She stared at the folder and shrugged. ‘That’s just a whole bunch of pictures and ideas I’ve collected and...’ She trailed off.
He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘It’s a whole lot more than that.’
Okay, there were recipes and menus and table settings and names of businesses she might be able to use. There were colour schemes for Victorian houses, teapots, and anything else that had taken her fancy that she thought might prove inspirational for her own venture. She’d have to get a bigger folder soon because that one was bursting at the seams and she was adding to it all the time.
‘This helped me visualise your dream.’
His hand on hers was warm and it seemed to be melting her from the inside out.
‘Rick, I—’
‘It made me see your Victorian teahouse wasn’t some last-ditch plan to save your skin, but...’
She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip only tightened. ‘Nell?’
She couldn’t resist him. Not when he said her name like that. She lifted her gaze to his.
‘This is a dream of long standing. It’s something you’ve thought long and hard about. You have the drive and the work ethic to make a success of this business.’
His thumb stroked her wrist in lazy circles. She wanted to stretch and purr at his touch.
‘I’m cynical enough to know that’s not necessarily a recipe for success.’
‘Well, of course not,’ she said, because she had to say something and that slow circling of his thumb was addling her brain.
‘But you have an X factor.’
His thumb stopped its stroking and the cessation added weight to his words.
‘An X factor?’ What on earth...? Had he had too much sun today?
‘Talent.’
Everything inside her stilled.
‘Your cupcakes could make grown men weep.’
‘Oh, anyone can learn to do that.’ She pulled her hand from his to wave it in the air. She’d reclaimed it deliberately. Rick was treading on her dreams—admittedly very carefully—but if he suddenly became lead-footed she wasn’t sure she could bear it.
He shook his head. ‘Nobody makes cupcakes like you. Why are you determined to dismiss that as if it’s of little value?’
Not holding his hand didn’t help at all. She reached across the table to lace her fingers through his. ‘The thing is, Rick, it doesn’t actually seem like much. After twenty-five years of privileged living it seems the only talent I’ve acquired is to make cupcakes. I know they’re pretty good, but...’ She shrugged. As much as she tried to channel nonchalance, she’d never felt more naked in her life.
‘They’re not just good. They’re spectacular. They’re the kind of cupcakes people travel hundreds of kilometres for.’
She laughed. ‘Now you’re just being silly.’
‘And you’re wrong. You’re good at lots of things. You’re running your own small business, aren’t you?’
‘Not very successfully if today is anything to go by.’
‘You troubleshot that.’
He’d troubleshot that.
‘You have social poise and that’s rarer than you know. It’ll hold you in good stead as the face of the business when the teahouse is up and running—you’ll need it. You also have vision and courage and you’re not afraid of hard work or sacrifice.’
She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to forestall her. ‘Sorry, Princess, but you’re not going to talk me out of believing in you.’
Unconsciously, her hand tightened in his. ‘You believe in me?’ she whispered.
‘Heart and soul.’
Her heart leapt.
‘I believe in you so much I’m willing to lay out the money you need to get your business off the ground.’
A lump the size of a teapot lodged in her throat. Nobody had ever told her they believed in her before.
‘So will you accept my loan and make this dream of yours a reality?’
She really wanted to say yes, but the lump refused to dislodge. She stared at him and his face gentled as if he could read what was on her mind. He reached out his fingers as if to touch her cheek. She held her breath...
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