Free Tempted by Trouble by Liz Fielding

to a gleaming shine and, despite her advanced age, there was not a sign of rust to mar her immaculate paintwork. Her hair swung over her face as she bent to take a closer look and she tucked it behind her ear. ‘Tell me, did you buff her up specially before you came here?’ she asked. ‘To make her look particularly appealing?’
    â€˜I gave her a once-over with the hose and leather to remove the dust,’ he admitted, ‘but that’s all. Basil wields the wax.’
    â€˜Something else he expects me to do, no doubt.’
    â€˜I think he’d excuse you the waxing, although no one wants an ice cream from a grubby van.’
    â€˜I think, whoever he is, he’s got more neck than a giraffe,’ she retaliated, taking another walk around her.
    She wasn’t particularly interested in the quality of Rosie’s bodywork, but it was a lot easier to concentrate on the problem with Rosie between them. So that she couldn’t see his shoulders, his muscular arms, be sandbagged by those blue eyes.
    She paused, let her hand rest against the pink, sun-warmed metal of the door for a moment, trying to connect with thisunknown great-uncle who had lavished such love on an inanimate object when he had a family living so close by.
    Sean joined her. ‘Honestly?’ he prompted.
    â€˜Honestly, I have to admit that she is rather sweet.’
    Okay. She was kidding herself. Her concentration was totally shot.
    â€˜Do you want to see inside?’
    He didn’t wait for an answer, but opened the door and stood back and, as Elle stepped up into the serving area, she was instantly assailed by the faint scent of vanilla, the ghost of untold numbers of ices served in Rosie’s long lifetime. Echoes of the excited voices of children.
    Her own memories of standing with a coin growing hot in her hand as she’d lined up with her mother to buy an ice at the fair. Not from Rosie… The van had been blue, like the sky, and she’d been happy.
    Her heart picked up a beat and her mouth smiled all by itself, no effort involved. Fun. The word popped into her head unbidden. This could be fun.
    Danger…
    It was as if the word fun had clanged a warning in her brain. It couldn’t be that simple. There was always a catch. Fun had to be paid for.
    And with the thought came a brown envelope dose of reality.
    On her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor, she might bear a passing resemblance to Cinderella but, while Basil fitted the role of Baron Hardup and Sean McElroy was undoubtedly a charmer, this was no fairy tale.
    â€˜Will you tell me one thing, Sean?’ She looked back over her shoulder. ‘Exactly how much rent does Basil owe the estate?’
    She hadn’t been conscious of him smiling until he stopped but at least he didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about.
    â€˜You really think I’d put you out to work to pay off Basil’s debts?’ he asked, his voice perfectly even.
    â€˜Man cannot live by ice cream alone and you seem very eager to drum up business,’ she pointed out.
    For a heartbeat, the blink of an eye, nothing happened. Then Sean’s face emptied of expression.
    â€˜I’m convinced, Elle. You don’t know Basil. And you certainly don’t know me. Step down,’ he said, moving back to give her room. She didn’t move. ‘Step down,’ he repeated. ‘Walk away and we’ll forget this ever happened.’
    â€˜Just like that?’ When he’d gone out of his way to persuade her that she was responsible? ‘What happened to your determination to carry out Basil’s wishes, even if it meant bothering a confused old lady?’
    She wanted him to tell her that he would never have done that. Instead, he said, ‘I’ll tell Basil the truth. That you weren’t interested.’
    â€˜And if he doesn’t come back?’
    â€˜If he doesn’t come back it won’t matter