Good Girl or Gold-Digger? (7 page)

Would Felix kiss her?

When he didn’t, she wasn’t sure whether she was more relieved or disappointed.

Clearly her confusion showed, because he reminded her softly, ‘I said
dinner,
Boots,’ as he opened the door to his suite and led her out to the balcony.

The table was set for two and there was a bottle of wine in a cooler, along with a jug of iced water.

‘I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you,’ he said.

Actually, she did mind, and she was about to say so when he added, ‘It’s a tasting menu.’

‘I had no idea they did one here.’ Otherwise it would definitely have featured in her family’s birthday celebrations. The rest of the Bell clan appreciated good food as much as she did.

Felix smiled. ‘The chef’s a nice guy.’

She felt her eyes widen. She’d mentioned a tasting menu to him the first night they’d eaten together. And he’d acted on her suggestion? ‘You mean you talked him into doing this tonight? Just for us?’

‘You’ve taught me something, Daisy—people who do what they love also enjoy sharing it with others. Like you and the fairground.’

‘But the chef here has two Michelin stars.’

Felix laughed. ‘They don’t all swear a lot and throw pans at people, you know. And actually he’s been thinking about doing tasting menus for a while. He thinks it’s a fabulous idea, and we’re his guinea pigs. In return I promised we’d make notes.’

‘You’re being Mr Fixit again, aren’t you?’ she asked with a smile.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Pots and kettles, Boots. If you’d thought of it first, you would’ve gone to talk to him.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Come and eat with me, Daisy.’ He smiled at her. ‘This is going to be fun.’

And it was. A huge silver dome covered each platter; there were three different dishes in each. Until pudding: then there were five.

‘Oh,
yes.
These are mine, all mine,’ Daisy said, pulling the platter towards her.

‘In your dreams, Boots. I love panna cotta.’ Felix lifted his long-stemmed spoon and eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Does this mean we have to have a spoon-fight to see who gets what?’

‘What, a pen-pusher challenging an engineer?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Then I’ll have to make it fair and fight you with the spoon in my left hand. Though I’ll still win, so you might as well surrender right now.’

‘I have a much better idea,’ Felix said. ‘Close your eyes.’

‘So you can scoff the lot while I’m waiting for my turn? No chance.’

‘I’ll let you have first taste of each dish.’ He shifted his chair so that he was next to her rather than opposite her. ‘Close your eyes and open your mouth.’

‘Really?’

‘Trust me,’ he said softly, and she had a feeling he was talking about more than just the food.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Felix fed her the first spoonful, the most sublime vanilla panna cotta she’d ever eaten.

‘Good?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ To the food
and
the delivery. ‘More than good.’

He made no comment, just poured them both a coffee and added milk to his own.

There was a platter of tiny hand-made chocolates to go with the coffee. ‘Given the way you drink your coffee, I take it I have to surrender all the plain chocolate to you?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, though I’d be very happy to take the white chocolate off your hands.’

He smiled. ‘White chocolate isn’t even chocolate, so you’re on. And we’ll share the milk.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

Except he insisted on feeding her the chocolates, too, one by one. By the time he’d finished, she was practically melting.

And then he kissed her, his mouth warm and sweet, yet tasting of bitter chocolate at the same time. Demanding and coaxing at the same time. Daisy had never felt so turned on in her entire life.

‘Uh. This wasn’t meant to…’ Felix shook his head, trying to clear it. How had he managed to forget himself so thoroughly? How come Daisy was sitting on his lap? And why were his palms flat against her midriff, touching her bare skin?

Colour flooded Daisy’s face and she took her hands away from his neck. ‘Sorry.’

Oh, hell. Please don’t say those are tears in her eyes. Except she was looking down, so her lashes obscured his view.

He’d clearly embarrassed her, made her feel bad. And he hated that. So when she began to wriggle off his lap he put his hand on her shoulder, stilling her. ‘Daisy. It wasn’t you. It’s my fault.’

She still refused to look at him. ‘It’s OK. I understand.’

Understand what? Right at that moment Felix didn’t understand a thing.

‘I’ll, um, call a taxi when I get downstairs.’

‘Don’t go. Not like this.’ He sighed and rested his forehead against her shoulder. ‘I apologise for pushing you. But sharing chocolates with you like that…I’m sorry. I should’ve kept my hands off you. But there’s something about you I find irresistible, Daisy.’ Despite his good intentions, he nuzzled her cardigan aside and kissed the bare skin of her shoulder. ‘This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.’

‘Why not?’

The question took him by surprise and he lifted his head again, looking her straight in the eye. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘Looking the way you do, you must have women dropping at your feet the whole time.’

Not for his looks. Felix knew the main reason why women were attracted to him, and it involved his net worth. Tabitha had burned that particular lesson into his soul. I
love the lifestyle he can give me.
But she hadn’t loved him. He felt his mouth compress. ‘Hardly.’

She scoffed. ‘You honestly expect me to believe that? One charming smile from you, and most women would be a puddle of hormones.’

‘Except you.’ He traced the outline of her jaw with his forefinger. ‘Because you’re not most women.’

‘I don’t do feminine and fluffy.’

‘That’s not what I meant. Not at all.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘This is ridiculous. I’m meant to be good with words; I see through all the jargon and the hype and I summarise things neatly. And yet, with you, I can’t think straight.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘All I can think of is that I want you. Very, very much. And I think you want me, too.’

She shivered. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was husky, and he wanted to see her sea-green eyes all drowsy and huge with pleasure. Pleasure that he’d given her.

‘Having you close to me like this is driving me crazy.’ Unable to help himself, he traced the line of her collarbone with the tip of his finger. Except touching wasn’t enough. Remembering what he’d wanted to do on Monday night, he bent his head and skimmed the hollows with his mouth. ‘Daisy, your skin’s so soft. And I’m really glad you’re not wearing that necklace.’

‘That was borrowed, too,’ she admitted. She was trembling slightly. ‘I don’t do this sort of thing, Felix. I don’t have mad, crazy affairs. I’m sensible Daisy Bell, who spends her day fixing engines covered in oil.’

‘Just for the record, Boots,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t do mad, crazy affairs, either. I’m usually sensible Felix Gisbourne, who spends his days looking at balance sheets and observing how companies function and where they could improve their performance. Sure, I date a bit.’

‘A
bit?’
She looked as if she didn’t believe him. Maybe she’d looked him up on the Internet, seen a few gossip columns.

‘OK, I date a lot,’ he clarified. ‘But nothing serious. And I don’t leap into bed with someone I’ve known for all of three days. This is going way too fast.’

‘So we really ought to stop this right now.’

‘Yes. Though I have a feeling that this thing is bigger than both of us.’

‘So what do you suggest?’

‘Neither of us is committed elsewhere. So there’s nothing to stop us seeing where this takes us. And yes, I know we’re supposed to be talking business, working out a rescue plan for the fairground. But we’re adults, Daisy. We can make it strictly business at the fairground, and whatever this thing is between us outside.’

‘Can we?’ She didn’t sound so sure.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘Maybe neither of us is in a fit state to make decisions right now. So let’s be sensible. Right now, you’re going to sit in that chair over there and I’m going to call a taxi for you. And tomorrow we’re going to talk about the best way of getting this mad, crazy stuff out of our systems and our working life back to how it should be. Back in control.’

Though even as he spoke he thought he knew what the answer was.

A hot, no-strings affair, or a series of very long, cold showers.

O
O
T
HURSDAY
morning, Daisy cycled in early and dropped in by the cafe to offer to do the tea run. She kept Felix—who was using her office for the day—until last.

‘I thought it was about time I brought you a mug of tea, as you’ve brought me some for the last couple of days.’

‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her, and heat coiled in her belly. It would be oh, so easy to walk round to his side of the desk, sit on his lap and slide her hands round his neck, just as she’d done last night. To kiss him until they were both breathless and their heads were spinning.

His eyes darkened slightly; his gaze dropped to her mouth, and she knew he was thinking exactly the same thing.

But Bill was in the office next to hers. There wasn’t a lock on her door. And it would involve way too many difficult explanations if someone walked in and found them wrapped in a clinch. They had to be sensible about this.

She took a deep breath. ‘So have you come to a decision?’

‘About what?’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What we were discussing.’

‘The fairground? Not yet. I want to work through some figures and ideas.’

Oh, for pity’s sake. He knew
exactly
what she was talking about. She lowered her voice. ‘Do I have to spell it out for you?’

His eyes darkened still further and he moistened his lower lip. ‘The crazy stuff. Yeah, I’ve thought about it. And, no, I haven’t got a solution.’

‘I thought you were meant to be Mr Fixit?’

‘So did I,’ he said dryly. ‘Clearly today I’ve failed.’

‘We could try avoiding each other.’

‘That’s not going to work,’ he said.

She knew he was right, and it annoyed her. ‘Do you have a better idea, then?’

‘Oh, I have an idea, all right.’ His eyes glittered. ‘But I’m not looking for a relationship. I can’t offer you something with a future. And, if anyone made the kind of suggestion that’s in my head to one of my sisters, I would insist on having a little chat with them.’

She frowned. ‘Don’t you think your sisters are capable of dealing with things themselves?’

‘Yes. But I’m their brother.’

‘That’s sexist.’ And exactly how her brothers would react.

‘No. It’s called looking out for my sisters and making sure nobody takes advantage of them,’ he countered. ‘I was brought up to have good manners. And what I have in mind
isn’t
good manners.’

A fling, she guessed. The same kind of deal he’d offered his other girlfriends.

Except he wasn’t offering it to her, because she wasn’t like them. Wasn’t feminine enough.

Why can’t you be like other girls?
The words echoed
in her head. From her parents, her brothers, her boyfriends. She was too independent, too different.

It took every bit of willpower she possessed to drawl, ‘Whatever. I have work to do. Catch you later.’

So much for trying to do the right thing and not hurt her, Felix thought ruefully. He’d managed to hurt her anyway. He’d seen it in her eyes.

He replayed their conversation in his head, and he still couldn’t work it out. He’d tried to be honourable. What was wrong with that?

He’d talk to her later, find out what he’d said and apologise for it. But brooding over things wasn’t going to sort out the paperwork or give him the information he needed to make suggestions about how to save the fairground.

But it was still niggling at him even after a morning’s work on figures and several long conversations on his mobile phone. Time to declare a truce, he thought, and he dropped by the cafe to buy brownies before heading for the workshop.

He couldn’t hear any singing as he walked into the workshop. Bill had said that was a bad sign. So he’d really upset her—but that hadn’t been his intention at all.

Titan looked hopefully at the paper bag.

‘Not for you today, boy,’ Felix said, and scratched the cat behind the ears with his free hand. ‘Can you fish her out for me?’

At the word ‘fish’, Titan gave a grumpy-sounding miaow, but did his usual duty.

‘Can I help you?’ Daisy said coolly when she emerged, keeping the engine between them.

‘Peace offering.’ He handed her the bag.

She looked inside and raised an eyebrow. ‘Thank you.’

‘Look, Daisy, I didn’t intend to upset you this morning. I was trying not to insult you.’

‘Uh-huh.’

He sighed. ‘I’m not a mind-reader, Boots. What did I say?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Nothing.’

‘That’s what my sisters say when they’re seriously annoyed. It drives me crazy.’ He leaned on the engine. ‘Well, it’s your choice. You can continue being hurt and angry, or you can tell me what I said and I can apologise for it. Up to you.’

She was silent, but eventually she bit her lip. ‘You were going to suggest a fling.’

‘And, as I said, I was trying not to insult you. That’s why I didn’t suggest it.’

‘So it wasn’t…’ Her voice tailed off.

‘Wasn’t what?’

‘Nothing.’ She flapped a hand. ‘You’re right. Better to be sensible. And I don’t really mix with suits.’

Then it hit him. She had the same look on her face as she’d had the evening before, when he’d kissed her and stopped.

She didn’t think she was his type. She thought he was rejecting her.

‘Daisy,’ he said softly. ‘Are you trying to tell me I don’t think you’re my type?’

‘No.’ But she hadn’t looked him in the eye. He knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

He walked round to her side of the engine. ‘Right. Define my type.’

She still refused to meet his gaze. ‘Elegant. Girly. The sort who doesn’t have to borrow a dress to go to a posh hotel.’

In other words, the complete opposite of her. ‘And you think I judge by appearances?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Don’t you?’

‘No,’ he said, unsmiling and annoyed that she’d read him so wrongly. ‘I tend to look a little deeper. And, for the record, you don’t have to wear a dress to be all woman. You manage to do that even when you’re wearing a shapeless boiler suit and you’ve hidden your hair behind a cap.’

She looked surprised, and then gave him a disbelieving stare.

‘I’m trying very hard to do the honourable thing here, but you’re making this impossible for me. Because I can see in your face you think I’m spinning you a line, and I can think of only one way to prove to you that I’m not.’ He cupped her face in his hands and brushed his mouth over hers, once, twice. And when her lips parted he traced a line of tiny, nibbling kisses along her lower lip, demanding a response.

She let him deepen the kiss, sliding her arms around his neck; his hands automatically went to her waist, settling in the perfect hourglass curve.

‘Believe me now?’ he asked when he finally lifted his head.

She looked dazed. ‘Uh. Yes.’

‘I’d guess,’ he said softly, ‘that someone—someone
very
stupid—did a number on you. And I’d also guess that he found your job threatening, and the only way he could feel good about himself was to put you down constantly. So he nagged you because you weren’t wearing make-up and high heels like his friends’ girlfriends did.’

She flinched—only slightly, but enough to tell him that he was right.

‘He was wrong. Incredibly wrong. You’re bright, and from what I’ve seen you’re in the perfect job for you. You’d be bored stupid if you had to play housewife.’ He couldn’t help smiling. ‘Though, judging by how untidy your office is, you’d need a housekeeper anyway.’

‘I’m not that messy. And I know where everything is.’

‘You work on the volcano principle—that when a piece of paper is critical it’ll rise to the top of the pile.’

‘And your problem with that is?’

‘I’m a control freak.’

‘The sort who has a clear desk policy.’

He laughed. ‘I had to stop myself tidying your office this morning.’

She flushed. ‘It’s
my
office.’

‘I know, so don’t get territorial with me. I didn’t touch anything. Even though I wanted to.’ Which was precisely the dilemma he had where she was concerned. He wanted to touch. To taste. He drew the pad of his thumb along her lower lip. ‘So what are we going to do about
this?’

‘Maybe…’ She stopped.

‘Maybe what?’

‘Maybe,’ she said slowly, ‘you could have dinner with me tonight. At my place.’

If only she’d asked him earlier. ‘Sorry, I can’t. I’m going back to London this afternoon. I need to be in my office for a couple of days to sort some things out on other projects.’ He’d made promises, and he never broke his word.

She gave an offhand shrug.

But Felix guessed that his refusal had hurt, that she thought he’d made up an excuse. And he had a feeling that she hadn’t made that offer lightly. When it came to
her personal life, Daisy was as wary as he was. ‘I’m planning to be back in Suffolk on Sunday evening. Can I take a rain check on dinner for then, if you’re not already busy?’ he asked.

She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Sunday’s fine.’

‘What time?’

‘Half-past seven?’

‘OK. I’ll see you when I get back.’

He was about to leave when she spoke. ‘Um, Felix?’ She waved a cloth at him. ‘You might need this, and a mirror.’

‘Mirror?’

She flapped a hand. ‘Come here.’ Carefully, she wiped something—a smudge of oil, he guessed—from his face.

‘Thank you. Until Sunday, then.’

‘Until Sunday.’

On Friday, Felix was at his desk, but he couldn’t settle. Something kept nagging at him. Even two espressos didn’t help him concentrate.

And then he realised what it was.

He missed Daisy.

Which was utterly ridiculous. He’d known her for less than a week, and had seen her less than twenty-four hours ago. How could he possibly be missing her?

But he was. He missed the sparkle of fencing with her. And, even though his head told him that these few days back in London away from her would be good for him and give his common sense the chance of returning, there was another feeling deep in his gut. One that begged to differ.

Maybe he just needed some fresh air to clear his
head. Somehow his walk led him past the local choco-latier. A note in the window said that they could ice any message onto any slab of chocolate. Acting on impulse, Felix went inside.

‘Would it be possible to ice a picture instead of a message?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’ The girl behind the counter gave him an appreciative smile, and leaned forward slightly.

Felix barely registered that it deepened her cleavage or that she was flirting with him. ‘And could you send it by courier so it arrives tomorrow?’

‘No problem.’

‘And I’d like to put a message in as well.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Wonderful.’ He told her exactly what he wanted iced on the slab, paid, scribbled a quick message on the back of a business card, and gave her Daisy’s address at the fairground.

On Saturday morning, Bill came over to the workshop from the office. ‘Special delivery for you.’

Daisy couldn’t remember ordering anything. Frowning, she cleaned her hands and opened the box. It contained a large slab of white chocolate that had an old-fashioned roundabout iced on it in milk chocolate, with little red dots for the lights; it was the most charming thing she’d ever seen.

There was a business card attached: Felix.

Suddenly, all her pleasure evaporated. He’d sent her the most lovely gift—and he’d even remembered that white chocolate was her favourite—but he hadn’t sent a message with it. Just a business card. Which she supposed was a kind of message in itself: he’d had time
to think about things and thought they should keep it strictly business between them.

He’d probably even got his secretary to organise the chocolate, rather than doing it himself. He had a busy schedule, after all. This wasn’t personal, and it was stupid of her to have hoped. Stupid of her to have missed him. Stupid of her to think that maybe he’d see her for herself.

‘What’s this, something you were thinking of stocking in the shop?’ Bill asked, looking interested.

She showed him the chocolate and forced her voice to sound neutral. ‘Felix sent it. And it’s a good idea—something like this would go down well in the shop, though I think we should make smaller ones to keep the price in pocket-money ranges.’

‘Agreed,’ Bill said. ‘As it’s white chocolate, I assume none of us are going to get a look in?’

Eating it would choke her. But she made herself laugh, for Bill’s sake. She didn’t want him worrying about her on top of everything else. ‘I’m not quite that greedy, Bill. Take it back to the office and share it out, but make sure you leave me some, OK? And I’ll text him to say we like the idea.’

She dropped Felix’s business card as she took the mobile phone from her handbag, and it fell face-down; there was something written on the back. She picked it up and read the message:
Saw this and thought of you. Fx

So he’d organised this himself, not delegated it.

The only question was, did he mean ‘you’ as in Daisy herself, or ‘you’ as in the fairground?

On impulse, rather than texting him, she rang him.

‘Gisbourne.’

He sounded all buttoned-up again. Not the man who fenced verbally with her, or the man whose kiss had fried her brain. It made her wish she’d stuck to her original plan to text him her thanks. Too late, now. ‘Hi, it’s Daisy. I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say thank you for the chocolate. Bill agrees it’d be great in the shop, but we think a smaller size would work better.’

‘Good decision,’ he said, his voice still cool.

She really had done the wrong thing here. ‘Sorry for interrupting. I’ll let you get on.’

‘Daisy, no, wait.’

‘What?’

He sighed. ‘I didn’t send it for the fairground. I sent it to
you.
I thought you’d like it.’

Suddenly there was a huge lump in her throat. It had been a message. Only she’d been paranoid and decoded it wrongly.

‘Daisy? Are you there?’

‘Yeah. Um, thanks. I did like it. A lot.’ She dragged in a breath and forced herself to sound professional. ‘I won’t keep you, though. See you tomorrow.’