Читать книгу The By Request Collection - Kate Hardy - Страница 65

CHAPTER THREE

‘HERE?’ RELIEF TOUCHED RUBY, but before she could succumb she forced her brain to think mode. ‘Why?’

Ethan shrugged. ‘It makes sense. It’s a hotel. There’s plenty of room. You’ll have to make your own bed, and there’s no housekeeping service, but you can have a suite and work more effectively here. I’ll be staying here too, so you won’t be on your own.’

Thoughts scrambled round her brain. Truth be told, she would feel safer here. Because of Ethan. The thought sneaked in and she dismissed it instantly. This was zip to do with Ethan—sheer logic dictated she should stay in the castle. Nothing to do with his aura, or the slow burn of the atmosphere.

‘Thank you, Ethan. If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure. Let’s find you a bedroom.’

‘Um... Okay.’ Freaking great—here came a tidal wave blush adolescent-style at the word. How ridiculous. As preposterous as the thud of her heart as she followed him up the sweep of the magnificent staircase to the second floor, where he pushed open a door marked ‘Elizabethan Suite’ and stood back to let her enter.

‘Whoa!’ The room was stunning, a panorama of resplendence, and yet despite its space, despite the splendour of the brocade curtains and the gorgeous wall-hangings that depicted scenes of verdure, her eyes were drawn with mesmerising force to the bed. Four-poster, awash with luxurious draperies—but right now all she could concentrate on was the fact that it was a bed.

For a crazy moment her mind raced to create an age-old formula; her body brazenly—foolishly—wanted to act on an instinct older than time. And for one ephemeral heartbeat his pupils darkened to slate-grey and she believed that insanity must be contagious...believed that he would close the gap between them.

Then Ethan stepped back and the instant dissolved, leaving a sizzle in the air. A swivel of the heel and he’d turned to the door.

‘I’ll meet you in the morning to finish showing you around. If you’re hungry there’s some basic food stuff in the kitchen.’

‘Okay.’ Though her appetite had deserted her—pushed aside by the spin of emotions Ethan had unleashed.

‘If you need anything you’ve got my mobile number. My suite is on the next floor. No one knows you’re here, so you can sleep easy.’

For the first time in the two horrendous weeks since she’d walked in on Hugh and a woman who had turned out to be a hooker she felt...safe...

‘Thank you. And, Ethan...?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you for today. For...well, for coming to my rescue again.’

A long moment and then he nodded, his expression unreadable. ‘No problem.’

‘Ethan?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I ask you something?’

Wariness crossed his face and left behind a guarded expression. ‘You can ask...’

‘Why did you call me to an interview?’

Silence yawned and Ruby’s breath caught. Foolish hope that he had wanted to make amends for the past unfurled.

‘Everyone is entitled to a chance,’ he said finally. ‘And everyone deserves a second one.’

The words were a deep rumble, and fraught with a connotation she couldn’t grasp.

‘Sleep well, Ruby. We’ve got a lot of work ahead.’

The door clicked shut behind him and Ruby sank down onto the bed.

Enough. Don’t analyse. Don’t think. Don’t be attracted to him. In other words, don’t repeat the mistakes of the past.

Ethan Caversham had offered her a chance and she wouldn’t let the jerk of attraction mess that up. Wouldn’t kid herself that it was more than that—more like a bond between them. Ruby shook her head—this was an aftermath...an echo of her ancient crush on the man. Because he’d rescued her again.

Only this time it had to play out differently. Instead of allowing the development of pointless feelings and imaginary emotional connections she would concentrate on the job at hand. Get through the trial period, secure the job as a permanent post and then she would be back on track. Heading towards her goal of a family.

One week later

Ethan gave a perfunctory knock and pushed the door open. Ruby looked up from her paper-strewn makeshift desk in the box room where she’d set up office. His conscience panged at her pale face and the dark smudges under her eyes. She’d worked her guts out these past days and he’d let her. More than that—he’d encouraged it.

Get a grip, Ethan.

That was what he paid her to do—to work and work hard. He had high expectations of all his employees and made no bones about it. Ruby was no different.

Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Ethan. Say it enough times and maybe it will become true.

‘Earth to Ethan. I was about to call you with an update. I’ve got delivery dates for the furniture for the banqueting hall and I’ve found a mural painter. I’ve mocked up some possible uniforms—black and red as a theme—and...’

‘That’s all sounds great, but that’s not why I’m here. There’s something else I need you to do.’

‘Okay. No problem. Shoot.’

‘Rafael Martinez is coming for dinner and I need you to rustle us up a meal.’

Her dark eyebrows rose. ‘Rafael Martinez—billionaire wine guru, owner of the vineyard of all vineyards—is coming for dinner? Why on earth didn’t you mention it before?’

‘Because I didn’t know. I’d scheduled to meet him later this month, but he called to say he’s in the UK and that tonight would suit him. I realise it’s not ideal. But Rafael and I are...’

Old friends? Nope. Acquaintances? More than that. Old schoolmates? The idea was almost laughable—he and Rafael had bunked off more school than they had attended.

‘We go back a while.’

‘Maybe you should take him out somewhere?’

‘I’d rather discuss business in private. But if it’s too much for you...?’

He made no attempt to disguise the challenge in his tone, and she made no attempt to pretend she didn’t hear it, angling her chin somewhere between determination and defiance.

‘Leave it with me.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Look on this as a test of your ability to handle a restaurant crisis.’

‘Yippee. An opportunity!’

A snort of laughter escaped his lips. ‘That’s the attitude. I’ll leave you to it.’

Whilst he figured out the best way to approach Rafael with his proposition... Rafael Martinez was known more for his playboy tendencies and utterly ruthless business tactics than his philanthropic traits. But Ethan had been upfront in his preliminary approach—had intimated that his agenda was a business deal with a charitable bent—and Rafael had agreed to meet. Somehow it seemed unlikely that he’d done so to reminisce over the bad old days of their more than misguided youth.

He’d reached the doorway when he heard Ruby’s voice. ‘Actually... I’ve had an idea...’

Ethan turned. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Okay. So it’s best if you eat in the bar—it’s a pretty impressive room, and I think we should make it a little bit Christmassy.’

‘Christmassy?’ Somehow the idea of Christmas and Rafael didn’t exactly gel. ‘I don’t think so, Ruby. My guess is that Rafael is even less enamoured with the schmaltz of Christmas than me.’

A shake of her dark head and an exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m not suggesting schmaltz. If we were open we would be playing the Christmas card—of course we would.’ For a second a hint of wistfulness touched her face. ‘Can’t you picture it? An enormous tree. Garlands. Twinkling lights—’ She broke off and frowned. ‘I assume all your other business ventures offer Christmas deals and a proper Christmas ambience?’

‘Yes, but I don’t do it myself.’

He wouldn’t have the first clue how—he hadn’t celebrated Christmas Day in the traditional sense since...since Tanya was alive.

For a second he was transported back to childhood. His sister had loved Christmas...had made it magical—she had made him help her make paper chains and decorate the tree, and although he’d protested they’d both known the protest to be half-hearted. She’d chivvied their mum into the festive spirit and the day had always been happy. But after Tanya... Well, best not to go there.

‘To be honest, I’m not much of a Christmas type of guy. And I’m pretty sure Rafael isn’t either.’

‘Well, luckily for you I’m a Christmas type of gal. I’m thinking a tasteful acknowledgement of the time of year so that Rafael Martinez gets an idea of how Caversham Castle would showcase his wine. The Martinez Vineyards offer plenty of Christmas wines. Plus, if we do it right the whole Christmas edge might soften him up.’

Difficult to imagine, but given he hoped to appeal to Rafael’s charitable side maybe it was worth a shot. And he believed in encouraging staff initiative and drive.

‘Knock yourself out,’ he said.

‘Fabulous. I’ll hit the shops.’

* * *

Ruby crouched down and carefully moved the small potted tree a couple of centimetres to the left of the hearth. She inhaled the scent of fir and soil and felt a small glow of satisfaction at a job well done. Or at least she thought so—Ethan clearly had reservations about the whole Christmas idea, and her research into Rafael Martinez had shown her why.

Like Ethan Caversham, he had a reputation for ruthlessness, and an internet trawl had revealed images of a man with a dark aura. Midnight hair, tall, with a dominant nose and deep black eyes. Unlike Ethan, he’d left a score of girlfriends in his wake—all glamorous, gorgeous and very, very temporary. For a second Ruby dwelled on Ethan, and curiosity about his love-life bubbled. But it was none of her business.

He’s your boss, nothing more.

‘Hey.’

Ruby leapt up and swivelled round. Chill, Ruby. Ethan was many things, but he was not a mind-reader.

‘Hey. Sorry. You startled me.’ She gestured around. ‘What do you think? I was just making sure the trees don’t overshadow Dash and Dot.’

‘Dash and Dot?’

Ruby chewed her bottom lip. Idiot.

Ethan’s lips turned up in a sudden small smile and her toes curled. For a second he’d looked way younger, and she could remember her flash of gratification at winning a rare smile all those years ago.

‘You named the china dogs?’

‘Yes. In my head. I have to admit I didn’t intend to share that fact with anyone. But, yes, I did. Queen Victoria had a spaniel called Dash, you see.’ Ruby puffed out a sigh. ‘And then I thought of Dot because of Morse code. Anyway, what do you think?’

‘Excellent names,’ he said, his features schooled to gravity, though amusement glinted in his eyes.

Ruby couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the clawing worry that he’d loathe what she’d done. ‘I meant the decorations.’

Hope that he’d approve mixed with annoyance at her need for approval. A hangover from childhood, when approval had been at high premium and in short supply.

Surely he had to like it? Her gaze swept over the small potted trees on either side of the fireplace and the wreath hanging above. Took in the lightly scented candles on the mantelpiece and the backdrop of tasteful branch lights casting a festive hint.

‘It’s incredible.’

‘No need to sound surprised.’ Sheer relief curved her lips into a no doubt goofy grin. ‘Admit it. You thought I would produce something ghastly and flashy.’

‘I should have had more faith.’

‘Absolutely. Don’t get me wrong, I can do tacky schmaltz—in fact I have done. A few years back I worked in a café called Yvette’s. Yvette herself was lovely, but she was incredibly sentimental. On Valentine’s Day you could barely move for helium-filled heart balloons, and as for Christmas... I provided gaudy tinsel, baubles, mistletoe—and this absolutely incredibly tacky light-up Father Christmas that had to be seen to be believed.’

Ethan glanced at her. ‘You’re a woman of many talents. But what about you? What kind of Christmas is your kind?’

The question caught her off guard and without permission her brain conjured up her game plan Christmas. ‘Me? Um... Well... I’ve spent every Christmas working for the past decade, so I go with my employers’ flow.’

‘So it’s just another day for you? You said you were a Christmas kind of gal.’

‘I am.’ His words pushed all her buttons and she twisted to face him. ‘It’s a time of celebration. I’m not overly religious, but I do believe it is way more than just another day. It’s a time for giving—a magical day.’

His lips were a straight line as he contemplated her words. ‘Giving, yes. Magic, no. That’s idealistic. Christmas Day doesn’t magically put an end to poverty or disease or crime.’

‘No, it doesn’t. But it is an opportunity to strive for a ceasefire—to try and alleviate sadness and spread some happiness and cheer. Don’t you believe that?’

He hesitated, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Waited a beat and then, ‘Yes, Ruby. I do believe that.’

‘Good. It’s also about being with the people you care about and...’

The familiar tug of loss thudded behind her ribcage...the wondering as to the whereabouts of her siblings, the hope that their Christmas would be a joyful one. It would. Of course it would. They had a loving adoptive family, and the thought encased her in a genuine blanket of happiness.

Seeing Ethan’s blue-grey eyes resting on her expression, she went on. ‘And if you can’t do that then I think it’s still wonderful to be part of someone else’s happiness. That’s why I’ve always worked Christmas Day; watching other families celebrate is enough for now.’

‘For now?’

‘Sure.’ Keep it light. ‘One day I’ll have a family, and then...’

‘Then all will be well in the world?’ His scathing tone shocked her.

‘Yes.’ The affirmation fell from her lips with way too much emphasis. ‘And when I have a family I can tell you the exact Christmas I’ll have. An enormous tree, the scent of pine, crackers, decorated walls, holly, ivy, stockings with a candy cane peering over the top. The table laid with cutlery that gleams in the twinkle of Christmas lights. In the centre a golden turkey and all the extras. Pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, stuffing and lashings of gravy. But most important of all there’ll be children. My family. Because that is what Christmas is about. And that is magical.’

Ruby hauled in breath as realisation dawned that she might have got a tad carried away.

‘Anyway, obviously that is in the far distant future and not something I need to worry about right now.’

It would take time to save enough money to support a family—time to go through the lengthy adoption process.

‘No, it isn’t.’ Ethan’s voice was neutral now, his eyes hooded. ‘And now isn’t the time to dream of future Christmases.’

‘It’s not a dream. It’s a goal. That’s different.’

Dreams were insubstantial clouds—stupid aspirations that might never be attained. Goals—goals were different. Goals were definitive. And Ruby was definite that she would have a family. By hook or by crook.

‘But you’re right. I need to be in the kitchen—or you and Rafael will be eating candle wax for dinner.’

‘Hang on.’ His forehead was slashed with a deep frown. ‘I meant now is the time to think about present-day Christmas. What are your plans for this year?’

His voice had a rough edge of concern to it and Ruby frowned. The last thing she wanted was for Ethan Caversham to feel sorry for her—the idea was insupportable.

‘I’ll be fine. I have plans.’

Sure. Her plan was to shut herself away in her apartment and watch weepy movies with a vat of ice cream. But that counted as a plan, right? It wasn’t even that she was mourning Hugh—she was bereft at the loss of a dream. Because for all her lofty words she had been stupid enough to take her eye off the goal and allow herself to dream. And Hugh had crushed that dream and trampled it into the dust. Further proof—as if she’d needed it—that dreams were for idiots. Lesson learnt. Again. But this time reinforced in steel.

‘But thank you for asking.’

Ethan’s eyes bored into her and the conviction that he would ask her to expand on the exact nature of her plans opened her lips in pre-emptive strike.

‘What about your plans?’

His expression retreated to neutral. ‘They aren’t firmed up as yet.’

Obscure irrational hurt touched her that he didn’t feel able to share his plans with her. Daft! After all, it wasn’t as if she was sharing hers with him.

‘Well, I hope they sort themselves out. Right now I must go and cook. Prepare to be amazed!’