Heath pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Leave it with me, Lucas,’ he replied in a low voice, trying to conceal his disappointment. ‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘Great, that’s great, Heath,’ Lucas replied a little too quickly and with enough tension in his voice to make Heath sit up a little straighter in his seat. ‘But...there is something else you should know about. It’s only a rumour, and you know what terrible gossips publishers are, but I heard it twice at the trade fair yesterday. You might want to check it out with the team.’
Heath ran his tongue over his suddenly parched lips. ‘Oh, I think I have heard just about every possible gloom-and-doom scenario these past few months. What’s the latest?’
‘Only this. Sheridan Press is planning to move the printing operation overseas to cut down on production costs. It would be a shame—the Boston print works is a great selling point. But, hey—you know how rumours spread—there is probably nothing to it. I’ll call you next week with the updates from the Beijing Book Fair. Have a great wedding!’
‘Bye, Lucas. Thanks.’ Heath snapped down the lid on his phone and held it in the palm of his hand.
Move Sheridan Press. This was the last thing that he wanted to happen.
And if the rumour was true? If. Then his father had kept his plans for the company a secret from the one person he had brought in to help turn it around. All the work that Heath had done with Lucas and their team had been geared to promoting books which would be printed by the loyal employees who had given Sheridan Press the best years of their lives.
Suddenly it felt as though the air conditioning had been switched to Arctic ice and a shiver ran across his shoulders. His shirt felt damp with cold sweat in the hollow of his back and his collar was trying to strangle him. Breaking the habit of a lifetime, Heath loosened the Windsor knot in his silk tie and unfastened the top button on his shirt, desperate to get some air into his lungs.
Have a great wedding. Yeah. Right.
Suddenly all of the missed phone calls and unanswered emails made sense. Charles Sheridan was well known for being low-key but Heath knew better than most that beneath that quiet, introspective grey-suited executive was a sharp and scheming brain.
So much for working together.
He had been a fool to allow ridiculous sentimentality back into his life. Memories of a happy childhood were just that—memories. For children who had no control over what happened to them.
Stupid! He had left his own company in the hands of the management team—and for what? To help out the man who had cheated on his wife with Alice Jardine and then married Julia Swan within twelve months of his wife’s funeral? The man who had barely spoken to him in over a decade and then suddenly wanted to be reconciled and play dad?
Well, maybe his son and heir wasn’t ready to be made a fool of.
The fire that had been burning inside Heath’s belly turned into a furnace. Molten lava flowed through his veins and he felt his teeth grind together in frustration.
The surprises still kept coming, no matter how hard he fought to control his world.
His gaze fixed on a spot on the road ahead of them as the car took the motorway exit and stopped at a roundabout for a few minutes in the busy traffic before heading down a country road.
For one full second he thought about telling the driver that he had changed his mind and to take him straight back to the airport. And there would be a bonus if he broke the speed limit to get there. Why not? He had his luggage and passport. He could do what he wanted and go wherever he pleased.
But he wouldn’t. And he couldn’t. He had given a commitment to the printers who had made Sheridan Press one of the most respected names in the world. And Heath always, always kept his word.
He could not go anywhere—until he found out whether there was any truth behind this rumour or not. By talking to his father. Man to man.
* * *
It took a not so gentle pat on the arm to bring him back to the reality of a car on a road and the fact that he was not travelling alone—which was very unusual.
‘Erm...Heath? I think your tie surrendered five minutes ago. It would be kinder to say goodbye and put it out of its misery rather than see it suffer any longer.’
His tie? What?
His gaze followed hers. Onto what had been a burgundy Italian silk tie from a top designer in Milan, which Olivia had given him as a Christmas present last year when they had first started dating and the chance of a real relationship seemed tantalisingly close.
Now his fingers were wrapped tightly around a screwed-up piece of rag which been twisted and torn until the life had been squeezed out of it.
His teeth clenched shut to suppress the expletive that was forming at the back of his throat. Unbelievable!
Kate put both fingers into her ears and hummed a pop tune. ‘Can’t hear a thing. Just get it out of your system. You’ll feel much better.’
Heath looked at Kate, who had turned away and was still humming to herself, looked at the tie and then slowly, slowly exhaled the breath that he had not even realised he had been holding in.
Kate was looking out of the window with a beaming grin of childlike wonder on her face, transforming her from pretty into the kind of woman worthy of more than only a second look. Or even a third?
In her warehouse studio he had not missed the fact that Kate was the kind of pretty girl who looked good without make-up, but in the morning sunlight her skin appeared pale and translucent, in contrast to the bright sparkling green of those amazing eyes. But it was her smile, her bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked smile that hit him hard in the bottom of his stomach.
This version of Kate Lovat was a stunner.
Something twisted inside Heath’s gut and he swallowed hard.
When was the last time he had taken the time to meet a woman outside the publishing world? A real woman like Kate? A woman whose life was as different as it could be from his relentless working hours and the endless battering of information and words.
He would give a lot to spend time getting to know this girl and find out what it was like to have one of those smiles aimed in his direction.
Except he did not have the time. He only had a few days before he needed to get back to Boston to carry out some serious damage limitation.
Olivia was right. His work had always been more important than their relationship. Strange. He had never been ready to acknowledge that fact before today and now it seemed to be staring him in the face.
He had spent the last ten years fighting each and every day to take control over his life in every way possible. His work. The people he worked with and even the women he dated. The way he lived and dressed—all tightly controlled.
Until he’d made the decision to move out of that life and try and reconnect with his father.
He chose to make that change.
His choice. His problem. And if his father was trying to use his sentimental need to be a son against him? He would deal with it.
So instead of punching the air or causing even more damage to his teeth by grinding them to powder in frustration, he slowly and carefully undid his tie, pulled it out from under the shirt collar and folded it into a neat coil on the leather seat.
Heath lifted his chin and was about to thank Kate when a crystal tumbler of sparkling liquid was thrust into his hand.
‘Tonic water on the rocks. Enjoy.’
His first reaction was to pass it back with a cutting comment about how he would ask for a drink if he needed one. Except that his throat felt as though he had inhaled half of the Sahara desert. He did need a drink. Rather urgently.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered in a rasp and took one long slug and then another until the tumbler was drained.
‘Excellent. Because I have made you another one. And you are mos
t welcome. It is not every day that I get to play barmaid in a limo. I rather like it. Even if the entertainment is a little more action-packed than I would have liked,’ Kate quipped with a casual tone.
‘Entertainment?’ he replied in a much better voice and took a long sip of the cool drink and then another before turning slightly to look at her.
Kate was perched rather than sitting on the front edge of her seat, her hands folded neatly on top of a pad of drawing paper covered with markings. There was a pencil stuck behind her right ear and she was wearing spectacles. Rimless clear spectacles today, but spectacles all the same.
His gaze scanned her outfit, which he had been too distracted to notice properly before now. She was neat, beautifully groomed and as nicely dressed as any of Amber’s friends. But different. Quirky. And there was definitely something in those eyes, which he suddenly realised were really quite a remarkable shade of green that told him that Amber’s school friend was as observant and intelligent as any one of his team.
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘At least I found it entertaining.’ Then her eyebrows lifted and she shook her head. ‘I should make it clear that I don’t usually listen to other people’s telephone conversations but it is difficult not to eavesdrop when you are sitting a couple of inches away and bellowing about rumours about the company. I don’t know what the rumours are all about—’ she spread out one hand and waggled it from side to side ‘—but it sounded, well, dodgy to me.’
‘Dodgy?’ He choked on an ice chip and held up one hand when she moved forward to thump him. ‘Not at all,’ he coughed and spluttered. ‘And I was not bellowing. I don’t bellow. Bellowing is not my style.’
‘How foolish of me. You were simply expressing your excitement and enthusiasm for the topic,’ Kate said with a smile but one side of her mouth was turned up. She had a dimple in her cheek.
He had never seen a dimple up close and personal before, but on Kate? Somehow it fitted her perfectly. How odd.
So she had picked up on the rumour angle.
He was going to have to watch what he said from now on.
A flash of light caught his eye and he turned back to the window but at that exact same moment he saw the reflection of Kate in the glass.
She was holding her spectacles in one hand while in one smooth movement her head dropped back, her eyes closed and her fingers combed through a head of boy-short conker-brown glossy layers with a gentle toss of her head.
It was the most sensual thing he had seen in a long time, and the fact that it was natural and completely relaxed made it even more remarkable.
The dark brown hair contrasted with Kate’s smooth clear skin and, in the July sunlight streaming through the car window onto her slim frame, she looked about twelve. She had been at school with Amber, so she had to be late twenties. Maybe it was because she was so petite. Or should that be concentrated?
And it was definitely time to change to subject.
‘What are you drawing?’ he asked, and pointed to her sketch pad.
‘Oh, nothing,’ she said, ‘just doodling,’ and tried to flip over the cover, but in an instant he had snatched the pad from her lap. She went for it but his long left arm held it high and firmly out of reach.
‘Fine,’ she sniffed and sat back in her seat with her arms crossed. ‘Look at it if you want. I have nothing to hide. And no, I have not been taking notes about your so very important company information. Your trade secrets are safe with me.’ And she gave him a quick salute.
Heath opened her pad and sat peering at the sketch for a few seconds before pointing to the page. ‘What is it meant to be?’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked indignantly. ‘What is it meant to be? They are gloves, of course. Gauntlets, to be precise. The local Christmas pantomime this year is Peter Pan and Saskia needs some swashbuckling specials for the auditions next month.’
‘Pirates. Okay. And what about these?’
‘Satin elbow-length prom-night specials. Very popular line. And not just white. Oh, no. The modern debutante likes violet and musk. I sell loads of those online.’
‘Sell? Oh yes, of course. I hadn’t realised that you made gloves as well. That must be a delightful hobby.’
* * *
A hobby?
Oh, Heath. Trust you to say precisely the wrong thing.
She could almost hear her father’s dismissive voice. ‘Oh, you’ll soon get tired of that frivolous little hobby and start to do something serious with your life. But don’t think we’ll support you if you decide to throw your life away on worthless dreams.’
A hobby. That was what they thought about her work. And now it looked as though Heath felt the same. Just when she was hoping that he was going to help her prove that her parents were wrong—by putting her business back on track.
Kate looked up into Heath’s face as he flicked through the sketches she had slaved on for hours, evening after evening, day after day.
And part of her died.
He had no clue that his words had the power to cut her like a knife and leave her bleeding. How could he? He didn’t know anything about her. All he saw was Amber’s friend who sewed pieces of cloth into dresses and gloves. He probably didn’t even remember coming to that high school party.
It would be so easy to pretend that the pages he was looking through so dismissively meant nothing and were only ‘doodles’. That way he could go on believing that she was just another lowly dressmaker who was pretending to be a designer.
But that was only a tiny part of who she was. And what she was capable of achieving—with or without his help.
Kate dragged her gaze from Heath’s long slender fingers as he stroked the pages and focused on the green fields and trees in the countryside at the side of the road. She pressed her lips together hard and swallowed down the burning sensation in her throat. She could use that cool drink she had just given away, but that would mean turning around and she wasn’t ready to talk to Heath yet.
What was she doing here? In this limo with this gorgeous man who didn’t know anything about her world and her life?
Kate pressed her right hand flat against her chest. Her heart was racing and she could feel the back of her neck burning scarlet as her mind raced.
Could she risk it?
Could she give him an insight into who she was and what she wanted in life? Show this man that she was her own woman with her own dreams and aspirations?
It would certainly make introductions to his family a little more interesting. And challenging.
Heath shuffled along the slippery leather seat next to her and she turned around inside her seat belt as he passed the sketchbook back to her with a nod. ‘I’m afraid I am very traditional when it comes to gloves. Nothing like these.’
Kate stowed her precious sketches inside her tote. ‘I will take that as a personal challenge. Leave it with me.’
Heath slid away but, before Kate could change her mind, she smiled across at him and added in a light voice, ‘For once, Amber didn’t give you an up-to-date resumé. I actually own a glove-making company in London. You have just been looking at some of my designs for next season’s collection.’
He blinked. Twice. And she saw something new flash across his eyes.
Surprise. Astonishment. And intelligent awareness.
Almost as if he could hardly believe what he had just heard her say.
‘You run two companies?’ he asked and she heard just enough incredulity in his voice to make her hackles rise and she lifted her chin as she fought back the reply she would like to give.
Yes. Mr Smarty Pants publisher. I do run two companies. The small fact that I don’t make enough money from both of them put together to pay the rent is neither here nor there.
‘Absolutely. I do have a day job in tailoring. But gloves are my passi
on. A girl can’t have enough gloves.’
Heath’s gaze scanned her face, his brown eyes slightly narrowed and blazing with intensity. The kind of intensity that warmed the already hot air between them on this sunny July day.
Fool! she told herself. Now look what you have done.
You have just given Heath a peek inside your world and he doesn’t know how to handle it. See. This is why you should have kept quiet. This is why telling other people your dream opens you up to feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Even if this person, this man, is the boy who you have lusted after for years. It still hurts when they cannot take you seriously.
She mentally braced herself for the cutting remark or put-down.
It had happened so many times before. Like at the high school ten-year reunion that May where she had met up with Amber and Saskia for the first time in years. Those old classmates of hers had been scathing in their total contempt for her. You? Running a fashion design business single-handed? Purrleese.
Kate sat upright on the fine leather seat, waiting for the put-down that would make it a lot easier for her to walk away in a few days.
‘So, if I understand this correctly, you are running two different companies? Single-handed? Yes? That must make life complicated,’ he said in a low voice.
Okay. So he was still reappraising her. She could deal with that in her usual fashion and laugh it off.
‘Yes, I suppose it does. My choice. And they do say that variety is the spice of life. Don’t you agree?’
Her heart rate increased to match the speed of her breathing.
Say the right thing, Heath. Please don’t make me hate you. Please.
Heath replied with a smile that came from the heart and completely knocked her bravado out of the window.
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