LITMIR.BIZ

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reaction to apologize lingered on her tongue, but she decided against it. The silence stretched until she was forced to say something. “Look, it’s late and I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be a little more amicable. Let’s just say good-night, shall we?”

      “How well do you know my father, Sasha Todd?”

      The soft, British upper-class way he said her name rolled down the phone line and licked softly over her skin. Why the hell did the man have to talk that way? Why couldn’t he talk with the rough abrasion of some of the dock workers she knew at the harbor?

      She pushed away from the barrier. “Not very well.”

      “Yet you’ve worked at the fair your entire life. He bought it from your grandfather. How could you not know him?”

      Her heart hitched into her throat. “You know about that?”

      “Yes.”

      “You know my granddad sold the fair to him? Do you know for how much?”

      “Does it matter?”

      Nausea whirled hot and heavy in her stomach and she stumbled toward her vacant chair and collapsed onto it. “That matters to me more than anything.”

      “Why?”

      Frustration surged through her. “All I’ve ever wanted is to get the fairground back where it belongs. It was in my family for generations and then my grandfather had a complete change of heart and let Kyle buy it for a song. Now you turn up and—”

      “That’s not strictly true, is it?”

      “What isn’t?” Her body trembled with suppressed rage.

      “Your parents didn’t want the fair. Your mother, your grandfather’s daughter, is ashamed of it, isn’t she? So, whether or not you ever get the fair back, it would’ve skipped a generation anyhow.”

      She gripped the phone until blood pulsed through her fingers. “So?”

      “So what is it about the fair that makes you want it so badly? Does the need come from you or your family?”

      “That’s none of your business. I want it and, one way or another, I’ll get it. Do you have any idea what it feels like to care about nothing else in the world but for the one thing out of reach? I really, really don’t want to have to fight you, but if you refuse my offer tomorrow—”

      “Your offer?”

      “Yes, Mr. Snooty Nose, my offer.”

      Silence.

      Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she trembled some more.

      “Fine. I’ll listen to your offer.” He blew out a breath. “And then I’ll decide whether or not you still have a job.”

      The phone line went dead.

      Sasha swallowed the hard lump of panic in her throat. Whether or not I still have a job? Is this guy insane? She snapped her phone closed and struggled to fight the horrible sense of foreboding stealing over her. She’d been aggressive, angry, dismissive and disrespectful—all things she’d been careful to avoid with Kyle and his cronies.

      Stupid, stupid woman.

      With an infinite amount of self-control, she’d bided her time and waited. Saved her money and kept a smile on her face so Kyle had no reason to push her out.

      Now she’d snapped and a complete stranger had splintered her facade. He held the ability to rip away everything she wanted in one fell swoop. Why did John Jordon care why the fair meant so much to her? He didn’t know her. He didn’t know Templeton. He knew nothing.

      She slowly stood on shaking legs and snatched the wineglass and bottle from the table. Even Kyle held a quiet, if not misplaced, fondness for the fair. The man was a criminal mastermind. A drug pusher and money-laundering bastard who’d finally been caught and thrown in jail, yet at least something inside him made people second-guess if deep down he was a decent man.

      None of those same feelings emanated from his son. What John Jordon had in looks and physique, he lacked in warmth and understanding, which his father used unashamedly to blind people to his real motivations.

      She opened the French doors and walked inside, welcoming the warmth of her apartment as a way of combating the chill of the unknown permeating her soul.

      * * *

      JOHN STARED AT the phone, heart beating steadily and mind messed up with a million conflicting emotions. Sasha Todd was something—or someone—he hadn’t accounted for when he’d agreed to come to Templeton Cove. He hadn’t expected a woman as beautiful as her to shake the deep and unyielding barrier around his determination to expose his father for the man he really was.

      Worse, he hadn’t anticipated the stark pain of betrayal reflected in her eyes when she stood in front of him, or in her voice on the phone. The little that Kyle’s letters told John about the fair circulated in his mind on an endless reel.

      Freddy was Kyle’s trusted second-in-command, and John was aware the fairground was a legitimate cover for the crux of his father’s criminal activities. Sasha Todd had a family history with the place. He remembered his father’s words—“The chick works like a Trojan for shit pay. She should be out there living her life, not stuck in a small English seaside town like Templeton Cove. She needs to let the fair go, son. She needs to meet a decent bloke who puts a different kind of fire in her belly. Brings a damn smile to her face....”

      “Who was that on the phone?”

      John blinked and pulled his expression into a scowl as Freddy wandered into the converted barn that served as the fairground’s office.

      Freddy glared. “More to the point, why are you answering my phone and sitting at my desk?”

      Irritation pulsed at John’s temple and he tossed the phone at Freddy, who caught it deftly in one hand. “Sasha Todd just called.” John stood. “I took care of it, so there’s no need to call her back.”

      He walked to what was once Kyle’s desk but was now his. The weight of Freddy’s glare on John’s back followed his progress. He whipped his jacket from the huge leather swivel chair. Even the size of Kyle’s chair reflected the size of his damn ego.

      The erratic shuffling of papers and the opening and closing of drawers made John turn and face Freddy. The man was checking over his desk in the manner of a dog hunting for blood. John shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket. “I haven’t touched anything so there’s no need to have a coronary on me.”

      Freddy grunted. “I don’t like you sitting at my desk. Kyle never had any need—”

      “Kyle’s not here. I am.” They locked gazes. “I’m leaving for the night. I assume I don’t need to ask you if you’re okay to close up.”

      Silence.

      John tensed. He was more than ready for a showdown with the man who had only too clearly shown John his arrival at Templeton was as equally unwelcome as it was to a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty.

      Guilt over his harsh responses to Sasha Todd crept up his body, fuelling John’s frustration. “Well?” He snatched his keys from the desk and stared directly at Freddy.

      Freddy stared right back, his eyes bulging. “What’s the game here?”

      “Game? I’m not playing any game.”

      “I ain’t going to lie to you. When Kyle was sentenced, I assumed the baton would pass to me.”

      “Why would you think that?” John raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever known Kyle to do the decent thing? Did he regularly reward his loyal followers for their hard work?”

      Freddy straightened. “Hey, Kyle’s been good to me.”

      “Really? So when did he suggest in any way, shape or form that the fairground was coming

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