Sparks Fly with the Billionaire

by Marion Lennox

  He cared so much.

  He watched on and, the more he watched, the more he knew the armour he’d so carefully built around him was shattered. He’d built the armour to avoid pain but the pain was here with him regardless. It was as if Allie was a part of him, something he hadn’t known was missing but now he was achingly aware of its loss.

  How could he lose what he’d never had?

  How could he move forward from here without his armour? he thought desperately. How could he possibly persuade her to let their two worlds collide?

  A banker and a girl in pink spangles.

  He had to try.

  * * *

  She knew he was watching her and her heart twisted and twisted. Pain was everywhere.

  She wanted him to go away.

  No. She didn’t. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave, but it had to happen.

  Her life was the remnants of this circus and she was committed for as far as the eye could see and further. He was heading back to Sydney. She was headed to a ramshackle farm and poverty and caring.

  She wouldn’t have it any other way, she told herself fiercely as the week wore on. This was her choice—she chose family.

  Matt was a man who walked alone. For a glorious short time she’d let herself fantasise about walking by his side, but that was all it had ever been.

  Fantasy.

  * * *

  Friday night. The final performance was the next day. The air of impenetrable gloom was settled hard. Even those who’d been offered new jobs, who were continuing with Carvers, seemed grey. Their performance had been impeccable, but Matt saw the professionalism that masked the sadness.

  During the week Duncan had been great, the

  elderly mayor now Margot’s permanent escort, but tonight was his granddaughter’s ballet performance. So Matt took Margot home after the circus, settled her with hot cocoa, watched her being sad as well—and then left.

  ‘You’re going back to talk to her?’ Margot demanded.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Make sure you get it right.’

  ‘I don’t know if there is a right,’ he said heavily. ‘But I need to try.’

  ‘Like I’m trying with Duncan,’ she said approvingly. ‘Good boy.’

  * * *

  The camels’ last meal was more a midnight snack. Camels were supposed to be able to go for a week between meals, Allie thought as she fed them, but no one had ever told these guys.

  Would Carvers want them? The contract said that Carvers had first rights to all the animals, but if they didn’t perform to expectation they’d be returned. Win-win for Carvers, she thought grimly. There’d be no long-term care expenses for animals past their prime for Carvers.

  ‘I’ll offer to take you back when you’re ready for retirement,’ she told them sadly. She thought the ponies would come back—they were getting old and slow. She’d organised space for them in her life plans.

  And if the camels were returned? Jack would love caring for them.

  Matt would pay.

  She’d been aware of him in the wings every performance for the last week. She knew he’d been talking to all the guys except her. Because he’d been ringmaster, albeit briefly, the crew treated him as one of them.

  But he wasn’t. He was a banker, in the wings, waiting for the curtain to close. She avoided talking to him and he didn’t push it.

  What was it about Matt that made her feel desolate? More desolate even than losing the circus.

  As desolate as losing her dogs? At the end of tomorrow’s performance, Carvers would move in and they’d be gone.

  They were lying on their customary bench now, watching her scratch Pharaoh’s ears, just watching. They knew something was wrong.

  She couldn’t bear it.

  ‘Allie?’

  She didn’t jump. It was almost as if she’d expected it—Matt’s voice coming from out of the dark.

  ‘I’ve almost finished,’ she said inconsequentially, and stopped scratching Pharaoh and turned to face him.

  He was a shadow in the night, dark and lean. He was wearing his gorgeous coat. Even though she could hardly see his eyes, she knew what his expression would be. She knew his eyes would be filled with concern.

  All week she’d felt his concern. He was concerned for all the crew, but for her... She felt as if he was ready to scoop her up, lift her from this world, take care of her as he’d taken care of her animals.

  ‘Allie, you can’t do this on your own,’ he said, and his words confirmed it.

  ‘Do...do what?’

  ‘Margot’s friend, Duncan, is the local mayor and his son’s the town’s realtor. He says the place you’ve found to live in is basic. Really basic.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She’d looked at all the places they could afford to rent, and had found a big old weatherboard house, a mile out of town, with four bedrooms and enough land so if Carvers discarded the ponies...when Carvers discarded the ponies...

  The dogs.

  Don’t go there. Think of the house, she decided, not the animals.

  Basic pretty much described it, but it’d fit Allie, her grandparents and Fizz and Fluffy. They could afford it—just.

  ‘What will you do out there?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve already talked to the local accountant. He’s offered me bookkeeping work.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘They’ll figure it out,’ she said, a little bit desperately. ‘Everyone has to face retirement.’

  ‘It’d be better if you had a place in town.’

  ‘You know we can’t afford it.’

  ‘Let me help.’

  She stilled. Closed her eyes. Knew what she had to say.

  ‘Long-term care for ageing circus performers as well as circus animals? I don’t think so.’

  ‘I can afford...’

  ‘I know you can,’ she said. ‘But allow us some pride. We need to move forward, Matt, without Bond’s Bank.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Bond’s Bank,’ he said. ‘I’m talking about me. And you.’

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  ‘Allie, I think,’ he said softly into the night, ‘that I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  There was an even longer silence at that.

  Love.

  Matt.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, Allie thought at last, when her mind was capable of rebooting. Girl meets rich, kind and sexy hero. Really sexy. Hero rides to girl’s rescue. Hero tells girl he loves her.

  Girl loves hero back?

  And it hit her, standing in the moonlight with her camels at her back and her dogs watching her, that it wasn’t all fantasy. It was possible she did love this man. Or it was more than possible.

  For how could she not? He was the kind of hero that fairy tales were made of. He was rich and kind and sexy and he’d ridden to her rescue and he was pretty much all-round fabulous.

  But it was more than that. She’d known him for almost two weeks. Was that long enough to see behind the façade, to see the vulnerability, the need, the boy behind the man?

  Was it long enough to sense that in this man she’d found someone she could spend the rest of her life with?

  Maybe in fairy tales, she told herself, for that was where happy ever after occurred. In fantasy land. In the world where pink sparkles reigned supreme, where there were no feed buckets and mud-spattered boots, where there was no retired circus family, shattered already, and if she walked away...

  She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and so did Matt. She could tell in the stiffness of his body language, by the way he held himself back when she knew—she knew—that every inch of him wanted to walk forward a
nd take her into his arms.

  She knew it because that was what she wanted. With all her heart.

  The fairy tale. The fantasy that was the dream.

  ‘I can wait,’ he said even more gently, and something inside was coming apart. Tearing, ripping, the pain was almost unbelievable.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘You’ve done enough.’

  ‘This isn’t doing anything for you,’ he said, and she heard it then, a pain that matched hers. ‘This is doing something...asking something for me. Allie, I need you.’

  He did move then, but she hardly noticed him moving. One moment she was standing, numb and still and alone, the next she was folded in to him, wrapped in cashmere, feeling his strength, his warmth, his heart.

  ‘We can do this,’ he said roughly, harshly. ‘If you feel as I do... Do you?’

  ‘I...maybe. Maybe I do.’

  ‘Allie!’

  ‘But there’s no use feeling...like I do.’ Her voice was scarcely a whisper. ‘There’s no way we can be together.’

  ‘If you love me...’

  ‘How can I love you? What use is that?’

  ‘We can work things out. Let me help.’

  ‘Do you honestly think Grandpa would let me take any more of your money?’

  ‘If I married you he would.’

  And her world stilled again.

  Marriage. The ultimate happy ever after.

  Maybe. She’d always been dubious of fairy tales and here it was, the ultimate test.

  She could let herself stay folded in cashmere—or she could face the truth? Come on, Allie, she told herself harshly. This was time to be a grown-up.

  She was still folded against him. She should pull away but there was only so much a girl could do in the face of...what she was facing...and pulling away from this gorgeous coat was not within her capabilities. Pulling away from this man...

  She had to. In a moment. Soon. Even Cinders had her moment of feeling all was right in her world.

  Before reality hit—but reality was now.

  ‘You know, I’ve always been dubious about Cinderella,’ she managed and thought—how can I find the words to explain? She must. ‘Matt, I don’t have anything to offer.’

  ‘You don’t need to offer...’

  ‘How would it work? My family needs me. You know they do. There’s no way they—we—could live in the city. Would you come here every Saturday, share a ramshackle bedroom and return to your bank on Sunday? It’d wear thin very fast.’

  ‘It might be fun,’ he said. ‘And you could come to Sydney. We could share.’

  ‘Sharing’s being part of each other’s lives.’ She took a deep breath, trying to work it out for herself.

  ‘Matt, maybe this sounds dumb, but fairy tales don’t work. I’m thinking that in that vast, extravagant palace, with her prince out on princely business six days a week—and Margot’s told me how hard you work, Matt Bond, so don’t even think of denying it—Cinders must have been pretty lonely after her prince swept her off her feet. And me? Yes, I could get a job in Sydney but every moment I’d be worried about everyone down here. And down here...what would you do? I can’t see it.’

  She pulled back from him then, meeting his gaze in the darkness, willing him to understand—and knowing that he already did. The bleakness in his face told her he did.

  ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Matt, you’ll always be our friend...’

  ‘I don’t want to be your friend.’ It was an explosion in the stillness of the night, and Tinkerbelle—or was it Fairy?—stood up and barked. Not like she meant it, though. Maybe she was as confused as her owner.

  ‘That’s it, then,’ she said, and somehow she made her voice sound sensible. ‘It’s time for us to move on. You’ve been wonderful.’

  ‘I don’t want to be wonderful!’

  ‘You can’t help yourself,’ she said and she even managed to smile. ‘You just are. Matt Bond, superhero. Prince to the rescue. Off you go on your white charger and find yourself some other maiden.’

  ‘Allie...’

  ‘Matt, no.’

  And there it was. She’d said it.

  He stood and looked at her for a long, long moment. ‘I’ll figure this out,’ he said at last and she smiled again, but her smile was bleak.

  ‘I know the truth about magicians,’ she said. ‘Magic’s not real.’

  ‘I’ll figure it.’

  ‘Matt...’

  ‘There will be an answer,’ he said, and he took her hands again, holding her hard, his grip warm and strong and sure.

  ‘And pigs will fly,’ she whispered. ‘Matt, don’t.’

  ‘Anything’s possible in a circus. I will find an answer.’ He tugged her close and she shouldn’t let him, she shouldn’t, but how could a girl not? She let him. She even tilted her face. She even stood on tiptoe in her disgusting boots so she could meet him face to face.

  So his mouth could claim hers.

  And she even surrendered. She let herself melt into his kiss. Her arms came round and held him. He held her close, closer, closer. She kissed and she kissed and she kissed and for one last, glorious moment—or maybe longer than a moment—maybe much longer—she let herself believe in the fairy tale.

  She kissed her prince and he kissed her back. She loved him with all her heart, with everything she possessed, and then, when the kiss had to end, as even the most wonderful, magical kisses must end, she made herself stand back, look at him one last time and step away.

  The fairy tale was ended.

  * * *

  He walked home along the beach. The night was almost moonless. The only sound was the faint lapping of the waves. There was nothing to intrude on his thoughts.

  His thoughts should be bleak as death. They weren’t.

  Would Allie’s superhero disappear into the ether without a trace?

  He would if he thought there wasn’t any hope, but things had changed.

  One little word. Maybe. Maybe she loved him, and the way she’d said it...

  She did, he knew she did, so it only needed...

  A miracle?

  ‘Superhero stuff,’ he said into the silence. ‘Where would a superhero start?’

  Find the nearest telephone booth to change into Lycra? Lift her up and carry her bodily back to his lair?

  Did Superman have a lair?

  How about James Bond?

  Forget the superhero, he told himself, and forget the fairy tale. Allie had rightly rejected it out of hand.

  His thoughts took off on a different tangent.

  He didn’t mind the superhero analogy but he agreed it was a one-sided equation. Allie had rejected the notion of hero on white charger and he got it. Equality. Superhero needs superheroine.

  He couldn’t take her with him. She needed her own lair.

  A lair to share?

  This was ridiculous, but his thoughts were in free flight.

  Go back to basics, he told himself. Go back to what he knew. When faced with a dilemma, he encouraged his employees to brainstorm. Now he was doing it all by himself.

  What were the problems? Face this logically. Lay everything on the table and look at every last piece of the equation to see what unbending factor would be bent.

  One geriatric circus crew who Allie regarded as family. The odd geriatric animal as Carvers rejected them.

  One dilapidated circus.

  One Allie who’d learned to be a bookkeeper but looked magnificent in sparkles.

  One banker who was solidly based in Sydney, with occasional forays overseas. Who only knew life as a banker.

  Margot. He threw her into the mix for good measure.

  Camels, ponies, dogs.

  Dogs...

  Tha
t was Priority One of the puzzle, he thought grimly. He needed to find some way to get her dogs back.

  But Carver was enjoying this power. It was a triumph, taking the Sparkles’ showstopper as well as Sparkles.

  An alternative?

  Buy Allie a puppy? After all, one Jack Russell was very like another.

  Yeah, right. There spoke a man who’d never owned a dog. As if Allie would think that.

  Yeah, right... And there went the tangent again.

  He’d stopped and was staring out to sea.

  One dog was very like another.

  One showground was very like another.

  One town was very like another.

  Unless you knew them. Unless...

  He was thinking further. He was looking at every single thing on the table. A girl who lived and dreamed circus. A banker.

  A jumble that surely must fit into some sort of order.

  It was as if a jigsaw was being thrown up and landing in another frame.

  Another picture.

  Dogs. Dogs first.

  He turned and started striding up the beach, then striding wouldn’t do it. He had a contract to pull apart.

  He had a girl to win.

  He had a magician’s hat to pull on.

  Striding wouldn’t do it. He started to run.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ONE MONTH LATER, and her life was transformed.

  She’d done it. She had all her ducks in a row.

  They had the farmhouse almost liveable. For the first couple of weeks Fizz and Fluffy and Bella and Henry had looked grey. The caravans had gone, bought as part of the Carver package, and their belongings had simply been dumped in the sheds here.

  It had taken Allie weeks of bossing, of being determinedly cheerful, of threatening and cajoling, but finally they’d all stirred and sighed and decided they might as well get on with it. The house was coming together.

  Bella even thought she might start a garden—which was excellent, Allie thought, as once the house was sorted she didn’t actually know what everyone was going to do.

  Except her. She was going to work and coming home. Her new job was eight until five, Monday to Friday, coping with the basic accounting of five Fort Neptune businesses—the supermarket, two filling stations, the butcher and the funeral home.