Читать книгу One Winter's Day - Kandy Shepherd, Cara Colter - Страница 15

CHAPTER SIX

THE SATURDAY TASTE-TESTING brunch at the café was in full swing. Bay Bites was packed with people, most of whom Lizzie didn’t recognise, all of whom she wanted to impress. She’d spent all of Friday prepping food and working with the staff Sandy had hand-picked for her. They’d bonded well as a team, united by enthusiasm for the new venture. Now it was actually happening and it was exhilarating and scary at the same time.

She took a moment out from supervising her new kitchen staff to stand back behind the dolphin-carved countertop and watch what had turned into a party of sorts.

So far, so good. Her menu choices were getting rave reviews. She’d decided to serve small portions from the basic menu, handed around from trays, so people could try as many options as possible. She’d gone as far as printing feedback sheets to be filled in but the Dolphin Bay taste-testers were proving more informal than that. They simply told her or the wait staff what they thought. She took their suggestions on board with a smile.

‘I’d go easy on the chilli in that warm chicken salad, love,’ Jesse’s seventy-five-year-old great-aunt Ida said. ‘Some of us oldies aren’t keen on too much of the hot stuff.’

‘The only problem with those little burgers was there weren’t enough of them,’ said the bank manager, a friend of Ben. ‘Your other greedy guests emptied the tray.’

‘The triple chocolate brownies? Bliss,’ said one well-dressed thirty-plus woman. ‘I’ll be coming here for my book club meetings—it’s ideal with the bookshop next door.’

Lizzie soon sensed an immense goodwill towards the new venture. Not, she realised, because of any reputation of hers. Because of Ben and Sandy, she was accepted as a member of the well-loved Morgan clan.

And then there was the Jesse effect. A number of these people were the wedding guests who had discovered her and Jesse kissing on the balcony. She was, and always would be in their eyes, one of ‘Jesse’s girls’ and included in their general affection towards him. Who would have thought it?

From her corner behind the counter, she watched Jesse as he worked the room, towering head and shoulders above most of the guests. Was he aware of how many female eyes followed him? Her eyes were among them. No matter where he was in the café she was conscious of him. It was as if he had some built-in magnet that drew female attention. She was no more immune than the rest of them. She just had to continue to fight it if she was going to be able to work with him.

He’d insisted on wearing the same blue jeans, white T-shirt and butcher-striped full apron in sea tones of blue and aqua as the wait staff. How could a guy look so hot in such pedestrian work-wear? But then a guy as handsome and well-built as Jesse would look good in anything. Or nothing. She shook her head to rid both her brain and her libido of such subversive thoughts. Jesse was off-limits—even to her imagination.

He’d arrived this morning before anyone else. ‘I’m here to help,’ he’d said. ‘If I wear the uniform, people will know it.’

‘I thought you were here to taste the food,’ she’d protested as he’d tied on the apron, succeeding in looking utterly masculine as he did so. The colours of the stripes made his impossibly blue eyes look even bluer.

‘I can do both,’ he’d said in a tone that brooked no argument.

She’d let it go at that, in truth grateful for the extra help. And he had excelled himself. It appeared he knew most of the guests—and if he didn’t he very soon did. Through the hum of conversation, the clatter of cutlery, the noise of chairs scraping on the tiled floor, she could hear the deep tones of his voice as he made people welcome to Bay Bites and talked up the food while he was at it.

If she had hired an expensive public relations consultant they wouldn’t have done better than Jesse in promoting the new business.

She froze as she saw him bend his dark head to chat with Evie, the pretty blonde wife of the dairy farmer Jesse had introduced her to on Thursday. Straight away Lizzie had sensed that the girl was more than a mere acquaintance. Sure enough, it turned out she had dated Jesse in high school.

How many other women in this room had Jesse been involved with? Was involved with right now?

Was he really a player in the worst sense of the word, moving on once he’d made a conquest? Or was he just a natural-born charmer? She suspected the latter. The nurses in the hospital where he’d been born had probably gone gaga over him as he’d lain kicking and gurgling in his crib. And she’d bet he’d been a teacher’s pet all the way through school—with the female teachers, anyway.

Evie had come to the taste-testing without her husband; rather she was accompanied by a curvy auburn-haired girl who was a friend visiting from Sydney. Lizzie gripped tight onto the edge of the counter as Evie’s companion laughed up at Jesse. She schooled her face to show no reaction. He could talk and laugh with whatever woman he pleased. It was nothing to her.

That uncomfortable twinge of jealousy she felt as she watched them was further reason to keep Jesse at a distance.

Jealousy. She had battled hard with herself to overcome what she saw as a serious character flaw. As a child she’d been jealous of Sandy, not just for her toys or pretty dresses, but also because she’d been convinced her father loved Sandy more than he’d loved her. Thankfully, her mother had identified what was going on and made sure no rift ever developed between the sisters. She’d helped the young Lizzie learn to handle jealousy of other kids at school and later jealousy when she’d thought people at work had been favoured over her. As an adult, Lizzie had thought the demon had been well and truly vanquished. Until she’d met Philippe.

She’d been just twenty-one and working at an upmarket resort in Port Douglas in tropical far northern Queensland. She had worked hard and played hard with talented young chefs from around the world on working holidays. Good-looking, charming Philippe had been way out of her league. But he’d made a play for her and she’d fallen hard for his French accent and his live-for-the-moment ways. It hadn’t mattered that other girls never stopped flirting with him because he had assured her he loved only her. She’d followed him to France without a moment’s hesitation.

But the jealousy demon had reared back into full flaming life after she’d given birth to Amy. For the first six months she’d been stuck at home living with his parents while he’d continued the work-hard-play-hard lifestyle they’d formerly enjoyed together. And Philippe had not been the type of man to do without feminine attention.

Just like Jesse, she thought now as he smiled at the auburn-haired girl who was hanging onto his every word. Who could blame the girl for being dazzled by his movie-star looks and genuine charm? She couldn’t let it get to her. Women of all ages gravitated to Jesse and he gravitated to them. That was the way he was and it wasn’t likely to change. It was the reason above all others that she could never be more than passing friendly with him.

If Jesse had been more than a friend, she would by now be racked with jealousy. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. She had hated the jealous, suspicious person she had become towards the end of her marriage; she never wanted to go there again.

Jesse must have felt her gaze on him because he said something to the two women, turned and headed towards her. He indicated his near-empty tray where a lone piece of chicken sat in a pile of baby spinach leaves. ‘Want some?’

She shook her head. ‘Can’t eat. Too concerned with feeding all of this lot.’

‘You’re sure? You need to keep your energy up. It’s delicious. Made with free-range chicken breast stuffed with organic caramelised tomato and locally produced goat’s cheese and wrapped in Italian prosciutto.’

She smiled. ‘You’re doing a good job of selling it to me, but no thanks all the same.’

‘Can’t let it go to waste,’ he said, popping it into his mouth.

‘Glad you approve,’ she said as he ate the chicken with evident relish. A similar dish had been one of the most popular items in the Sydney restaurant she’d worked in when she’d first come back from France. Served with a salad for lunch, she hoped it would be popular here too.

‘The slow-cooked lamb was a huge success,’ he said. ‘Although some people said they’d prefer an onion relish to the beetroot relish.’

‘Some people,’ she said, arching her brow. ‘How many people? One person in particular, perhaps?’

‘One in particular has never much liked beetroot. He’d like the onion.’

‘So maybe the chef was correct in her guess that that particular person would like the slow-cooked lamb?’

‘Maybe.’

‘You refuse to admit I was right about what you’d like best?’

‘I haven’t finished tasting everything yet. I’ll let you know at the end. By the way, the asparagus and feta frittata was a big hit with the ladies. I told them it was low calorie, though I don’t know whether that’s actually true.’

Was he born with an innate knowledge of what appealed to women? Or was it some masculine dark art he practised to enchant and ensnare them? She could not let herself fall under his spell—it would be only too easy.

‘Make sure you don’t miss out on the apple pie, I’m sure you’ll love it,’ she said. ‘But don’t even think of telling anyone it’s low calorie. I might get sued when my customers start stacking on the weight.’

He put down the tray, leaned across the counter towards her and spoke in a low voice, his eyes warm with what seemed like genuine concern. ‘Seriously, are you pleased how it’s going?’

She nodded. ‘Really pleased. I don’t want to jinx myself but people are booking already for our opening day on Thursday.’

‘The buzz is good. I was on door duty a while ago and had to turn passers-by away. Lucky we put the “Closed for Private Function” sign on the door or I reckon we’d have been invaded.’

‘I’ve handed out a lot of leaflets letting people know about the opening hours and menu.’

‘So everything is going as planned?’

‘I’m happy but—’

‘You’re not happy with the staff.’

Again, she was surprised at how easily he read her. Especially when he scarcely knew her. ‘No. Yes. I mean I’m really happy with the sous chef. He’s excellent. In fact he’s too good for a café and I doubt we’ll keep him.’ She glanced back at the kitchen. But with the noise level of the café there was no way the chef could hear her.

‘You’ll keep him. He’s already got one kid and another on the way. He can’t afford to leave Dolphin Bay.’

‘I don’t know whether to be glad for us or sad for him.’

‘Try glad for him. He’s happy to have a job in his home town. What about the others?’

‘The kitchen hand is great with both prep and clearing up and the waitresses are enthusiastic and friendly, which is just what I want.’

‘I can hear a “but” coming.’

‘The waitress who is also the barista—Nikki. She’s a nice girl but not nearly as experienced with making coffee as she said and I’m worried how she’ll work under pressure.’

‘You know what I said. With a small staff and a reputation to establish you can’t afford any weak links.’

‘I know. And...thanks for the advice.’

He picked up the tray again, swivelling it on one hand. ‘The kitchen is calling.’

She’d noticed how adeptly he’d carried the tray, served the food. ‘You know, if you weren’t an engineer and helping the world, you’d have a great future in hospitality,’ she teased.

‘Been there. Done that. I worked as a waiter for an agency while I was at university. I’m only doing it again to help make Bay Bites a success.’

She bet she knew which agency. It employed only the handsomest of handsome men. It figured they’d want Jesse on their books even if only in university vacations.

Jesse took off again, stopping for a quick word with his mother on his way to the kitchen.

Lizzie waved to Maura, and Maura smiled and blew her a kiss. Jesse’s mother was a tall, imposing woman with Jesse’s blue eyes and black hair, though hers was now threaded with grey. Lizzie had taken up with her again as if it had been yesterday that she’d been a teenager helping her in the kitchen and soaking up the older woman’s cooking lore.

Thankfully, Maura had been delighted at the idea of sharing some of the guest house favourites based on the cooking of her Irish youth. They’d made a date for Monday to go through the recipes. Just to go through the recipes, not to talk about Jesse, Lizzie reminded herself. Or to do anything as ridiculous as to ask Maura to show her his baby photos. Her thoughts of him being doted over as a baby had sparked a totally unwarranted curiosity to see what he’d looked like as a little boy.

* * *

As Jesse picked up a tray of mini muffins, he wondered what the heck he was doing playing at being a waiter in a café. He hadn’t enjoyed the time he’d spent in the service industry during university, had only done it to fund his surfing and skiing trips. Being polite to ill-mannered clients of catering companies hadn’t been at all to his liking. In fact he’d lost his job when he’d tipped a pitcher of cold water over an obnoxious drunken guest who wouldn’t stop harassing one of the young waitresses. The agency had never hired him again and he hadn’t given a damn.

He’d promised to help Sandy with the café but the building work he’d already done was more than his sister-in-law would ever have expected. No. He had to be honest with himself. This café gig was all about Lizzie. Seeing her every day. Being part of her life. And that was a bad, bad idea. Even for two hours a day.

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. How beautiful she was. Her grace and elegance. Her warmth and humour. Remembering how she’d felt in his arms and how he’d like to have her there again. Her passionate response to his kisses and how he’d like—

In short, he was failing dismally in thinking of Lizzie Dumont as a family acquaintance trying to be friends. Could it ever really be platonic between them? There would always be an undercurrent of sexual attraction, of possibilities. Even in that white chef’s jacket and baggy black pants she looked beautiful. He even found it alluring the way she tasted food in the kitchen—how she closed her eyes, the way she used her tongue, her murmurs of pleasure when the food tasted the way it should.

Lizzie wasn’t sexy in a hip-swinging, cleavage-baring way. But there was something about the way she carried herself, the way she smiled that hinted at the passionate woman he knew existed under her contained exterior.

However, his reasons for not wanting to date her were still there and stopped him from flirting with her, from suggesting they see each other while he was in town. There could be no ‘fun while it lasts’ scenarios with Lizzie. And the alternative—something more serious—was not on for him. The last time he’d tried serious it had taken him years to recover from the emotional battering.

He had fallen so hard and fast for Camilla he hadn’t seen sense. Hadn’t realised when he’d talked to her about his feelings she had answered him with weasel words that had had him completely stymied, fooled into thinking she cared for him. He cringed when he thought about how naïve and idealistic he’d been. When he’d proposed to her she had virtually laughed in his face.

No way would he risk going there again with Lizzie. He had to stop looking at her, noticing her, admiring her.

There was also the sobering truth that Lizzie didn’t seem to want anything to do with him other than as a family friend. In fact he suspected she disapproved of him.

He’d noticed the way she’d watched him as he’d worked the room, offering samples of food, talking up the café, Lizzie’s skills as a chef, the bookshop next door, how it would all work when Bay Bites opened. He’d talked to guys too, but it was the women who’d wanted to linger and chat. As it always had been. And Lizzie was clocking that female attention.

Ever since he’d turned fourteen women had made it obvious they found him attractive. ‘You don’t even have to try, you lucky dog,’ Ben had often said when they were younger.

When his mates had been trying to talk girls into their beds he’d been trying to get them out of his. Literally. More than once he’d come home and found a girl he scarcely knew had climbed through his bedroom window and was waiting for him, naked in his bed.

He’d found that a turn-off rather than a turn-on. He’d had to ask them to leave in the nicest possible way without hurting their feelings. When Jesse made love to a woman it was always going to be memorable—and his choice.

His brother Ben stopped him to snag first one muffin then another from his tray. ‘Sure I can’t convince you to stay in Dolphin Bay and work here? With your way with the ladies, I reckon we’ll double the numbers of female customers. Look at them, flocking to your side like they’ve always done.’

‘Ha ha,’ he said, ignoring the bait, conscious that Lizzie might overhear the conversation with his brother.

As he’d said to Lizzie, his prowess with the opposite sex was greatly exaggerated. And he hadn’t taken advantage of his gift with women. He had always been honest about his feelings. Dated one girl at a time. Made it clear when he wasn’t looking for anything serious. Bailed before anyone got hurt. Let her tell everyone she had dumped him. Had stayed friends with his ex-girlfriends—as far as their boyfriends or husbands would allow.

But today, seeing himself through Lizzie’s eyes, he wasn’t so sure he was comfortable with all that any more. Most of his Dolphin Bay friends were married now. Though the guys moaned and complained about being tied down, he didn’t actually believe them when they said they envied him his life. They seemed too content.

Now he sometimes wondered what they really thought about him being single as he faced turning thirty. He knew the townsfolk had laid bets on him always staying a bachelor. It was beginning to bug him. But he had never treated their interest in his ladies’ man reputation as anything other than a laugh; never talked about the reasons he’d stayed on his own.

He hadn’t told anyone in Dolphin Bay—even his family—about what had happened with Camilla. Had never confided how the deaths of his sister-in-law Jodi and little nephew Liam had affected him. How terrified he’d been at seeing Ben suffer the life-destroying pain caused by the loss of love. On the cusp of manhood, Jesse had resolved he would never endure what Ben had endured. He’d put the brakes on any relationship that threatened to get serious.

Gradually, however, he’d realised Ben’s pain should not be his pain. That he had to love his own way, take his own risks. He’d let down his guard by the time he’d met Camilla and hurtled into a relationship with her. Only for her callous rejection of his love to send him right back behind his barricades.

Was that enough now?

He looked over to Lizzie but she had disappeared into the kitchen again. He’d seen yet another side of her today. Calm. Competent. Ruthlessly efficient under pressure. He liked it.

He admired her for her commitment. Surely a café serving toasted ham and cheese sandwiches—even if she called them croque monsieur—was a huge comedown for someone with Lizzie’s career credentials. Dolphin Bay must be just a pit stop for Lizzie. She had a half-French daughter. How long before she got fed up with flipping fried eggs and turned her sights back to Europe?

Or did he have that wrong? It was logical for him to base future plans purely on his career. Maybe it wasn’t so for Lizzie. She was a mother—perhaps that was why she could settle for Bay Bites? Maybe because it was in the best interests of her daughter.

He couldn’t imagine how it would be to put someone else first. Wife. Child. Suiting himself had seemed just fine up to now. A charming Peter Pan. That was what Camilla had called him at their most recent encounter. She’d said it with a laugh. Hadn’t meant it to sound like an insult. But it had stung just the same. And made him think.

He headed back into the fray. ‘Be quick before these muffins are all snatched off the tray,’ he said to the nice redhead friend of Evie’s. ‘They’re made with organically grown rhubarb, locally produced sour cream—in fact from Evie’s farm—and—’

The girl picked one up from the tray, sniffed it, broke off a piece, tasted it. ‘And pure maple syrup from the forests of Quebec, if I’m not wrong—together with Queensland pecans,’ she pronounced.

He stared at her, taken aback. ‘Sounds good to me. I’ll check with the chef.’ He must ask Lizzie. He really wasn’t cut out to be a waiter.

* * *

Lizzie slumped in one of the bentwood chairs, exhausted. The guests had gone. The clearing up was done. The staff dismissed. Only Sandy, Ben and Jesse remained.

Sandy was incandescent with joy. ‘Ever since I first set foot in the bookshop, I dreamed of there being a café next door. If today was an indication of how it’s going to turn out, I think my dream is on its way to coming true. Thanks to my sister.’

She grabbed both Lizzie’s hands and pulled her to her feet. ‘Hug,’ she commanded. Lizzie smiled and did as she was told. If she could repay Sandy’s kindness with a successful café she’d be happy.

‘C’mon, Ben too,’ said Sandy. ‘And you, too, Jesse. Group hug. Family hug.’

Alarmed, Lizzie stiffened. ‘I don’t think—’

But, before she knew it, both she and Sandy were enveloped in a bear hug from tall, blond Ben whom she already loved as a brother. Then Jesse joined in and it was a different feeling altogether. Every nerve went on alert as she felt Jesse’s strong arms around her, was pulled against the solid wall of his chest, breathed in his maleness and warmth. Could he feel her heart pounding at his nearness?

She could never, ever think of Jesse as a brother.

And right at this moment it was darn near impossible to think of him only as a friend.