Saying Yes to the Millionaire. Fiona HarperЧитать онлайн книгу.
race ahead and, between one sentence and the next, his imagination would take so many leaps that he was on a totally different subject when he started to speak again, often so excited by his ideas that he’d forget that he hadn’t said it all out loud and that those listening hadn’t made the jump with him. Thinking outside the box was what he excelled at.
She summarised where they’d got to so far in the conversation, hoping it would jog his memory about what needed to come next. ‘A proposition, remember? Five thousand pounds…you and me for four days in London…’ Her pulse, which had calmed slightly in the last few minutes, started to panic again. ‘What’s this all about?’
He waved the piece of paper in front of her nose. ‘The treasure hunt, of course.’
She snatched the piece of paper from him and held it still. Her heart had obviously banged against her ribcage once too often, because now it seemed to have slowed almost to nothing and she could hear the rush of the river in her ears.
‘…and you want me to be your partner?’
He jumped off the wall and stepped in front of her. For a moment she thought he was going to take her hands, but then he fidgeted and stuffed them in his pockets. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ The word came out like a strangled cough. She tried again. ‘Why me?’
He stopped shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looked her straight in the eye. ‘Because I think you’d be the perfect partner.’
Inside her head she was screaming with frustration. How many times as a teenager had she hoped to hear those words? That was the one thing he’d never been able to understand. But what he was asking her now wasn’t what she’d yearned for back then. He had no idea he’d ignited a painful and distant memory.
Four days with Josh. Once upon a time, she’d have thought that was heaven; now she was starting to consider it more as purgatory. Being with Josh would be wonderful. And last week, if someone had told her he was coming home and she would get to spend some quality time with him, she’d have been thrilled. But last week she’d considered herself over that all-consuming teenage crush.
The adrenaline from the jump must have sent her system into overdrive, because now it was back with a vengeance and she was likely to say stupid things, do stupid things and, most dangerously, feel stupid things. For Josh.
It had already started. It was only an hour since they’d met again and she was getting all her signals crossed, imagining there’d be moments and bolts from the blue and—heaven help her poor confused heart rate—kisses.
Four days and she’d be in too deep to laugh it all off and pretend it didn’t matter, as she had done the day after her sixteenth birthday party. Four days would be far too much and never enough. Not when he’d disappear off to Kathmandu or Papua New Guinea in a couple of weeks.
She shivered. Water slapped aggressively against the river wall behind her as the wake of a passing boat met solid resistance. Her fingers gripped tighter on the edge of the wall and she slowly slid herself down until her feet touched solid ground again. She pushed past Josh and folded her arms across her middle.
‘Sorry, Josh. I can’t.’
She was worrying the edge of her T-shirt with the tips of her fingers and Josh knew she wasn’t as clear-cut about this answer as her tone and body language implied.
What was the problem? The treasure hunt was going to be a blast. And he knew Fern would have fun if she would just give it a chance. However, she didn’t look as if she was thinking about how much fun it was going to be, with that faint scowl knitting her brows together. No, knowing Fern, she was worrying about something. Practicalities, probably.
Practical. That word described Fern perfectly. He remembered a time when she’d been six and had skipped up the garden and warned him and Ryan that the shed roof would never take their weight. He should have listened. His leg had been in plaster for six weeks and he still had a scar on his thigh.
So, he’d talk practicalities with her. Maybe then she’d give in to that little voice in her head he knew was just egging her on to say yes.
‘The first prize is five thousand pounds cash and five thousand pounds in UK holiday vouchers.’
A slightly hysterical giggle erupted from deep inside her. ‘Holiday vouchers? Why in heaven do you need holiday vouchers?’ She paused. ‘Come to think of it, you don’t really need the cash either.’
‘So why am I doing it?’ See, this was why he needed her. They knew each other so well he could guess what she was going to say before the words left her mouth. ‘Partly because it’s going to be fun, but partly because Mum and Dad need a break and they won’t let me pay for it. I’ve tried, really I have. But they might accept these vouchers. As you said, it’s not like I have a use for them…’
Now he was frowning too.
‘They’re both so stressed. Dad is frustrated that he can’t be the workaholic he knows how to be and Mum is terrified he’s going to get bored and put himself in danger by doing too much too soon.’
The mini-scowl eased from her face a little. He decided to carry on while there was a thaw. ‘I was planning to send them off to Scotland where they had their honeymoon. Mum’s always said how good for the soul those mountains are.’
She smiled at him. ‘That’s a lovely idea.’
‘And what about you, Fern? I’m sure you could find something sensible to spend the money on. Pay off a bit of your mortgage or something. Didn’t that Simon guy mention something about the Leukaemia Research Trust—’ at this she perked up and he knew he was on the right track ‘—some appeal they’re holding at the moment?’
‘I expect he mentioned something like that,’ she said quietly, the pull of conflicting emotions clouding her pale blue eyes.
He laid a hand on her arm, but stopped short of sliding it around her shoulders and pulling her to him as he had the urge to do. As he’d had the urge to do ever since his fingers had felt the soft curve of her waist before she’d fallen out of his hands. He suddenly felt very careless for letting her go that easily.
‘Come on, Fern. The possibility of five thousand pounds and four days in my scintillating company. What’s not to like?’
She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling. ‘You always were a bit of a big-head.’
‘And you used to say you didn’t see enough of your honorary big brother.’
She shook her head. ‘Seriously, I can’t just drop everything. I have work to do.’
‘What sort of work?’
‘Well, my job involves site visits so I can assess risk factors. The insurance company then uses my report to decide the premium.’
‘And how many visits have you got planned over the next few days?’
She unfolded and refolded her arms. ‘Well, none actually—’ she held up her hand to stop him interrupting ‘—but I’d really been looking forward to having a chance to clear my desk and catch up with the filing.’
He gave her an incredulous look. ‘Sweetheart, filing can always wait for a few more days.’
She glared back at him. ‘It’s too short notice. I can’t just not show up tomorrow.’
‘Why? Have you used up all your annual leave?’
She opened her mouth and shut it again. Then she looked at the floor. ‘Yes,’ she said with the vague hint of a question in her voice. He knew that routine.
‘Fern?’
She looked up.
‘Are you fibbing?’
She blew out an exasperated puff of air and the slightly guilty look in her eyes made him want to chuckle. ‘Yes.’
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