Kate Hardy - His Shy Cinderella

‘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.