weapon on a silver platter.