Читать книгу A Diamond in Her Stocking - Kandy Shepherd - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

LIZZIE LEANED BACK from the last of the artworks they’d rewrapped to send back to the artist, kneading with fisted hands the small of her back where it ached. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘All done, thank goodness. That was harder work than I’d thought it would be.’

‘But worth it,’ said Jesse from beside her.

‘Absolutely worth it. The paintings add to the atmosphere of the café like nothing else could. I hope the artists come in so I can thank them with a coffee.’

But Lizzie felt exhausted. Not just from the effort of unpacking, holding the paintings up against the wall and then repacking the unwanted pictures. But from the strain of working alongside Jesse.

In theory, learning to be ‘just friends’ with him should have been easy. He was personable, smart, and seemed determined to put their history behind them. Gentlemanly, too—in spite of his shoulder injury he insisted on doing any heavy lifting.

Trouble was, she found it impossible to relax around him. She had to consider every word before she uttered it, which made her sound stilted and awkward. The odd uncharacteristic nervous giggle kept bubbling into her conversation.

Could you ever be just friends with a man you’d kissed, wanted, cried over? Especially when that man was so heart-stoppingly attractive. Could you pretend that time together had never happened?

She would have to try.

If it were up to her, she would choose never to see Jesse Morgan again. Even though they’d cleared up the misunderstanding about his cousin, it was hard to be around someone she’d fancied, kissed, liked...when nothing would—or could—ever happen between them. But with the family situation being the way it was, she had to make a real effort to nurture a friendship with him—be pals, buddies, good mates. Future family occasions could be incredibly awkward if she didn’t.

Right now, Jesse stood beside her as they both surveyed the arrangement of paintings on the wall. He was not so close that their shoulders were in danger of nudging but close enough so she was aware of his scent, an intoxicating blend of spicy sandalwood and fresh male sweat. It was too close. Being anywhere within touching distance of Jesse Morgan was too close. Memories of how wonderful it had felt to be in his arms were resurfacing.

She leaned forward to straighten the small painting of the manta rays and used the movement to edge away, hoping he didn’t notice.

‘They look good,’ Jesse said. ‘You chose well.’

She thought about a friend-type thing to say. ‘To be fair, we both made the final selection.’

‘You exercised your power of veto more often than not.’

‘Is that another way of saying I’m a control freak?’ she said without thinking at all.

‘I didn’t say that,’ he said, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. ‘But...’

If he was a real friend, she would have punched him lightly on the arm for that and laughed. She wished it could be that way. But there would be no casual jesting and certainly no touching with Jesse. It was too much of a risk.

Instead she made a show of sighing. ‘The success or failure of Bay Bites rests on my shoulders and I’m only too aware of that.’

‘That’s not true,’ he said. ‘You do have help. Sandy. Ben. The staff she’s hired for you. Me.’

She turned to face him. ‘You?’

‘I can work with you for two hours a day.’

‘Two hours?’ That seemed an arbitrary amount of time to allocate. Maybe it was all he could manage with his shoulder. But she couldn’t help wondering what other commitments Jesse had in Dolphin Bay. And if they were of the female kind.

He nodded. ‘Whatever help you need, I’m there for two hours every day.’

That was the trouble with denying attraction when that attraction was an ever-present tension, underlying every word, every glance. The air seemed thick with words better left unspoken. At a different time, in a different life, she could think of some exciting ways to spend two hours alone with Jesse Morgan in her bedroom. But not now.

She cleared her throat. Think neutral, friend-type chat. ‘I appreciate the help with the paintings. Though I’m the one who will be looking at them all day and—call me a control freak—but I really couldn’t say yes to the one of the bronze whaler sharks, no matter how skilfully it was done.’

He’d argued hard for the sharks and he continued to argue. ‘Sharks are part of the ocean. As a surfer I learned to respect them. They’re magnificent creatures. That painting captured them perfectly.’

She shuddered. ‘They’re predators. And I don’t like predators. Also, remember people will be eating in this place. They don’t want to look up and see pictures of creatures that might eat them.’

Jesse grinned, his perfect teeth white against his tan, those blue, blue eyes glinting with good humour. A woman could forget all caution and common sense to win a smile like that.

Again she found herself wishing things could be different, that they could take up from where they’d left off out on that balcony. She had to suppress a sigh at the memory of how exciting his kisses had been.

‘Good point,’ he said. ‘But I still think there are too many wussy pictures of flowers.’

‘So we agree to disagree,’ she said with an upward tilt of her chin.

‘Wussy versus brave?’ he challenged, still with that grin hovering on his so-sexy mouth.

‘If by brave you mean you want to swim with the sharks, then go for it. I’ll stick with dolphins, thanks.’

‘I’ve always liked a challenge,’ he said.

The challenge of the chase? Was that what he meant? Lizzie really didn’t want to know. Or to think too much about how it would feel to be caught up again in Jesse’s arms. She’d just steer clear of him as much as she could. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him not to overstep the boundaries of a new friendship—it was herself she didn’t trust.

‘I do love the painting of the dolphins surfing,’ she said. ‘If I could afford the price tag, I’d buy it myself.’

He sobered. ‘You’ll have to make sure you don’t get too attached to any of the paintings. You want to sell as many as you can. It’s an added revenue stream for the café.’

‘You’re right. I’ll just get heartbroken when that particular one goes.’

‘Just think of the commission on the sale,’ he said. ‘The quicker the café gets in the black, the better it will be for all concerned.’

She was surprised at how hard-headed and businesslike he sounded. But of course Jesse would be used to not getting attached to pretty things. And that was when she had to bite down on any smart remarks. Not if they were going to try to be friends.

‘Thanks again for your help,’ she said. ‘I’d offer you some lunch but, as you can see, I’m not set up for food just yet.’

‘I hear you’re still finalising the menu. I’m looking forward to being an official food taster on Saturday.’

Lizzie stared. ‘You’re coming to the taste test?’

‘Sandy rounded up all the family to help you try out the recipes.’

‘Oh,’ she said, disconcerted. If she’d thought she’d only be seeing Jesse occasionally during his time back home in Dolphin Bay, she was obviously mistaken. Talking herself out of her attraction to him was going to get even more difficult.

‘When it comes to taste-testing good food, I’m your man,’ he said.

She remembered the game they’d had such fun playing together at the wedding, predicting the favourite foods of the guests. He’d been such good company she’d forgotten all the worries that plagued her that night. Good company and something more that had had her aching for him to kiss her out on that balcony.

‘Let me guess,’ she said, resting her chin on her hand, making a play of thinking hard. ‘The other volunteers will have to fight you for the slow-roasted lamb with beetroot relish. And maybe the caramelised apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream?’

He folded his arms in front of his chest. ‘I’m not going to tell you if you’re right or wrong about what I like. You’ll have to wait for the taste night to see.’

‘Tease,’ she said.

‘You don’t like being made to wait, do you?’ he said, that slow smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.

‘There are some things that are worth waiting for,’ she said, unable to resist a slow smile of her own in return.

For a long moment her eyes met his until she dropped her gaze. She had to stop this. It would be only too easy to flirt with Jesse, to fall back into his arms and that way could lead to disaster. She had to keep their conversations purely on a business level.

She glanced through the connecting doorway and into the bookshop. Sandy was due to see her at any time and there was only a small moment of opportunity left with Jesse.

She lowered her voice. ‘Can I ask you something in confidence?’

His dark brows rose. ‘Sure. Ask away.’

‘I’m concerned about the food I’ve got to work with.’

‘Concerned?’

‘It...it might not be up to scratch.’

He frowned. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t the food supplies being ordered through the Hotel Harbourside restaurant? Ben’s hotel is one of the best places to eat in town.’

Ben had built the modern hotel on the site of the old guest house. Alongside, he’d built a row of shops, including Bay Books and Bay Bites.

She winced at Jesse’s understandably defensive tone. But who else could she ask? ‘That’s the problem. I have to tread carefully. But I have to be blunt. The Harbourside is good pub grub. Nothing more. Nothing less. And it’s not up to the standard I want. Not for Bay Bites.’

* * *

Lizzie did tend to be blunt. Jesse had noticed that six months ago. Personally, he appreciated her straightforward manner. But not everyone in Dolphin Bay would. No way could the café succeed if Lizzie was going to look down her straight, narrow little nose at the locals. Could she really fit in here?

‘But isn’t it just a café?’ he said.

‘Just a café? How can you say that?’ Her voice rose with indignation. ‘Because it’s a café doesn’t mean it can’t serve the best food I can possibly offer. Whether I’m cooking in a high-end restaurant or a café, my food will be the best.’ She gave a proud toss to her head that he doubted she even realised she’d made.

There was a passion and an energy to her that he couldn’t help but admire. But he also feared for her. Small country towns could be brutal on newcomers they thought were too big for their boots.

‘You’re not in France now, Lizzie.’

‘More small town wisdom for me?’ Her half-smile took the snarkiness out of the comment.

‘Some advice—you don’t want to make things too fancy. Not a good idea around here to give the impression you think everything is better in France. Or in Sydney.’

Her response was somewhere between a laugh and a snort. ‘You seriously think I’m going to transplant fancy French dining to a south coast café and expect it to work? I might have lived in France for years, but I’m still an Aussie girl and I think I’ve got a good idea of what my customers will like.’

He knew she had a reputation as a talented chef who had established her credentials at a very young age—he wasn’t sure she had the business sense to go with them.

‘And that would be?’ he asked.

‘The very best ingredients served simply.’ She gave another toss of her head that sent her blonde plait swishing across her back. ‘That’s what I learned in France. Not necessarily at the fine-dining establishments in Paris but in the cafés and markets of Lyon and from the home cooking of Amy’s French grandparents. You know they say the heart of France is Paris, but its stomach is Lyon?’

‘I didn’t know that.’ He’d raced through a see-Europe-in-two-weeks type backpacker tour when he was a student that had included Paris and Versailles but that was as far as his knowledge of the country went. ‘My journeys have mainly been of the have-disaster-will-travel type. And the food...well, you wouldn’t want to know about the food.’

‘Of course,’ she said, nodding. ‘I remember now you told me about some of the out-of-the-way places you’ve been sent to.’

She’d seemed so genuinely interested in the work he was doing to rebuild communities. Not once had she voiced concern that he had veered off the career track to big bucks and business success. Other girls had been more vocal. He hadn’t seen the need to explain to them that he’d been fortunate in the land he’d inherited from his grandparents and the investments he’d made. He could afford to work for a charity for as long as it suited him and not have to justify it to anyone.

Though that might be about to change. The Houston company wanted his expertise and their offer came with a salary that had stunned him with the amount of zeroes.

‘So what’s your problem with ordering through the hotel?’ he asked.

‘Their suppliers will be fine for the basics and the hotel gives us better buying power. It’s the organic and artisan produce I worked with in Sydney I need to source. Farm to plate stuff. I don’t know where to get it here.’

‘Farm to plate? That sounds expensive. Do you really want expensive for the café?’ He looked around at the fresh white décor, the round tables and bentwood chairs, the way the layout had been designed for customers to wander in from the bookshop. It said casual and relaxed to him.

‘Actually, farm to plate can be less expensive because you cut out the middle man.’

‘That’s a point,’ he said.

‘I know ridiculously high prices would be the kiss of death to a café serving breakfast and lunch,’ she said with that combative tilt to her chin that was starting to get familiar in an endearing kind of way.