Good Girl or Gold-Digger? (9 page)

‘My mother thinks I’m firmly on the shelf and that I’m never going to settle down. And she’s desperate for grandchildren.’

‘I thought Ben had children.’

‘He does. But I’m her only daughter. She wants me settled.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he said feelingly. ‘Mine’s always holding house parties with a suitable woman she’s picked especially as my dinner partner, hoping that I’ll start dating.’ He grimaced. ‘Even though both my sisters are married, I’m the oldest and the only son. She thinks I should do my duty, get married and produce grandchildren.’

‘But you don’t want to get married?’

‘I don’t want to be trapped.’ His voice was cool to the point of being arctic.

She frowned. ‘What happened to you, Felix?’

He looked away. ‘Nothing.’

Yeah, right. That was about as sincere as her own ‘nothing’. Just before he’d looked away, she’d seen something in his eyes. A bone-deep hurt.

Something or someone had made him scared of marriage.

He’d said he was single—divorced, maybe? It would explain why he saw marriage as a trap.

But she also knew that if she pushed right now he’d shut her out. So she waited for him to fill the silence.

‘Not everyone wants to settle down,’ Felix said eventually. ‘What’s wrong with having a little fun? Aren’t you the woman who’s dedicating her life to putting a bit of fun and sparkle into families’ lives?’

‘Absolutely. And I don’t want to get married, either.’ She’d been asked. By a man who hadn’t seen her for herself. Stu had seen a woman who he’d thought just needed a shove in the right direction and a wedding dress, and she’d be more conventional. Girly.

‘Then,’ he said, ‘I vote for fun. You, me and a good time. Until one of us has had enough.’

‘Until one of us has had enough,’ she echoed.

I
N THE
middle of Monday afternoon, Titan did his guard-dog routine and Daisy emerged from under the engine to face Felix.

‘Hi,’ she said, a little unsure how to act. He’d said that they could keep things compartmentalised—so what was he doing here? Was this business…? That glint in his eyes made her toes curl. It was all she could do to stop herself wrapping her arms round his neck and kissing him. Deeply.

He smiled at her. ‘I need you for a meeting.’

‘A meeting?’

‘With Bill,’ he clarified.

‘So you’ve come to a decision about the fairground?’

‘That’s why we’re having a meeting,’ he said.

He was giving nothing away. ‘Remind me never to play poker against you,’ she said lightly.

‘Chicken.’ He moved closer and stole a kiss. ‘Come on, Boots. Let’s get this show on the road.’

If it was a no to the investment, he wouldn’t sound so cool and calm and collected, would he?

Daisy really couldn’t tell. So she cleaned her hands and followed him over to the office. Bill had a plate of
brownies in his office and he’d put the kettle on; Daisy elected to make the coffee, because she couldn’t stand the suspense and needed something to do with her hands.

When she carried the mugs into Bill’s office, Felix gestured to the spare seat.

‘We all know why I’m here, so let’s cut to the chase. I’ve spent a week here and looked round thoroughly. Your staff are great—they know what your customers want and they give it,’ he said. ‘The concept of the museum works because it’s unusual and it fits in with the local tourism. The management is fine.’

There was a single word he hadn’t said. One that showed in his eyes. So Daisy said it for him. ‘But?’

‘You need to make some changes if you want to maximise your revenue. It’s a matter of using your resources better. As we’ve already discussed at length, Daisy, you need to look at your pricing structure, and at having some kind of central hall so you have more flexibility and can offer activities for damp days as well as sunny ones to keep people coming in. And you need to offer merchandise through your website as well as in the shop.’

Bill jotted notes on a pad. ‘So that’s three main areas we need to look at.’

‘You don’t need to take notes, Bill,’ Felix said quietly. ‘I’ll give you a report with my recommendations. And there’s another one that might be really difficult to face but it needs discussing. The sooner, the better.’

Now that she hadn’t expected. She exchanged a worried glance with Bill.

‘What’s that?’ Bill asked.

‘Succession planning. Bill, you need to think about what you want to do when you eventually retire. If you
want Bell’s to continue like this, then you need to talk to a solicitor about turning the museum from a private collection into a charitable trust—because, if you don’t, when you die your heirs will have to pay tax on the inheritance, and that might mean having to liquidate some of the assets to pay for it.’

‘You mean, sell one of the engines or one of the rides,’ Daisy said.

‘Exactly. And, with the way the economy is, people are putting money into tangibles and prices are rising—so that means the tax bill will rise, too.’

‘Will your report also recommend investors?’ Daisy asked.

‘That depends. If you become a charity or a trust rather than a private collection, you’ll qualify for grants and you’ll find it easier to get sponsorship. You have a great bunch of volunteers, but I notice you don’t actually have a “friends” scheme—people who run those kind of schemes are usually excellent at raising extra funds. You need that money to cover restoration costs and buying new rides.’

‘And if we stay as we are and keep it a private collection?’ Bill asked.

‘Then you need an investor to bring in some extra funds to help you develop.’

‘Or a sponsor,’ Daisy said. Time to bite the bullet. ‘Would you consider doing that?’

‘If that’s the route you choose to take, then I can help you work out sponsorship packages. What you need to do is talk it over between you, come to a decision and then talk to me. Obviously I have other projects to deal with, but I can split my time between here and London for the next month or so. Say,
Wednesday to Friday in London and the rest of the time here.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ Bill said.

And, when that month was up, what then? Would their relationship revert to being strictly business? Daisy wondered.

‘The bottom line is,’ Felix continued, ‘Bell’s has a future and you can tell everyone to stop worrying.’

Bill hugged Daisy, then shook Felix’s hand solemnly. ‘Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.’

Daisy, seeing the look in Felix’s eyes, rather thought he might.

‘I’ll leave you to discuss things for now,’ Felix said with a smile. ‘I have a report to write, so I’ll head back to the hotel and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He glanced at Daisy. ‘I’ll give you a hand with the kitchen stuff before I go.’

In other words, he wanted a quiet word with her on her own. Her pulse beat just that little bit faster. ‘Sure,’ she said, aiming for cool and casual.

‘Are you doing anything special tonight?’ he asked when they were on their own.

‘I don’t have any plans. So, um, if you want to use that rain check on dinner at my place…’

‘I’d like that.’ He checked that nobody was around to see them, and stole a kiss. ‘Text me a time when you get back to the workshop and I’ll be there.’

She did so. And, as she expected, her doorbell rang dead on time. Felix had probably never been late for anything in his life.

‘For you,’ Felix said, handing her a bottle of chilled Chablis and some seriously good chocolates.

‘Thank you.’ It felt odd, inviting him into her inner sanctum. ‘Come in.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’ he asked as she ushered him through to the kitchen.

‘It’s all done—but you can undo the wine, if you like.’ She handed him a corkscrew; he removed the cork and poured them both a glass.

‘To the fairground,’ he said, lifting his glass.

‘And to you,’ she replied, lifting hers.

She took some dishes from the oven and transferred a piece of salmon to Titan’s bowl.

‘You cooked salmon for Titan, too?’ he asked.

She grinned. ‘I wouldn’t dare not. Remember, this cat growls.’ She scratched the top of his head. ‘And he’s seriously spoiled.’

Titan responded by purring and rubbing against her.

She checked the fish for bones, then mashed it. ‘Now, you know you have to wait until it’s cooled down before you can scoff it,’ she told the cat. ‘Patience.’

Titan gave a miaow of disgust and stalked over to his bed.

Daisy opened the rest of the foil-wrapped parcels from the oven and set asparagus, new potatoes and stuffed mushrooms next to them, then brought the plates over to the table.

‘I thought you said you couldn’t cook,’ Felix commented.

She shrugged. ‘Wrapping things in foil and shoving them in the oven isn’t exactly cooking.’

‘Works for me.’ He smiled at her. ‘I like your kitchen, Boots.’

‘Thanks. I love my house, too. It might be small, but
it’s perfect for me.’ She gave him a wistful smile. ‘I spent a lot of years in this kitchen, when I was growing up, talking to Granny Bell and listening to her tales of the fairground.’

‘It was her house?’ Felix guessed.

Daisy nodded. ‘She left it to me—along with a letter. She said she’d helped my brothers through university and with their first car, and because I didn’t go to university, and I’d put so much back into the fairground, this was her way of helping me.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you’re proud?’

‘Yes. No.’ She sighed. ‘I love my family. But you know how families are: there are dynamics and everyone has their set places. They see me as the ditzy, girly baby who needs rescuing. Which drives me insane, because that’s not who I am.’

‘So you wear boiler suits and you work with steam engines to prove you’re not ditzy or girly or need rescuing.’

‘Partly. But I love what I do.’ She looked at him. ‘so where are you in yours?’

‘My family dynamics, you mean?’ At her nod, he gave her a half-smile. ‘I’m the difficult workaholic who refuses to do my duty and join the family firm, or settle down and produce the next generation of Gisbournes.’

Which told her exactly where she stood: though she knew that already. ‘Hey. You know what they say—all work and no play.’

She’d expected him to tease her back, but instead Felix suddenly went quiet on her and concentrated on his food.

What had she said? Felix himself had admitted to being a workaholic. OK, so she’d come out with a cliché, but surely it hadn’t been that bad? Part of her wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she had the
distinct impression that he’d closed off and wouldn’t tell her. Asking would make it worse.

She let it lie until they’d finished eating. ‘Sorry. I’m not the world’s best cook.’

‘It was fine, Daisy. Really.’ But he was avoiding her gaze.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. ‘Felix, what I said earlier…I wasn’t sniping at you. I’m always being nagged about my workaholic tendencies, too, and I hate it, so I guess it’s the same for you.’

‘Who nags you?’

‘My parents. My brothers. My sister-in-law.’ Her exes. Not that she wanted to talk about them. ‘They say I should take days off.’

‘You don’t?’ He frowned.

‘I work part-time at the fairground as a mechanic. The office stuff is voluntary, and so’s some of the restoration work.’ She shrugged. ‘But nobody forces me to do it. It’s my heritage and it’s important to me. And, thanks to you, I can continue doing what I love, and loving what I do.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’

She really didn’t understand why he’d clammed up on her. It wasn’t as if she’d accused him outright of being dull. Besides, he wasn’t dull. He was dynamic, bright and incredibly sexy, and surely he had to know that?

Unless…

A seriously nasty thought slid into her mind. Last night, they’d made an agreement:
until one of them had had enough.

‘Do I take it,’ she asked carefully, ‘that you’ve got your common sense back?’

He looked straight at her, his grey eyes guarded. ‘Have you?’

She could be proud and say yes, make sure she was the one who ended it. But she had a feeling that there was something else going on here, something she didn’t understand, and it might take a while to get to the bottom of it. ‘No. I had been planning to introduce you to my sofa, actually. But, if you’d rather not, I understand.’

‘You were going to introduce me to your sofa,’ he repeated.

‘On condition you don’t nag me for being untidy,’ she said.

‘Now, would I?’ He gave her the wickedest smile she’d ever seen.

The tension within her eased; the potential row had been averted. ‘Hey. You’re the one who has issues with my desk.’

‘I can think of things I’d like to do on your desk. And all that paperwork would get in the way,’ he said softly.

All kinds of ideas bloomed in her head, and she felt hot all over. ‘Why don’t you come and explain that to me on my sofa? Once I’ve fed the cat.’ She checked the temperature of the salmon in Titan’s bowl and finally set the bowl in front of the impatient cat before leading Felix into the living room. ‘I did warn you I’m not tidy.’

Looking at it as she knew he’d see it, she could perceive the clutter: the papers on top of her map cabinet, the DVDs of musicals stacked on a shelf in no particular order. Felix, no doubt, would have them and the pile of books by the sofa organised in alphabetical order.

‘I’m not saying a word, Boots,’ he said softly. ‘It’s a nice room.’

‘I like it.’

‘Nice sofa.’

‘Untidy sofa,’ she admitted. There was a pile of
papers she’d been going through on one of the seats; she scooped them up together with the notebook where she’d been jotting down information and moved them on to the top of the map cabinet.

‘Work?’ he asked.

‘Sort of. Family papers. I’m thinking about writing a history of Bell’s, to supplement the fairground’s guidebook. Dad and Bill have lent me a pile of stuff, and there are boxes of photographs that Granny Bell kept in the attic.’ She looked at Felix. ‘She would’ve liked you.’

‘What, even though I’m fussy?’

‘She had a thing about neatness, too. I suppose it came from travelling between fairs.’

‘So your grandmother was a traveller?’

‘No, she was a showman. There’s a difference,’ Daisy said. ‘Travellers go where the fancy takes them, whereas showmen have things booked months if not years in advance—they work the fair circuit, and the dates of most of the fairs were set centuries ago. But, yes, they lived in vans because they had to travel between fairs, and those vans are full of cubby holes to keep things neat.’

‘And you didn’t inherit the family neatness.’

‘Not where papers are concerned,’ she admitted. ‘But my workshop’s tidy.’

‘Only to keep the health and safety mandarins off your back. You prefer the engineering side to the admin side, don’t you?’

‘Much. But I can’t leave it all to Bill, so I do my fair share.’

He played with the ends of her hair. ‘Before I met you, I decided you were a lightweight who drifted around, was late for meetings and chatted up the mechanics.’

‘Oh, yes?’

He dipped his head to brush his mouth against hers. ‘Then Bill told me you were the chief mechanic, so I assumed you’d be butch, with a tattoo and a nose-ring—even though I’d seen your picture in the paper and knew you weren’t.’

‘Who says I don’t have a tattoo?’

‘I do.’ He moved closer. ‘And, as I’ve explored every centimetre of your body, I would know.’

She felt her face flood with colour.

‘Do you know how pretty you look when you blush?’ He stole another kiss, and another, and the next thing she knew they were lying on her sofa with one of his thighs thrust between hers, and his hands underneath the material of her strappy top.

‘I think we’re both a bit too old to do the teenage stuff,’ she said. ‘Seeing as I’m twenty-eight and I’m guessing that you’re pushing thirty.’

‘Over that particular hill already, I’m afraid. I’m thirty-four.’