His Shy Cinderella

‘No problem,’ he said, standing up immediately. ‘And I’ll ask if we can move tables to a quieter one.’

She gestured to the floor. ‘It’s wooden floor, so it’s going to be noisy wherever we sit. Carpet dampens speech as well as footsteps.’

And there was a group of businessmen nearby; they were laughing heartily enough to drown out a conversation on the other side of the room. ‘Or we could change the venue to my room, which really will be quieter,’ Brandon said, ‘but I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.’ Though in other circumstances, he thought, I probably would, because she has the most amazing eyes.

He was shocked to realise how much he was attracted to Angel McKenzie. She was meant to be his business rival, from a family that was his own family’s sworn enemy. He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to her. Particularly as she was about six inches shorter and way less glamorous than the women he usually dated. She really wasn’t his type.

‘The restaurant’s fine,’ she said, and changed places with him. ‘So what did you want to talk about? If it’s your offer to buy McKenzie’s, then it’s going to be rather a short and pointless conversation, because the company isn’t for sale.’

Before he could answer, the waitress came over. ‘May I take your order?’

‘Thank you.’ Angel smiled at the waitress and ordered coffee, granola, fruit and yoghurt.

Brandon hadn’t been expecting that smile, either.

It lit up her face, turning her from average to pretty; in all the photographs he’d seen, Angel had been serious and unsmiling.

And how weird was it that he wanted to be the one to make her smile like that?

Worse than that, focusing on her mouth had made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her. How crazy was that? He was supposed to be talking to her about business, not fantasising about her. She wasn’t even his type.

He shook himself and glanced quickly through the menu.

‘Sir?’ the waitress asked.

‘Coffee, please, and eggs Florentine on wholemeal toast—but without the hollandaise sauce, please.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘I would’ve had you pegged as a full English man,’ Angel said when the waitress had gone.

‘Load up on fatty food and junk, and you’re going to feel like a dog’s breakfast by the end of a race,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Food’s fuel. If you want to work effectively, you eat effectively. Lean protein, complex carbs, plenty of fruit and veg, and no added sugar.’

She inclined her head. ‘Fair point.’

He needed to get this back on the rails. ‘So. As I was saying, this discussion isn’t about buying the company.’

She waited to let him explain more.

So that was her tactic in business. Say little and let the other party talk themselves into a hole. OK. He’d draw her out. ‘I wanted to talk about research and development.’

She frowned. ‘What about it?’

‘I’m looking for someone to head up my R and D department.’ He paused. ‘I was considering headhunting you.’

She blinked. ‘Yesterday you wanted to buy my company.’

He still did.

‘And today you’re offering me a job?’

‘Yes.’

She looked wary. ‘Why?’

‘I heard you’re a good designer. A first-class degree in engineering, followed by an MA in automotive design.’

‘So you have been stalking me.’

‘Doing research prior to headhunting you,’ he corrected. ‘You’re a difficult woman to pin down, Ms McKenzie.’ And he noticed that she still hadn’t suggested that he used her first name. She was clearly keeping as many barriers between them as possible.

‘Thank you for the job offer, Mr Stone,’ she said. ‘I’m flattered. But I rather like my current job.’ She waited a beat to ram the point home. ‘Running the company my grandfather started.’

‘Together with my grandfather,’ he pointed out.

‘Who then dissolved the partnership and took all the equipment with him. McKenzie’s has absolutely nothing to do with Barnaby Stone.’

‘Not right now.’ He held her gaze. ‘But it could do.’

‘I’m not selling to you, Mr Stone,’ she said wearily. ‘And I’m not working for you, either. So can you please just give up and stop wasting your time and mine?’

He applauded her loyalty to her family, but this was business and it was time for a reality check. ‘I’ve seen your accounts for the last four years.’

She shrugged, seeming unbothered. ‘They’re on public record. As are yours.’

‘And every year you’re struggling more. You need an investor,’ Brandon said.

* * *

Angel had been here before. The last man who’d wanted to invest in McKenzie’s had assumed that it would give him rights over her as well. She’d put him very straight about that, and in response he’d withdrawn the offer.

No way would she let herself get in that situation again. She wasn’t for sale, and neither was her business. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Hand-built cars are a luxury item. Yours are under-priced.’

‘The idea was, and still is, to make hand-built customisable cars that anyone can afford,’ she said. ‘We have a waiting list.’

‘Not a very long one.’

That was true; and it was worrying that he knew that. Did that mean she had a mole in the company—someone who might even scupper the deal with Triffid by talking about the McKenzie Frost too soon? No. Of course not. That was sheer paranoia. She’d known most of the staff since she was a small child, and had interviewed the newer members of staff herself. People didn’t tend to leave McKenzie’s unless they retired. And she trusted everyone on her team. ‘Have you been spying on me?’

The waitress, who’d just arrived with their food and coffee, clearly overheard Angel’s comment, because she looked a bit nervous and disappeared quickly.

‘I think we just made our waitress feel a bit awkward,’ Brandon said.

‘You mean you did,’ she said. ‘Because you’re the one who’s been spying.’

‘Making a very common-sense deduction, actually,’ he countered. ‘If you had a long waiting list, your balance sheet would look a lot healthier than it does.’

She knew that was true. ‘So if we don’t have a great balance sheet, why do you want to buy...?’ She broke off. ‘Hold on. You said you want a designer to head up your research and development team. Which means the rumours are true—Stone’s really is looking at moving into the production of road cars.’

He said nothing and his expression was completely inscrutable, but she knew she was right.

So his plan was obvious: to buy McKenzie’s, knocking out his closest competitor, and then use her to make his family’s name in a different area.

No way.

She stared at him. His dark blond hair was just a little too long, making him look more like a rock star than a businessman; clearly it was a hangover from his days as the racing world’s equivalent of a rock star. And he was obviously used to charming his way through life; he knew just how good-looking he was, and used that full-wattage smile and sensual grey eyes to make every female within a radius of a hundred metres feel as if her heart had just done a somersault. He was clearly well aware that men wanted to be him—a former star racing driver—and women wanted to be with him.

Well, he’d find out that she was immune to his charm. Yes, Brandon Stone was very easy on the eye; but she wasn’t going to let any ridiculous attraction she felt towards him get in the way of her business. His family had been her family’s rivals for seventy years. That wasn’t about to change.

‘So basically you want to buy McKenzie’s so you can put our badge on the front of your roadsters?’ She grimaced. ‘That’s tantamount to misleading the public—using a brand known for its handmade production and attention to detail to sell cars made in a factory.’

‘Cars made using the latest technology to streamline the process,’ he corrected. ‘We still pay very close attention to detail.’

‘It’s not the same as a customer being able to meet and shake the hands of the actual people who built their car. McKenzie’s has a unique selling point.’

‘McKenzie’s is in danger of going under.’

‘That’s not happening on my watch,’ she said. ‘And I’m not selling to you. To anyone,’ she corrected herself swiftly.

But he picked up on her mistake. ‘You’re not selling to me because I’m a Stone.’

‘Would you sell your company to me?’ she countered.

‘If my balance sheet was as bad as yours, you were going to keep on all my staff, and my family name was still going to be in the market place, then yes, I’d consider it—depending on the deal you were offering.’

‘But that’s the point. You won’t keep my staff,’ she said. ‘You’ll move production to your factory to take advantage of economies of scale. My staff might not want to move, for all kinds of reasons—their children might be in the middle of a crucial year at school, or they might have elderly parents they want to keep an eye on.’ Her own parents were still both middle-aged and healthy, but she wouldn’t want to move miles away from them in case that changed. If they needed her, she’d want to be there.

‘Your staff would still have a job. I can guarantee that all their jobs will be safe when you sell to me.’

‘Firstly, I’m not selling, however often you ask me. Secondly, they already have a job. With me.’ She folded her arms. ‘Whatever you think, McKenzie’s isn’t going under.’

‘We could work together,’ he said. ‘It would be a win for both companies. Between us we could negotiate better discounts from our suppliers. You’d still be in charge of research and development.’

The thing she loved most. Instead of worrying about balance sheets and sales and PR, she could spend her days working on designing cars.

It was tempting.

But, even if they ignored the bad blood between their families, it couldn’t work. Their management styles were too far apart. McKenzie’s had always considered their teams to be part of the family, whereas Stone’s was ruthless. Between them they had two completely opposing cultures—and there was no middle ground.

‘I don’t think so. And there’s nothing more to say,’ she said. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’ Even though she hadn’t eaten her granola and had only drunk a couple of sips of coffee, she couldn’t face any more. ‘Goodbye, Mr Stone.’ She gave him a tight smile, pushed her chair back and left.

CHAPTER TWO

‘MISS MCKENZIE? THANK YOU for coming in.’

James Saunders gave her a very professional smile which did nothing to ease Angel’s fears. When your bank asked you to come in to the branch for a meeting, it didn’t usually mean good news. She’d been hoping all the way here that it was just a courtesy meeting for him to introduce himself as their new account manager, but she had a nasty feeling that it was nothing of the kind.

‘My pleasure, Mr Saunders.’ She gave him an equally professional smile. ‘I’m assuming that today is simply to touch base, as you’ve just taken over from Miss Lennox?’

‘I’m afraid it’s a little more than that. May I offer you some coffee?’

Funny how that sounded more like, ‘You’re going to need a stiff gin.’

‘Thanks, but I’m fine,’ she said. ‘So how can I help?’

‘I’ve been going through your published accounts,’ James said.

Uh-oh. She’d heard that from someone else, very recently. And that hadn’t been a good meeting, either.

‘I need to be frank with you, Miss McKenzie. We’re really not happy with the way things are going. We’re not sure you’re going to be able to pay back your overdraft.’

‘I can reassure you that I have a deal in the pipeline,’ she said. ‘Obviously I’m telling you this in strictest business confidence, because you’re my bank manager, but Triffid Studios is sending me a contract because they want to use our new design in their next Spyline film. Once the film comes out and people see the car, our waiting list will be full for at least the next year. We’ll have to expand to meet demand.’

‘And you’ve signed this contract?’

‘I’m still waiting for them to send it. The film industry seems to drag its heels a bit where paperwork’s concerned,’ she admitted. ‘But we’ve built the prototype, tweaked it and they’re happy with it, so it’s really just a formality.’ She just wished they’d hurry up with the paperwork.

‘I’d be much happier if I could see that signed contract,’ James said.

So would she.

‘Because,’ he continued, ‘I’m afraid I can’t extend your overdraft any more.’

‘You’re calling it all back in? Right now?’ Angel went cold. She had no idea where she’d get the money to pay back the overdraft. Even if she could negotiate a breathing space before it had to be paid back, and put her house on the market so it was priced to sell, she still wouldn’t make that much money once she’d cleared the mortgage. Nowhere near enough to prop up McKenzie’s. And, unlike her father in the last recession, she didn’t have a valuable private car collection to sell.

So how else could she raise the money?

‘I’ll give you a month to get that contract signed,’ James said. ‘And then I’m afraid I’ll have to call the majority of the overdraft in. In these times, banks have to be seen to lend responsibly.’

And businesses like hers that were going through temporary difficulties—despite being good clients for decades—ended up as the scapegoats. ‘I see. Well, thank you for your frankness, Mr Saunders.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t give you better news.’

To his credit, he did look a little bit sorry. Or maybe that was how bank managers were trained nowadays, Angel thought. Though he didn’t look quite old enough to manage a bank.

‘I’ll keep you posted on the contract development,’ she said.

Her next stop was at her lawyer’s, to see if they could get in contact with Triffid’s lawyers and persuade them to firm up a date by when they’d have the contract.

She brooded all the way back to the factory. There had to be a way out of this. The last thing she wanted to do was worry her father or burden him with her problems. He’d trusted her to run the company, and she wasn’t going to let him down.

If her parents rang in the next couple of days she’d either miss the call deliberately and blame it on her deafness—she’d been in the shower and hadn’t heard the phone ring—or she’d distract her father by talking car design. It was the way she dealt with the shyness that had dogged her since childhood: switching the conversation to cars, engines or business, where she was confident in her abilities, meant she didn’t have to worry about the personal stuff.

But she was really worried about this.

If the bank called in their loan before the contract was signed...

She’d just have to be more persuasive. She could put a presentation together quickly enough, with sales projections, based on the new Frost. Though she had a nasty feeling that only the signed contract would be enough to satisfy James Saunders.

The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she should’ve taken up Brandon Stone’s offer after all. He’d said that every job at McKenzie’s would be safe. He’d implied that they’d keep the McKenzie name on the road cars. He’d even offered her a job, heading up his research and development team, though it wasn’t a part of the offer she could bring herself accept. Selling to him was probably the best thing she could do for everyone else.

But how could she live with herself if she threw away seventy years of her family’s history and sold out to the company started by her grandfather’s ex-best friend?

There had to be another way, beyond selling the company to Brandon Stone.

Plus there was something else she needed to address. Cambridge was a reasonably small city; if anyone had seen her with Brandon the other day and realised who he was, rumours could start circulating. The last thing she wanted was for her team to be unsettled. She needed everyone to pull together.

When she got back to the office, she called a team meeting on the factory floor. Everyone looked anxious, and she knew why. ‘First of all,’ she said, ‘I want to reassure everyone that it’s business as usual. Things are a bit slow, right now, but once that new contract’s signed and the PR starts, it’s going to pick up and the bank will be happy again.’

‘Do you want us to go on short time?’ Ravi, one of the engineers, asked.

It would be another solution, but Angel didn’t think it was fair for her staff to bear the brunt of the company’s problems. ‘No. We’ll manage,’ she said firmly. ‘The other thing is that Stone’s has offered to buy us out.’

There was a general gasp. Ernie, the oldest member of her team, stood up. ‘It might not be my place to say this, but I hope you said no. I worked for your grandfather. No way could I work for a Stone. They don’t do things like we do.’

‘I heard their staff’s all on zero-hours contracts,’ someone else said. ‘I can’t take that risk. I’ve got a mortgage and kids.’

‘I can’t comment on how they run their business,’ Angel said, ‘but I’m not selling. McKenzie’s will continue to do things the way we always do things. The only change is that we’ll be producing a new model, and I know I can trust you to keep everything under wraps.’

‘What can we do to help?’ Jane, one of the leather cutters, asked.

She smiled. ‘Just keep doing what you do. Make our cars the best they can be—and leave the worrying to me. I just wanted you all to know what was going on and hear the truth from me. If anyone hears any rumours to the contrary, they’re probably not true, so come and talk to me rather than panic, OK?’

‘If things are tight,’ Ernie said, ‘you could always use our pension fund to plug the gap.’

‘That’s a nice offer,’ she said, ‘but using that money for anything except your pensions would get me slung straight into jail. And I’m not asking any of you to take any kind of risk.’

‘I’ve got savings,’ Jane said.

‘Me, too,’ Ravi said. ‘We could invest in the company.’

It warmed Angel that her team trusted her that much. ‘It’s not going to come to that, but thank you for offering. It’s good to know that my team believes in me. Well, you’re not just my team. You’re family.’

‘Your grandad would be proud of you, lass,’ Ernie said. ‘Your dad, too. You’re a McKenzie through and through.’

Tears pricked her eyelids. ‘Thank you. All of you.’ She swallowed hard. ‘So is anyone worried about anything else?’

Everyone shook their heads.

‘OK, You know where I am if you think of anything later. And thank you all for being so supportive.’

Though after she’d left the team she found it hard to concentrate on her work. She just kept coming back to Brandon Stone and his offer to buy her out.

What really bothered her was that she couldn’t get the man himself out of her head. The way he’d looked standing up in the swimming pool, with the water barely reaching his ribs: his shoulders had been broad and his chest and biceps firm. He’d looked just as good in the restaurant, clothed in a formal suit, shirt and tie. Those grey eyes had seemed to see everything. And that beautiful mouth...

Oh, for pity’s sake.

She didn’t do relationships. Her parents had pretty much wrapped her up in cotton wool after her deafness had been diagnosed, and as a result she’d been too shy to join in with parties when she’d gone to university. Once she’d finished her studies, her focus had been on working in the family business.

But when Brandon Stone had accidentally-on-purpose bumped into her in the pool, her skin had actually tingled where his touched hers. And, even though she was pretty sure that he turned that megawatt smile on anyone with an X chromosome, she had to admit that she was attracted to him—to the last man she should date.

Was he really the playboy she suspected he was?

She knew he had a dossier on her, so she had no compunction about looking up details about him.

He’d started heading up the family firm three years ago. Something about the date jogged a memory; she checked on a news archive site, and there it was. Sam Stone killed in championship race.

Brandon hadn’t raced professionally since the crash. There had been no announcements about his retirement in the press; then again, there probably hadn’t needed to be. Sam’s death had clearly affected his younger brother badly. And the rest of his family, too, because Brandon’s father had had a heart attack a couple of weeks after Sam’s death—no doubt brought on by the stress of losing his oldest child. Poor man.

Angel continued to flick through the articles brought up by the search engine. Eric Stone—Brandon’s uncle—had sideswiped him a few times in the press. Then again, Brandon had walked into the top job with no real experience; Eric probably thought he was the one who should be running Stone’s and was making the point to anyone who’d listen.

Angel felt a twinge of sympathy for Brandon. Everyone at McKenzie’s had supported her when she’d taken over from her father. Brandon had barely had time to settle in before his father had been taken ill and he’d taken over the reins, and it wouldn’t be surprising if a few people resented him for it. She’d had the chance to get to know the business thoroughly before she’d taken over, whereas he’d had to hit the ground running. Despite what she’d thought earlier about his background not really qualifying him for the job, he’d done well in running the company, using the same concentration and focus on the business that he’d used to win races in his professional driving days. From the look of their published accounts, Stone’s was going from strength to strength. They certainly had enough money to buy her out.

The rest of the newspaper stories she found made her wince. Even allowing for press exaggeration, Brandon Stone seemed to be pictured with a different girl every couple of weeks. Most of them were supermodels and high-profile actresses, and none of the relationships seemed to last for more than three or four dates. His personal life was a complete disaster zone. He really wasn’t the kind of guy she should even consider dating. She should be sensible about this and stop thinking about him as anything else other than a business rival.

* * *

Brandon scrubbed his hair in the shower on Sunday morning after his run, hoping to scrub some common sense back into his head.

This was ridiculous.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Angel McKenzie and her violet eyes—and the smile that had made him practically want to sit up and beg? It had been three days since he’d met her, and he still kept wondering about her.

It threw him, because he’d never reacted to anyone like this before. Angel was nothing like the kind of women he normally dated: she was quiet and serious, and she probably didn’t even own a pair of high heels. He wasn’t even sure if she owned lipstick. Though he also had the feeling that, if they could put aside the family rivalry, he’d have a better conversation with her than he usually had with his girlfriends. She wouldn’t glaze over if he talked about cars and engineering.

Oh, for pity’s sake. Why was he even thinking like this? He didn’t want to date anyone seriously. He really wasn’t looking to settle down. Seeing the way that Maria, his sister-in-law, had fallen apart after Sam’s death had cured him of ever wanting to get involved seriously with anyone; even though he didn’t race now, he still didn’t want to put anyone in Maria’s position.

But he just couldn’t get Angel McKenzie out of his head.

Or the crazy idea of dating her...

And then he smiled as he dried himself. Maybe that was the answer. If he dated her, it would get her out of his system; plus he’d be able to charm her into doing what he wanted and she’d sell the business to him. It was a win-win scenario.

So how was he going to ask her out?

Sending her a bouquet of red roses would be way too obvious. Too flashy. Too corny. Besides, did she even like flowers? Some women hated cut flowers, preferring to see them grow rather than withering in a vase. None of that information was in his dossier.