Nikki Logan - Awakened By His Touch

‘You think not?’

‘I question whether that kind of limited focus is sustainable. Outside of an apiary.’

She gave the bees one last puff of smoke and then refitted the lid with her fingers. ‘Limited?’

‘You’ve grown Morgan’s significantly over the past ten years. Why?’

‘To make better use of the winter months. To exploit more of the by-products that were going to waste. To discover more.’

‘Yet you’re not interested in continuing that growth?’

Time he stopped being hypnotised by this woman and her extraordinary talents and got back in the game, here.

Her sigh said she was aware of it too. ‘We don’t need to. We’re doing really well as is.’

‘You’re doing really well for a family of four and a smallish staff.’ Or so the Morgan’s file said. Then again, that same file had totally neglected to mention Laney’s blindness.

‘That’s all we are.’

‘So your growth is limited by your ambition. And your ambition—’ or perhaps lack of it ‘—is determined by your needs.’

Those long fingers that had done such a fine job of soothing the bees fisted down by her sides. ‘Morgan’s would never have come to your attention if we lacked ambition, Mr Garvey.’

Elliott. But he wasn’t going to ask her again. He wasn’t much on begging.

‘Yet it is limited. You’ve expanded as much as you want to.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing. This is our business—surely how hard or otherwise we pursue it is also up to us?’

‘But you have so much more potential.’

‘Why would we fight for a market share we don’t need or want? Surely that’s the very definition of sustainable? Not just taking for taking’s sake.’

He stared. She was as alien to him as her bees. ‘It’s not taking, Laney, it’s earning.’

‘I earn the good sleep I have every night. I earn the pleasure my job brings to me and to the people we work with. I earn the feeling of the sun on my face and the little surge of endorphins that hearing Happy Bees gives me. I am already quite rewarded enough for my work.’

‘But you could have so much more.’

Her shoulders rose and fell a few times in silence. ‘You mean I could be so much more?’

It was the frostiest she’d been with him since walking into the living room earlier. ‘Look, you are extraordinary. What you’ve achieved in the past decade despite your—’

She lifted one eyebrow.

Crap.

‘Disability? It’s okay to say it.’

Which meant it absolutely wasn’t.

‘Despite the added complexities of your vision loss,’ he amended carefully. ‘I can only imagine what you’d be capable of on the world stage with Ashmore Coolidge’s resources behind you.’

‘I have no interest in being on stage, Mr Garvey. I like my life exactly as it is.’

‘That’s because you have no experience outside of it.’

‘So I lack ambition and now I’m also naïve? Is this how you generally win clients over to your point of view?’

‘Okay. I’m getting off track. What I’m asking for is an open mind. Let me discover all the aspects of your business and pitch you some of the ideas I have for its growth. Let’s at least hash it out so that we can both say that we’ve listened.’

‘And you think one overnight stay and a tour of our operation is going to achieve that?’

‘No, I absolutely don’t. This is going to be a work in progress. I’d like to make multiple visits and do some more research in between. I’d like the opportunity to change your mind.’

She shrugged, but a hint of colour flamed up around the collar of her shirt. Had the thought of him returning angered her or—his stomach tightened a hint—had it interested her?

‘It’s your time to waste.’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘It’s not my decision to make. I’ll talk to my parents tonight. We’ll let you know tomorrow.’

CHAPTER THREE

WHY WAS IT that everyone thought they knew what she wanted better than she did?

Bad enough fielding her mother’s constant thoughts on why she should get out more and meet people and her father’s endless determination that not a single opportunity in life be denied her. Only her brother treated her with the loving disdain of someone you’d shared a womb with.

Now even total strangers were offering their heavily loaded opinions.

She’d met Elliott Garvey’s type before. Motivated by money. She couldn’t quite bring herself to suggest it was greed, because she’d seen no evidence of excess on his part, but then again she’d only known him for an hour or two.

Though it definitely felt longer.

Particularly the time out by the hives. She’d been distracted the whole time, feeling his heat reaching out to her, deciding he was standing too close to both her and the hives but then having his voice position proving her wrong. Unless he occupied more space than the average person? Maybe he was a large man?

He hadn’t sounded particularly puffed after his hike up the hill. Or while they’d power-walked to the carriage. There was no way of knowing without touching him. Or asking outright.

Excuse me, Mr Garvey, are you overweight?

He’d been just as direct with her, asking about her vision, so maybe he was the kind of man you could ask that of? Except she wasn’t the kind of woman who could ever ask it. Not without it sounding—and feeling—judgemental. And, as a lifelong recipient of the judgement of others, she was the last person to intentionally do it to another.

Nope. Elliott Garvey was a puzzle she would have to piece together incrementally. Subtly, or her mother would start pressing the paper for wedding invitations. But she couldn’t take too long or he’d be gone back to his corporate world, because she felt certain that her father wouldn’t agree to a series of visits. He’d only agreed to this one to be compliant with their financial management requirements.

Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy the next twenty-four hours. As much as she hated to admit it, he smelled really good. Most men in their district let the surf provide their hygiene and they either wore Eau de Farm or they bathed in fifty-per-cent-off cologne before driving into town to try and pick up. Elliott Garvey just had a tangy hint of...something...coming off him. And he was smart, too, which made his deep tones all the easier to listen to. Nothing worse than a phone sex voice on a man who had nothing of interest to say.

Not that she necessarily agreed with what he had to say, but he was astute and respectful, and he’d been about as tactful questioning her about her sight as anyone she’d ever met. Those first awkward moments notwithstanding.

‘So you’d be happy to show him around, Laney?’ her father repeated as they laid the table in their timber and glass home for dinner that evening.

Spending a bit more time in Elliott Garvey’s company wasn’t going to be an excruciating hardship. He was offering her his commercial expertise for free and she’d be happy to see the Morgan’s range reflected through the filter of that expertise. Maybe there’d be a quiet thing or two she could implement here on the farm. Without taking them global. There was still plenty of scope for improvement without worrying about world domination.

And then there was the whole enjoying the sound and smell of him...

‘Sure.’

She reached over one of the timber chairs and flattened her palm on the table, then placed the fork at her thumb and the knife at her widespread little finger. ‘It’s only one more day.’

‘Actually, I was thinking of agreeing to his request,’ her father said.

The chair-leg grunted on the timber floor as she stumbled against it. ‘To let him come back again?’