Harlequin Romance April 2015 Box Set (53 page)

‘There’s nothing wrong with being responsible and organised,’ he said.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being spontaneous, either,’ she retorted.

He smiled. ‘Not if it’s like Saturday night, no.’

Oh, why had he had to bring that up again? Now her temperature was spiking. Seriously spiking. ‘We’re too different,’ she said. ‘You’re my best friend’s brother.’

‘And?’

‘There’s a huge risk of collateral damage. I can’t take that risk.’ The risk of losing Ashleigh. Claire had already lost too much in her life. She wasn’t prepared to risk losing her best friend as well. ‘If it goes wrong between us.
When
it goes wrong between us,’ she amended.

‘Why are you so sure it will go wrong?’

That was an easy one. ‘Because my relationships always
go wrong.’

‘Because you pick the kind of man who doesn’t commit.’

She didn’t have an answer to that. Mainly because she knew he was right.

‘You pick men who say they’re free spirits. And you think that’ll work because you’re a free spirit, too. Except,’ he said softly, ‘they always let you down.’

Claire thought of her last ex. The one who’d let her down so much that she’d temporarily
sworn off relationships. He definitely hadn’t been able to commit. She’d found him in bed with someone else—and then she’d discovered that he was cheating on both of them with yet
another
woman. Messy and a half.

And the worst thing was that he’d assumed she’d be OK with it, because she was a free spirit, too... It had been a wake-up call. Claire had promised herself that never again would
she date someone who could be so casual with her feelings. But it had shaken her faith in her judgement of men. In a room full of eligible men, she was pretty sure she’d pick all the rotten ones.

‘I guess,’ she said. ‘And anyway, what about you? You never date anyone for longer than three weeks.’

‘It’s not quite that bad.’

‘Even so, that’s not what I want, Sean. Three weeks and
you’re out. That’s just...’ She grimaced. ‘No.’

‘I’m always very clear with my girlfriends. That it’s for fun, that I’m committed to the factory and won’t have time to...’ His voice faded.

‘Actually, that makes you the kind of man who won’t commit,’ she said softly. ‘Like every other man I date.’

* * *

Sean had never thought of himself in that way before. He’d thought of the
way he conducted his relationships as protecting his heart. Not letting himself get too involved meant not risking losing someone. He’d already lost too much in his life, and he didn’t want to lose any more. So he’d concentrated on his career rather than on his relationships. Because the business was
safe
. Staying in control of his emotions kept his heart safe.

‘What do you want, Sean?’ she
asked.

Such an easy answer—and such a difficult one. Though he owed her honesty. ‘You. I can’t think beyond that at the moment,’ he admitted. And that was scary. Claire had accused him of having a twenty-year plan; although it wasn’t anywhere near that long-range, he had to admit that he always planned things out, ever since his parents had died and he’d taken over the family business.

Planning had helped him cope with being thrown in at the deep end and being responsible for everything, without having the safety net of his father’s experience to help him. And planning meant that everything was always under control. Just the way he liked it.

She bit her lip. ‘I’ve got a wedding show in two months. My first collection. This could make all the difference to my career—this
could be what really launches me into the big time. I’m hoping that one of the big wedding fashion houses might give me a chance to work with them on a collection. So I really don’t have time for a relationship right now.’

‘And I’ve just finished fighting off a takeover bid from an international conglomerate who wanted to add Farrell’s to their portfolio,’ he said. ‘The vultures are still
circling. I need to concentrate on the business and make absolutely sure they don’t get another opening. If anything, I need to expand and maybe float the company on the stock market to finance the expansion. It’s going to take all my time and then some.’

‘So we’re agreed: this is the wrong time for either of us to start any kind of relationship. By the time it
is
the right time, we’ll both
be back to our senses and we’ll know it’d be the wrong thing to do anyway.’

That was something else she’d thrown at him—he was the sensible one, the one who planned things out and was never spontaneous. So why wasn’t he the one making this argument instead of her? Why had he sent her flowers and moved an appointment so he could see her for lunch?

It was totally crazy. Illogical.

And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Which exhilarated him and terrified him at the same time. With Claire, there was a real risk of losing control. And if he wasn’t in control...what then? The possibilities made his head spin.

The only thing he could do now was to state the facts. ‘I want you,’ he said softly. ‘And I think you want me.’

‘So, what? We have a stupid, crazy, insane
affair?’

He grimaced. ‘Put like that, it sounds pretty sleazy.’

‘But that’s what you’re offering.’

Was it? ‘No.’

She frowned. ‘So what
are
you suggesting, Sean?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. And it was a position he’d never actually been in before. He’d always been the one to call the shots. The one who initiated a relationship and the one who ended it. He shook his head,
trying to clear it. But nothing changed. It was still that same spinning, out-of-control feeling. Like being on the highest, fastest, scariest fairground ride. ‘All I know is that I want you,’ he said.

‘There’s too much at stake. No.’

‘Unless,’ he said, ‘we have an agreement.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What kind of agreement?’

‘We see each other. Explore where this thing goes. And
then, whatever happens between us, we’re polite to each other in front of Ashleigh. Nobody gets hurt. Especially her.’

‘Can you guarantee that?’ she asked softly.

‘I can guarantee that I’ll always be polite to you in front of Ashleigh.’ He paused. ‘The rest of it—I don’t think anyone could guarantee that. But maybe it’s worth the risk of finding out.’ Risk. Something he didn’t usually
do unless it was precisely calculated. This wasn’t calculated. At all. He needed his head examined.

‘Maybe,’ she said.

He curled his fingers round hers. His skin tingled where it touched her. ‘Come and have lunch with me.’

She smiled then. Funny how it made the whole room light up. That wasn’t something he was used to, either.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I just need to get my bag.’

‘Sure.’ He waited for her; then, when she’d locked the shop door behind them, he took her hand and walked down the street with her.

CHAPTER SIX

C
LAIRE
WAS
WALKING
hand in hand with Sean Farrell. Down the high street in Camden. On an ordinary Monday lunchtime.

This was surreal, she thought.

And she couldn’t quite get her head round it.

But his fingers were wrapped round hers, his skin was warm against hers, and it was definitely happening rather than being some kind of super-realistic dream—because
when she surreptitiously pinched herself it hurt.

‘So what do you normally do for lunch?’ Claire asked.

‘I grab a sandwich at my desk,’ he said. ‘In the office, we put an order in to a local sandwich shop first thing in the morning, and they deliver to us. You?’

‘Pretty much the same, except obviously I eat it well away from my work area so I don’t risk getting crumbs or grease
on the material and ruining it,’ she said.

‘So we both work through lunch. Well, that’s another thing we have in common.’

There was a gleam in his eye that reminded her of the first thing they had in common. That night in Capri. She went hot at the memory.

‘So how long do you have to spare?’ he asked.

‘An hour, maybe,’ she said.

‘So that’s enough time to walk down to Camden
Lock, grab a sandwich, and sit by the canal while we eat,’ he said.

‘Sounds good to me.’ The lock was one of her favourite places; even though the area got incredibly busy in the summer months, she loved watching the way the narrow boats floated calmly down the canal underneath the willow trees. ‘But this is a bit strange,’ she said.

‘How?’

‘I’ve been thinking—we’ve known each other
for years, and I know hardly anything about you. Well, other than that you run Farrell’s.’ His family’s confectionery business, which specialised in toffee.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked.

‘Everything. Except I don’t know where to start,’ she admitted. ‘Maybe we should pretend we’re speed-dating.’

He blinked. ‘You’ve been speed-dating?’

‘No. Sammy has, though. I helped
her do a list of questions.’

‘What, all the stuff about what you do, where you come from, that sort of thing?’ At her nod, he said, ‘But you already know all that.’

‘There’s other stuff as well. I think the list might still be on my phone,’ she said.

‘Let’s grab some lunch, sit down and go through your list, then,’ he said. ‘And if we both answer the questions, that might be a good
idea—now I think about it, I don’t really know that much about you, either.’

She smiled wryly. ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this. We don’t even like each other.’

He glanced down at their joined hands. ‘Though we’re attracted to each other. And maybe we haven’t given each other a proper chance.’

From Claire’s point of view, Sean was the one who hadn’t given her a chance; but she
wasn’t going to pick a fight with him over it. He was making an effort, and she’d agreed to see where this thing took them. It was exhilarating and scary, all at the same time. Exhilarating, because this was a step into the unknown; and scary, because it meant trusting her judgement again. Her track record where men were concerned was so terrible that...

No. She wasn’t going to analyse this.
Not now. She was going to see where this took them. Seize the day.

They walked down to Camden Lock, bought bagels and freshly squeezed orange juice from one of the stalls, and sat down on the edge of the canal, looking out at the narrow boats and the crowd.

Claire found the list on her phone. ‘Ready?’ she asked.

‘Yup. And remember you’re doing this, too,’ he said.

‘OK. Your
favourite kind of book, movie and music?’ she asked.

He thought about it. ‘In order—crime, classic film noir and anything I can run to. You?’

‘Jane Austen, rom-coms and anything I can sing to,’ she said promptly.

‘So we’re not really compatible there,’ he said.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘We’re not that far apart. I like reading crime novels, too, but I like historical ones rather
than the super-gory contemporary stuff. And classic noir—well, if Jimmy Stewart’s in it, I’ll watch it. I love
Rear Window.
’

‘I really can’t stand Jane Austen. I had to do
Mansfield Park
for A level, and that was more than enough for me,’ he said with a grimace. ‘But if the rom-com’s witty and shot well, I can sit through it.’

She grinned. ‘So you’re a bit of a film snob, are you, Mr
Farrell?’

He thought about it for a moment and grinned back. ‘I guess I am.’

‘OK. What do you do for fun?’

‘You mean you actually think I might have fun?’ he asked.

She smiled. ‘You can be a little bit too organised, but I think there’s more to you than meets the eye—so answer the question, Sean.’

‘Abseiling,’ he said, his face totally deadpan.

She stared at him,
trying to imagine it—if he’d said squash or maybe even rugby, she might’ve believed him, but abseiling? ‘In London?’ she queried.

‘There are lots of tall buildings in London.’

She thought about it a bit more, and shook her head. ‘No, that’s not you. I think you’re teasing me.’ Especially because he knew she was scared of heights.

‘Good call,’ he said. And his eyes actually
twinkled
.

Sean Farrell, teasing her. She would never have believed that he had a sense of humour. ‘So what’s the real answer?’ she asked.

‘Something very regimented,’ he said. ‘Sudoku.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with doing puzzles,’ she said. Though trust Sean to pick something logical.

‘What about you? What do you do for fun?’ he asked.

Given how he’d teased her, he really deserved
this. She schooled her face into a serious expression. ‘Shopping. Preferably for shoes.’ Given what she did for a living, that would be totally plausible. ‘Actually, I have three special shoe wardrobes. Walk-in ones.’

‘Seriously?’ He looked totally horrified.

‘About as much as you go abseiling.’ She laughed. ‘I like shoes, but I’m not that extreme. No, for me it’s cooking for friends
and watching a good film and talking about it afterwards.’

‘OK. We’re even now,’ he said with a smile. ‘So what do you cook? Anything in particular?’

‘Whatever catches my eye. I love magazines that have recipes in them, and it’s probably one of my worst vices because I can never resist a news stand,’ she said. ‘What about you?’

‘I can cook if I have to,’ he said. ‘Though I admit
I’m more likely to take someone out to dinner than to cook for them.’

She shrugged. ‘That’s not a big deal. It means you’ll be doing the washing up, though.’

‘Was that an offer?’ he asked.

‘Do you want it to be?’ she fenced.

He held her gaze. ‘Yes. Tell me when, and I’ll bring the wine.’

There was a little flare of excitement in her stomach. They were actually doing this.
Arranging a date. Seeing each other. She could maybe play a little hard to get and make him wait until Friday; but her mouth clearly had other ideas, because she found herself suggesting, ‘Tonight?’

‘I’d like that. I’ve got meetings until half past five, and some paperwork that needs doing after that—but I can be with you for seven, if that’s OK?’ he asked.

‘It’s a date,’ she said softly.

He took her hand and brought it up to his mouth. Keeping eye contact all the way, he kissed the back of her hand, just briefly, before releasing it again; it made Claire feel warm and squidgy inside. Who would’ve thought that Sean Farrell was Prince Charming in disguise? Not that she was a weak little princess who needed rescuing—she could look after herself perfectly well, thank you very
much—but she liked the charm. A lot.

‘Next question,’ he said.

‘OK. What are you most proud of?’ she asked.

‘That’s an easy one—my sister and Farrell’s,’ he said.

His family, and his family business, she thought. So it looked as if Sean Farrell had a seriously soft centre, just like the caramel chocolates his factory made along with the toffee.

‘How about you?’ he asked.

‘The letters I get from brides telling me how much they loved their dress and how it really helped make their special day feel extra-special,’ she said.

‘So you’re actually as much of a workaholic as you think I am?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ she said dryly. ‘I know you see extreme things on a fashion catwalk and the pages of magazines, but it doesn’t mean that designers are all
totally flaky. I want my brides to feel really special and that they look like a million dollars, in a dress I’ve made just for them. And that means listening to what their dream is, and coming up with something that makes them feel their dream’s come true.’

‘Having seen the dress you made for Ashleigh, I can understand exactly why they commission you,’ he said. ‘Next question?’

‘What
are you scared of?’

‘Easy one. Anything happening to Ashleigh or the business.’

But he didn’t meet her eye. There was clearly something else. Something he didn’t want to discuss.

‘You?’ he asked.

‘Heights. I’m OK in a plane, but chairlifts like that one in Capri make my palms go sweaty. Put it this way, I’m never, ever going skiing. Or abseiling.’

‘Fair enough. Next?’

She glanced down at her phone to check. ‘Your most treasured possession.’

‘I can show you that.’ He took his wallet out of his pocket, removed two photographs and handed them to her. One was of himself with Ashleigh, and the other was himself on graduation day with his parents on either side of him. Claire had a lump in her throat and couldn’t say a word when she handed them back.

‘You?’ he asked.

‘The same,’ she whispered, and took her own wallet from her bag. She showed him a photograph of herself and her parents on her seventeenth birthday, and one of her with Ashleigh and Sammy and the Coliseum in the background.

He took her hand in silence and squeezed it briefly. Not that he needed any words; she knew he shared her feelings.

She put the photographs away.
‘Next question—is the glass half full or half empty?’

‘Half full. You?’

‘Same,’ she said, and glanced at her watch. ‘We might have to cut this a bit short. Last one for now. Your perfect holiday?’

‘Not a beach holiday,’ he said feelingly. ‘That just bores me silly.’

‘You mean, you get a fit of the guilts at lying on a beach doing nothing, and you end up working.’

‘Actually,
I’m just not very good at just sitting still and doing nothing,’ he admitted.

‘So you’d rather have an active holiday?’

‘Exploring somewhere, you mean?’ He nodded. ‘That’d work for me.’

‘Culture or geography?’

‘Either,’ he said. ‘I guess my perfect holiday would be Iceland. I’d love to walk up a volcano, and to see the hot springs and learn about the place. You?’

‘I like
city breaks. I have a bit of an art gallery habit, thanks to Sammy,’ she explained. ‘Plus I love museums where they have a big costume section. I should warn you that I really, really love Regency dresses. And I can spend hours in the costume section, looking at all the fine details.’

‘So you see yourself as Lizzie Bennett?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘and I’m not looking for a Darcy—anyway, seeing
as you hate Austen, how come you know more than just the book you did for A level?’

‘Ex-girlfriends who insisted on seeing certain films more than once, and became ex very shortly afterwards,’ he said dryly.

‘Hint duly noted,’ she said. ‘I won’t ever ask you to watch
Pride and Prejudice
with me. Even though it’s one of my favourite films.’

‘Nicely skated past,’ he said, ‘but let’s
backtrack—you said you like holidays where you go and look at vintage clothes. And you said you look at details, so I bet you take notes and as many photos as you can get away with. Isn’t that partly work?’

‘Busted.’ She clicked her fingers and grinned. ‘I have to admit, I don’t really like beach holidays, either. It’s nice to have a day or two to unwind and read, but I’d rather see a bit
of culture with friends. I really loved my trips in Italy with Ash and Sammy.’

‘So what’s your perfect holiday?’ he asked.

‘Anywhere with museums, galleries and lots of nice little places to eat. Philadelphia and Boston are next on my wish list.’

‘This is scary,’ he said. ‘A week ago I would’ve said we were total opposites.’

She thought about it. ‘We still are. We have a few
things in common—probably more than either of us realised—but you like things really pinned down and I like to go with the flow.’ She smiled. ‘And I bet you have an itinerary on holiday. Down to the minute.’

‘If you don’t know the opening times and days for a museum or what have you, then you might go to see it when it’s closed and not get a chance to go back,’ he pointed out. ‘So yes, I
do have an itinerary.’

‘But if you go with the flow, you discover things you wouldn’t have known about otherwise,’ she pointed out.

‘Let’s agree to disagree on that one.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better head back.’

‘You don’t have to walk me back, Sean. Go, if you have a meeting.’

‘I was brought up properly. I’ll walk you back,’ he said.

‘I’m planning a slight detour,’
she warned.

He looked a little wary, but nodded. ‘We’ll do this your way, then.’

Her detour was to an ice cream shop where the ice cream was cooled with liquid nitrogen rather than by being put in a freezer. ‘I love this place. The way they make the ice cream is so cool,’ she said, and laughed. ‘Literally.’

‘It’s a little gimmicky,’ he said.

‘Just wait until you taste it.’

To her surprise, he chose the rich, dark chocolate. ‘I would’ve pegged you as a vanilla man,’ she said.

‘Plain and boring?’

‘Not necessarily. Seriously good vanilla ice cream is one of the best pleasures in the world—which is why I just ordered it.’

‘True. But remember what I do for a living. And my favourite bit of my job is when I work with the R and D team. Am I really going
to pass up chocolate?’

This was a side of Sean she’d never really seen. Teasing, bantering—
fun
. And she really, really liked that.