Kate Hardy - Wish Upon a Wedding

He kissed her. ‘I’m beginning to think that I should employ you on my R and D team.’

‘Now that,’ she said, ‘really wouldn’t work. I’m used to doing things my way and I’d hate to have to go by someone else’s rules all the while. Besides, I don’t want you bossing me about and I think we’d end up fighting.’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Claire—I like how things are now.’

‘Me, too,’ she admitted.

‘Make love, not war—that’s a great slogan, you know.’

She grinned. ‘Just as long as it’s not all talk and no action, Mr Farrell.’

He laughed. ‘I can take a hint.’ And he kissed her until she was dizzy.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Claire and Sean grew closer. Claire didn’t get to see Sean every evening, but she talked to him every day and found herself really looking forward to the times they did see each other. And even on days when things were frustrating and refused to go right, or she had a client who changed her mind about what she wanted at least twice a day, it wasn’t so bad because Claire knew she would be seeing Sean or talking to him later.

And he indulged her by taking her to one of her favourite places—the Victoria and Albert Museum. She took him to see her favourite pieces of clothing, showing him the fabrics, the shapes and the stitching that had inspired some of her own designs. When they stopped for a cold drink in the café, she looked at him.

‘Sorry. I rather went into nerd mode. You should have told me to shut up.’

He smiled. ‘Actually, I really enjoyed it.’

‘But I was lecturing you, making you look at fiddly bits and pieces that probably bored you stupid.’

‘You were lit up, Claire. Clothing design is your passion. And it was a privilege to see it,’ he said softly. He reached across the table, took her hand and drew it to his lips. ‘Don’t ever lose that passion.’

He’d accepted her for who she was, Claire thought with sudden shock. The first man she’d ever dated who’d seen who she was, accepted it, and encouraged her to do what she loved.

In turn, Sean gave her a personal guided tour of the toffee factory. ‘I’m afraid the white coat and the hair covering are non-negotiable,’ he said.

‘Health and safety. This is a working factory. And the clothes are about function, not form—just as they should be,’ she said.

‘I guess.’ He took her through the factory, explaining what the various stages were and letting her taste the different products.

‘I love the fact you’re still using your great-grandparents’ recipe for the toffee,’ she said. ‘And the photographs.’ She’d noticed the blown-up photographs from years before lining the walls in the reception area. ‘It’s lovely to see that connection over the years.’

‘A bit like you,’ he said, ‘and the way you hand-decorate a dress exactly the same as they would’ve done it two hundred years ago.’

‘I guess.’

They were halfway through when Sean’s sales manager came over.

‘Sean, I’m really sorry to interrupt,’ he said, smiling acknowledgement at Claire. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a situation.’

‘Hey—don’t mind me,’ Claire said. ‘The business comes first. I can do a tour at any time.’

‘Thanks,’ Sean said. ‘What’s the problem, Will?’

‘I had the press on the phone earlier, talking about the takeover bid,’ Will said. ‘I explained that it’s not happening and Farrell’s is carrying on exactly as before, but someone’s clearly been spreading doubts among our biggest customers, because I’ve been fielding phone calls ever since. And one of our customers in particular says he wants to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey.’

‘You’re my sales manager,’ Sean said. ‘Which makes you as much of an organ grinder as I am.’

Will looked awkward. ‘Not in Mel Archer’s eyes.’

‘Ah. Him. ’ Sean grimaced. ‘Claire, would you mind if I let Will finish the tour with you?’

‘Sure,’ she said.

‘I’ll talk to Archer and explain the situation to him,’ Sean said. ‘And I’ll make it very clear to him that I trust my senior team to do their jobs well and use their initiative.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Sean said. ‘I’ll see you later, Claire.’

She smiled at him. ‘No worries. I’ll wait for you in reception.’

‘Sorry. It’s the monkey rather than the organ grinder for you, too,’ Will said.

She smiled. ‘Sean says you’re an organ grinder. That’s good enough for me.’

Will finished taking her round and answered all her questions. Including ones she knew she probably shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help herself; this was a chance to see another side of Sean.

‘So have you worked for Sean for long?’ she asked Will.

‘Three years,’ Will said. ‘And he’s probably the best manager I’ve ever worked with. He doesn’t micromanage—he trusts you to get on and do your job, though he’s always there if things get sticky.’

‘Which I guess they would be, in a toffee factory,’ Claire said with a smile.

Will laughed. ‘Yeah. Pun not actually intended. What I mean is he knows the business inside out. He’s there if you need support, and if there’s a problem you can’t solve he’ll have an answer—though what he does is ask you questions to make you think a bit more about it and work it out for yourself.’

So her super-efficient businessman liked to teach people and develop his staff, too. And it was something she knew he wouldn’t have told her himself.

From the half of the tour Sean had given her and the insights Will added, Claire realised that maybe Sean really was living his dream; he really did love the factory and his job, and not just because it was his heritage and he felt duty-bound to preserve it for the next generation. Though she rather thought that if he’d had a choice in the matter, he would’ve worked in the research and development side of the business.

‘He’s a good man,’ she said, meaning it.

* * *

When Ashleigh and Luke returned from their honeymoon, they invited Claire over to see the wedding photographs. She arrived bearing champagne and brownies. Sean was there already, and she gave him a cool nod of acknowledgement before cooing over the photographs and choosing the ones she wanted copies of.

A little later, he offered to help her make coffee. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’ he asked softly when they were alone in Ashleigh’s kitchen.

‘No.’ Clare frowned. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Just you seemed a little cool with me tonight.’

‘In front of Ash, yes—she expects me to be just on the verge of civil with you. If I’m nice to you, she’s going to guess something’s going on, and I don’t want her to know about this.’ Claire took a deep breath. ‘She’s already asked me a couple of questions, and I told her we came to a kind of truce in Capri—once you realised it wasn’t my fault her wedding dress disappeared—and you were one step away from grovelling.’

‘You told her I was grovelling ?’

Claire grinned. ‘She just laughed and said grovelling isn’t in your vocabulary, and she’d give it a week before we started sniping at each other again.’

He moved closer. ‘I’m definitely not grovelling, but I’m not sniping either.’ He paused. ‘In fact, I’d rather just kiss you.’

‘I’d rather that, too,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m not ready for Ash to know about this yet.’

‘So I’m your dirty little secret?’

‘For now—and I’m yours,’ she said.

At the end of the evening, Sean said, ‘Claire, it’s raining—I’ll give you a lift home to save you getting drenched.’