And there was a group of businessmen nearby; they were laughing heartily enough to drown out a conversation on the other side of the room. ‘Or we could change the venue to my room, which really will be quieter,’ Brandon said, ‘but I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.’ Though in other circumstances, he thought, I probably would, because she has the most amazing eyes.
He was shocked to realise how much he was attracted to Angel McKenzie. She was meant to be his business rival, from a family that was his own family’s sworn enemy. He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to her. Particularly as she was about six inches shorter and way less glamorous than the women he usually dated. She really wasn’t his type.
‘The restaurant’s fine,’ she said, and changed places with him. ‘So what did you want to talk about? If it’s your offer to buy McKenzie’s, then it’s going to be rather a short and pointless conversation, because the company isn’t for sale.’
Before he could answer, the waitress came over. ‘May I take your order?’
‘Thank you.’ Angel smiled at the waitress and ordered coffee, granola, fruit and yoghurt.
Brandon hadn’t been expecting that smile, either.
It lit up her face, turning her from average to pretty; in all the photographs he’d seen, Angel had been serious and unsmiling.
And how weird was it that he wanted to be the one to make her smile like that?
Worse than that, focusing on her mouth had made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her. How crazy was that? He was supposed to be talking to her about business, not fantasising about her. She wasn’t even his type.
He shook himself and glanced quickly through the menu.
‘Sir?’ the waitress asked.
‘Coffee, please, and eggs Florentine on wholemeal toast—but without the hollandaise sauce, please.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘I would’ve had you pegged as a full English man,’ Angel said when the waitress had gone.
‘Load up on fatty food and junk, and you’re going to feel like a dog’s breakfast by the end of a race,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Food’s fuel. If you want to work effectively, you eat effectively. Lean protein, complex carbs, plenty of fruit and veg, and no added sugar.’
She inclined her head. ‘Fair point.’
He needed to get this back on the rails. ‘So. As I was saying, this discussion isn’t about buying the company.’
She waited to let him explain more.
So that was her tactic in business. Say little and let the other party talk themselves into a hole. OK. He’d draw her out. ‘I wanted to talk about research and development.’
She frowned. ‘What about it?’
‘I’m looking for someone to head up my R and D department.’ He paused. ‘I was considering headhunting you.’
She blinked. ‘Yesterday you wanted to buy my company.’
He still did.
‘And today you’re offering me a job?’
‘Yes.’
She looked wary. ‘Why?’
‘I heard you’re a good designer. A first-class degree in engineering, followed by an MA in automotive design.’
‘So you have been stalking me.’
‘Doing research prior to headhunting you,’ he corrected. ‘You’re a difficult woman to pin down, Ms McKenzie.’ And he noticed that she still hadn’t suggested that he used her first name. She was clearly keeping as many barriers between them as possible.
‘Thank you for the job offer, Mr Stone,’ she said. ‘I’m flattered. But I rather like my current job.’ She waited a beat to ram the point home. ‘Running the company my grandfather started.’
‘Together with my grandfather,’ he pointed out.
‘Who then dissolved the partnership and took all the equipment with him. McKenzie’s has absolutely nothing to do with Barnaby Stone.’
‘Not right now.’ He held her gaze. ‘But it could do.’
‘I’m not selling to you, Mr Stone,’ she said wearily. ‘And I’m not working for you, either. So can you please just give up and stop wasting your time and mine?’
He applauded her loyalty to her family, but this was business and it was time for a reality check. ‘I’ve seen your accounts for the last four years.’
She shrugged, seeming unbothered. ‘They’re on public record. As are yours.’
‘And every year you’re struggling more. You need an investor,’ Brandon said.
* * *
Angel had been here before. The last man who’d wanted to invest in McKenzie’s had assumed that it would give him rights over her as well. She’d put him very straight about that, and in response he’d withdrawn the offer.
No way would she let herself get in that situation again. She wasn’t for sale, and neither was her business. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Hand-built cars are a luxury item. Yours are under-priced.’
‘The idea was, and still is, to make hand-built customisable cars that anyone can afford,’ she said. ‘We have a waiting list.’
‘Not a very long one.’
That was true; and it was worrying that he knew that. Did that mean she had a mole in the company—someone who might even scupper the deal with Triffid by talking about the McKenzie Frost too soon? No. Of course not. That was sheer paranoia. She’d known most of the staff since she was a small child, and had interviewed the newer members of staff herself. People didn’t tend to leave McKenzie’s unless they retired. And she trusted everyone on her team. ‘Have you been spying on me?’
The waitress, who’d just arrived with their food and coffee, clearly overheard Angel’s comment, because she looked a bit nervous and disappeared quickly.
‘I think we just made our waitress feel a bit awkward,’ Brandon said.
‘You mean you did,’ she said. ‘Because you’re the one who’s been spying.’
‘Making a very common-sense deduction, actually,’ he countered. ‘If you had a long waiting list, your balance sheet would look a lot healthier than it does.’
She knew that was true. ‘So if we don’t have a great balance sheet, why do you want to buy...?’ She broke off. ‘Hold on. You said you want a designer to head up your research and development team. Which means the rumours are true—Stone’s really is looking at moving into the production of road cars.’
He said nothing and his expression was completely inscrutable, but she knew she was right.
So his plan was obvious: to buy McKenzie’s, knocking out his closest competitor, and then use her to make his family’s name in a different area.
No way.
She stared at him. His dark blond hair was just a little too long, making him look more like a rock star than a businessman; clearly it was a hangover from his days as the racing world’s equivalent of a rock star. And he was obviously used to charming his way through life; he knew just how good-looking he was, and used that full-wattage smile and sensual grey eyes to make every female within a radius of a hundred metres feel as if her heart had just done a somersault. He was clearly well aware that men wanted to be him—a former star racing driver—and women wanted to be with him.
Well, he’d find out that she was immune to his charm. Yes, Brandon Stone was very easy on the eye; but she wasn’t going to let any ridiculous attraction she felt towards him get in the way of her business. His family had been her family’s rivals for seventy years. That wasn’t about to change.
‘So basically you want to buy McKenzie’s so you can put our badge on the front of your roadsters?’ She grimaced. ‘That’s tantamount to misleading the public—using a brand known for its handmade production and attention to detail to sell cars made in a factory.’
‘Cars made using the latest technology to streamline the process,’ he corrected. ‘We still pay ver
y close attention to detail.’
‘It’s not the same as a customer being able to meet and shake the hands of the actual people who built their car. McKenzie’s has a unique selling point.’
‘McKenzie’s is in danger of going under.’
‘That’s not happening on my watch,’ she said. ‘And I’m not selling to you. To anyone,’ she corrected herself swiftly.
But he picked up on her mistake. ‘You’re not selling to me because I’m a Stone.’
‘Would you sell your company to me?’ she countered.
‘If my balance sheet was as bad as yours, you were going to keep on all my staff, and my family name was still going to be in the market place, then yes, I’d consider it—depending on the deal you were offering.’
‘But that’s the point. You won’t keep my staff,’ she said. ‘You’ll move production to your factory to take advantage of economies of scale. My staff might not want to move, for all kinds of reasons—their children might be in the middle of a crucial year at school, or they might have elderly parents they want to keep an eye on.’ Her own parents were still both middle-aged and healthy, but she wouldn’t want to move miles away from them in case that changed. If they needed her, she’d want to be there.
‘Your staff would still have a job. I can guarantee that all their jobs will be safe when you sell to me.’
‘Firstly, I’m not selling, however often you ask me. Secondly, they already have a job. With me.’ She folded her arms. ‘Whatever you think, McKenzie’s isn’t going under.’
‘We could work together,’ he said. ‘It would be a win for both companies. Between us we could negotiate better discounts from our suppliers. You’d still be in charge of research and development.’
The thing she loved most. Instead of worrying about balance sheets and sales and PR, she could spend her days working on designing cars.
It was tempting.
But, even if they ignored the bad blood between their families, it couldn’t work. Their management styles were too far apart. McKenzie’s had always considered their teams to be part of the family, whereas Stone’s was ruthless. Between them they had two completely opposing cultures—and there was no middle ground.
‘I don’t think so. And there’s nothing more to say,’ she said. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’ Even though she hadn’t eaten her granola and had only drunk a couple of sips of coffee, she couldn’t face any more. ‘Goodbye, Mr Stone.’ She gave him a tight smile, pushed her chair back and left.
Copyright © 2017 by Pamela Brooks
ISBN-13: 9781488014895
Conveniently Wed to the Greek
Copyright © 2017 by Kandy Shepherd
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