The Antique Love Page 3

  It was a generous offer. Even Penny realised that under normal circumstances it would be absurd to carry on refusing. Still, despite what David thought, she had a lot of common sense when it came to business. With the accounts in such a parlous state, sorting her finances had to be a priority. Her refusal to take on Kurt’s business wasn’t just a personal whim. She genuinely needed to spend some precious time coming to grips with the mess David had left her in.

  “I’m not interested in getting too involved with this project.” Kurt tapped the folder. “I’m happy to turn it all over to someone else, but that means I need someone I can trust. You’re the first person I’ve met in this city that fits the bill. You’re passionate about your business, and you won’t fob me off with a bunch of stuff I don’t need. Whatever price you name, I’m willing to pay.”

  Her eyes widened. His offer was certainly flattering, in more ways than one. And given the increasingly demanding invoices from suppliers which were landing on her desk, the money was definitely tempting.

  “That’s very generous of you,” she said, “but—”

  Kurt held up a hand.

  “I understand,” he said. “What am I thinking? Of course, you need to know more about me.”

  He reached into the leather satchel again. For an instant, the ridiculous notion crossed Penny’s mind that maybe the satchel contained a gun, and so it was with a sense of anti-climax that she watched Kurt pull out a business card. Penny forgot all her reservations and said the first thing that came into her head. “Oh, I didn’t know cowboys had business cards.”

  The look of astonishment on Kurt’s face turned her cheeks pink. What on earth must he think of her? Maybe David was right after all.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sometimes my tongue runs away with me. I suppose we’re a long way from Texas.”

  “Well now, that’s true,” Kurt said in his slow way. “Texas sure is a long way from here. But just to set the record straight, I’m from Wyoming.”

  “Wyoming!” Penny’s eyes grew round with wonder. Of course, cowboy country. Maybe her imagination wasn’t so far off the mark, after all. “That sounds so romantic. I’ve always longed to go to Wyoming.”

  “Is that so?” He was beginning to speak with a careful tolerance that ought to have been a hint, but Penny was oblivious.

  “Oh yes,” she cried. “Ever since I saw Brokeback Mountain.”

  A deep laugh rumbled from Kurt’s chest, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Wyoming sure is beautiful country.”

  The laughter in his eyes was so infectious it brought an answering smile to Penny’s lips, and for a couple of seconds, they smiled at each other, as though sharing some secret joke.

  “Have you travelled much?” he asked.

  Penny’s amusement fled. She dropped her gaze and shuffled some of the papers on her desk. It hadn’t taken this guy long to weigh her up or to work out she had led a sheltered life.

  “No,” she admitted after a pause. To soften the abruptness of her reply, she looked up, forcing a smile. “I’m a city girl. The most I’ve travelled is a few trips to the seaside.”

  A lifetime of hurt lay behind these simple sentences. Penny was so accustomed to concealing her history from strangers that brevity had become second nature.

  Kurt would have been astonished to know that the yellowing postcard in a frame on this plain shop-worker’s desk had been sent to Penny by the film star Megan Rose. Although Penny’s mother had been dead for many years, her beauty lived on, and her tragic early death only contributed to her lasting fame. The postcard scene showed a palm-fringed beach in Hawaii and on the reverse, hidden inside the frame, was the simple inscription To Penny, Home soon. Love and kisses, Mum and Dad xx. It was the last communication Penny ever had from her parents before they were drowned at sea off Hawaii’s beautiful coast.

  For a wild moment, Penny imagined pulling the card out and showing it to Kurt. I haven’t travelled much myself, but my mother filmed all over the world, she could say. She was Megan Rose. You may have heard of her?’

  Her eyes flitted over the palm beach in the frame and then away. She knew revealing her background was just a fleeting thought. She’d grown weary of people’s reaction on the rare occasions when she let slip who her mother was. Disbelief unfailingly turned to a sort of pitying surprise, which people were always too late to hide from her. She knew she was plain in comparison. She just got a little tired of being reminded of it by strangers.

  “So, you were going to give me your card?” she prompted.

  This time it was Penny’s turn to be surprised. Kurt drew back in his chair. His previously cool demeanour seemed to crack a little, and she could have sworn he was a little embarrassed. He looked down at the business card in his large hand and flicked the edge of it once or twice as though unwilling to part with it. The thin cardboard made a loud thwacking sound in his fingers before he finally reached across the desk to place it in front of her.

  Penny picked it up. The white card was neat and understated. In one corner was a dark blue logo: WR. The words White River LLP were printed in the same shade of blue and under the logo, in black, the name Kurt Bold. Beneath his name was his title: Managing Partner.

  “White River,” Penny cried. “Is the river really white?”

  Kurt looked at her blankly.

  “I mean on your ranch,” she explained. “That’s why it’s called White River, right?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. Again, the tiny hesitation combined with, this time, a definite embarrassment lurking in his features. “It’s been a long time since anyone I work with has seen a wild river. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a cowboy, and I don’t work on a ranch.”

  “Not a cowboy!” Penny stared, trying hard not to let her astonishment show. How could this be? He came from Wyoming, and he looked like he’d walked straight in from the wide open spaces. He had that heart-stopping slow drawl and the smile. And then the clothes. Plenty of Londoners wore jeans, but they didn’t all carry them off like he did. He was masculine, and he had strength and ruggedness and sheer capability. If a bull did decide to rampage round her antique china—although Penny could never for the life of her think of any circumstance where this was likely to happen—Kurt Bold looked just the type of guy you could rely on to catch it and throw it to the ground without breaking into a sweat.

  “Don’t you even work on a ranch?” she asked hopefully.

  “No,” he said. “I told you. I’m Managing Partner at White River.” He cleared his throat before announcing, “I’m an accountant.”

  “O-o-h.” Penny’s mouth rounded again. She held his gaze, her disappointment slowly turning to understanding and then, finally, to mortification. He waited patiently whilst she computed his words. Amusement mingled with the awkwardness still there in the twist of his mouth. A rather pitying amusement, it seemed to Penny.

  “Oh, of course,” she said, lifting his card. “White River. Now I remember. Of course everyone knows White River.”

  She felt herself babbling. Everybody did know White River. Despite its romantic name, White River was a global finance firm with renowned environmental credentials. Their new offices had recently opened in London; in fact, they were just around the corner from her shop.

  Media coverage had been widespread, not least because of the building’s green, plant-clad walls, its solar panels and its spectacular roof-top garden. Even before the world financial meltdown had shamed the rest of those in power into examining their right to wealth, White River’s directors were already ploughing their bonuses into charitable projects. It was a company renowned for combining global success with philanthropic actions.

  If Penny hadn’t had her head filled with mush, she’d have remembered straightaway. And, what was worse, if Kurt Bold was Managing Partner in White River, that meant he wasn’t a cowboy, or even just an accountant, he was a serious somebody in global finance. Which meant he must think she was a total idiot.
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br />   Her cheeks burned.

  “It’s okay,” he said, looking at her not unkindly. “It’s a simple mistake. A lot of other folks have made it.”

  “Really?”

  He broke into his rich laugh. “Well, no, if I’m honest, this is the first time. But I kinda like it.”

  His warmth and good humour were infectious. Penny found herself smiling back. For several minutes their gazes merged, until she registered a shift in Kurt’s mood. For a fleeting moment, his eyes darkened, but then he flicked his gaze to the papers on her desk, and when he looked up, any emotion she thought she’d seen had vanished.

  Penny shook herself and straightened up in her chair.

  “Well, now we’ve got that misunderstanding over. I’d honestly love to help, but the fact is, sorting my accounts is going to take up most of my time. Maybe I can find you someone else.” She reached into her drawer to look for a list of suppliers.

  “If it’s just your accounts that are bothering you then I have a solution.” He leaned forward. “Why don’t I come in a couple Saturdays and take a look?”

  “What?” Penny’s mouth dropped open. “Well, that’s very good of you, but I couldn’t possibly afford…”

  “On the house,” he said. “Penny, you’ve given me an interesting morning, going out of your way to tell me the history of your antiques and all, and I feel I owe you. Besides that, if this is the only way to get your help, then I don’t have any other option.”

  He offered a defeated smile which didn’t fool Penny in the slightest. It seemed to her the outwardly placid Kurt had somehow manoeuvred the conversation expertly until the matter was settled to his satisfaction. At a loss, she held out a hand, only to find him catching hold of it.

  “Great, so we have a deal,” he said with a wide smile, enveloping her fingers in his. He shook her hand in a firm, easy grasp. “I’m free on Tuesday lunchtime, would that suit you? There’s a pub across the road. How about lunch there, and we can go through a few of the preliminaries?”

  “Tuesday’s fine,” Penny said, “but—”

  “Great.” He rose from her desk and towered over her, blocking the light. “I’ve loved meeting you, Penny, but I’ve taken up too much of your time already. Looking forward to seeing you Tuesday.”

  Penny stumbled to her feet, but the slow-talking man was quicker than she anticipated and was almost at the door before she managed a faint goodbye. He swung the door shut, the shop’s bell ringing in his wake, leaving Penny staring after him. Through the glass, she could make out his broad shoulders, the pale shirt moving easily through the lunchtime crowds on the street outside, until he reached the corner and disappeared from view.

  She turned to find Tehmeena standing right next to her, following Kurt’s exit with as much curiosity as Penny.

  “So, what did your cowboy want?” she asked, agog.

  “Actually he’s not a cowboy, after all.” Penny picked up his business card. “He’s actually the head of White River, ridden into town to help us with our accounts. In exchange, we get to furnish his house. Oh, and he’ll pay us top whack, even though I thought White River was the name of his ranch in Wyoming.”

  “You didn’t.” Tehmeena’s eyes widened, then she began to laugh out loud, her pretty mouth open wide. “You and your daydreaming. White River. That’s priceless.”

  A few weeks ago, Penny would have laughed along but not since David’s hurtful outburst. Now it seemed even Tehmeena thought she was ditsy. Penny picked up the folder Kurt had left and flipped through it without looking up.

  There was silence for a couple of minutes, and then Penny felt her friend’s hand touch her shoulder.

  “Hey,” Tehmeena said quietly. “I’m not doing a David. I know he used to have a go at you all the time, but you should take no notice. You’ve got a brilliant imagination. And customers love you for it.”

  “Mmm.” Penny returned the brochure to her desk.

  Tehmeena squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “And you’ve got the head of White River doing our accounts. That’s one in the eye for smarmy David, anyway.” She lifted one slim eyebrow. “You must have really impressed him.”

  Penny shrugged. “I didn’t say anything,” she protested, slipping Kurt’s card into the folder with the rest of his paperwork. “It’s just that he didn’t want to give up. The more I kept telling him we didn’t have time to work with him, the more persistent he became. I expect he’s the sort of man who just likes a challenge.”

  Tehmeena cocked her head. “Well, I saw the way he was looking at you, hon.” A mischievous grin appeared. “If Penny Rosas is the challenge, seems to me the cowboy from White River was enjoying playing the game.”

  Penny looked up quickly. “Ha ha. Very funny. Now you’re the one with the imagination.”

  “Uhuh.” Tehmeena refused to budge. “Let’s see how long it is before he asks you out.”

  Penny stared. “Asks me out?” she repeated. “Kurt Bold is looking for a marriage based on logic and rational decisions. Do you really think that’s me?”

  Tehmeena’s grin was so broad it nearly met her ears. “You know what they say—opposites attract.”

  “Yeah, right.” Penny finally smiled back. Tehmeena looked so ridiculously hopeful, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Opposites do attract. I’ll give you that. But I think you’d need a pretty big magnet for this one.”

  * * * *

  Kurt clicked the green button on his screen and waited whilst his laptop dialled through to Wyoming. The tone sounded several times without response, and he was on the verge of disconnecting when his sister’s face suddenly filled the screen.

  “Hey Kurt. Sorry for the wait. I was just feeding Selina.”

  “Girls keeping you busy, Ann?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” his sister said. Her petite features were looking a little wan, despite her tan. “Selina slept through the night last night, though, so that’s helped. And Caitlin’s a doll. She tries to help with the chores. And she told me today she’s too big a girl to cry now that she’s four.”

  Kurt laughed. “Guess four’s a big age,” he said. “Give them both a hug from their uncle. Wish I could be there to help you with those chores.”

  He kept his tone light, but his concern was evident in the way he leaned forward toward the screen. Ann shook her head swiftly, the microphone catching the faint tinkling sound of her earrings.

  “There’s no need. You’ve already done plenty. I paid someone to clear the garden with the last money you sent. Caitlin has a swing and a slide and everything a little girl could want.”

  Everything a little girl could need…except a father. The words went unspoken between them. Ann’s latest boyfriend had left her, just the same as the previous one. Kurt’s sister ran into relationships with boundless optimism, expecting everything to be rosy—always sure that this time it was definitely true love. But every time the guy was either faithless or feckless. Kurt had lost count of the number of times his sister had used his shoulder to cry on. But no matter how he tried to convince her, she continued to hold blindly to the belief that true love was just around the corner.

  Kurt had been protecting his half-sister ever since he was twelve years old and she was just a tiny scrap in a diaper. No matter how often his little sister messed up her life, Kurt would always be there to pick up the pieces, because deep down, he understood just what she was looking for with that unshakeable romantic longing. She was trying to fill the empty hole left by their childhood. But Kurt also knew that that hole would never be filled by true love, or whatever else Ann wanted to call it, because all that was just a fairy-tale. Fine in stories but not for real life. He wished his sister would accept that, as he had done, and be content to live her life without expectation of anything more. Things would be simpler.

  She looked at him now with eyes the same cool grey as his. Though unlike Kurt’s, hers were filled with hope.

  “Anyway, how about you?” she asked. “What’s new in London?�
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  “I have this to show you,” he said, holding up the estate agent’s brochure. “I finally bought a house.”

  “A house! Cool. What’s it like? And where?”

  Kurt went through the photos one by one, explaining the history of neighbouring Richmond Park. As a piece of green space, it was tiny on Wyoming’s scale, but Ann thought it was charming.

  “So, a big house and a park,” she said, her head on one side. “Guess now all you need is a wife and children.”

  Kurt folded the photos away. He had told Ann a few days ago that he planned to marry, and she had been so excited she’d almost reached through the screen and kissed him. She wanted to know all about the girl who’d finally captured his heart. When Kurt explained that he hadn’t actually proposed to anyone yet and that he wasn’t in love, his sister’s happiness plummeted sharply. She’d regarded him in that sad, quizzical way she always did when he did something she couldn’t understand. Now as Kurt folded the estate agent’s paperwork, an image of Penny popped into his head, her mouth rounded softly in surprise when he’d told her the same thing.

  “Actually, I met someone today you’d like,” he said.

  “Oh?” Ann’s face looked so hopeful, Kurt had to laugh.

  “Not in the girlfriend way. Her name’s Penny. She works in an antique shop, and she’s going to help me furnish the house.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  Kurt rolled his eyes. He was going to tell his sister, no, Penny wasn’t pretty. He was ready to explain that when he’d first seen her, he’d thought her unremarkable to the point of plainness. Her oval face, pale with weariness, had been crunched tight in concentration over her papers, and her nondescript brown hair scraped back in a ponytail. When she’d stood up to speak to him, she’d been small in her flat work shoes and slightly plump. She’d looked like she badly needed some fresh air and a long vacation.

  But then he thought of the way she’d lit up when she started talking about the antiques in her shop and how the sudden vitality transformed her weary features. Her passionate animation had transfixed him. And when she’d spoken of how little she’d travelled her blue eyes had deepened in shade. She’d lifted her face to his with such an attractively wistful smile that he’d found himself drawn to her, wanting to keep the glow from vanishing. It was as though, for a moment, she had bewitched him. And maybe she had cast some sort of spell, because now he faced giving up several Saturday mornings to go through her accounts—not something he’d ever offered to do for anyone else.