His Shy Cinderella

Just as he’d guessed; but there were no pictures of Esther, who’d been at the centre of the rift between Barnaby Stone and Jimmy McKenzie. He wondered if Angel looked anything like her. Not that he was going to ask. He kept the conversation light and anodyne, then cleared away when they’d both finished.

‘So,’ he said. ‘We managed to have a civilised meal together.’

‘I guess.’

‘We’ve done breakfast and lunch.’ But the next words out of his mouth weren’t quite the ones he’d intended to say. ‘Would you like to come to a gala dinner with me?’

CHAPTER THREE (#ubacfbfc2-4e18-5608-9db6-67fd6ef7f324)

ANGEL REALLY HADN’T expected that, and it flustered her. ‘You’re asking me on a date?’ she queried, hoping she looked and sounded a lot calmer than she felt.

‘I guess so,’ he drawled.

‘No.’

‘Why?’

Because gala dinners tended to be noisy and she found it wearing, having to make small talk and being forced to concentrate really hard to hear what people said.

Plus Brandon Stone dated a lot and he wasn’t the serious type. She didn’t want to get involved with him, professionally or personally. ‘You’re a Stone and I’m a McKenzie,’ she said finally.

‘“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”’

‘Don’t quote Shakespeare at me.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought you were an engineer?’

‘I did Romeo and Juliet for GCSE. Besides, doesn’t everyone know that line?’

‘Maybe. So are we Montagues and Capulets?’

She scoffed. ‘I have no intention of swooning over you on a balcony. Or drinking poison. And,’ she pointed out, ‘at thirty, I’m also more than twice Juliet’s age.’

‘Ouch. Thus speaks the engineer.’

‘And that’s why I don’t want to date you. You’d spend all evening either flirting with me or making smart, annoying remarks.’

‘Firstly,’ he said, ‘you’re meant to flirt with your date.’

‘Flirting’s superficial and overrated.’

‘Clearly nobody’s flirted properly with you.’

That was a little too near the mark. ‘I don’t need to be flirted with.’

He held her gaze. ‘No?’

‘No.’ She looked away.

‘When was the last time you dated?’ he asked.

Too long ago. ‘Wasn’t that in your dossier?’ she retorted.

‘Now who’s making the smart remarks?’

At her silence, he continued, ‘The gala evening is a charity dinner. The proceeds go to help the families of drivers who’ve been hurt or killed on the track.’

Was he trying to guilt her into agreeing? It was for a cause she knew was close to his heart, given that his brother had been killed; and it was a cause she’d be happy to support. But going to a posh dinner with Brandon, where she’d have to dress up and she’d feel totally out of place among all the glamorous socialites...

He sighed. ‘At least think about it.’

She made a noncommittal noise, which she hoped he’d take as meaning ‘maybe’ and would back off.

* * *

Brandon was furious with himself. There were plenty of women who’d love to go to the gala dinner with him, so why was he spending this much effort on someone who’d made it quite clear that she didn’t want to go anywhere with him?

He should never have mentioned the gala dinner.

He should’ve stuck to business.

At least if they’d been talking about cars, they would’ve had something in common. Maybe that was the way to get this conversation back on track. ‘Would you show me round the factory?’

Those beautiful violet eyes widened in surprise. ‘That’s direct. Don’t you prefer other people to look things up for you and report back?’

Maybe he deserved that one. ‘I’m not spying on you, if that’s your implication. Anyone who works in our industry would be itching to look round, and sit in one of your cars and pretend to be its owner.’

She scoffed. ‘My cars are very affordable. If you wanted one, you could buy one. In fact, you could buy a whole fleet for the price of just one of yours.’

‘If that’s your best patter,’ he said, ‘you should sack yourself as head of sales.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What do you want from me, Mr Stone?’

A lot of things. Some of which he hadn’t quite worked out. ‘First-name terms, for a start.’ He paused. ‘Angel.’

She looked as if she was warring with herself, but then finally nodded. ‘Brandon. OK. I’ll show you round the factory.’

* * *

Walking through the factory with Brandon felt weird. Tantamount to parading her flock of lambs in front of a wolf. Though at least she’d already warned her staff that he’d made an offer and she’d refused. She’d reinforce that later.

Please let that contract come through today.

She knew that the Frost prototype was in a partitioned-off part of the factory, safely away from his gaze. But he could see the areas where the body parts were sprayed, the leather seats were hand-cut and hand-sewn, the engines were built and the final cars were assembled. If he saw the process for himself he’d understand what was so special about McKenzie’s, and why she was so adamant about keeping things as they were.

‘This is the Luna,’ she said. ‘This one’s being built by Ernie and Ravi. Ernie, Ravi, this is Brandon Stone.’

Ernie gave him a curt nod, but Ravi shook his hand enthusiastically and smiled. ‘I’ve seen you race. I was there when you won the that championship, six years ago.’