The Antique Love (3 page)

“Perfect,” he said. “That’s just the sort of help I need.”

“So you’re staying in London for a while?” Penny hoped the smile on her face hadn’t turned into an idiotic grin.

He nodded, and her smile widened even further.

“That’s great,” she said. “Although actually, it’s Tehmeena who looks after that side of the business.” She gestured to where Tehmeena stood deep in conversation with one of their regular customers. “She’s tied up at the minute, but I’ll get you her card.”

She was reaching into a drawer under the counter when the slow voice spoke again.

“It’s not your assistant I want,” he said. “It’s you.”

Penny lifted her head. He was regarding her with an unnerving directness, as though he’d just said the most natural thing in the world. She scanned his face, trying without success to read what she saw there.

“Tehmeena has a good eye,” she said carefully. “And a lot of experience. I’m sure she’ll be able to help you.”

Kurt glanced over to the bookshelf where Tehmeena was still engaged in lively conversation.

“She seems very efficient,” he agreed. “But I doubt she has what you have.”

“Really?” Penny said. “And what’s that?” There was a note of caution in her voice. To her mind, rare qualities didn’t necessarily mean good. David had made that quite clear when he left, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more.

“You’ve got passion,” Kurt said simply.

His unexpected reply robbed Penny of speech. She checked his features for any hint of irony, but his gaze was direct, and the set of his chin suggested nothing other than plain speaking. Penny, recently dumped business partner and disappointing daughter of glamorous parents, had passion. No-one had ever said anything like that to her in her life. She was literally dumbstruck.The cowboy, mistaking her silence, proceeded to elaborate.

“You have a love for your antiques and a way of describing them that makes them come alive, like the people who owned them just walked out the door. You’ve got a rare gift of feeling. Hell, you love your antiques more than making a sale.” His eyes twinkled, and Penny remembered her reluctance to sell him the love token. She opened her mouth to begin an apology, but Kurt held up one hand with a shake of his head. “You’re unique, believe me, and that’s why I’d love to get your help.”

It was the longest speech Kurt had made. Penny drew in a deep, astonished breath.

“Well, in that case, the least I can do is listen.” She gestured to the corner, where her desk overflowed with paperwork. “Would you like to take a seat?”

It was a while before Penny managed to shuffle her papers into enough order to create space on her desk. Her tiny corner of the shop could hardly be called an office, but it just happened to be the only available place to do the paperwork. After the way she’d spoken to the man and now the unprofessional state of her desk, she couldn’t for the life of her imagine why he was so insistent on dealing with her.

When she finally settled down and lifted her gaze, she was bursting with curiosity. He was regarding her attempts to tidy with unruffled patience, the picture of a man who was never hurried. It was a little unnerving.

Penny pressed her fingertips together and tried to sound cooler than she felt. “So, have you just bought a flat?”

“Well, it’s not exactly what you would call a flat.” Kurt lifted the leather flap on the satchel he was carrying and drew out some papers. “This is it.” He pushed a folder across the desk toward her.

Penny noted the name of one of London’s premier estate agents embossed on the cover. When she turned the page, her jaw dropped, and she had to suppress a low whistle. Property prices in London were astronomical. Even a one bedroom flat, or apartment as Kurt would call it, was expensive to buy, but the property he was showing her was no bedsit. The exterior photo showed what must be at least a five bedroom detached house and besides that, it appeared to look straight out onto Richmond Park, one of the most expensive areas in London. By London standards, it was a magnificent mansion.

The romantic picture she had formed of Kurt shifted. Did wandering cowboys really sell up and have enough money to buy detached houses in Richmond on Thames? Otherwise, where on earth did he get the money? Had he robbed a bank? He certainly looked capable of it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“You do?” Penny looked up, unnerved. She’d actually been thinking Kurt looked just the type of character who would rob banks with great charm. A sort of modern-day Butch Cassidy.

Luckily for her Kurt’s mind seemed to run on rather more prosaic lines than her own. “You’re thinking this house is too large for one guy. But the fact is, I’m getting married.”

“O-o-h.” Now all became clear. Of course a man this cool had to have a girlfriend somewhere. And surely Penny wasn’t stupid enough to feel disappointed? Her quick imagination threw up a picture of Kurt’s likely fiancée. Tall, willowy, brilliant green eyes and flame red hair. The sort of resourceful girl who knew how to throw a lasso and build up a campfire. Definitely not a short, plump and overworked shop-worker.

“Now I understand,” she said on a long breath. “But surely your fiancée would want to choose the furnishings herself?”

“Well, it’s kinda complicated. I don’t have a fiancée yet, as such.”

“Oh?” Penny said. Her mind ticked over again and leapt to what for her was the most romantic conclusion. “I see. You mean you haven’t asked her to marry you yet?”

“No, not exactly. I mean I haven’t decided on a girlfriend just yet.” Kurt was absolutely deadpan. He carried on steadily. “I’ve got one or two women in mind, but I’m not in any hurry.”

Penny stared at him, wide-eyed.

“So let me get this straight,” she said. “You want me to help you furnish a house, so you can bring a wife back to it? And you haven’t decided which of your dates you’re marrying?”

“Yes.” He paused. “Is it a problem?”

“No, no.” Penny dropped her gaze and fiddled with the pen on her desk. “It’s just…well, isn’t it…I mean, everything about it.” she finally blurted out. Kurt watched in surprise as the pen clattered across the desk.

“I suppose this isn’t my business—,” she continued. Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but Penny carried on, swept away by her own momentum. “I mean you wanted me to help you with the passion thing and everything, so perhaps I should give you a hint. Women prefer it if you’re actually in love with them before you propose. And they’re certainly not happy about being one of a number of options.”

Kurt’s lips twitched. “I understand,” he said. There was humour in his tone, but at the same time, Penny could sense he was deadly serious. “And don’t get me wrong, I take getting married very seriously. But I’m looking for a marriage based on mutual respect and shared interests. When I decide to get married, I want it to be a rational decision. Passion is a fickle thing.”

Penny stared at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that, surely, romantic love and mutual respect weren’t incompatible. She’d known long-lasting marriages based on passion—her own grandparents’ for example—but something in the cowboy’s manner made her feel as though she’d come up against a solid wall. The topic was obviously closed.

She deliberated silently for a couple of minutes, looking into his cool grey eyes. Eventually she shut his folder and pushed it back across the desk.

“This is a much bigger project than I’d expected,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I’ll be able to find the time…”

If Kurt was disappointed, he gave no sign of it. He merely tilted his head, his amiable gaze on hers. He seemed in no hurry to retrieve the folder—seemed to have all the time in the world, in fact. Penny had the sudden notion that despite his outwardly easy-going appearance he was the sort of man who would wait as long as it took to have things the way he wanted them.

For a couple of seconds, neither of them spoke. The folder lay in a kind of no-man’s-land on the desk between them. It was like a sort of stand-off. Penny found herself subconsciously dropping her hands to her sides. The silence spread uncomfortably until, to her great annoyance, she began to feel embarrassed. She pushed the folder a little further in his direction, the first to crack.

“We’re absolutely swamped with work at the moment,” she said. Kurt glanced at the folder and raised his eyes to hers without comment. She knew her excuse must sound lame. When he still didn’t speak, she felt compelled to offer an explanation. “My business partner David looked after our accounts, but he left a couple of weeks ago. I’m trying to get a grip on the finances as well as run the shop.”

She didn’t elaborate. She’d already told him enough. There was no need to mention David’s sudden and dramatic outburst when she’d mildly queried a missing invoice. No need, either, to mention that he’d accused her of being too full of romantic ideals to run a successful business. David would probably think she was being ridiculously idealistic now, turning down business with an obviously affluent customer just because he didn’t share her attitude towards romantic love. However, David wasn’t here anymore, and in any case, it was her decision.

Penny raised her chin as Kurt ran his assessing gaze over the untidy desk and then lifted his head to scan the rest of the shop. Her protest that they were overworked was evidently true. Poor Tehmeena was still dealing single-handedly with a long queue of customers.

Kurt brought his gaze back to meet hers.

“I understand how busy you are,” he admitted. “But I’m in no hurry. You can do the house at a time to suit you and take your time over whatever needs to be done.”

It was a generous offer. Even Penny realised that under normal circumstances it would be absurd to carry on refusing. Still, despite what David thought, she had a lot of common sense when it came to business. With the accounts in such a parlous state, sorting her finances had to be a priority. Her refusal to take on Kurt’s business wasn’t just a personal whim. She genuinely needed to spend some precious time coming to grips with the mess David had left her in.

“I’m not interested in getting too involved with this project.” Kurt tapped the folder. “I’m happy to turn it all over to someone else, but that means I need someone I can trust. You’re the first person I’ve met in this city that fits the bill. You’re passionate about your business, and you won’t fob me off with a bunch of stuff I don’t need. Whatever price you name, I’m willing to pay.”

Her eyes widened. His offer was certainly flattering, in more ways than one. And given the increasingly demanding invoices from suppliers which were landing on her desk, the money was definitely tempting.

“That’s very generous of you,” she said, “but—”

Kurt held up a hand.

“I understand,” he said. “What am I thinking? Of course, you need to know more about me.”

He reached into the leather satchel again. For an instant, the ridiculous notion crossed Penny’s mind that maybe the satchel contained a gun, and so it was with a sense of anti-climax that she watched Kurt pull out a business card. Penny forgot all her reservations and said the first thing that came into her head. “Oh, I didn’t know cowboys had business cards.”

 The look of astonishment on Kurt’s face turned her cheeks pink. What on earth must he think of her? Maybe David was right after all.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Sometimes my tongue runs away with me. I suppose we’re a long way from Texas.”

“Well now, that’s true,” Kurt said in his slow way. “Texas sure is a long way from here. But just to set the record straight, I’m from Wyoming.”

“Wyoming!” Penny’s eyes grew round with wonder. Of course, cowboy country. Maybe her imagination wasn’t so far off the mark, after all. “That sounds
so
romantic. I’ve always longed to go to Wyoming.”

“Is that so?” He was beginning to speak with a careful tolerance that ought to have been a hint, but Penny was oblivious.

“Oh yes,” she cried. “Ever since I saw
Brokeback Mountain
.”

A deep laugh rumbled from Kurt’s chest, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Wyoming sure is beautiful country.”

The laughter in his eyes was so infectious it brought an answering smile to Penny’s lips, and for a couple of seconds, they smiled at each other, as though sharing some secret joke.

“Have you travelled much?” he asked.

Penny’s amusement fled. She dropped her gaze and shuffled some of the papers on her desk. It hadn’t taken this guy long to weigh her up or to work out she had led a sheltered life.

“No,” she admitted after a pause. To soften the abruptness of her reply, she looked up, forcing a smile. “I’m a city girl. The most I’ve travelled is a few trips to the seaside.”

A lifetime of hurt lay behind these simple sentences. Penny was so accustomed to concealing her history from strangers that brevity had become second nature.

Kurt would have been astonished to know that the yellowing postcard in a frame on this plain shop-worker’s desk had been sent to Penny by the film star Megan Rose. Although Penny’s mother had been dead for many years, her beauty lived on, and her tragic early death only contributed to her lasting fame. The postcard scene showed a palm-fringed beach in Hawaii and on the reverse, hidden inside the frame, was the simple inscription
To Penny, Home soon. Love and kisses, Mum and Dad xx
. It was the last communication Penny ever had from her parents before they were drowned at sea off Hawaii’s beautiful coast.

For a wild moment, Penny imagined pulling the card out and showing it to Kurt.
I haven’t travelled much myself, but my mother filmed all over the world,
she could say.
She was Megan Rose. You may have heard of her?’

Her eyes flitted over the palm beach in the frame and then away. She knew revealing her background was just a fleeting thought. She’d grown weary of people’s reaction on the rare occasions when she let slip who her mother was. Disbelief unfailingly turned to a sort of pitying surprise, which people were always too late to hide from her. She knew she was plain in comparison. She just got a little tired of being reminded of it by strangers.