Page 41 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
He grinned. “Do I get a point?”
“Two points,” she conceded.
“So, go on,” he prompted. “Weddings wouldn’t be enough to sustain the place. You’d still be likely to have a drop off of bookings in the off-season. What else?”
“Okay . . .” She thought about it. “You could push the dog-friendly angle, especially as dogs are allowed on the beach. A lot of places ban them during the summer or even all year round. Dog owners are always looking for places to go. A lot of them don’t want to have to deal with all the paperwork to take their pooch abroad. And there are already websites and magazines — there’s your promotion right there.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Good one.”
“And I’m sure there are lots of other things they could do. Business conferences, and maybe . . . corporate team-building events. You know the kind of thing — paintballing, trekking. Being so close to Dartmoor, that could be really popular.”
“It could.”
She sighed. “All we need is someone with a few million to toss around.”
“Yes . . .”
* * *
The waiter had taken away their empty starter plates and brought their main course. Paul was particularly fond of fingerlings, with their slightly nutty, earthy tang. He ate in silence for a while, thinking over Jess’s suggestions.
He was fond of the old Carleton. When they were kids, he and Tom Cullen and the Ellis brothers used to run wild about the place, exploring all the hidden nooks and crannies that had been disused for years. That could maybe be turned to something productive.
He knew from Lisa how little had been put into it over the past . . . well, probably twenty years or so. Just barely enough to keep it up to the basic health and safety codes.
The structure was basically sound, but it would take an awful lot of money just to buy the place, never mind to renovate it to the kind of standard that would be needed. And he couldn’t bring any of his clients’ money in — not yet anyway. That would be unethical.
But if he could find a way to turn it into an attractive venue, where people would be willing to pay good prices, with a range of facilities which would free them from relying on the unpredictable English weather, it would be worth thinking about.
“You’re very quiet,” Jess remarked, a question in her eyes.
“I’m enjoying my dinner.” He wasn’t ready to share his thoughts about the hotel yet. “How’s yours?”
“Excellent.”
“More points?”
“Don’t get greedy.”
He laughed. She was fun to be with, that sharp sense of humour keeping him on his toes. He was enjoying the evening more than he had enjoyed a date with a woman for . . . a long time.
Maybe Lisa was right, he acknowledged with a quirk of wry humour. Choosing his girlfriends on the basis of having great legs might not be the best way to achieve a lasting relationship. Not that Jess didn’t have great legs, starting in a pair of sharp high heels and going all the way up to heaven.
But then he wasn’t looking for a lasting relationship. No way. Tom and Liam might have bitten the bullet, but he enjoyed the single life. Domestic bliss wasn’t his thing.
Chapter Thirteen
“Mmm.” Alex bundled up his fish and chip paper ready to throw it in the bin. “Those were about the best fish and chips I’ve ever tasted.”
Shelley smiled up at him. “Do you have fish and chips in Canada?”
“We sure do. In many ways Canada is a lot like Britain. We even have red mailboxes, though they aren’t round like they are here.”
“What about Christmas? Do you do it the same as here?”
“Oh yes.” His eyes twinkled. “Christmas trees, turkey with all the trimmings. The main difference is the snow.”
“You get a white Christmas?”
