‘Is it bad?’
‘Nothing that can’t be fixed.’
‘Is it going to cost you a lot?’
He dismissed the subject with a shrug. ‘It’s history. Leave it.’
‘But—’
‘I said leave it.’ He sounded impatient. ‘You’ll have your car back in working order, but I should think you could afford a better one if you’re a lawyer.’
‘I haven’t been qualified long, but I suppose I might think of it now.’
‘You certainly should, for everyone’s sake,’ he said gravely, but his eyes were kind.
Impulsively she said, ‘You’ll probably think I’m crazy but I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to my “peanut”. It’s been a good friend and it’s sad to think that I’ll go onward and upward while my friend will languish in a scrapyard, waiting to be broken up.’
‘Not for a while yet. When the garage has finished with it you’ll be able to sell it to someone equally crazy.’
‘That’s true,’ she said, brightening. ‘And they might love it as I do.’ She tucked into her salad, which had arrived while they were talking, plainly feeling happier now.
Carson watched her in fascination as he munched on his sandwich. Then he turned his inward eye on himself and was incredulous. He prided himself on not being sentimental, but he’d accepted the blame, and the expense, for something that had been only partly his fault.
And why? Because he’d wanted to see her smile. That was the only explanation he could think of. And it wasn’t good enough.
Then he’d compounded his own idiocy by spending time in this dump, with a girl who was plainly cuckoo. He had a thousand better things to do than sit here listening to her talk nonsense.
Or did he?
Suddenly his brows contracted and he rubbed his eyes like a man in pain.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Do you have a headache?’
‘No,’ he said quickly.
It was true that his head ached, but it did that so often these days that he disregarded it.
‘I think you do,’ she said.
For a moment he was annoyed at her persistence. He’d said no and that should be the end of it. But her eyes were gentle and concerned and his flare of anger died.
‘Perhaps just a little,’ he conceded. ‘I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment.’
She had a kind face, and for a moment he was tempted to tell her about the disasters that threatened to crush him. It might be easy to confide in this charming stranger about the loneliness of his life after the woman he’d once loved had turned out to be a selfish, calculating shrew.
He might even find a way to tell her about the deeper pain of his son, the little boy of whom he’d once been so proud, but who’d become a pitiful, disadvantaged creature. He could feel compassion for the child, and helpless, agonised love, but no pride.
Then he pulled himself together, wondering what he’d been thinking of. It wasn’t his way to show weakness in front of anyone, never mind strangers.
Besides, he didn’t want to spoil this moment. She was cheeky, and sweet, and fun.
Fun.
He’d almost forgotten what the word meant. But it meant this delightful young woman with her sunny face, laughing ruefully over her idiotic little car, counting her modest blessings. He was glad he’d yielded to the impulse to spend a little time with her. It was good to be reminded that there were people who could face the world with a smile.
He looked at his watch and was amazed to find that an hour had slipped away in her company. ‘Time for my appointment with Philip Hale. Have you finished?’
‘Goodness.’ She gulped her coffee in a hurry. ‘Can I have a head start? If we arrive together, people will wonder why, and one question will lead to another—’
‘And your dark secret will be exposed. All right. I’ll give you five minutes. Here’s my card, and I’ve written the garage number on the back. Call them tomorrow.’
‘Thank you. And thank you for the lunch.’
‘No problem. Good day to you.’
His hand took hers in a brief grip that almost made her gasp. She had a glimpse of long fingers, and a sharp sensation of power flowing between them. Then he released her and nodded a farewell that was almost a dismissal.
She hurried back to her office, feeling bemused. She’d never met a man who sent out so many confusing signals. He was handsome, with dark, speaking eyes, and might have been charming if he’d let himself relax. But that was obviously what he couldn’t do. One side of him—the businessman, presumably—had been reminding him of the time he was wasting. He was probably glad to be rid of her.
Carson Page watched Gina until she was out of sight. He had an odd, deflated feeling, as though the sun had just gone in. He rubbed his eyes again, wondering what had come over him to waste an hour over something that could have been sorted out in five minutes.
He pulled himself together. It had been a delightful interlude, like taking a much needed holiday. But now he must return to the real world, and it would be better not to see her again.
Gina found her secretary deep in paperwork. Dulcie was middle-aged, had worked for the firm for over twenty years and took a robustly cynical view of her employers. But she had a soft spot for Gina.
With her first words, she revealed the flaw in Gina’s secrecy arrangements.
‘Did I see you having lunch with Carson Page in Bob’s Café?’ she asked.
‘Oh, heavens! You didn’t tell anyone, did you?’
‘Not a soul. If Philip Hale thinks you’re trying to pinch his newest acquisition, there’ll be hell to pay.’
‘I know. Look, Dulcie, this is for your ears alone—’
‘Silent as the grave.’
Gina briefly described what had happened, and Dulcie gave a snort of laughter that she hastily smothered.
‘You bashed Carson Page’s car and lived to tell the tale?’ she asked. ‘And he’s paying for all the repairs? What’s your secret?’
‘Nothing. He’s just a very nice, reasonable man.’
‘He isn’t,’ Dulcie said at once. ‘I’ve got a friend who works for the last firm of lawyers he employed and he’s the client from hell. He owns Page Engineering, and I suppose if he wasn’t aggressive he couldn’t have made it what it is today.’
‘Goodness!’ Gina exclaimed. ‘That Carson Page? I never dreamed—I mean, I’ve heard of him.’
He’d created Page Engineering from nothing, fighting off competition ruthlessly, buying up smaller firms, and carving a large share of the market for himself. He was unstoppable. Whatever he touched turned to gold, or so the financial pages insisted.
He was also a bad enemy, driving opponents into the ground. And she’d dented his Rolls.
‘You’ve got to hand it to him as a businessman,’ Dulcie conceded. ‘But talk about difficult and demanding!’ She eyed her young boss significantly. ‘But not with you, eh?’
‘Oh, stop it!’ Gina said, reddening slightly. ‘He was just—I don’t know—he was a grouch, but a nice grouch. At least, he was trying to be nice, but he was awkward about it, as though he was using muscles that were a bit stiff.’
‘That sounds about right.