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'From what Frank tells me your little business is surviving quite well despite the economic climate.' The deep, husky voice at her side cut into her thoughts abruptly.
'You've obviously worked very hard over the last few years.'
'And how,' she answered, with more feeling than grammar.
'What made you decide to take on what was obviously going to be an uphill struggle?' he asked quietly. 'And at such a young age?'
She shrugged slowly. 'A number of things, really, but the main one was that both Mitch and I felt Dad would have wanted it that way. He'd worked for years to try and get the business off the ground; it had always been his dream for the family to have their own company, and we felt we had to at least try.'
'I see.' He spared her a swift glance before his eyes returned to the road ahead. 'You obviously loved your father very much.'
'He was a lovely man,' she said quietly, her expression introspective now. 'I can't ever remember Mum and him having a cross word although I suppose they must have done—probably when we were in bed.' She smiled to herself. 'They were always so protective of us; Mitch and I have been very lucky.'
'Yes, you have.' There was something, the merest shadow in the flat voice that swung her eyes to the grim profile, but she could read nothing in the harsh features to indicate what he was thinking. 'And your mother?' he asked expressionlessly. 'Does she work in the firm too?'
'Mum?' Miriam smiled at the thought. 'No way. She helps out at the odd function now and again when we need her, and is always available in an emergency, but she is no businesswoman. The house is full of dogs and cats—five dogs and six cats at the last count, although that has varied through my childhood—but she is a real homebody and we wouldn't change a hair of her head.'
'I see.' The sombre voice was thoughtful. 'You obviously had an idyllic childhood, Miriam; that explains—' He stopped abruptly.
'Explains?' she asked curiously.
'Explains your rather sunny attitude to life,' he answered shortly.
She stared at him in surprise, not at all sure if the comment was a criticism or a compliment but rather suspecting the former. 'You'd rather me be miserable, then?' she asked carefully after a long moment of silence.
'Not at all.' He shot a swift glance at her face and she saw the hard mouth curve slightly. 'And it wasn't meant in a derogatory way. If that's how it sounded I apologise. I'm sure your optimistic approach must have been a great asset to the business.'
'Sometimes.' She eyed him out of the corner of her eye. 'And sometimes not.' His smile deepened and she felt a ridiculous sense of achievement that she had actually made him smile, along with a dangerous weakness in her knees as the sensual pull of the man intensified. The sooner she was out of this car the better, she thought helplessly. She didn't exactly like him but… But he certainly had something and it wasn't doing her pulse rate any good.
'Mitch usually blames it on the nursery rhyme,' she said quickly into the silence, which had suddenly become charged with something she couldn't quite fathom. Something that was making little trickles of electricity flicker down her spine.
'I'm sorry?'
'You know.' She was speaking too quickly, but suddenly the close confines of the car were painfully intimate. ' 'Monday's child is fair of face' and so on.'
'I'm afraid I don't.' He shifted slightly and she was hotly aware of the hard bulk of him as the long legs readjusted their position. 'Nursery rhymes didn't play a part in my childhood, I'm afraid. They were an indulgence my parents did not approve of so my education is sadly lacking in that area.'
'Oh.' She stared at him, nonplussed. 'Well, it goes something like this, I think:
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living,
But the child that is born on a Sunday
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.'
'And you are?'
'I was born on a Sunday.'
