Molly stared at the camera, recording every minute of their current failure, and then at the blank sheet of paper in front of her. Finally, she looked up at Ben, who seemed about as up for this task as she did.
Was she seriously considering giving them another go?
His words from the other night kept circulating round her brain, and now every time their eyes connected, she experienced a sizzle of awareness that was getting stronger day by day. But if she chose to stay with Ben, it probably meant saying goodbye to the chance of marrying Duncan.
Or could it mean saying hello to the possibility of marrying Ben?
And why did the butterflies in her belly flap their wings so much harder at the second one?
Shelving the thought, she tried to focus on the task they’d been given, running a stall at the fete they were all due to attend this afternoon. So far they had an empty sheet of paper.
‘So, a quick sitrep.’ She forced some energy into her voice but bristled when Ben gave her an amused look. ‘Didn’t you use jargon in your company?’
‘Not military jargon, no, but by all means, fire away.’
His lips twitched and she narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s bite the bullet and get this done.’ He made a visible effort to school his features. ‘You were saying?’
Ignore him. Easier said than done when dry amusement looked so frigging sexy on him ‘We’ve agreed not to sell cakes as it’s boring and we can’t cook.’
He looked over to where the other pairs seemed to be making copious notes. ‘I bet they’ll all be running off to the kitchen to make fudge and brownies.’
‘At least they have an idea.’
‘We have an idea.’ He leant back against the lounger and she tried not to stare at his long legs, or the way his tanned arms flexed as he used them to pillow his head. ‘You just won’t agree to it.’
‘Giving prizes for throwing ping pong balls into jam jars? That’s so 1970s fete.’ She screwed up her face. ‘Next you’ll suggest a coconut shy and guess the weight of a pig.’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? It’s simple and won’t take us long to put together.’
‘I’d rather be making brownies than trying to find a fat pig. And anyway, why should I agree to your idea when you won’t consider any of mine? All of which were better.’ Out of the corner of her eye she watched Duncan get to his feet and stretch out his hand to help Jasmine up. He waved away her efforts to pick up their full flip chart – the one covered in ideas – and instead hoisted it easily under his arm.
When she glanced back at Ben, she saw he was staring at her. ‘What?’
A muscle ticked in Ben’s jaw. ‘You’d still rather be working with him?’
Was he jealous? And why did she like that thought? ‘Jasmine probably persuaded Duncan to go along with her idea. Or vice versa.’
‘And that makes it a good partnership, just going along with someone?’ His gaze narrowed on hers. ‘What happened to working together, combining brains, pooling ideas?’
‘That’s not what we’re doing though, is it?’ She retorted. ‘We’re throwing in ideas and the other person is dismissing them.’
‘You say dismissing. I say we’re challenging each other to come up with something even better.’
Duncan and Jasmine halted next to them on their way inside.
‘Oh dear.’ Duncan smirked at their empty flip chart. ‘Looks like you guys need a bit of inspiration.’ He winked at Jasmine. ‘I was lucky I had this one.’
Jasmine giggled. ‘He says that like it was all me. I mean, I said we should make fudge and wrap it up in muslin and cute little baskets, but he’s the one who upgraded it to vegan brownies, then listed everything we needed to do to make it happen.’ She put a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said anything.’ She wagged her finger at them. ‘No copying now.’
Ben looked at Molly. He didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t have to. His face said it all. Told you. Fucking brownies.
‘Come on, babe, we need to get baking.’ Duncan threaded Jasmine’s arm through his and the pair of them walked inside like something out of a Jane Austen novel.
‘I hate that he calls her babe,’ Molly said as she watched them go. ‘He used to call me that.’
‘You should hate that he called you that,’ Ben stated, following her gaze before focussing his tawny gaze back on her. ‘Molly is a lovely name, why not use it?’
‘Babe is a term of endearment. It made me feel special.’ Except why was Duncan using it for Jasmine? Was he really falling for her?
Ben gave her a long, level stare. ‘You are special. You don’t need a nickname to prove that.’
Her heart gave a delighted squeeze. If she was that special though, why did people keep walking away from her? ‘Some of us need the reassurance. I think we should sell something,’ she added quickly, determined to change the subject.
Ben didn’t reply, just inclined his head as if to say go on.
‘We haven’t got time to make anything from scratch unless it’s edible, which we’ve agreed is a no go, so we’d have to sell things that are already prepared. Like, I don’t know …’ She glanced around her. ‘Can we dig up some plants from the garden?’
‘I’m not sure the gardener would be too impressed.’
‘And yet another idea you’ve squashed,’ she muttered. ‘What’s the point? You’re just going to wear me down so in the end we go with your stupid jam jar game.’
‘Give me something better than stealing plants.’
God, he was annoying. ‘How about we go to charity shops and buy things we think we can sell at a higher price? You know, like those TV shows where they raid flea markets to get stuff they think is worth something.’
‘Or?’
She threw her hands in the air. ‘Or how about you come up with something instead of sitting there like a lump of … I don’t know … a lump of uselessness.’ He raised a brow in that really annoying way she wished she’d never found sexy. ‘Yes, that is a legitimate saying. It means you’re even worse than a useless lump. And anyway, instead of being one, you could actually try to be useful and throw some new ideas in. Or hey, rehash some old crappy ideas if you want. Just give me something because we’re floundering here.’ A slow smile spread across his face and into his eyes, carrying with it a warmth that took her breath away. ‘What’s funny?’
‘We could recycle some old, crappy ideas. Or…’
When he trailed off, she raised her eyes to the sky. Was there ever a more infuriating man than Ben? ‘Tell me, oh wise one … oh my God, that’s it!’ Her heart bounced against her ribs as she remembered their discussion in the restaurant the other evening. ‘We could buy some old clothes and upcycle them.’ It was frigging genius. But some of her enthusiasm dulled when she looked at her watch. ‘Have we really got time? We’d need to raid the charity shops, decide what to match with what and then actually make something.’ Slowly the practicalities of it all began to sink in. ‘I don’t even know if I can do this. I mean, sure, it’s a great idea, but I sell car parts. I’m not a seamstress.’
‘I have a jacket that says you are, and that you can do this.’ Without waiting for her to reply, he leapt to his feet and started towards the house.
‘Hey, wait. What about the flip chart? Making notes for what we need to do?’
Slowly he turned round. ‘We need to buy clothes and find a sewing machine.’ He gave a dismissive glance towards the flip chart. ‘Do you really need to write that down?’
Well, okay then. She bounded over to him, having to take two strides for his one. It wasn’t the Jane Austen show that Duncan and Jasmine had put on, and she was certain she saw the hovering cameraman smirk as she struggled to keep up, but Molly couldn’t stop grinning. She was finally going to upcycle some old clothes and try to sell them.
What’s more, Ben, Mr Businessman, actually believed she could do it.
* * *
Sitting in a deckchair at the back of their stall, Ben stretched out his legs and let his gaze wander away from the borrowed computer screen he’d been staring at and over to Molly as she crouched down to talk to the girl clutching her mum’s hand.
The girl who was currently trying on a funky denim jacket with a flower-patterned collar that matched two new side panels. That hid a big rip.
Not only had Molly managed to transform eight adult denim jackets, she’d also turned five children-sized jackets into garments kids wanted to wear. Molly’s gaze caught his over the curl-topped head of the little girl, and she grinned.
It was a grin he remembered from three years ago. Wide, smiling and full of happiness, it caught him right in the solar plexus. She was in her element here. All he’d had to do was riffle through charity shop rails for denim jackets and persuade his sister to find them a sewing machine.
‘I’ve sold another one,’ she squealed a few minutes later. ‘We’ve only got two kids’ jackets, one men’s and two women’s to go.’
‘Plus ten more jackets in a box under this table.’
She pouted. ‘That’s mean, reminding me of what I didn’t get round to doing.’
‘I was reminding you what you still had to do.’
Her brow wrinkled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, if you want to make something out of them, I’ve made you a website you could sell them on.’
Her mouth gaped open. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I don’t joke about business.’ He slid the computer across the table and watched her face as she clicked on the links. ‘I can tart it up, change stuff you don’t like. And obviously when you get a proper catalogue together we’ll need to upscale it.’
‘When?’ Her breath hitched. ‘We?’
He shrugged, like it didn’t bother him, but inside his stomach clenched. ‘You don’t have to do anything, but it’s there if you want to.’ His gaze locked with hers. ‘And so am I.’
‘Jesus, Ben.’ She pressed a hand to her chest and all he could think was lucky hand. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ Her gaze flew back to the laptop. ‘You made me a flipping website, just like that?’
‘Not just like that. It’s taken me most of the afternoon.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You know what I mean. You can’t set me up in business on a whim.’
‘I haven’t. The concept needs more work. A proper name, a plan, links to social media, turning into a more useable app, but I can help. If you want me to.’
‘I don’t know.’ Her face still looked shocked. ‘I haven’t thought about it for so long.’
‘I guessed as much.’ His gaze skimmed over her top and jeans. ‘Don’t get me wrong, you could wear a bin liner and I’d think you were hot, but you used to wear your own creations. Why did you stop?’
‘I … umm, okay, that was a nice comment about the bin liner. But to answer your question.’ Her eyes darted away from his. ‘Let’s just say it took me a while to piece myself back together after we split. I didn’t have the energy to think about designing my own stuff, never mind setting up a company. And then I met Duncan, and, well, I was happy again. I didn’t need to do it.’
Annoyance shot through him. ‘You were happy selling car parts?’
Those green eyes flashed back. ‘I was happy being with a guy who made me feel like I was loved.’
She turned away from him and stalked back to the clothes rail. For the rest of the afternoon, he was left staring at her glossy mane of red hair. Never her face.
By the time all the stalls were packed away and everyone was starting to pile into the coach, Molly hung back, choosing to chat to Marcus instead of following Ben inside. Marcus, who was effortlessly charming. And funny, apparently, Ben thought bitterly as he watched them from his seat, Molly throwing back her head with laughter at something Marcus said.
‘It looks to me like somebody’s jealous.’
Guiltily he dragged his eyes away, only to find Maya smiling down at him from the aisle. ‘I was wondering where Molly had got to,’ he remarked.
Maya smiled and bent to whisper in his ear. ‘Liar.’
‘How do you feel, watching them?’ he countered.
Maya sighed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe a bit miffed? That’s how Marcus rolls though; he’s friends with everyone. But I’m certain my feelings of jealousy weren’t anything like as strong as yours.’
Great. Now he’d lost his poker face. But it was one thing losing it to Maya, he thought as she made her way towards the back of the coach. It was another losing it to Molly. Or that damn camera which had followed them all day.
Finally, Molly and Marcus climbed on board. He steeled himself not to react as she walked towards him. If she ignored him, if she strode past and went to sit with Maya and Marcus…
Relief washed through him when she slid in beside him. And God, that really pissed him off. He didn’t want to react this way to a woman who didn’t share his feelings.
She said she was scared, give her a break.
He cleared his throat. ‘Do I have to worry about Marcus now, as well as James. And Duncan?’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m saying.’
She bit into her lip, and he felt it almost as if it had been his teeth, nibbling into that soft cushion. ‘Oh my God, you’re jealous.’ Her eyes lit up and her mouth began to curve. ‘You’re actually jealous.’
Excruciating didn’t come close to describing how this felt. ‘And that makes you happy?’
‘Absolutely.’ Her head bobbed, like she was suddenly so excited she couldn’t keep still. ‘I was so lost after you dumped me … no, don’t interrupt,’ she told him when he started to disagree. Again. ‘That’s how it felt. I didn’t know what I’d done, how I’d got it so wrong. I started to doubt everything. And now, knowing you’re jealous, even just a teeny bit, somehow it gives me something back. A control, I guess, that I lost when the person I’d set my heart on, the person I was starting to plan my life around, even though I know it was way too early for that, suddenly yanked it all from under my feet.’
Would he ever stop feeling like a shit? ‘I’m sorry.’ He winced at the inadequacy of the two simple words. ‘I don’t know what else to say.’
‘You don’t have to keep saying that. I know you are.’ She paused, and for once seemed to be thinking carefully before she spoke. ‘You asked me why I stopped with the upcycling idea, and our split was part of the reason. I didn’t just lose interest in things; I lost myself for a while.’
‘Until you found Duncan,’ he stated, careful to keep the bitterness from his voice.
‘Yes. He helped me find myself again.’
‘If he’d really done that, you wouldn’t still be doing a job you don’t like,’ he pointed out. ‘You’d have your own business by now.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Look, I’m really grateful for what you did, seriously, but owning a business isn’t everybody’s dream.’
‘Neither is selling car parts.’ She flushed with what? Embarrassment, anger? Either way, he’d been too blunt. ‘I didn’t mean that as a criticism of you. I just believe you’re capable of so much more. I bet you know all about Duncan’s personal training business, don’t you? He even broke up with you so he could come on this show and promote himself. Now ask yourself how many times he asked about your work, your hopes and dreams.’
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. And finally turned away to talk to one of the girls seated on the other side of the aisle from her.