them, over a supermarket birthday cake and fizzy lemonade on the patio, instead of at the elaborate birthday party Kate was planning inLondon. According to the latest report, professional swim coaches, entertainers and a catering company were involved.
And that was what Freya wanted. It would have been cruel to take it away from her. She was so excited about the one and only time she would celebrate turning eight in her life.
She didn’t want just her silly old dad and a couple of birds’ nests and plants to look at in the cottage. Nor his chocolate bunnies, nor his hand-carved parrots and not his life.
His little girl was growing up and away from him.
His heavy lunch turned and growled inside his stomach. It was still early days yet, but the signs were all there. Would there come a day when she did not want him to pick her up from school because in her eyes her dad was a loser? A dreamer who had made his life on an island with some foolish dream of selling organic cocoa beans for a profit? A dad who was not there for her when she needed him? A dad who had let her down?
He waved at her little face as it grinned from inside the shop.
He had to make this estate a success. He had to. For her sake as well as his own.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Y OU have
got
to be kidding me.’
‘I know. It does look a little unassuming. But you can’t deny it is close to home.’
Daisy pressed her lips together and blinked at the long thin building which took up almost the full length of the bottom part of the country garden. Hidden on the other side of a hedge, it was almost invisible from the pretty thatched cottage which Max called home—which was probably a good thing, because this brick monstrosity was one of the ugliest buildings she had seen in a long time. And she delivered to cafés all over London!
But this—this was something else.
Ivy grew out of the guttering and pigeons called to her from the tall trees almost touching the sloping metal roof, which was covered in splats of what pigeons did best.
The address that Max had scribbled down on the back of a restaurant menu had seemed at first just like any other location, with ahouse number and a street and the name of a village in block capitals, just in case she got lost, but it had taken her almost an hour to drive from the city that hot Wednesday morning, and for the last ten miles she had barely exceeded twenty miles an hour. Winding narrow country lanes had led to villages with names like Nately Broomwood and houses called Badger’s Tail Cottage. And she
had
got lost. Twice. Only her pride had prevented her from ringing Max and asking for directions. She had resorted to thumping the steering wheel and peering at her map of rural Hampshire instead. By the time she had found the cottage, down a remote country lane, her hair had been frizzed, her print sundress creased beyond repair and her special occasion sandals had been biting into her swollen feet.
Which went some way to explaining why she was now hot, sticky and tired, and the longer she stood in the heat the more exasperated and cranky she became.
Max Treveleyn, on the other hand, seemed totally impervious to the hot weather. He was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt promoting a long-defunct rock band and loose cotton work trousers which had dropped a couple of inches onto his taut round hips to expose the top of black boxers.
There was a smudge of dirt down one side of his long straight nose, the sun-bleached hairs on his tanned arms were grubby with grease, he had not shaved, and his hair was set with trails of cobwebs. His body temperature might be set to normal for a man used to the Caribbean, but to Daisy he still looked hotter than a hot thing from hot land, with a big dollop of hot and gorgeous on the side.
Which was more than a little annoying, considering how bedraggled she was feeling.
‘It’s a garage, Max. I was hoping for stainless steel and air-conditioning. And please tell me that you don’t
And that was what Freya wanted. It would have been cruel to take it away from her. She was so excited about the one and only time she would celebrate turning eight in her life.
She didn’t want just her silly old dad and a couple of birds’ nests and plants to look at in the cottage. Nor his chocolate bunnies, nor his hand-carved parrots and not his life.
His little girl was growing up and away from him.
His heavy lunch turned and growled inside his stomach. It was still early days yet, but the signs were all there. Would there come a day when she did not want him to pick her up from school because in her eyes her dad was a loser? A dreamer who had made his life on an island with some foolish dream of selling organic cocoa beans for a profit? A dad who was not there for her when she needed him? A dad who had let her down?
He waved at her little face as it grinned from inside the shop.
He had to make this estate a success. He had to. For her sake as well as his own.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Y OU have
got
to be kidding me.’
‘I know. It does look a little unassuming. But you can’t deny it is close to home.’
Daisy pressed her lips together and blinked at the long thin building which took up almost the full length of the bottom part of the country garden. Hidden on the other side of a hedge, it was almost invisible from the pretty thatched cottage which Max called home—which was probably a good thing, because this brick monstrosity was one of the ugliest buildings she had seen in a long time. And she delivered to cafés all over London!
But this—this was something else.
Ivy grew out of the guttering and pigeons called to her from the tall trees almost touching the sloping metal roof, which was covered in splats of what pigeons did best.
The address that Max had scribbled down on the back of a restaurant menu had seemed at first just like any other location, with ahouse number and a street and the name of a village in block capitals, just in case she got lost, but it had taken her almost an hour to drive from the city that hot Wednesday morning, and for the last ten miles she had barely exceeded twenty miles an hour. Winding narrow country lanes had led to villages with names like Nately Broomwood and houses called Badger’s Tail Cottage. And she
had
got lost. Twice. Only her pride had prevented her from ringing Max and asking for directions. She had resorted to thumping the steering wheel and peering at her map of rural Hampshire instead. By the time she had found the cottage, down a remote country lane, her hair had been frizzed, her print sundress creased beyond repair and her special occasion sandals had been biting into her swollen feet.
Which went some way to explaining why she was now hot, sticky and tired, and the longer she stood in the heat the more exasperated and cranky she became.
Max Treveleyn, on the other hand, seemed totally impervious to the hot weather. He was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt promoting a long-defunct rock band and loose cotton work trousers which had dropped a couple of inches onto his taut round hips to expose the top of black boxers.
There was a smudge of dirt down one side of his long straight nose, the sun-bleached hairs on his tanned arms were grubby with grease, he had not shaved, and his hair was set with trails of cobwebs. His body temperature might be set to normal for a man used to the Caribbean, but to Daisy he still looked hotter than a hot thing from hot land, with a big dollop of hot and gorgeous on the side.
Which was more than a little annoying, considering how bedraggled she was feeling.
‘It’s a garage, Max. I was hoping for stainless steel and air-conditioning. And please tell me that you don’t
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