The look she gave him was one of respectful awe. ‘Okay, look, give me a few minutes to think over your madcap plan and I’ll get right back to you.’
He raised an eyebrow. The mere fact that she hadn’t already stormed away in disgust was encouraging. ‘Sure. Take your time.’
‘I’ll be back.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said to her retreating figure.
Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying to relieve the achy tension there. The whole ‘madcap plan’, as she’d called it, was a long shot, but anything was worth a punt at this point.
After giving up a well-paid but mercenary job working for a blue-chip engineering firm in London, he needed to be left to his own devices here in order to build up his own fledgling business until it began to turn a decent profit.
The weddings had been a great source of revenue, but he wouldn’t be able to go back to doing them until his mother was satisfied he was on his way to settling down.
What he’d neglected to mention was that the real reason his mother was keeping such a tight grip on his inheritance was because she was afraid he was going to slip back into the dark underbelly of the life he’d wallowed in a few years ago and fritter it all away on drink and fast women. He’d been a major source of embarrassment to her during those years, and she was determined not to allow him to put her through that again. Not that he intended to. Those crazy, hedonistic, sex-and-drugs-filled days were well and truly behind him now.
Turning back to the bandsaw, he ran another sheet of metal through it, finding a calming solace in the screech of the hard materials as they tore against each other.
Most unnervingly, the woman he’d just propositioned reminded him a little too keenly of the women he’d used to play with during that dark time, and he was aware he’d need to keep a firm grip on his impulses if he was going to stay on the straight and narrow with her around.
She had something about her that intrigued him. An iron will not dissimilar to his own.
Flicking off the machine, he put the two pieces of metal onto the workbench and started marking out where he needed to drill holes into them.
If she came back and said no, the only other option was actually to get married, so his mother would reinstate his inheritance—both money and estate—but he didn’t want to do that for a number of reasons, the biggest of which was the fact that he’d never met anyone he thought he’d be capable of putting up with on a day-to-day basis. He liked his space, and he had a horrible feeling a wife would want to mess with his carefully constructed life plans.
It would be a cold day in hell, the day he bent to someone else’s will again.
Emily paced around the well-manicured grounds of the manor house, her brain ticking over like a revved-up engine.
His idea wasn’t totally insane. In fact she was quite excited by the thought of it—and not just because it meant spending more time with this inscrutable, scorching-hot man.
It wouldn’t do her career any harm, being seen to be involved with an earl. Recently it seemed as though the press were growing bored with reporting on her whirlwind affairs with playboys and party animals—the type of men she associated with because they were easy company and didn’t make any emotional demands on her—and she knew in her line of work it was imperative to keep her profile up in the press.
Recently the producers of her show had started to make worrying noises about her no longer fitting the tone of the show, and she’d heard through the production grapevine that they were considering offering her role to Daisy Dunlop—a recently retired athletics runner with a steady home life—once the show moved to the mainstream channel it was touted to be promoted to soon.
There was no way she was letting someone else get their hands on her baby. She’d worked long and hard to get where she was. The show was her and she was the show, and she could fit any box they needed her to in order to keep on hosting it.
It was just a case of proving to the producers that that was the case.
So she needed to clean up her act.
Perhaps serendipitously, Theo could be the answer to her problems. The press would jump on a story about her getting romantically involved with someone with his appeal and social standing, which could be the profile-boosting stunt she desperately needed if she was going to keep her career on the up-and-up.
Logistically it would work fine too. She had a few weeks off while they took a break in filming the show, so she had the time to hang out here with Theo. Despite his grumpy demeanour, she liked him—probably because he wasn’t a push-over—and it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship to hang out at his estate for a week, even if it was under the watchful gaze of his odious-sounding mother.
But most of all if faking her feelings for the Earl meant that Lu could have her dream wedding here then it would all be worth it.
Besides, it could be fun—and she was a big fan of fun.
Striding back into the workshop, she watched Theo for a moment or two, enjoying the spectacle of his lithe to-ing and fro-ing.
She cleared her throat to get his attention and he turned round to face her with a questioning expression.
‘If we’re going to do this thing we really ought to know each other’s names.’ Stepping forward, she put out a hand. ‘Hi, I’m Emily Applegate.’
He took her hand, enveloping it in his own work-roughened one, and squeezed hard, coating her hand with grease so their fingers slipped against each other.
‘Theo Berkeley.’
‘Okay, Theo, if you promise to pull out all the stops and let Lula hold her wedding here—including the use of your family chapel for the ceremony if she wants it—we’ve got a deal.’
He gave her a discerning look. ‘I’d have to square that with the vicar.’
‘Then square it.’
He snorted in incredulity. ‘She must be a very good friend.’
‘She is.’
She’d swear that she’d glimpsed the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. So there was some life in there. He might come across as cold and as hazardous as liquid nitrogen, but she could sense there was a lot going on under that tough surface. She’d bet her life on it.
The idea of breaking through the frigidity to uncover it made her whole body tingle with excitement.
‘Okay, Theo, let’s do it. Let’s get romantic.’
THEO FELT THE tension he’d been holding on to begin to dissolve as she said the words he’d been hoping to hear.
Still, there was one thing that needed to be established before they embarked on this little adventure together.
‘Before we begin I want to make sure we’ve got this clear, Emily—I help you and you help me, then when it’s over we walk away.’
‘That works for me.’
‘Are you sure? Because I’m not looking for a relationship right now.’
She let out a long breath through her nose, an expression of irritation taking over her face. ‘Neither am I. Like I said, I don’t do hearts and flowers either. It’s not my style.’
The veracity of her statement came through loud and