sincerely meant,’ he said. ‘You did the right thing, following your dreams.’
‘I know I did. And I’m happy doing what I do. I’m never going to be rich, but I make enough for what I need—and that’s important.’ She paused. ‘But what about you, Sean? What about your dreams?’
‘I’m living them,’ he said automatically.
‘But supposing Farrell’s didn’t exist,’ she persisted. ‘What would you do then?’
‘Start up another Farrell’s, I guess,’ he said.
‘So toffee really is your dream?’ She didn’t sound as if she believed him.
‘Of course toffee’s my dream. What’s wrong with that?’ he asked.
‘You’re the fourth generation to run the business, Sean,’ she said softly. ‘You have a huge sense of family and heritage and integrity and duty. Even if you didn’t really want to do it, you wouldn’t walk away from your family business. Ever.’
It shocked him that she could read him so accurately. Nobody else ever had. She wasn’t judging him; she was just stating facts. ‘I like my job,’ he protested. He did.
‘I’m not saying you don’t,’ she said softly. ‘I’m just asking you, what’s your dream?’
‘I’m living it,’ he said again. Though now she’d made him question that.
It was true that he would never have walked away from the business, even if his parents hadn’t been killed. He’d always wanted to be part of Farrell’s. It was his heritage.
But, if he was really honest about it, he’d felt such pressure to keep the business going the same way that his father had always run things. After his parents had died in the crash, he’d needed to keep things stable for everyone who worked in the business, and keeping to the way things had always been done seemed the best way to keep everything on a stable footing.
He’d been so busy keeping the business going. And then, once he’d proved to his staff and his competitors that he was more than capable of running the business well, he’d been so busy making sure that things stayed that way that he just simply hadn’t had the time to think about what he wanted.
Just before his parents’ accident, he’d been working on some new product ideas. Something that would’ve been his contribution to the way the family business developed. He’d loved doing the research and development work. But he’d had to shelve it all after the accident, and he’d never had time to go back to his ideas.
Though it was pointless dwelling on might-have-beens. Things were as they were. And the sudden feeling of uncertainty made him antsy.
Sean had intended to ask Claire to stay, that night; but right at that moment he needed some distance between them, to get his equilibrium back. ‘I’d better check to see if your clothes are dry.’
They were. So it was easy to suggest making a cold drink while she got dressed. Easier still to hint that it was time for her to go home—particularly as Claire took the hint. He let her walk out of the door without kissing her goodbye.
And he spent the rest of the evening wide awake, miserable and regretting it. She’d pushed him and he’d done what he always did and closed off, not wanting her to get too close.
But her words went round and round in his head. What’s your dream?
The problem was, you couldn’t always follow your dreams. Not if you had responsibilities and other people depended on you.
Everybody has a dream, Sean.
What did he really want?
He sat at his desk, staring out of the window at a garden it was too dark to see. Then he gritted his teeth, turned back to his computer and opened a file.
Dreams were a luxury. And he had a business to run—one that had just managed to survive a takeover bid. Dreams would have to wait.
SEAN SPENT THE next day totally unable to concentrate.
Which was ridiculous because he never, but never, let any of his girlfriends distract him from work.
But Claire Stewart was different, and she got under his skin in a way that nobody ever had before. He definitely wasn’t letting her do it, but it was happening all the same—and he really didn’t know what to do about it.
Part of him wanted to call her because he wanted to see her; and part of him was running scared because she made him look at things in his life that he’d rather ignore.
And he still couldn’t get her words out of his head. Everybody has a dream, Sean. Just what was his?
He still hadn’t worked out what to say to her by the evening, so he buried himself in work instead. And he noticed that she hadn’t called him, either. So did that mean she, too, thought this was turning out to be a seriously bad idea and they ought to end it?
And then, on Tuesday morning, his PA brought him a plain white box.
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
Jen shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I was just asked to give it to you.’
There was no note with the box. He frowned. ‘Who brought it?’
‘A blonde woman. She wouldn’t give her name. She said you’d know who it was from,’ Jen said.
His heart skipped a beat.
Claire.
But if Claire had actually come to the factory and dropped this off personally, why hadn’t she come to see him?
Or maybe she thought he’d refuse to see her. They hadn’t exactly had a fight on Sunday evening, but he had to acknowledge that things had been a little bit strained when she’d left. Maybe this was her idea of a parley, the beginning of some kind of truce.
And hadn’t she said about not sending him flowers and how you couldn’t give chocolates to a confectioner?
‘Thank you. I have a pretty good idea who it’s from,’ he said to Jen, and waited until she’d closed the door behind her before opening the box.
Claire had brought him cake.
Not just cake—the most delectable lemon cake he’d ever eaten in his life.
He gave in and called her business line.
She answered within three rings. ‘Dream of a Dress, Claire speaking.’
‘Thank you for the cake,’ he said.
‘Pleasure.’
Her voice was completely neutral, so he couldn’t tell her mood. Well, he’d do things her way for once and ask her straight out. ‘Why didn’t you come in and say
