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Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? Bodily fluid?”
Marian gave a hoot of laughter and patted Sasha’s cheek. “Be careful and call me as soon as you know anything. DI Garrett should be told what’s going on and she trusts my judgment, as I trust yours. The minute you tell me this man is up to no good, I’m on it.” She brushed her thumb over Sasha’s cheek. “I know what that fairground means to you and what it meant to your granddad. Watch your back, okay?”
Fighting to keep her composure, Sasha covered Marian’s hand with hers and lifted it from her face. She squeezed the older woman’s fingers. “I will. Now get back to the bakery before the inspector turns up because of a riot over honeycomb muffins, let alone anything else.”
Marian smiled despite the lingering concern in her gaze. “I’m going. Just remember where I am.”
Sasha saluted, and Marian hurried across the street. Once she’d disappeared inside the shop, Sasha inhaled a deep breath and drew a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. She opened it and stared at her carefully typed letter to Kyle, offering him every penny she had for the fair. The amount included the money her grandfather bequeathed her from Funland’s sale to Kyle seven years before, plus some savings.
Of course, there was still the glaring problem of the contract clause that gripped and twisted at Sasha’s heart...confused and irritated her mind. Why had her grandfather written in a clause to say that the fair wasn’t ever to be resold to anyone in the Todd family? She stared ahead at the growing numbers of locals and holidaymakers gathering on the sand to enjoy another day of the school holidays.
Why would you do that, Granddad? Why would you keep something from me when you said so many times you wanted it back in the family?
It was a long shot, but she just hoped and prayed her suspicion that with Kyle imprisoned and her grandfather having passed, the clause would be deemed invalid. She tightened her jaw. Every hope was pinned on the money she’d accumulated being enough. She couldn’t allow this clause to cut her dream to a million pieces. Her plan to ask Freddy to give the letter to Kyle when he next visited him had given her something to hold on to. She finally had a decent sum that even Kyle surely wouldn’t outright dismiss.
Now John was here, and it was time to find out what his reaction would be to her offer. Clause or no clause. She slid the paper back into her pocket, straddled her bike and pushed onto the road. It was time to face the music...or maniac.
* * *
IT WAS ONLY eight-thirty when Sasha stowed her bike at the back of the fairground offices. She locked it to the iron bars of a sad, decrepit and very much disused kiddie ride before smoothing her hands over the rumpled cotton of her shorts. Rare self-consciousness overrode her, the same as it had in the bathroom that morning. Cursing, she tidied her shirt and ripped the band from her hair.
She shouldn’t give a crap what John Jordon thought of her, but his gaze was unnerving and...baring. Yesterday, there were times he’d studied her with such intensity, she wanted to glance at her chest to see if her nipple had popped over the vee of her shirt. She couldn’t let him see the way he made her aware of her body whenever she was within two feet of him.
Tipping her head upside down, she scrunched her hair before standing straight and swinging it over her shoulders.
Her long hair was the only thing she had going for her in the way of armor. If Kyle’s son thought she hadn’t seen the way his blue eyes swept back and forth from her hair to her eyes last night, he was a damn fool. Every man she knew was a sucker for her hair. Why, she had no idea, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use the phenomenon to her advantage.
Everything else about her seemingly brought admirers straight back to earth with a hard bump within a few weeks. Their hair fetish soon cooled when they realized Sasha was more tomboy than girly girl...or else they sensed her discord, her wary apprehension of what might come next. She lifted her chin. One day, she’d meet a man with enough balls to stick around longer than a month or two.
She blew out a shaky breath and swept her gaze over the back of the office. Just remember, you do fine and dandy kicking them out of your bed, instead of the other way around. Your way or no way, remember? She narrowed her eyes as a blush heated her neck. Even though they never put up much of a fight.
Stepping across the short dry grass, the early-morning sun warming the back of her legs, she strode purposefully to the office and pushed open the door. Her heart beat hard, but her determination was on full-power. Steeling herself, she shot her gaze straight to Kyle’s desk, expecting John to be sitting there ready and waiting. The chair was empty.
“God damn it.” She released her pent-up energy in a whoosh of air from her lungs. She planted her hands on her hips. Now what?
The door clicked open behind her and Sasha spun around. Freddy wandered in, his ever-expanding waistline juddering with each step and his shaven head shining with perspiration. He closed the door, his brow furrowed.
Sasha stepped toward him. “You okay, Freddy?”
He turned. “You’re late.”
“Not officially. Officially my hours on Friday are nine to nine, remember?”
He grunted and walked to his desk. “Never known you to take any notice of what time of the day or night it is.” He collapsed into his chair, his gaze wandering the length of her. “You looking for our new boss, by any chance?”
“Not particularly. He asked to see me first thing, that’s all.”
“He’s outside.”
Sasha glanced toward the glass doors. “Right.”
“He’s been here since I came in at seven-thirty. Christ knows what he’s doing out there. He’s walking around with this look on his face. A look that tells me he’s Kyle’s boy through and through.”
She stepped closer to the desk. “And what does that face look like exactly?”
“Like he’s a hard son of a bitch. You wouldn’t think it looking at the pansy way he’s dressed this morning, but I guarantee that bloke out there has a mean streak.” He met her eyes. “Takes one to know one.”
Unease rippled over her skin but Sasha smiled. “Yeah, well, you never scared me and neither did Kyle, so John Jordon has a long way to go to frighten me out of this place.”
She marched to the door.
“You know something, Sasha?”
“What?” She faced him.
“Kyle’s boy turning up like this changes everything.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You think I don’t know that.”
“It changes things with the park, the staff, the patrons...and especially with me. I didn’t work my ass off for Kyle to be pushed around by his damn son.”
Trepidation furled in her stomach, and Sasha slipped her hand from the door handle. Freddy’s eyes were colder than steel, his cheeks flushed red.
She curled her hand into a fist at her side. “He’s trying to push you around?”
“Not yet. But give him time.”
She smiled. Two against one was something to consider, surely? “Then maybe he needs to learn that neither of us will take too kindly to that.”
Freddy stared, his eyes darkening. “I’m not your friend. Never have been. I work for Kyle and he ain’t here no more, so it’s a brand-new playing field. For all of us.”
He shot her a final, loaded glare before picking up the phone and dialing.
Anger burned hot behind her rib cage. What the hell was going on here? One minute she thought the fair was within her grasp and her life was about to change for the better. Now she was facing not one, but two adversaries. Clearly, Freddy intended to lay claim to Funland, too.
She stared at his bowed head. She’d thought she knew Freddy and now it was abundantly clear she didn’t. John Jordon, the other claimant, was an unknown entity entirely.
“Well, I’m glad we both know where we stand.” She turned and shoved open the door.
Drawing in huge gulps of air, she marched past the rides, her gaze darting left and right as she searched for the best and most handsome target on which to vent her anger. She didn’t have to go far.
Her nemesis sat in one of the dozen three-seaters, hovering above the platform of the dreaded Mixer. John looked lost in thought, his stare following the progress of his hand as he wiped it back and forth along the seat beside him. Sasha’s hormones surged to high alert.
When Freddy described Kyle’s son as being “dressed as a pansy” today, Sasha had already guessed John would be wearing a suit, maybe even a tie, too, in order to add a flash of additional authority to their meeting that morning.
She’d been right about the suit at least.
What she hadn’t expected was the way a black jacket and open-necked crisp white shirt looked on him. His dark brown hair, cut short and neat, chiseled jaw and lightly tanned skin only added to the overall confidence that exuded from his every pore.
Tiny flutters of excitement erupted in Sasha’s stomach as she approached the steel steps. Her attraction to the man could be controlled. She’d had years of practice being in the driving seat as far as men were concerned. Her only weakness was the fair and she was no pushover with that, either.
She smiled. So he wanted to run Funland—and he wanted her help to make that happen, did he? He’d given her no idea what his plans were, or if the crime going on behind the scenes would get worse or improve.
Marian’s suggestion of letting the police know John Jordon was in Templeton lingered in Sasha’s conscience even as a worse, naughtier idea flittered through her brain. The only sounds were the seagulls diving to and fro overhead and the rush of passing traffic in the distance. By two o’clock, booming music, screaming and laughter would fill Funland, but right now, it was just her and John Jordon.
On the soft soles of her ballet flats, she climbed the steps and approached the control booth, her grin stretching as wide as the sun above her.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE MACHINE RUMBLED to life and John froze.
What the hell?
Gripping the lap bar, he hauled it up and stood. Sasha Todd gracefully skipped up onto the steel platform beneath the carriages. She was dressed in white shorts that revealed her long, slender legs and a simple red T-shirt. His breath caught. Did she have any idea how stunning she was?
She smiled, mischief glinting in her black eyes. “Sit down, John. Let’s take a ride.”
He blinked. “Are you crazy?”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like rides?”
He tried and failed to muster some semblance of authority as the machine started to move. “No. Turn this thing off.”
She quirked an eyebrow and curved her fingers over the back of the carriage. “Yet you want to run this place? You can’t do that without knowing the fairground inside out. That includes the rides. Move over, I’m jumping onboard.”
Their eyes locked and once again, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Why the hell did the woman managing the fairground have to be so physically arresting? God, he wanted to write about her. Describe her in words in a vain attempt to let the damn world know how unnervingly beautiful she was.
He lowered into the seat, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. He concentrated on keeping his pride in place and not giving in to the temptation to grip the bar again. The ride picked up speed and the carriage shifted as she hauled herself up and sat down next to him, pulling the lap bar down with her.
The distinct smell of something musky and sexy drifted as she tossed her long hair over her shoulders. The tendrils whispered across his cheek, and John closed his mouth, trapping the inconceivable urge to groan.
She wriggled her behind deeper into the seat and settled back with a sigh. “So...what’s the plan today? Enjoy the fair? Cook the books? Fire me?”
Attraction gave way to irritation, fueled by the nonchalance in her voice. “You do realize this thing is moving, right?”
She shrugged and glanced around before focusing entirely on him. “Sure. Now is as good a time as any to get acquainted, don’t you think?”
John swallowed. Jesus, her eyes are ebony-black, like two huge pieces of jet. He snapped his face forward. “Do you know something?” He slid his arm across the back of the carriage above her shoulders. “If you want to play some stupid game in a bid to annoy me, that’s fine. I’m the one in control here, whether you like it or not.”
“Is that so?”
He faced her. Her eyes blazed with anger, and he glared straight back. “Yes.”
“This isn’t about control. This is about me taking one look at you, sitting on this ride dressed for a wedding, and wondering how you think you’re going to run this place.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Wearing a suit dictates whether I’m capable of running the fairground? Wow, clearly you give me more credit for my clothes than my business acumen.”
She scowled and her cheeks flushed pink. John fought the guilt that knotted his gut.
He hated being snappy with any woman, and with Sasha his hostility didn’t sit well at all. The ride gathered momentum and they wove in and out for a few seconds. “I haven’t got time for this. We’re supposed to be in the office talking things out like adults.”
“Adults? Adults don’t hang up on each other midconversation.”
“Adults don’t talk to their bosses without respect. If you think you can speak to me the way you did last night, you’d better think again.”
She glared. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Oh, I get it. I get it completely. Kyle...”
The ride rumbled up another notch and the carriage shot forward with such force the remainder of his words were obliterated by the slipstream. Holy crap. They sped between the empty carriages at such speed, John had no choice but to slip his free hand onto the bar next to hers. He tightened his fingers along the back of the seat.
He glanced at her and scowled. She stared at his white-knuckled hand, her lips curved into a smug smile. She met his eyes. “All this tension and we’ve only just got going.”
He glared, focusing on her mouth rather than those damn eyes. It soon became clear her mouth was no safer option, but what the hell else was he supposed to look at? His gaze drifted lower—to her breasts—and he yanked his eyes right back up. No. Anywhere lower was out of bounds. “I’m not talking business with you whilst riding a damn fairground monstrosity like this.”
Her smile stretched to a grin. “Whilst? God, you are so British. Do you always speak this way or is it just for Freddy’s and my benefit?”
“Look, I want to know how the hell... Oh, God.” The ride lurched into an abrupt frenzy and took off at a speed to which no child under the age of sixteen should ever be subjected. John gripped the bar and held on for dear life.
Sasha’s scream of laughter bore a hole the size of the damn cove into his ego, but he’d be damned if he let go. Whoosh! They sped in between the carriages, barely missing a fatal head-on collision with each maneuver.
“Relax and enjoy the ride, Mr. Boss Man. It’s fun.” She lifted her hand from the bar and jabbed both arms high in the air. “Woo-hoo!”
“Are you purposely trying to emasculate me?” he yelled over the whizzing and screaming of the ride’s mechanical parts working at a ridiculous and feverish tempo.
“Emasculate you? Me?” She winked. “Never.”
Even as they went in for another sweep at breakneck speed, he couldn’t drag his eyes from hers. A smile tugged traitorously at his lips as adrenaline seeped into his blood. Her eyes were wide with childlike excitement; her bright teeth were straight and white with the sliver of a pink tongue barely showing within. He drank in the sight of her. God, she was something else.
“Cat got your tongue, John?”
A strange clunk rumbled through the mechanics and his burgeoning smile vanished. “What was—”
Her smile dissolved. “Oh, God.”
The excitement in her gaze was replaced with horror. She slapped her hands hard to the bar and held on. Dread dropped like a rock into John’s gut. This did not bode well.
“Here we go.” She gritted her teeth.
“Go? Go where?” John looked ahead.
Another rumble and the ride spun into free fall. Her hands ripped from the bar and she was flung into his side from the force of gravity whizzing around them. She smashed into his rib cage and the breath left his lungs. “Bloody hell.”
Instinctively, he dropped his arm to her shoulders, keeping her flush to his body for safety. He had no idea what he could do to protect her when it was clear an Amazon woman couldn’t have fought the pressure that had spun her slight frame across the seat at forty miles an hour.
“How the hell do we stop this thing?” he yelled.
“I don’t know.” Her jaw was set in consternation.
