of days to sort some things out on other projects.’ He’d made promises, and he never broke his word.
She gave an offhand shrug.
But Felix guessed that his refusal had hurt, that she thought he’d made up an excuse. And he had a feeling that she hadn’t made that offer lightly. When it came toher personal life, Daisy was as wary as he was. ‘I’m planning to be back in Suffolk on Sunday evening. Can I take a rain check on dinner for then, if you’re not already busy?’ he asked.
She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Sunday’s fine.’
‘What time?’
‘Half-past seven?’
‘OK. I’ll see you when I get back.’
He was about to leave when she spoke. ‘Um, Felix?’ She waved a cloth at him. ‘You might need this, and a mirror.’
‘Mirror?’
She flapped a hand. ‘Come here.’ Carefully, she wiped something—a smudge of oil, he guessed—from his face.
‘Thank you. Until Sunday, then.’
‘Until Sunday.’
On Friday, Felix was at his desk, but he couldn’t settle. Something kept nagging at him. Even two espressos didn’t help him concentrate.
And then he realised what it was.
He missed Daisy.
Which was utterly ridiculous. He’d known her for less than a week, and had seen her less than twenty-four hours ago. How could he possibly be missing her?
But he was. He missed the sparkle of fencing with her. And, even though his head told him that these few days back in London away from her would be good for him and give his common sense the chance of returning, there was another feeling deep in his gut. One that begged to differ.
Maybe he just needed some fresh air to clear hishead. Somehow his walk led him past the local choco-latier. A note in the window said that they could ice any message onto any slab of chocolate. Acting on impulse, Felix went inside.
‘Would it be possible to ice a picture instead of a message?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’ The girl behind the counter gave him an appreciative smile, and leaned forward slightly.
Felix barely registered that it deepened her cleavage or that she was flirting with him. ‘And could you send it by courier so it arrives tomorrow?’
‘No problem.’
‘And I’d like to put a message in as well.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Wonderful.’ He told her exactly what he wanted iced on the slab, paid, scribbled a quick message on the back of a business card, and gave her Daisy’s address at the fairground.
On Saturday morning, Bill came over to the workshop from the office. ‘Special delivery for you.’
Daisy couldn’t remember ordering anything. Frowning, she cleaned her hands and opened the box. It contained a large slab of white chocolate that had an old-fashioned roundabout iced on it in milk chocolate, with little red dots for the lights; it was the most charming thing she’d ever seen.
There was a business card attached: Felix.
Suddenly, all her pleasure evaporated. He’d sent her the most lovely gift—and he’d even remembered that white chocolate was her favourite—but he hadn’t sent a message with it. Just a business card. Which she supposed was a kind of message in itself: he’d had timeto think about things and thought they should keep it strictly business between them.
He’d probably even got his secretary to organise the chocolate, rather than doing it himself. He had a busy schedule, after all. This wasn’t personal, and it was stupid of her to have hoped. Stupid of her to have missed him. Stupid of her to think that maybe he’d see her for herself.
‘What’s this, something you were thinking of stocking in the shop?’ Bill asked, looking interested.
She showed him the chocolate and forced her voice to sound neutral. ‘Felix sent it. And it’s a good idea—something like this would go down well in the shop, though I think we should make smaller ones to keep the price in pocket-money ranges.’
‘Agreed,’ Bill said. ‘As it’s white chocolate, I assume none of us are going to get a look
She gave an offhand shrug.
But Felix guessed that his refusal had hurt, that she thought he’d made up an excuse. And he had a feeling that she hadn’t made that offer lightly. When it came toher personal life, Daisy was as wary as he was. ‘I’m planning to be back in Suffolk on Sunday evening. Can I take a rain check on dinner for then, if you’re not already busy?’ he asked.
She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Sunday’s fine.’
‘What time?’
‘Half-past seven?’
‘OK. I’ll see you when I get back.’
He was about to leave when she spoke. ‘Um, Felix?’ She waved a cloth at him. ‘You might need this, and a mirror.’
‘Mirror?’
She flapped a hand. ‘Come here.’ Carefully, she wiped something—a smudge of oil, he guessed—from his face.
‘Thank you. Until Sunday, then.’
‘Until Sunday.’
On Friday, Felix was at his desk, but he couldn’t settle. Something kept nagging at him. Even two espressos didn’t help him concentrate.
And then he realised what it was.
He missed Daisy.
Which was utterly ridiculous. He’d known her for less than a week, and had seen her less than twenty-four hours ago. How could he possibly be missing her?
But he was. He missed the sparkle of fencing with her. And, even though his head told him that these few days back in London away from her would be good for him and give his common sense the chance of returning, there was another feeling deep in his gut. One that begged to differ.
Maybe he just needed some fresh air to clear hishead. Somehow his walk led him past the local choco-latier. A note in the window said that they could ice any message onto any slab of chocolate. Acting on impulse, Felix went inside.
‘Would it be possible to ice a picture instead of a message?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’ The girl behind the counter gave him an appreciative smile, and leaned forward slightly.
Felix barely registered that it deepened her cleavage or that she was flirting with him. ‘And could you send it by courier so it arrives tomorrow?’
‘No problem.’
‘And I’d like to put a message in as well.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Wonderful.’ He told her exactly what he wanted iced on the slab, paid, scribbled a quick message on the back of a business card, and gave her Daisy’s address at the fairground.
On Saturday morning, Bill came over to the workshop from the office. ‘Special delivery for you.’
Daisy couldn’t remember ordering anything. Frowning, she cleaned her hands and opened the box. It contained a large slab of white chocolate that had an old-fashioned roundabout iced on it in milk chocolate, with little red dots for the lights; it was the most charming thing she’d ever seen.
There was a business card attached: Felix.
Suddenly, all her pleasure evaporated. He’d sent her the most lovely gift—and he’d even remembered that white chocolate was her favourite—but he hadn’t sent a message with it. Just a business card. Which she supposed was a kind of message in itself: he’d had timeto think about things and thought they should keep it strictly business between them.
He’d probably even got his secretary to organise the chocolate, rather than doing it himself. He had a busy schedule, after all. This wasn’t personal, and it was stupid of her to have hoped. Stupid of her to have missed him. Stupid of her to think that maybe he’d see her for herself.
‘What’s this, something you were thinking of stocking in the shop?’ Bill asked, looking interested.
She showed him the chocolate and forced her voice to sound neutral. ‘Felix sent it. And it’s a good idea—something like this would go down well in the shop, though I think we should make smaller ones to keep the price in pocket-money ranges.’
‘Agreed,’ Bill said. ‘As it’s white chocolate, I assume none of us are going to get a look
Similar Books
