Good Girl or Gold-Digger? (5 page)

‘A what?’

‘A roundabout with swing chairs instead of horses. The chairs move out to the side as the roundabout rotates—it’s like flying. Maybe it was a bit reckless to use up so much of our reserves, but it was too good an opportunity to miss. And we didn’t expect idiots to break in and vandalise the place, or the insurance company to weasel out of paying the claim. Plate glass isn’t cheap.’

‘Yet the café’s fixed. Where did you get the money to do that?’

She looked away. ‘That’s my business.’

‘Daisy?’

She sighed. ‘Just don’t tell Bill. I said I’d guilt-tripped the insurance company into changing its mind.’

‘He’ll find out the truth when he looks at the accounts,’ Felix warned.

‘And by then it’ll be too late for him to protest.’

‘Where did you get the money?’ he asked again, his voice very soft.

‘I spoke to the bank and am going to free up some of the equity in my house.
Don’t
tell Bill,’ she warned again.

‘I underestimated you,’ Felix said. ‘I won’t make that mistake again.’

‘Good. Because I might be all gussied up right now, but this isn’t who I am.’

To her surprise, he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. The pressure of his fingers made heat coil low in her belly.

‘I think, right now, you’re the one doing the underestimating.’

‘Of you?’ she asked.

‘No. Of yourself.’ He released her hand again, but something in his eyes told her that he’d felt the same heat. The same weird connection.

So she resorted to teasing when her pudding arrived, licking her spoon while holding Felix’s gaze and enjoying the fact that Felix’s colour deepened.

Why had she never understood just how much fun flirting could be?

Maybe she’d been flirting with the wrong men.

‘Boots.’ His voice had gone all husky, sexy as hell.

‘What?’

His mouth had a wicked quirk. ‘Open wide.’

She felt colour shooting into her own face.

‘I promised you a taste.’

The pudding. He meant the pudding. But her head was already imagining something completely different. Something that definitely wouldn’t happen in the middle of a restaurant with two Michelin stars.

He held out a spoonful of his lemon mousse.

Oh, help. She needed to get herself back under control. And fast. Throwing herself at the man who
might just invest in their fairground would be such a stupid thing to do. ‘Er—it’s OK. I’m full,’ she fibbed.

‘Chicken.’

Her face heated even more.
He knew.

‘You’re allowed to change your mind.’ He smiled. ‘Because I have my eye on your chocolate brownie. Kind of a
quid pro quo.’

‘You want a taste?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he drawled. ‘I want a taste.’

She still had completely different thoughts in her head. Thoughts that she suspected he shared, given his expression as he ate the spoonful of chocolate brownie she offered him.

Oh, this was bad.

They’d just eaten in the best restaurant for miles.

And, apart from the pudding, she hadn’t paid a scrap of attention to the food; she’d been so focused on Felix. Talking to him about the fairground. Finding out more about him—though he’d managed to change the subject fairly quickly on that score.

She ordered a double espresso when the waiter returned, really needing the jolt of caffeine. She felt as if she’d been drinking champagne rather than sparkling water—or maybe Felix had gone to her head. When they reached for the petits fours at the same time and their fingers brushed, it was like the electric sparks at the top of the dodgems.

She’d never met anyone who had this kind of effect on her before.

‘I’ve enjoyed this evening,’ he said softly when she’d finished her coffee.

‘Me, too,’ she admitted. ‘But I’d better get back.’

‘For Titan?’

He remembered her cat’s name?

Well, of course he would. Felix Gisbourne was the kind of man who paid attention to things. It didn’t mean anything else. ‘Yes. So do you mind if we get the bill?’

He shrugged. ‘No need. It’s my bill.’

‘Absolutely not. This was a business discussion. So it’s a fifty-fifty split.’

‘And,’ he said softly, ‘it was also pleasure. I enjoyed having dinner with you, Boots. So I’m paying.’ At her narrowed eyes, he added, ‘Don’t argue.’

She shook her head.

‘Tell you what. If you’re that unhappy, you can feed me tomorrow night.’

He wanted to see her again?

‘Work or…?’ She hesitated to say the word ‘pleasure’.

He said it for her. ‘I’ve enjoyed your company tonight.’ He leaned forward, dropping his voice so that only she could hear it. ‘Not to mention the fact that you’re the most interesting woman I’ve met in years.’

Interesting.
Intellectual, then, not sexy and gorgeous. Well, who had she been trying to kid? Even Alexis couldn’t make her into a goddess. The material just wasn’t there.

‘You engage my head as well as my libido,’ he said. ‘And that’s rare.’

She dragged in a breath. He could’ve been talking for her—obviously with the gender reversed.

She wasn’t looking for a relationship of any description. She liked her life just fine as it was. And he’d told her that he was a workaholic who didn’t stay in one place too long. Having a fling with him would be complete and utter insanity.

And yet…

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll feed you tomorrow night.’

He smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

He came round to her side of the table to help her out of the chair. His manners were as impeccable as his dress sense, she thought. ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

They walked in silence out of the hotel. With each step her heart beat faster, harder.

Was Felix going to kiss her in the late-spring moonlight?

Did she want him to?

When they reached the car, he whistled. ‘Now, that’s
nice.’

‘And it’s not mine,’ she admitted. ‘It belongs to Ben, my brother—his dream car.’

‘And yours?’

‘E-type Jaguar. Red. You?’

‘Aston Martin DB5. Silver.’

She burst out laughing. ‘The name’s Bond. Felix Bond.’

‘The name’s Gisbourne,’ he corrected huskily. ‘Felix Gisbourne.’

And then he dipped his head and brushed his mouth against hers. So sweet. So light. Offering and promising at the same time.

He did it again, and this time she found herself responding, opening her mouth below his and letting him deepen the kiss. And the next thing she knew, her arms were round his neck and his arm was wrapped around her with his hand splayed against her spine, pulling her so close that she could feel his arousal hard against her belly. She couldn’t even remember the last time someone had kissed her like this, or when she just hadn’t been able to get enough of someone’s kiss; it felt as if she were riding on a
waltzer, whirling round, with the lights flashing and the music playing.

When he finally broke the kiss and took a single step back from her, she felt lost.

‘À
demain,
Boots,’ he said softly.

Daisy was completely lost for words. She couldn’t think of a single smart retort. Instead, she touched a hand to her mouth in wonder and climbed into the car.

Hell.

She couldn’t remember how to drive.

He’d fried her brain with that kiss.

He knocked on the glass and she wound the window down.

‘Daisy? Are you all right?’

No.
‘You kissed me,’ she whispered.

‘You kissed me back.’

She gripped the steering wheel to stop her hands shaking. ‘Felix, this isn’t a good idea.’

‘I know.’ His eyes were intense, so dark they were almost black. ‘But there’s something about you that makes me want to do all kinds of things I know aren’t sensible.’

‘That makes two of us.’

Oh, no. She really hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

‘I’m going, Boots. Before I give in to temptation and haul you out of that car and over my shoulder and back to somewhere much more private.’ He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.’

Her dreams definitely weren’t going to be sweet. They were going to be X-rated.

She had no idea how she managed to drive home. But then she was in the safety of her little terraced cottage, with Titan curled on her lap.

‘He’s dangerous,’ she told the cat. ‘I should stay out of his way.’

Though she knew full well she wouldn’t.

T
HE
next morning, Daisy washed her borrowed dress and hung it to dry in her back garden, ready for ironing and returning to Alexis that evening. Then she cycled to work the way she usually did, with Titan sitting in the wicker basket at the front.

To her surprise, Felix was waiting for her outside the workshop.

‘Daisy, Daisy…on a bicycle built for two?’ he teased.

‘Very funny.’ But she still liked the fact he could sing one of the lines. And that he’d got the words right.

‘I didn’t realise the song was actually called “Daisy Bell”. Were you named after it?’

She climbed off the bicycle, waited for Titan to leap out of the basket and propped her bike against the wall inside the workshop. ‘No. I was named after my grandmother. Who was also Daisy Bell, after she married my grandfather.’

‘I see. By the way, I brought you a moggie bag.’ He waved it in front of her. ‘You said that someone’s partial to salmon.’ Titan miaowed, as if in full agreement. ‘So I went to sweet-talk the chef.’

‘You’re trying to bribe my cat?’ she asked as she opened the workshop door.

‘To get in your good books?’ He laughed. ‘Maybe. You look good in those jeans, Boots.’

The compliment made her want to beam at him, but she didn’t want him to think she was needy. So she simply shrugged. ‘They’re sensible clothes for working here. Unlike,’ she added pointedly, ‘Your suit, which will get really grubby if you hang around the steam engines.’

‘You don’t actually own a dress, do you?’

‘Did you not notice what I was wearing last night?’ she countered.

He moved closer. ‘I noticed, all right. Did you not notice what effect you had on me? I don’t usually kiss strange women in car parks.’

He thought she was strange?

That hurt. She was used to that reaction and usually let it wash over her—but from Felix, particularly as he’d been the one to initiate that kiss, it stung. As if he’d pushed her into the middle of a nettle patch. ‘Whatever, Mr Gisbourne,’ she drawled.

‘Let me clarify that—I meant strange as in someone I don’t know very well, not strange as in weird.’

Had her thoughts shown on her face, or was he just really good at reading body language? Either way, it wasn’t good for her peace of mind.

‘And I think you don’t own a skirt or a dress. I think you borrowed more than just your brother’s car.’

He had her pegged, all right. She took refuge in sassiness. ‘What, you think my brother’s a cross-dresser?’

‘No. I think your brother’s married with two little boys who love coming to see their Aunty Daisy because she takes them on the gallopers and lets them ride with
the driver of the steam train instead of in the carriage with everyone else. So an educated guess would say that you borrowed the dress from your sister-in-law. Who, before she married, was a very talented make-up artist, and who sometimes does charity makeovers to raise money for her favourite sister-in-law’s fairground.’

‘You’ve been talking to Bill.’

‘I’ve been talking to Maureen in the ticket office,’ he corrected. ‘And I’m meant to be getting her a mug of tea. Except I was on a mission with a moggie bag.’ He dipped his head and kissed the corner of her mouth, sweet and full of promise. ‘I’ll see you later, Boots.’

He scratched the cat behind his ears. ‘Don’t scoff all the salmon at once,’ he instructed, and handed Daisy the bag before sauntering off with a wide, wide smile.

How did he do that? How could just a couple of words, a teasing grin and that tiny, tiny touch of his mouth against hers send her into such a flat spin?

Felix spent the day diligently shadowing Maureen in the ticket office and Shelley in the cafe, being charming to the visitors, but his head was full of Daisy.

She intrigued him. He’d never met anyone like her: a woman who spent her days in a boiler suit and purple Doc Martens with flowers on them, and yet in a simple black dress and with her hair loose she looked like Venus. A woman who needed to know how things worked, who could take things apart and fix them; a woman so fiercely loyal to her family and who believed in her job to the point where she’d make sacrifices for them without a second thought—she’d taken out a loan to fix the café windows, knowing she’d never see her money back again.

Daisy Bell had layers. Layers he wanted to unpeel.

But, even more than that, he wanted to kiss her again. The way her mouth had opened under his, the way she’d held him while he’d explored her mouth—even the memory of it put him in serious need of a cold shower. He hadn’t been this attracted to anyone in years, and it threw him.

This was meant to be a business opportunity that was different enough to keep his interest and even be challenging. Seducing the deputy manager-cum-chief mechanic would be a seriously bad idea. But there was something about her.

Something he couldn’t resist.

He managed to keep his distance from her for most of the day, but by mid-afternoon his resolve had weakened to the point where he offered to do the tea round. And Daisy happened to be the last one on his list.

He could hear her singing as he reached the workshop door; today’s songs were from
Oklahoma.
Remembering what Bill had said about knowing that something was wrong when Daisy didn’t sing, he smiled. He hadn’t put her off her stride too much last night, then.

Titan was curled up on the top of the engine. He opened one eye and stared at Felix.

‘Visitors,’ Felix said hopefully.

The cat didn’t move.

‘What, you want more salmon? That’s greedy.’

The cat continued to treat him to a steady, unblinking gaze.

‘You’re a shark in a fur coat.’

It was surreal, talking to a cat. Crazy.

‘All right. I’ll bring you another moggie bag tomorrow.
Tell her she’s got visitors. And it’s time for tea.’ He lifted the mug.

The cat jumped down; a couple of seconds later, there was an ‘Ow!’ and Daisy emerged from under the steam engine.

‘Oh. It’s you,’ she said.

The words were all casual. So was the tone.

But her eyes were giving him a completely different message.

‘Yup, it’s me.’ Her boiler suit was still shapeless and covered in oil. Her hair was hidden by the baseball cap. There were smudges of oil on her face. Yet she still made his blood heat.

‘What do you want?’

Her expression was wary, so he bit back the word that rose to his lips.
You.
‘Shelley sent me over with a mug of tea. It’s time for your break.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Apparently it’s your special mug.’ Marked ‘DB: Chief Mechanic’, with a picture of a steam engine underneath it. He’d just bet that someone at the fairground had had it specially made for her as a present for her birthday or Christmas. He’d quickly learned how much the staff at the fairground adored her; they’d all told him how she pitched in and helped, no matter what the situation.

He’d seriously misjudged her when he’d thought she didn’t pull her weight. She did much, much more than that around here. Daisy Bell was the heart of the fairground.

‘About dinner tonight,’ he said. ‘You promised to feed me.’

The wary expression grew more pronounced, and Felix knew he should back off. But the words that came
out of his mouth were the complete opposite of what he’d intended. ‘Or are you chickening out?’

She lifted her chin. ‘I’m not a coward.’

‘Of course you’re not. And I’m not a mind reader,’ he said. ‘So it would be quite helpful if you’d tell me what the arrangements are.’

‘What I have in mind,’ she said, ‘isn’t really a “posh suit” type of place.’

He knew immediately that she was paying him back for his comments about her own clothes. Fair enough. He’d been rude to her. And he had the feeling that someone else had said the same kind of thing, had hurt her. Judged her by conventional standards and found her wanting.

Maybe that was why she dressed in shapeless clothes at work: not just for comfort, but to make the point that she was her own woman and she didn’t give a damn what people thought. Even though he had a suspicion that, deep inside, it
did
matter to her. ‘What do you suggest?’ he asked.

‘Jeans.’ She gave him a level look. ‘If you possess any.’

He didn’t. But hopefully he had enough time to do something about it. ‘Where and when do I meet you?’

‘I need to drop my brother’s car back to him first—so outside the gates here at quarter to seven.’

He still had no idea what she had planned, but he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy it. ‘Quarter to seven it is.’

He needed to find some jeans. He headed back to the café to explain to Shelley that something had come up and he’d do another stint to help tomorrow, had a quick word with Bill, and then drove to the nearest large town. Half an hour later, he’d purchased a pair of faded blue
jeans and a pair of casual suede boots that he guessed would meet with Daisy’s approval. And, given that he thought she’d object to the kind of shirts he usually wore with a suit, he also bought a black cashmere sweater.

When he met her outside the gates to the fairground at precisely quarter to seven, the look on her face told him that he’d got it perfectly right.

She looked fabulous, in soft faded denims, a lavender-coloured sweater, and her glorious hair down. She’d clearly washed it that evening because it was still slightly damp and he could smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo. It made him want to wrap his arms round her and bury his face in her hair; to stave off temptation, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

‘No Titan?’ he asked, nodding to the wicker basket on the front of her bike.

‘Not tonight.’ She gestured to the picnic blanket on the top. ‘No room.’

‘So where are we going? Do you want to put your bike in the back of my car?’

She smiled. ‘No. We’re already here.’

‘We’re having dinner here?’

‘Yup. Tonight, Mr Gisbourne, I’m going to show you why I love this place so much. Go and park by the ticket office.’ She undid the gate, waited for him to drive through, then padlocked it shut behind them and cycled over to meet him. She propped her bike on its stand next to his car, then took the blanket from her basket as well as a small cool box.

‘Can I carry any of that?’ he asked.

‘No, you’re fine.’

She led him over to the gondola, where she left the
cool box and blanket in the shade, then took him over to the dodgems. ‘We’ll start here. Choose your car while I sort out the mechanics.’ A few moments later, she had the lights on and the music blasting out. ‘No bumping,’ she warned, when she came back to join him. ‘The idea is to dodge each other.’

‘And if you crash it damages the cars?’ he guessed.

‘They’re pretty robust, but they’re original and I’d rather not take any risks.’ She slid behind the wheel of the car next to him and gave him the cheekiest grin he’d ever seen. ‘Catch me if you can, Felix.’

It was huge fun, Felix discovered, having the ride to themselves. Daisy’s car weaved around the circuit; she’d clearly had a lot of practice because she was really, really good at it. Every time he thought he’d caught her, she spun round and headed in the opposite direction.

But eventually she drew her car to a halt and climbed out. ‘Obviously you didn’t have a misspent youth.’

No. His parents had never taken him to fairgrounds when he was small, and by his teens he’d wondered what all the fuss was about. Loud music, flashing lights and junk food: it hadn’t been his style. Not that he was going to tell her any of that. Instead, he changed the subject. ‘I was expecting to hear Elvis, considering you told me this was a 1950s ride.’

She laughed. ‘We have Elvis. But most of the time we play music from the early 1960s. Bobby Vee, the Everly Brothers—stuff from my mum’s teenage years. The grandparents just love it when they come here. I see them watching their grandchildren, and they’re singing their heads off.’ She smiled. ‘I can remember Granny Bell singing this stuff, too.’ She sang a couple of bars of ‘Take Good Care of My Baby’.

‘So you get your singing talent from your grandmother?’ he asked.

‘Granny Bell was a showman’s daughter. So she could sing, dance, juggle—and she used to tease the boys that she did fire-eating when she was young.’

‘Did she?’

‘Knowing Granny Bell, probably.’ She laughed. ‘But she never did anything dangerous with us—much to the boys’ disappointment and Mum’s relief. We always loved going to see her. She taught us all to juggle.’ Her smile broadened. ‘With eggs.’

‘Hard-boiled?’

‘Nope. So we soon learned not to drop them. I juggle with eggs when I do talks at schools. The kids love it as much as the boys and I used to.’

‘Sounds like an idyllic childhood.’

‘It was.’ Unexpectedly, she covered his hand with hers. ‘I take it yours wasn’t?’

No. Not that he’d intended to let anyone else know how he felt, so how had she guessed? He shrugged. ‘It was OK.’ He wasn’t going to dwell on how much he’d loathed boarding school. Or how often as a child he’d wished his parents would listen to him and let him go to the local day school instead, the way his sisters had. It was old stuff, and he was over it. He just intended to make sure his life was what he wanted it to be now.

‘I know how lucky I am,’ she said softly. ‘My parents were pretty upset when I left school after my A levels, but I think they realised that being stuck in a classroom wasn’t for me. And Granny Bell helped. She told them that some people have to do things rather than listen or
watch, and I’m one of them. And they saw it, too, and supported me after that.’

‘You were close to your grandmother?’

She nodded. ‘I still miss her. She died five years ago, and the church was standing-room only at her funeral. Everyone loved Granny Bell.’ She shook herself. ‘Anyway. Let’s go on the gallopers.’

She made sure that all the machinery was switched off on the dodgems, then took him over to the gallopers.

‘I converted all the steam engines on the rides to electric, simply because it saves a lot of grief with the health and safety mandarins,’ she said.

Lights flickered on all over the roundabout, reflected in the strategically placed mirrors. Even though the evening was quite bright, having the lights on still made the ride look amazing. Felix was beginning to see why Daisy loved the odd mixture of showiness and innocence that was the fairground.