Читать книгу Snowkissed: Christmas Kisses with Her Boss / Proposal at the Winter Ball / The Prince's Christmas Vow - Jennifer Faye - Страница 12

CHAPTER FIVE

ETHAN RESISTED THE urge to loosen his collar as he waited in front of the limo outside the castle’s grand entrance. This strange fizz of anticipation in his gut was not acceptable—not something he’d experienced before, and not something he wanted to experience again.

Fact One: this was not a date. A whoosh of irritation escaped his lips that he needed a reminder of the obvious. The word date was not in Ethan Caversham’s dictionary.

Fact Two: Ruby was an employee and this was a business dinner, to give her a guest’s viewpoint and to show her—an employee—his appreciation of a job well done. Perhaps if he stressed the word employee enough his body and mind would grasp the concept...

Fact Three: yes, they had a shared past—but that past consisted of a brief snapshot in time, and that tiny percentage of time was not relevant to the present.

So... Those were the facts and now he was sorted. De-fizzed. Ethan Caversham was back in control.

A minute later the front door opened and every bit of his control was blown sky-high, splattering him with the smithereens of perspective. Moisture sheened his neck as he slammed his hands into his pockets and forced himself not to rock back on his heels.

Ruby looked sensational, and all his senses reeled in response. Her glorious dark hair tumbled loose in glossy ripples over the creamy bare skin of her shoulders. The black lacy bodice of her dress tantalised his vision. A wide black band emphasised the slender curve of her waist and the dress was ruched into a fun, flirty skirt that showcased the length of her legs.

But what robbed his lungs of breath was the expression on her face and the very slight question in her sapphire eyes. That hint of masked vulnerability smote him with a direct jab to the chest.

‘You look stunning.’

‘Thank you.’ Her chin angled in defiance. ‘I decided that if people are going to stare I’d better scrub up.’

‘You scrub up well.’

With a gargantuan effort he kept his tone light, pushed away the urge to pull her into his arms and show her how well, to try to soothe the apprehension that pulsed from her.

‘Your limo awaits.’

‘You didn’t need to hire a limo.’

‘I wanted to. We’re celebrating, and I want to do this in style—tonight I want you to enjoy the experience of being a guest.’

To make up in some small way for what Hugh had put her through. All those high society occasions where he’d groomed her to act a part she’d disliked. Sheer anger at the actor’s behaviour still fuelled Ethan—to have messed with Ruby’s head like that was unforgivable. So tonight it was all about Ruby. As his employee. His temple pounded a warning—perspective needed to be retained.

‘So that you can use the experience to help you at Caversham Castle. Speaking of which... I’ve issued a press statement.’

‘Good idea.’ The words were alight with false brightness as she slid into the limousine. Waited for him to join her in sleek leather luxury. ‘What did it say?’

‘“Ethan Caversham is pleased to announce the appointment of a restaurant manager for his new project, Caversham Castle in Cornwall. Ruby Hampton has taken on the role, and both Ethan and Ruby are excited at the prospect of creating a restaurant that sparkles with all the usual Caversham glitter and offers a dining experience to savour.”’

‘Sounds good.’

After that, silence fell, and Ethan forced his gaze away from her beauty and instead gazed out at the scenery. A quick glance at Ruby saw her doing the same. There was tension in the taut stance of her body and in the twisting of her hands in her lap.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘Sure.’ The word was too swift, the smile too bright.

‘It’s all right to be nervous. You’ve been in hiding for weeks.’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Slim bare shoulders lifted. ‘I just loathe being gawped at. You know...? Plus, you do realise there is every chance people will chuck bread rolls at me, or worse?’

‘Not on my watch,’ he said as the limo glided to a stop. ‘But if they do we’ll face it together.’ The words were all wrong. ‘As employer and employee—colleagues...professionals.’ Okay... Now he was overcompensating. ‘You can do this, Ruby.’

A small determined nod was her response as the car door was opened by the driver. Ethan slid along the leather seat and stepped out, waited as Ruby followed suit. Before she could so much as step from the car a bevy of reporters flocked around them. Quelling the urge to actually move closer to her, Ethan turned to face them, angled his body to shield Ruby.

‘So, Ruby, have you decided to break your silence about Hugh Farlane?’

‘Ethan, is it true that you’ve hired Ruby, or is this something more personal?’

Ethan raised his hands. ‘Easy, guys. Give Ruby some space, please. We get that you’re pleased to see her, but she needs to breathe. I need my new restaurant manager to be fully functional.’

Next to him, he sensed the shudder of tension ripple through her body, heard her inhalation of breath—and then she stepped forward.

‘Hey, guys. I’m happy to chat about my new role—which I am very excited about as the next step in my career—but I have nothing to say about Hugh.’

His chest warmed with admiration at the cool confidence of her tone and the poise she generated.

‘That’s old news,’ he interpolated. ‘Our concern is with the future and with Caversham’s new venture. Ruby is already doing an amazing job, and I’m looking forward to continuing to work with her.’

‘Best keep an eye on your wallet, then, Ethan!’

‘What about you, Ruby? Is this a new game plan? To get your mitts on Ethan and the Caversham bank balance?’

She flinched, and Ethan swivelled with lethal speed, the urge to lash out contained and leashed, his tone smooth as ice.

‘My wallet is perfectly safe, but many thanks for your concern. I have no doubt that Ruby has the same game plan as me. Right now I’m concentrating on the grand opening of Caversham Castle—the guest list is shaping up nicely. My plan is to grant exclusive coverage to a magazine—though I haven’t decided who yet. Perhaps we’ll discuss it over dinner.’

The implication was clear. Drop the gold-digger angle and you might be in with a chance.

The reporters dispersed, oiled away with ingratiating smiles, and satisfaction touched him. They would stop ripping Ruby to shreds, Hugh Farlane would in turn back off, public interest would die down and the bullies and the nutcases would retreat.

His aim was achieved—his anger channelled to achieve the desired result. Control was key—emotions needed to be ruled and used. When you let your emotions rule you then you lost control. And Ethan was never walking that road again.

Without thought he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her forward and then wished he hadn’t. Too close, too much—a reminder that the physical awareness hadn’t diminished.

It was with relief that he entered the warmth of the restaurant and Ruby stepped away from him. Her face flushed as her gaze skittered away from his and she looked around.

‘Wow!’

‘Tony Pugliano is a fan of Christmas,’ Ethan said.

The whole restaurant was a dazzling testament to that. The winter grotto theme was delicate, yet pervasive. Lights like icicles glittered from the ceiling and a suspended ice sculpture captured the eye. Windows and mirrors were frosted, and each table displayed scented star-shaped candles that filled the room with the elusive scent of Christmas.

‘It’s beautiful...’ Ruby breathed.

‘You like it?’ boomed a voice.

Ethan dragged his gaze from Ruby’s rapt features to see Tony Pugliano crossing the floor towards them.

‘Ethan.’ Tony pulled him into a bear hug and slapped his back. ‘This is fabulous, no? Welcome to my winter palace. Ruby—it’s good to see you.’

‘You too—and it’s glorious, Tony.’

The grizzled Italian beamed. ‘And now, for you, I have reserved the best table—you will be private, and yet you will appreciate every bit of the restaurant’s atmosphere. Anything you want you must ask and it is yours, my friends.’

‘Thank you, Tony. We appreciate it.’

‘We really do,’ Ruby said as they followed in Tony’s expansive wake to a table that outdid all the other tables in the vicinity.

Crystal glasses seized the light and glittered from each angled facet, a plethora of star candles dotted the table, and the gleam of moisture sheened the champagne already in an ice bucket.

‘Sit, sit...’ Tony said. ‘I have, for you, chosen the best—the very best of our menu. You need not even have to think—you can simply enjoy.’

* * *

Ruby watched his departing back and opened her mouth, closed it again as a waiter glided towards them, poured the champagne and reverently placed a plate of canapés in front of them.

‘Made by Signor Pugliano himself. There is arancini di riso filled with smoked mozzarella cheese, radicchio ravioli, bresaola and pecorino crostini drizzled with truffle oil, and Jerusalem artichokes with chestnut velouté, perfumed with white truffle oil.’

‘That sounds marvellous,’ Ruby managed.

Once the waiter had gone she met Ethan’s gaze, clocked his smile and forced her toes to remain uncurled. It was a smile—nothing more.

‘This is almost as miraculous as what I just witnessed. I am considering how to lift my jaw from my knees.’ She shook her head. ‘Tony Pugliano is renowned as one of the toughest, most brusque, most temperamental chefs in the country and round you he’s turned into some sort of pussycat. How? Why? What gives?’

His smile morphed into a grin. ‘It’s my famous charm.’

‘Rubbish.’ However charming Ethan was—and that was a point she had no wish to dwell on—it wouldn’t affect Tony Pugliano. ‘Plus, I know Hugh eats here, so I’m amazed he seemed so happy to see me.’

‘You are underrating my charm capacity,’ Ethan said.

Picking up a canapé, she narrowed her eyes. Nope—she wasn’t buying it. This was zip to do with charm, but clearly Ethan had no intention of sharing. No surprise there, then.

‘Especially given his less than accommodating attitude when I applied for a job here after my break-up with Hugh. Whereas now, if you asked him to, he’d probably give me any job I asked for.’ Seeing his eyebrows rise she shook her head. ‘Not that I want you to do that!’

‘You sure?’ There was an edge to his voice under the light banter.

Disbelief and hurt mingled. Surely Ethan couldn’t possibly think she would go after another job. ‘I am one hundred per cent sure. You gave me a chance when no one else would give me the opportunity to wash so much as a dish. So you get one hundred per cent loyalty.’

‘I appreciate that.’

Yet the flatness of his tone was in direct variance to the fizz of champagne on her tongue. ‘Ethan. I mean it.’

His broad shoulders lifted and for a second the resultant ripple of muscle distracted her. But only for a heartbeat.

‘There isn’t such a thing as one hundred per cent loyalty. Everyone has a price or a boundary that dissolves loyalty.’

The edge of bitterness caught at her. Had someone let him down? All of a sudden it became imperative that he believed in her.

‘Well, I don’t. You’re stuck with me for the duration.’

His large hand cradled his glass, set the light amber liquid swirling. ‘If you had an opportunity to have a family then your loyalty might lose some percentage points. Likewise if I stopped paying your salary your allegiance would be forfeit.’ He pierced a raviolo. ‘That’s life, Ruby. No big deal.’

‘It is a huge deal—and I think I need to make something clear. I do want children, but that does not take precedence above this job. Right now my top priority is to see Caversham Castle firmly ensconced as the lodestar of Caversham Holiday Adventures. I have no intention of starting a family until I am financially secure, with a house, savings in the bank and the ability to support one. But even if I won the Lottery I would not let you down. As for you not paying me—I know you would only do that in a crisis. I would always believe that you’d turn that crisis around, so you’d still have my loyalty.’

Ethan didn’t look even remotely moved—it was as if her words had slid off his smooth armour of cynicism.

Dipping a succulent morsel of artichoke into the chestnut velouté, she savoured the taste, wondered how else she could persuade him. She looked up and encountered an ironic glint in his eyes.

‘Forget the Lottery. What if Mr Perfect turns up and says he wants a family right now? I wouldn’t see you for dust.’

The words stung—what would it take to show him that he could trust her? ‘That won’t happen because I’m not planning on a meeting with Mr Perfect. I don’t need Mr Perfect—or Mr Anyone. My plan is to be a single parent.’

His grey-blue eyes hardened, all emotion vanishing to leave only ice.

The advent of their waiter was a relief and a prevention of further conversation. As if sensing the tension, he worked deftly to remove their used plates and replace them.

‘Here is langoustine cooked three different ways. Roasted with a hint of chilli and served with puy lentils, grilled with seared avocado and manuka honey, and a langoustine mousseline with manzanilla,’ he said swiftly, before making a dignified retreat with a discreet, ‘Buon appetito.’

Ethan didn’t so much as peek down at his plate, and Ruby forced herself to hold his gaze even as regret pounded her temples. Of all the idiotic conversational paths to take, telling Ethan about her single parenthood aspirations rated right up there as the Idiot Trail. Her intent had been to prove her loyalty was genuine, to reassure him. Which was nuts. Ethan was a billionaire...head of a global business—he did not need reassurance from one restaurant manager minion.

‘This looks delicious,’ she ventured.

‘Enjoy it whilst you can. Single parenthood doesn’t offer much opportunity to eat like this.’

Was he for real? A trickle of anger seeped into her veins. ‘That’s a bit of a sweeping statement, don’t you think?’

His snort of derision caused her toes to tingle with the urge to kick him.

‘No. Do you have any idea of the reality of single parenthood? How hard it is?’

Swallowing down the threat of a mirthless laugh, she slapped some of the langoustine mousse onto some bread and took a bite. Tried to concentrate on the incredible hit to her tastebuds instead of the memories that hovered before her—memories of those childhood years when she had effectively looked after her siblings. Dark-haired Tom, blue-eyed Philippa and baby Edie...

Yes! she wanted to shout. Yes, she did know how hard it was—but she also knew with all her being that it was worth it.

‘I fully understand how enormous a responsibility parenting is and I know it will be hard. But I also know it will be incredibly rewarding.’

Ever since she’d lost her siblings, understood she would never be with them again. Ruby had known with every cell of her body and soul that she wanted a family.

Desperately she tried to neutralise her expression but it was too late—his blue-grey eyes considered her and his face lost some of its scowl.

‘Those are words, Ruby. Easy to say. But the reality of caring for a family and supporting them at the same time on your own is way more daunting.’ His voice sounded less harsh, yet the words were leaden with knowledge.

‘I know it won’t be easy.’

‘No, it won’t. Plus it’s not all about babies and how cute and sweet they are.’

‘I get that.’ Her teeth were now clenched so tightly her jaw ached. ‘I am not a fool, basing a decision like this on a baby’s cute factor.’

Given her plan to adopt, it was more than possible that she’d opt for older children. Children such as she and her siblings had been.

‘Babies grow up—into toddlers, into schoolchildren and into teenagers. Sometimes when you’re on your own, trying to do it all, it can go wrong.’ A shadow darkened his features and he scoured his palm over his face as if in an effort to erase it.

For a heartbeat doubt shook her—Tom had been five, the girls even younger when social services had finally hauled the whole family into care. If that hadn’t happened would it all have gone wrong for them? Maybe it would—but that was because back then she’d been a child herself. This time she had it all planned.

‘I told you. I won’t embark on having a family until I have sufficient resources to make it possible. I will make sure I can work part-time, I will have the best childcare known to mankind, and—’ Breaking off, she picked up her fork and pulled her plate towards her. Shook her head. ‘I have no idea why I am justifying myself to you. Who made you the authority on single parenthood?’

‘No one. But I am concerned that you are jumping the gun. Just because Hugh Farlane turned out to be a number one schmuck it doesn’t mean you have to dive into single parenthood. Maybe this desire for kids on your own is a reaction to how badly it worked out with Hugh. I don’t think you should make any hasty decisions, that’s all. It’s a mighty big step to take.’

His deep tone had gentled, the concern in it undoubtedly genuine, and that was worse than his scorn. That she could have dismissed, or countered with anger. But care triggered in her an alarming yearn to confide in him, to explain that her desire for a family was way more than a whim activated by Hugh’s perfidy.

Bad idea. Yet she had to say something.

‘I know that.’ She did. ‘But this is not a rebound decision from Hugh. Truly it isn’t. It feels right.’

‘Why?’

Ruby hesitated, picked up her glass and sipped a swirl of champagne, relieved to see their waiter approaching. Her brain raced as he placed the next course in front of them, rapidly explained that it consisted of crispy skinned chicken breast with black truffles, spinach and a white port sauce, and then discreetly melted into the background.

This would be the perfect opportunity to turn the conversation. Yet surely there was no harm in answering the question—maybe it was time to remind herself of her goals and her motivations...set it all out.

A warning chime pealed from the alcoves of her mind. This was meant to be a professional dinner. It was hard to see that this conversation was anything but personal. But for some indefinable reason it seemed natural. The ding-dong of alarm pealed harder. This was how it had felt a decade before. Curled up in a chair in the beige metallic confines of a hostel room, the temptation to talk and confide had ended up in disaster.

But it was different now, and...and, truth be told—she wanted him to know that she was all grown up...not some daft girl who hadn’t thought through the idea of going it alone into parenthood. So one last explanation and then she would move the conversation into professional waters.