November Harlequin Presents 2(241)

‘Ah—Milo…’ He drank from his mug of black unsweetened coffee. ‘So it was Milo you wanted the toy for?’

‘Yes,’ she said briefly. ‘He’ll be five soon.’ Then her earlier frustration threatened to surface again. ‘It seems to me that Latimer’s have got it well and truly wrong this time. They clearly didn’t have the vision to see that demand would exceed the supply they were prepared to buy for their shelves. I mean…this is the biggest store for miles around—not some little corner shop with limited cashflow!’

‘If, on the other hand, supply had exceeded demand, or this craze had fallen off suddenly,’ he intervened, ‘they’d have perhaps a hundred cases of Runaway Rascals to sell off at a cut price in the sale…and there goes their profit.’

‘Their profit!’ Cryssie nearly exploded. ‘This place must be awash with profit! They can afford to share a bit of it, for heaven’s sake, rather than let small children down at Christmas!’

The hint of a smile played around his lips as he listened to her outburst, and he stared at her for a moment. She was devoid of any make-up, he noticed, but wasn’t an altogether unattractive woman—though her outfit of a rather shapeless fawn jacket over a brown skirt was hardly the height of fashion. Her long fair hair was drawn fiercely back behind her ears, accentuating a smooth, high forehead, and her green eyes, looking at him squarely, dominated her oval-shaped face. Her only jewellery appeared to be a tiny pair of gold ear studs. An honest description of her would be ‘wholesome’, he decided briefly. His lips curled slightly as he found himself assessing her. Well, that was what he always did when meeting a member of the opposite sex, wasn’t it? Took stock, so to speak. And this one would be placed in the ‘unmemorable’ category, he decided.

Cryssie finished her coffee, waiting for him to take her up on her last remark, but he said no more. And whether it was the sudden effect of caffeine and sugar in her bloodstream, or because she couldn’t have cared less if she insulted the owner of Latimer’s sitting next to her, she threw discretion to the winds and sailed on blindly.

‘There are all sorts of ways they could tighten up in this place,’ she said. ‘Generally, I mean. For example, they often don’t seem to stock the same things twice…it’s so annoying!’ She wasn’t going to enlighten him as to what she was talking about—a particularly pretty bra and pants set she’d bought for Polly, which had never been repeated. ‘And as for getting a member of staff to help you—they’re invisible, or looking the other way! It encourages shoplifting with so few assistants around. I’m sure anyone could help themselves to anything they fancied and march out without paying. No one would notice!’

Her eyes sparkled with ocean-green intensity in the artificial light of the restaurant, and without giving him a chance to get a word in, she went on. ‘I work for Hydebound—do you know it? We deal exclusively in leather goods, all made by local experts, and—’

‘Yes…I do know of them,’ he murmured. ‘They’re right on the outskirts of town…rather out of the way, aren’t they?’

Cryssie nodded. ‘Our handbags, belts and briefcases are always in demand, and everyone takes responsibility for what they do. As with all smaller concerns, we do have our problems from time to time, but then everyone works all the harder.’

She sat back defiantly, and was suddenly aware of his eyes softening briefly with mild amusement as he looked across at her.

‘Well, you obviously have very firm opinions,’ he said. ‘And by the sound of it Hydebound are very lucky to have you on their staff.’

Cryssie bit her lip for a second, anxious thoughts suddenly clouding her expression. Hydebound, like all small businesses, could be commercially vulnerable at times. Although they had a great reputation for quality and design, the price of leather and the regular increase in running costs, not to mention competition from much cheaper imports from all the new EC countries, regularly gave cause for concern. A detectable shiver ran through her, and she suddenly wished that she was home now, sitting comfortably in front of the fire.

‘I really have to go,’ she said abruptly, standing up, and he stood as well, moving her chair back for her as she picked up her bags. ‘Thanks for the coffee—and the doughnut,’ she added airily.

‘I expect you’re looking forward to a good holiday…Do you work full time?’ he asked casually.

‘I do,’ Cryssie said, shooting him a glance. He probably didn’t approve of that, she thought…Mothers working full time instead of staying at home, looking after the family. He looked that type. Well, he could think what he liked, and she wasn’t going to enlighten him about her true personal situation—that she wasn’t Milo’s mother. It was none of his business.