Shivering, she settled back into her pillows and pulled the covers up again. The message on her phone could wait.
But just as she was comfortable another ping sounded. Milla frowned. This was unusual. Since returning to Australia, she rarely got messages, let alone two in quick succession. Could it be her parents?
Fear flared as her mind raced through possibilities. Her mother or father had taken ill during their Mediterranean cruise. They’d lost their passports. A car bomb had exploded in one of the ports—Turkey or Northern Africa.
Having thoroughly alarmed herself now, Milla leapt up and grabbed her phone. There were three missed calls, but they weren’t from anyone in her address book, so that was a relief. It was probably a spammer, but just to be sure she checked for a voice message.
‘Hi, Milla,’ said a woman with an American accent. ‘It’s Sarah Goldman. I’m trying to contact Ed Cavanaugh. If you know where he is, could you please ask him to call me asap? It’s urgent. Thanks.’
Milla stared at her phone in surprise, as if somehow it could provide answers. She remembered Sarah Goldman, Ed’s PA. They’d met at a couple of the Cavanaugh gatherings Harry had been forced to attend.
Why hadn’t Sarah rung Ed directly?
Milla glanced at the time. It was almost seven. She thought about dashing straight downstairs in her nightie—this was urgent, Sarah Goldman had said. But after a night of dreams featuring Ed in the starring role, she quickly retracted that option.
She hurried through to the bathroom instead, washed her face and ran a brush through her hair. Her curls bounced back stronger each day now that she’d given up the bleach and the straighteners. She liked what she saw in the mirror. It was like rediscovering her true self again.
Back in her bedroom, she pulled on jeans and a sweater that was the exact same shade of grey as Ed’s eyes. Stop it. Stop thinking about him every waking moment. She shoved her feet into sheepskin slippers, picked up her phone and headed downstairs.
As she expected, Ed was still in his sleeping bag, although he couldn’t have been asleep, because he rolled out as soon as he heard her coming, and he was on his feet by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs.
He was dressed in track pants and a T-shirt. His jaw was dark with a five o’clock shadow and his hair was rumpled and messy. He looked unforgivably sexy.
He sent her a sleepy smile. ‘Good morning.’
Even his voice was deeper and sexier at this hour.
‘Morning.’ Milla forced a cheerful smile. ‘I was woken by a phone call. Someone’s looking for you. Sarah Goldman.’
‘Sarah rang you?’ Ed asked, frowning.
Milla held out her phone. ‘She left a message asking you to call her as soon as possible. I’ve no idea how she found my number.’
‘Sarah’s a very efficient PA. Better than a bloodhound at tracking me down.’ Ed sighed, ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier. ‘What the hell’s happened?’
He looked as if he hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. ‘I turned off my phone when I came out here. I wanted to take the weekend off. Obviously it was a bad mistake.’ Bending quickly, he extracted his BlackBerry from a pocket in his travel bag, frowned at it as he waited for the messages to load.
‘I’ll start the coffee,’ Milla volunteered.
Ed grunted his thanks, without shifting his gaze from the small screen. Then he grimaced, clearly not liking what he saw. Almost immediately, he began to swear. Loudly.
Milla knew it would be begging the obvious to ask if he had a problem, but as she busied herself fixing the coffee she hoped his problem wasn’t too serious. After Harry’s recent death, she was sure Ed needed a break from bad news.
The news had to be pretty bad, though, judging by the fury in Ed’s face as he read his messages, and the string of oaths he continued to let fly.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he groaned. ‘Cleaver freaking Holdings. The lying weasels. After the way I bent over backwards to help them last year.’
‘So it’s a business issue?’ Milla couldn’t help asking.
Ed looked as if he wanted to hurl the phone into the wall. ‘Cleaver’s started a hostile takeover.’
Milla had only a vague idea what this meant. She knew the Cavanaughs had floated their company on the stock market a few years ago, but Harry had never been very interested in the business, and she’d been too absorbed with their personal problems to pay it much attention.
Throwing up his hands in despair, Ed paced to the end of the bakery, let out another, louder groan and marched back.
With an air of desperation, he held out the phone to her. ‘Cleaver filed a bid for a majority chunk of our stock late on Friday afternoon. It was already Saturday here and I’d turned this damn thing off. They were trying to steal my company while I was out of the country.’ He ground the words out between tightly gritted teeth.
Milla felt helpless, but she had to ask. ‘Can they get away with that?’
Ed scowled. ‘Not if I can help it.’
Even as he said this she could see his mind clearing its initial anger and making plans.
‘I have no idea what time it is in the US, but I’ll get onto Sarah,’ he said more calmly. ‘I know she’ll answer the phone even if it’s two a.m. I’ll have to call a few others, as well, but Sarah will give me the latest and she can book me on the first flight home.’
‘I can book you a flight.’
Ed’s eyes flashed a brief, appreciative smile. ‘Thanks, but it’s OK. Sarah’s used to this. She’ll do it in a flash.’ Then he was scowling again. ‘I’ll have to leave for Sydney straight away. Damn it. I wish it wasn’t five hours away.’ He shot Milla a sharp glance. ‘I don’t suppose I can fly from here?’
Ed was back to being a business executive, back to his true calling. But Milla knew he must be desperately worried, too. Everything that was important to him could quite possibly be slipping from beneath him. She was surprised by how much this saddened her.
‘There’s an airport at Parkes,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring and find out about flights.’
‘That’d be great. I’ll hire a plane. A private jet. A milk crate. As long as it has wings. Anything that can fly me to Sydney.’
‘I’m onto it.’
The next fifteen minutes were a whirlwind with both Ed and Milla on separate phones, at times calling questions to each other as they sorted and settled bookings.
Incredibly, they achieved the impossible, finding flights for Ed that would take him from Parkes to Sydney in time to link up with an international departure direct to JFK in New York.
‘How’s your father handling this?’ Milla asked once everything was settled.
Ed pulled a face. ‘He’s volcanic, as you’d expect. Blaming me for taking my eye off the ball.’
Before Milla could respond, Ed said, ‘Don’t worry about breakfast. Coffee will be fine,’ and then he disappeared upstairs for a hasty shower and shave.
She felt slightly dazed by all the sudden busyness after the laid-back, relaxed mood of yesterday. When Ed came downstairs again, he looked suddenly too neat with his beard gone and his wet hair slicked back.
‘At least I got your business plan sorted yesterday,’ he said as Milla handed him his coffee.
‘Yes, and I’m incredibly grateful.’ But she felt bad, too. If Ed hadn’t stayed here to write a plan for her little, unimportant business, his own VIP business might not be in trouble. She knew he would hate to see his company taken over, and now he had to fight for its independence. ‘I just hope everything works out for you.’
He nodded unhappily, took another swig of coffee.
She couldn’t believe how bleak she felt now that Ed was about to hurry out of her life finally and for ever.
‘While you finish your coffee, I’ll just
check upstairs,’ she said, worried that she was about to cry in front of him. ‘I’ll make sure you haven’t left anything.’
There was only the bathroom to check, of course, and Ed had already brought his zipper bag with shaving gear down, but at least Milla had an excuse to splash water on her face, which would hopefully help to keep the tears at bay.
She was drying her face when she looked down and saw the little brush on the floor. It didn’t belong to her, but it didn’t look like something Ed would own either. It was an old-fashioned shaving brush with a blue and cream ceramic handle and proper bristles. Picking it up, she saw the words Made in England printed on the bottom.
She hurried back down, holding the brush in her curled palm and liking the solid, non-plastic feel of it.
‘I think you forgot this, Ed. It was in the bathroom.’ She held the brush out to him.
He looked surprised, but pleased.
When she handed it over their fingers made contact, and she felt the zap of a small lightning flash.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want to lose this.’ For the first time this morning his brow cleared and his expression softened. ‘I don’t use it much, but it was my grandfather’s. I guess it’s just a kind of—’
‘Keepsake?’ she suggested.
He smiled at her. ‘Yes. An important keepsake.’
‘I’m glad I found it, then.’
‘Yeah.’ Ed ran his thumb over the soft bristles and for a moment he seemed lost in thought. Then he unzipped his pack and slipped the little brush inside. ‘I’ve kept it as a kind of reminder of the old guy. I—I guess I wanted to be like him.’
When he straightened again, he gave a small, self-deprecating smile. ‘But I don’t really know why I’ve kept it. I’ve paid no attention. I’ve gone my own way.’
Milla said softly, ‘You might be more like him than you realise.’
Ed looked at her for a long moment and he gave her a slow, sad smile. ‘I’ll hold that thought.’
A huge lump filled her throat and her heart was heavy as she walked outside with him into the cold morning. This was the second time she’d farewelled Ed from Bellaroo Creek, and she’d felt sad enough last time.
This time she’d discovered how deeply she cared for him and the knowledge caused a horrible, aching weight in her chest. She felt fearful for Ed, too, as if she were sending him off to an unknown battlefield.
‘There’s so much I have to thank you for, Ed. You came back here with the equipment. You helped me with painting the walls and with the business plan. And if you hadn’t come—’
To her surprise, Ed silenced her by pressing a finger to her lips. ‘If I hadn’t come, we wouldn’t have had that very important conversation, and I would never have understood what went wrong with our first date.’
He no longer seemed in a hurry as he traced the shape of her chin with the backs of his fingers. ‘Believe me, Milla, I have no regrets.’
Her heart was pounding now. She tried to tell herself not to be foolish. Ed was a Cavanaugh. She should be glad he was going back to where he belonged.
But she’d seen such a different side to him this weekend. Against her better judgement, despite everything she knew about his family, she’d fallen for him again. ‘I hope everything works out for you.’
Ed smiled. ‘Thanks.’ He didn’t step away.
Now he was framing her face with his big hands, holding her just so, and looking into her eyes. ‘Good luck with everything.’
‘You, too.’
He kissed her then. Just the loveliest kiss, sweet but incredibly intimate, and as Milla kissed him back, softly, gently, she handed him her heart, gift-wrapped, with his name on it.
The kiss was over far too quickly. Time was running out, and Ed had to leave.
‘You’ll do well here,’ he said, flashing a quick glance around the bakery. ‘Let me know when you have a date for the opening.’
She knew he wouldn’t be back, but she said, ‘I will, yes.’ Her throat was so choked she could barely get the words out, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘I hope everything works out for you and the business.’
She thought she saw a damp sheen in his eyes, but he turned away quickly, hurried around the ute, and jumped into the driver’s seat.
This time, she didn’t stand on the footpath to watch him drive off. There wasn’t much point when she was blinded by tears.
CHAPTER NINE
ED DIDN’T WASTE a precious minute of the two hours he had to spend in the international departure lounge before his plane took off. When he wasn’t receiving or making phone calls to the other side of the world, he used the time to prepare letters that would be emailed first thing in the morning to Cavanaugh Enterprise’s shareholders.
Ed had to persuade their investors against selling their shares to the Cleaver group, despite the tempting, above-market prices that Cleaver was offering.
He felt sick at the thought of their company collapsing, of their employees in danger of losing their jobs. Fortunately, he and his father had established a supermajority clause when they’d floated the business on the stock market, and this meant that eighty per cent of shareholders had to approve any acquisition. Now, Ed desperately needed those eighty per cent on his side.
Sitting in the business lounge, he was oblivious to other passengers as he worked hard at rewriting and refining the message he would send out, searching for exactly the right words. He had to find the perfect, delicate balance that would appeal to his investors’ emotions as well as their hard business heads.
At least, there was one good thing in the midst of this disaster—the concentrated work kept his mind off Milla.
Almost.
But there were moments when Ed caved. No matter how hard he tried to resist the temptation, his thoughts flew back to their goodbye kiss, and every time he thought about it he felt echoes of the kiss reverberate inside him like a quivering bowstring after the arrow was released. The simple kiss had been so powerful, had caught him completely off guard.
He hadn’t planned to kiss Milla, but everything had unravelled from the moment he touched her. A simple touch to the soft bloom of her cheek had carried such a high voltage, and a man couldn’t touch a girl like her without wanting to kiss her.
From the moment their lips touched, her response was so sweet and tender. So apparently innocent and, yet, so potent, as if they’d exchanged a secret message they dared not speak aloud.
Or was he reading too much into it?
Yeah. Surely he was getting carried away?
Damn it, when had he become such a hopeless romantic? There was every chance Milla was happy to see the back of him.
Honestly, it was probably just as well that he’d had no choice but to leave her. As his father had so angrily accused, Ed had taken his eye off the ball for one weekend, and now he was in danger of losing everything that mattered, not just to him but to everyone who worked for him. Cavanaugh’s employees and their families relied on him now, more than ever.
He was relieved when his boarding call was finally announced. He wasn’t looking forward to the ten-thousand-mile journey, but he was anxious to get back to New York, to get his business problems sorted. And putting distance between himself and Bellaroo Creek would no doubt provide much needed emotional perspective as well.
As his plane took off over the red roofs of Sydney, over the spectacular harbour and the sparkling beaches, he took his last view of Australia.
It was time to realign his priorities.
* * *
Mrs Jones beamed at Milla as she came into the general store with a large cane basket on each arm.
‘What have you brought for us today?’ the storekeeper asked as she rubbed her plump hands in gleeful expectation.
‘Two more samples,’ Milla
told her. ‘Whole-grain bread rolls and vanilla slices.’
‘Vanilla slices?’ Mrs Jones gave a rapturous sigh and dramatically pressed her hands against her heart. ‘I can’t remember the last time I ate a vanilla slice. I suppose it must have been before your parents left town.’
‘Everyone mentions my parents. I’m starting to feel the pressure,’ Milla said with a rueful smile. ‘Fingers crossed my slices are up to scratch.’
Mrs Jones lifted a corner of the pink gingham tea towel covering one of the baskets and she grinned broadly. ‘Ooh, these smell divine and they look perfect.’ She gave Milla a fond, almost motherly smile. ‘I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, my dear.’
Turning, she called over her shoulder, lifting her voice to reach her husband, who was busy unpacking groceries at the back of the store. ‘Bob, come here quickly. Come and take a look at this. You’ll never guess what Milla’s brought in for us today.’
Milla laughed. ‘I hope the rest of the district will be as enthusiastic as you guys.’
‘Oh, they are already, Milla. Believe you me. Everyone’s talking about your bakery.’
‘Well, I’m very grateful to you for helping me to spread the word.’
It had been such a coup when the Joneses had happily agreed to sell samples of Milla’s goods in their store throughout the lead-up to the bakery’s official opening. To the Joneses’ and Milla’s mutual delight, the experiment seemed to be paying off.
Not only were Milla’s baked goods selling well, but word was spreading. As an added bonus, this marketing strategy had also given her the perfect opportunity to sort out which products were most popular with her potential customers.
In fact, all her plans were coming together beautifully. Since the council had given their final approval, Milla’s project had steamrolled ahead. She’d finished painting the shop and the workroom, and she’d set up the baking equipment, working out the most efficient positioning of each item in terms of time and motion. She’d placed orders for bulk quantities of flour and sugar and yeast.
Miracle in Bellaroo Creek (Bellaroo Creek!) Page 11
