Harlequin Romance August 2014 Bundle

by Douglas, Michelle; Gordon, Lucy; Pembroke, Sophie; Hardy, Kate

  ‘I think it was smart and brave. You don’t need to be beholden to people like that.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She smiled and for a moment he swore he saw glitter flickering at the edge of his vision. He blinked it away. ‘There’s one thing I don’t get.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Why are you fighting to keep this old relic of a house? Why don’t you rid yourself of the responsibility?’ And rake in some much-needed moolah while she was at it?

  ‘This house belonged to my grandmother. She’s the only person who loved me unconditionally. And she loved this house.’

  She wouldn’t have wanted it to become an albatross around her granddaughter’s neck, surely?

  ‘My parents lived here once they were married, not because it was convenient for the factory but because they wanted to be seen living in the Big House, as you call it. They never loved the place. They look at it and all they see are dollar signs. I look at it and...’

  She didn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘And you see a Victorian teahouse.’

  ‘You think that’s dumb?’

  ‘I think it’s an interesting business plan with definite potential.’

  She leaned towards him, her face alive. It was the way she’d looked at him fifteen years ago when she’d given him her locket. Only she wasn’t a little girl any more but a woman. And he was a grown man.

  Heat circled in his veins to pool in his lap. He surreptitiously tried to adjust his jeans, reminding himself about trouble and complications and grief and misery. He was not going to travel down that road with Nell. This wasn’t a fairy tale. It wouldn’t end well. He gritted his teeth. Business—this was just business.

  ‘I’ve done my homework. High teas have become big business in Sydney. Lots of clients are looking for themed party venues—something a bit different. I think Whittaker House will fit the bill perfectly. I predict my Victorian teahouse will become a big hit, not only for birthday parties, but for hen parties, bridal showers, anniversaries and family reunions too.’

  He didn’t doubt her for a moment.

  ‘I know Whittaker House isn’t Downton Abbey, but it does have its own charm and I happen to think other people would enjoy the location too.’

  ‘Absolutely, but...’

  Her face fell. ‘But?’

  He hated being the voice of reason. ‘It’ll take a lot of start-up capital to get the business off the ground.’ The house would need a lick of paint both inside and out. The grounds would need to be not only wrestled into shape but manicured to within an inch of its life. She’d need to kit out the entire operation with suitable tables and chairs, pretty linens and crockery. It wouldn’t come cheap.

  ‘Which is why I’m preparing a business plan to take to my bank manager with projected costs, profits et cetera in the hope I can secure a business loan.’

  ‘Which, unless you have some other asset you’ve not told me about, will mean putting Whittaker House up as collateral.’

  He watched the fire leach out of her eyes. ‘How’d you know that?’

  It wasn’t an accusation but a genuine bid for knowledge. ‘I did a business course when I was in prison.’

  She chewed her lip and nodded. Her glance sharpened. ‘Do you have your own business?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘If you’re as handy as you say, then maybe you should start up your own building business.’

  He choked. ‘Me?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘There have to be at least a million reasons!’

  ‘And probably just as many why you should,’ she said in that tone of voice. ‘Well, I’m still going to put my proposal together and make an appointment with my bank manager. If I get no joy there then I’ll have to find investors.’

  ‘Which means the business is no longer your own.’

  ‘Which isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing.’

  He could click his fingers and make the money appear for her. If he wanted. For a moment he was tempted. He cut the thought off. He hadn’t told Nell he was rich for the simple reason that he didn’t want the news getting about.

  She tossed her head. ‘I bet there must be some kind of government initiative to assist fledgling businesses. I’ll check into that too.’

  He had to give her credit. She wasn’t sitting around waiting for Prince Charming to swing by and rescue her.

  She lifted her chin. ‘And if it takes longer to get off the ground than I want, so be it.’

  In the meantime she’d be stuck with the upkeep of the place. ‘You know your grandmother’s rings would bring in the kind of money you need.’

  ‘Out of the question.’

  Stubborn. He respected that, but it wouldn’t pay the power bills.

  She dusted off her hands. ‘In the meantime, you’re going to do some work on the place in return for rent-free use of the cottage.’

  ‘And cupcakes.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘And sandwiches and a Sunday roast or two.’

  Her eyes narrowed and he recognised the calculation that suddenly flashed in their brilliant green depths. What amendment to their deal would she try and come up with now? He folded his arms and waited.

  She moistened her lips. ‘If I help you crack that code of John’s, would you consider glancing over my business plan once I’ve written it?’

  He grinned. ‘Princess, if you can crack that code I’ll write the darn plan for you.’

  Her hand shot across the table. ‘You have yourself a deal.’

  He closed his fingers around her hand. His hand completely encompassed hers, but her grip was firm. He didn’t want to let go.

  ‘When do you want to move into the cottage?’

  He kept hold of it, even though he knew it was dangerous. ‘Tomorrow.’

  She glanced at the clock. ‘Oh, dear Lord!’ She pulled her hand from his. ‘I’ll need to get my skates on if I’m to get it into any fit state to live in.’

  ‘It’s fine the way it is, Princess.’

  ‘It most certainly is not!’

  ‘There’s absolutely no need to drag your cleaning lady out at this late hour.’

  Her head lifted, her chin jutted out—so unconsciously haughty that it couldn’t be feigned—and for some reason it made him want to laugh. ‘I’ll leave the key in the same spot. Will you be able to find it?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

  Amazingly, she bundled up the remaining cupcakes into brown paper bags. ‘Take them home with you.’

  ‘An early down payment?’

  ‘It’ll stop me snacking on them. Besides, Tash and Mitch might like one or two.’

  He couldn’t have said why, but his heart started to burn. He almost did something foolish like invite her to have dinner with him, Tash and Mitch that evening. A crazy, foolish impulse.

  Why on earth would the Princess want to have dinner with him? He rose, thanked her for the cupcakes and left.

  CHAPTER SIX

  RICK HAD JUST finished his last cupcake and a mug of coffee when Nell walked through the back door. She stopped short when she saw him. ‘Hey.’ She swallowed. ‘How’s it going?’

  Lines fanned out from her eyes and her frock—yellow with big purple polka dots—looked rumpled and tired. He wondered what she’d been up to all day. She dropped her handbag on the table, glancing at his plate and mug. Before her face could twist up with suspicion he said, ‘You can start using the front door if you like.’

  A smile lit through her, banishing the lines around her eyes. ‘You fixed it?’

  He swallowed. A woman like her could make a man like him feel like Superman if he wasn’t careful. ‘It was no big deal. The wood had swollen. I filed it back, rehung it an
d it’s as good as new.’

  He tried to pull himself back. She might be a damsel in distress...or not. But he was no hero. He knew that and so did she. ‘I did promise to earn my keep,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Well, yes, but I didn’t expect you to start working the moment you moved in. I thought you’d take a day or two to settle in.’

  Settle in? It didn’t take much ‘settling in’ to unpack a single suitcase.

  ‘You left cupcakes and sandwiches for me at the cottage.’ The cottage had been spotless too—not a speck of dust to be seen. He wondered who she’d had come in and clean it at such late notice.

  ‘Oh, that was just a neighbourly gesture. If I’d thought you’d want to start work today I’d have left you a key.’ She stuck out a hip. ‘Which rather begs the question—how did you get in?’

  His stomach burned acid and he waited for that soul-destroying suspicion to wash over her face, for her to rush off and count the family silver. Ever since he’d been released from jail it was how people treated him. They didn’t believe a man could pay his debt to society and then move on and make something of himself.

  If he’d known at eighteen what he knew now, would he have still taken the rap for Cheryl, claimed the drugs were his rather than hers? He stared at the Princess and had a feeling that answer would still be yes.

  Which meant he hadn’t learned a damn thing.

  Which meant he was still as big a sucker as he’d ever been.

  He’d gone to prison a boy but he’d come out a lot wiser and a whole lot harder. He couldn’t draw comparisons between Cheryl and Nell—their lives were too different—but the same protective instincts rose up in him whenever he looked at Nell now.

  Ice washed over his skin. He had no intention of getting that close to anyone again—no intention of taking the blame for anything that would land him back in jail. Ever. Regardless of who it was.

  ‘Oh, get over yourself, you idiot!’

  He blinked at Nell’s rudeness.

  ‘If I trust you with my grandmother’s jewels I’m going to trust you with the contents of my house. For heaven’s sake, there’s nothing left worth stealing anyway. My father long made off with anything of value.’

  Genuine irritation rather than suspicion chased across her face and he jolted back into the present. He rolled his shoulders.

  ‘Is my security that bad?’

  ‘It’s not brilliant. You should install an alarm system. I, uh, got in through the back door.’

  ‘But I locked it.’

  ‘You need to remember to use the deadbolt.’

  She sighed. ‘An alarm system? I’d better put it on the list.’

  She bustled about making coffee. She eyed the jar of instant he’d bought with distaste. ‘Would you like another?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Why didn’t you make yourself a proper coffee? It’s worth the effort, you know.’

  ‘That coffee is yours.’

  Very slowly she turned. ‘And I’m guessing there’s milk in the fridge with your name on it too and sugar in the cupboard?’

  He shifted. ‘People can get funny about things like that.’

  She pointed her teaspoon at him. ‘Let’s get one thing clear right now.’ She raised her voice to be heard above the gurgling of the percolator. ‘You’re welcome to help yourself to tea, coffee, bread, biscuits and whatever else is in the pantry while you’re working. And—’ she thrust out her jaw ‘—if I feel like having instant coffee I mean to help myself to your jar. You have a problem with that?’

  He grinned. ‘None at all, Princess.’

  ‘Hmph.’ She made coffee, sipped it and closed her eyes as if it were the first chance she’d had to relax all day. He wondered again what she’d been up to—hobnobbing with society types hoping to find an investor or three?

  ‘Oh, I meant to ask. Is that your car out front?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘There’s room to park it in the garage if you want.’

  ‘There’s a garage?’

  ‘Come with me.’

  With coffee cup in hand, she led him out into the garden. About halfway between the house and the cottage she veered left. Hidden behind strategically placed trees and shrubs squatted a substantial wooden building with three large wooden doors. She walked across to the cast iron fence, fitted a key into the lock and slid the fence back. The fence slid along on a kind of roller. From the footpath it’d be impossible to see that this part of the fence also acted as a gate.

  ‘I had no idea this was here.’ And he must’ve walked past this section of fence a hundred times. He turned to survey the garage. ‘What did that used to be?’

  ‘The stables, once upon a time.’ She slid the gate shut again. It barely made a sound. ‘They were converted eons ago, which is why the gate and the garage doors aren’t automatic. Maybe down the track. Mind you, these big old doors have a certain charm I’d be loath to trade in merely for the sake of convenience.’

  She took a sip of coffee. ‘This bay here is free.’ She lifted a latch and walked backwards until the door stood wide open.

  He entered. And then stopped dead. A van, a bit like the ice cream vans that had done the rounds of the neighbourhood during the summers of his childhood, stood in the next bay along. Only, instead of ice creams, the van’s sides were decorated with cupcakes. ‘Candy’s Cupcakes’ was written in swirly pastel lettering.

  He turned back to her, folded his arms and leant against the doorframe. ‘Your business is obviously bigger than I thought.’

  She drained her coffee. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  For a moment her gaze rested on his shoulders. She shook out her arms as if an itch had started up inside her. His heart started pounding to a beat as old as time then too. He gritted his teeth. He and the Princess were not going to dance that particular tango. ‘Nell?’

  She jumped. ‘Sorry, I—’

  She averted her face, but that didn’t hide the colour on her cheekbones. Rick gritted his teeth harder.

  ‘Sorry.’ She turned back. ‘I’m tired. Concentration is shot.’ She gestured to the van. ‘Everyone expects me to fail. Some have said so outright. Some have laughed as if it’s a joke. Others have smiled politely while raising sceptical eyebrows. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.’

  ‘And you thought I’d react that way.’

  She met his gaze. ‘You did.’

  ‘I...’

  ‘You thought my little cupcake business was limited to a few deliveries on the weekend and nothing more. You didn’t even begin to entertain the idea that I might also work Monday to Friday. But I do. I have a weekly schedule and I head out in Candy for the CBD to take cupcakes and coffee to the masses.’ She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. ‘Or, at least, to office workers. You won’t believe the number of people who now treat themselves to a weekly cupcake for morning or afternoon tea.’

  Wow.

  ‘I thought you’d know better than to pigeonhole me like you did.’

  Everything inside him stilled.

  ‘You’ve been in jail. I know what people say about you. They think once a criminal always a criminal. They think a man like you can’t be trusted and is only out for whatever he can get. And they’re still going to think that when your name’s cleared because it doesn’t change the fact that you were in prison.’

  Each word was a knife to the sorest part of him.

  ‘I haven’t treated you like that.’

  She hadn’t, but he kept waiting for her to. His stomach started to churn. That was hardly fair, though, was it? She’d shown him nothing but...friendship.

  ‘I also happen to know what people think of me—the pampered society princess who has never had to lift a finger one day in
her life.’ She strode over and stabbed a finger to his shoulder. ‘Well, I’m not useless and I’m not a failure and I’m not...I’m not useless!’

  He grabbed the finger that kept jabbing at him and curled his hand around it. ‘You’re not useless, Princess. You’re amazing. Completely amazing and I’m sorry I misjudged you.’

  She tried to tug her hand free but he wouldn’t let her. ‘You really are skint?’

  She stopped struggling to frown at him. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yet amid all of your own troubles you’ve found the time to help me.’

  ‘Help or hound?’

  He chuckled and a warmth he’d never experienced washed over him. ‘Thank you for cleaning my cottage.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  God, such vulnerability in those wide green eyes, such softness and sweetness beckoned in those lips. She smelt like sugar and frosting and all the things he’d ever longed for. An ache gripped him so hard he had to drag in a breath. ‘Princess...’ The endearment scraped out of him, raw with need and longing.

  She swayed towards him, those green eyes lowering to his lips. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered faster and faster. Her hand tightened in his.

  He gripped her chin and lifted it, needing to taste her so badly he thought he might fall to his knees from the force of it. Desire licked fire through his veins. He moved in close—so close he could taste her breath—but the expression in her eyes froze him.

  They glittered. With tears.

  ‘Don’t you dare kiss me out of pity.’

  She didn’t move out of his hold and he knew then she was as caught up in the grip of desire as him.

  ‘Please, Rick. Don’t kiss me because you feel sorry for me.’

  The tears trembled, but they didn’t fall. Every muscle he had screamed a protest, but he released her and stepped back. He swallowed twice before he was sure his voice would work. ‘Pity was the last thing on my mind, Princess. So was guilt and feeling apologetic.’

  It was just...he’d allowed himself to see her properly for the first time and it had blown him away. He needed to get away from her, to find a sense of balance again. ‘I just...’ he dragged a hand back through his hair ‘...I just think it’d be a really bad idea to kiss you.’