He shot her a final, loaded glare before picking up the phone and dialing.
Anger burned hot behind her rib cage. What the hell was going on here? One minute she thought the fair was within her grasp and her life was about to change for the better. Now she was facing not one, but two adversaries. Clearly, Freddy intended to lay claim to Funland, too.
She stared at his bowed head. She’d thought she knew Freddy and now it was abundantly clear she didn’t. John Jordon, the other claimant, was an unknown entity entirely.
“Well, I’m glad we both know where we stand.” She turned and shoved open the door.
Drawing in huge gulps of air, she marched past the rides, her gaze darting left and right as she searched for the best and most handsome target on which to vent her anger. She didn’t have to go far.
Her nemesis sat in one of the dozen three-seaters, hovering above the platform of the dreaded Mixer. John looked lost in thought, his stare following the progress of his hand as he wiped it back and forth along the seat beside him. Sasha’s hormones surged to high alert.
When Freddy described Kyle’s son as being “dressed as a pansy” today, Sasha had already guessed John would be wearing a suit, maybe even a tie, too, in order to add a flash of additional authority to their meeting that morning.
She’d been right about the suit at least.
What she hadn’t expected was the way a black jacket and open-necked crisp white shirt looked on him. His dark brown hair, cut short and neat, chiseled jaw and lightly tanned skin only added to the overall confidence that exuded from his every pore.
Tiny flutters of excitement erupted in Sasha’s stomach as she approached the steel steps. Her attraction to the man could be controlled. She’d had years of practice being in the driving seat as far as men were concerned. Her only weakness was the fair and she was no pushover with that, either.
She smiled. So he wanted to run Funland—and he wanted her help to make that happen, did he? He’d given her no idea what his plans were, or if the crime going on behind the scenes would get worse or improve.
Marian’s suggestion of letting the police know John Jordon was in Templeton lingered in Sasha’s conscience even as a worse, naughtier idea flittered through her brain. The only sounds were the seagulls diving to and fro overhead and the rush of passing traffic in the distance. By two o’clock, booming music, screaming and laughter would fill Funland, but right now, it was just her and John Jordon.
On the soft soles of her ballet flats, she climbed the steps and approached the control booth, her grin stretching as wide as the sun above her.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE MACHINE RUMBLED to life and John froze.
What the hell?
Gripping the lap bar, he hauled it up and stood. Sasha Todd gracefully skipped up onto the steel platform beneath the carriages. She was dressed in white shorts that revealed her long, slender legs and a simple red T-shirt. His breath caught. Did she have any idea how stunning she was?
She smiled, mischief glinting in her black eyes. “Sit down, John. Let’s take a ride.”
He blinked. “Are you crazy?”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like rides?”
He tried and failed to muster some semblance of authority as the machine started to move. “No. Turn this thing off.”
She quirked an eyebrow and curved her fingers over the back of the carriage. “Yet you want to run this place? You can’t do that without knowing the fairground inside out. That includes the rides. Move over, I’m jumping onboard.”
Their eyes locked and once again, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Why the hell did the woman managing the fairground have to be so physically arresting? God, he wanted to write about her. Describe her in words in a vain attempt to let the damn world know how unnervingly beautiful she was.
He lowered into the seat, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. He concentrated on keeping his pride in place and not giving in to the temptation to grip the bar again. The ride picked up speed and the carriage shifted as she hauled herself up and sat down next to him, pulling the lap bar down with her.
The distinct smell of something musky and sexy drifted as she tossed her long hair over her shoulders. The tendrils whispered across his cheek, and John closed his mouth, trapping the inconceivable urge to groan.
She wriggled her behind deeper into the seat and settled back with a sigh. “So...what’s the plan today? Enjoy the fair? Cook the books? Fire me?”
Attraction gave way to irritation, fueled by the nonchalance in her voice. “You do realize this thing is moving, right?”
She shrugged and glanced around before focusing entirely on him. “Sure. Now is as good a time as any to get acquainted, don’t you think?”
John swallowed. Jesus, her eyes are ebony-black, like two huge pieces of jet. He snapped his face forward. “Do you know something?” He slid his arm across the back of the carriage above her shoulders. “If you want to play some stupid game in a bid to annoy me, that’s fine. I’m the one in control here, whether you like it or not.”
“Is that so?”
He faced her. Her eyes blazed with anger, and he glared straight back. “Yes.”
“This isn’t about control. This is about me taking one look at you, sitting on this ride dressed for a wedding, and wondering how you think you’re going to run this place.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Wearing a suit dictates whether I’m capable of running the fairground? Wow, clearly you give me more credit for my clothes than my business acumen.”
She scowled and her cheeks flushed pink. John fought the guilt that knotted his gut.
He hated being snappy with any woman, and with Sasha his hostility didn’t sit well at all. The ride gathered momentum and they wove in and out for a few seconds. “I haven’t got time for this. We’re supposed to be in the office talking things out like adults.”
“Adults? Adults don’t hang up on each other midconversation.”
“Adults don’t talk to their bosses without respect. If you think you can speak to me the way you did last night, you’d better think again.”
She glared. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Oh, I get it. I get it completely. Kyle...”
The ride rumbled up another notch and the carriage shot forward with such force the remainder of his words were obliterated by the slipstream. Holy crap. They sped between the empty carriages at such speed, John had no choice but to slip his free hand onto the bar next to hers. He tightened his fingers along the back of the seat.
He glanced at her and scowled. She stared at his white-knuckled hand, her lips curved into a smug smile. She met his eyes. “All this tension and we’ve only just got going.”
He glared, focusing on her mouth rather than those damn eyes. It soon became clear her mouth was no safer option, but what the hell else was he supposed to look at? His gaze drifted lower—to her breasts—and he yanked his eyes right back up. No. Anywhere lower was out of bounds. “I’m not talking business with you whilst riding a damn fairground monstrosity like this.”
Her smile stretched to a grin. “Whilst? God, you are so British. Do you always speak this way or is it just for Freddy’s and my benefit?”
“Look, I want to know how the hell... Oh, God.” The ride lurched into an abrupt frenzy and took off at a speed to which no child under the age of sixteen should ever be subjected. John gripped the bar and held on for dear life.