trouble. She hadn’t expected anything—just that she’d slip away quietly while everyone else was at the bar across the road.
‘Thanks. You’ll be pleased to know it’ll go to good use—I’ll probably spend it on paint.’
Neil gaped at her. ‘You’re leaving us to be an artist?’
She laughed. ‘No. I meant masonry paint. I’ve been left a cinema in a will. It’s a bit run-down but I’m going to restore it and see if I can get it up and running properly.’
‘A cinema? Then you,’ Neil said, ‘are coming across to the Mucky Duck with us right now, and you’re going to tell us everything—and that’s not a suggestion, Nicole, because we’ll carry you over there if we have to.’
It was the first time Nicole had actually felt part of the team. How ironic that it had happened just as she was leaving them.
‘OK,’ she said, and let them sweep her across the road in the middle of a crowd.
* * *
The next day, Nicole was in the cinema with a clipboard and a pen, adding to her list of what she needed to do when her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen, half expecting that it would be her daily call from the lawyer at Hunter Hotels trying to persuade her to sell the Electric Palace, even though she’d told him every time that the cinema wasn’t for sale. Not recognising the number on her screen, and assuming it was one of the calls she was waiting to be returned, she answered her phone. ‘Yes?’
‘Ms Thomas?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Gabriel Hunter from Hunter Hotels.’
Clearly the lawyer had realised that she wasn’t going to say yes to the monkey, so now it was the organ-grinder’s turn to try and persuade her. She suppressed a sigh. ‘Thank you for calling, Mr Hunter, but I believe I’ve made my position quite clear. The Electric Palace isn’t for sale.’
‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘but we have areas of mutual interest and I’d like to meet you to discuss them.’
In other words, he planned to charm her into selling? She put on her best bland voice. ‘That’s very nice of you to ask, but I’m afraid I’m really rather busy at the moment.’
‘It won’t take long. Are you at the cinema right now?’
‘Yes.’
She regretted her answer the moment he asked, ‘And you’ve been there since the crack of dawn?’
Had the Hunters got someone spying on her, or something? ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.’ There was a lot to do. And she thought at her best, first thing in the morning. It made sense to start early.
‘I’d be the same,’ he said, mollifying her only slightly. ‘So I’d say you’re about due for a coffee break. How about I meet you at the café on Challoner Road in half an hour?’
‘Where you’ll have a carnation in your buttonhole and be carrying a copy of the Financial Times so I can recognise you?’ She couldn’t help the snippy retort.
He laughed. ‘No need. I’ll be there first—and I’ll recognise you.’
Hunter Hotels probably had a dossier on her, including a photograph and a list of everything from her route to work to her shoe size, she thought grimly. ‘Thank you for the invitation, but there really isn’t any point in us meeting. I’m not selling.’
‘I’m not trying to pressure you to sell. As I said, I want to discuss mutual opportunities—and the coffee’s on me.’
‘I’m not dressed to go to a café. I’m covered in dust.’
‘I’d be worried if you weren’t, given the current condition of the cinema. And I’d be even more worried if you were walking around a run-down building wearing patent stilettos and a business suit.’
There was a note of humour in Gabriel Hunter’s voice. Nicole hadn’t expected that, and she quite liked it; at the same time, it left her feeling slightly off balance.
‘But if you’d rather I brought the coffee to you, that’s fine,’ he said. ‘Just let me know how you take your coffee.’
It was tempting, but at least if they met in a neutral place she could make an excuse to leave. If he turned up at the cinema, she might have to be rude in order to make him leave and let her get on with things. And, at the end of the day, Gabriel Hunter was working on the business next door to hers. They might have mutual customers. So he probably had a point about mutual opportunities. Maybe they should talk.
‘I’ll see you at the café in half an hour,’ she said.
She brushed herself down and then was cross with herself. It wasn’t as if he was her client, and she wasn’t still working at the bank. It didn’t matter what she looked like or what he thought of her. And if he tried to push her into selling the Electric Palace, she’d give him very short shrift and come back to work on her lists.
* * *
So Nicole Thomas had agreed to meet him. That was a good start, Gabriel thought. He’d certainly got further with her than their company lawyer had.
He worked on his laptop with one eye on the door, waiting for her to turn up. Given that she’d worked in a bank and her photograph on their website made her look like a consummate professional, he’d bet that she’d walk through the door thirty seconds earlier than they’d agreed to meet. Efficiency was probably her middle name.
Almost on cue, the door opened. He recognised Nicole immediately; even though she was wearing old jeans and a T-shirt rather than a business suit, and no make-up whatsoever, her mid-brown hair was pulled back in exactly the same style as she’d worn it at the bank. Old habits clearly died hard.
She glanced around the café, obviously looking for him. For a moment, she looked vulnerable and Gabriel was shocked to feel a sudden surge of protectiveness. She worked for a bank and had worked her way up the management ladder, so she most definitely didn’t need protecting; but there was something about her that drew him.
He was horrified to realise that he was attracted to her.
Talk about inappropriate. You didn’t fall for your business rival. Ever. Besides, he didn’t want to get involved with anyone. He was tired of dating women who had preconceived notions about him. All he wanted to do was talk to Nicole Thomas about mutual opportunities, point out all the many difficulties she was going to face in restoring the cinema, and then talk her into doing the sensible thing and selling the Electric Palace to him for a price fair to both of them.
* * *
Nicole looked round the café, trying to work out which of the men sitting on their own was Gabriel Hunter. Why on earth hadn’t she looked him up on the internet first, so she would’ve known exactly who she was meeting here? Had she already slipped out of good business habits, just days after leaving the bank? At this rate, she’d make a complete mess of the cinema and she’d be forced to go back to her old job—and, worse still, have to admit that she’d failed in her bid for freedom.
Then
