Читать книгу The British Bachelors Collection - Сара Крейвен, Kate Hardy - Страница 40
ОглавлениеTea, glorious tea. A celebration of teas from around the world.
Visualize a hot summer afternoon. Birds are singing and there is a warm breeze on your face. Scones and jam (no wasps allowed) and refreshing, delicious green tea in a floral-pattern china cup. Bliss.
From Flynn’s Phantasmagoria of Tea
Thursday
‘I don’t understand the panic. So you’re going on a date. With a multi-millionaire. To a management dinner, where all the Beresford hotel bosses will be lined up to kiss Sean’s father’s feet.’ Lottie nodded slowly. ‘That makes perfect sense to me. There was bound to be some intelligent man out there who could recognize a goddess when he saw one.’
Lottie waggled the plastic spatula she was holding over the bowl of blueberry-muffin batter in front of Dee’s floral-print slimline trousers and canary-yellow long-sleeved top. ‘Goddess. Obviously.’
Then she went back to folding in the vanilla and almond extracts and extra fresh blueberries for a few seconds before lifting her head and adding, in a dreamy, faraway voice, ‘Why, yes, I did know Miss Flynn before she became the tea consultant to the international hotel chains around the world. But we both knew even then that she was destined for greatness. She had that spark, you see. Special. And she still sends me a Christmas card every year from her Caribbean tax haven. Just for old times’ sake.’
Dee gave Lottie a squinty look as she packed napkins into the dispensers on the tables. ‘Very funny. Laugh all you like. I’m having a screaming panic attack here. See these bags under my eyes? Haven’t slept a wink.’
‘I’m not laughing, I’m celebrating,’ Lottie retorted as she spooned the batter into paper cases in the muffin tin. ‘Sean obviously likes a girl who knows what she wants and can stand up for herself. I know these management types from my old job. They are always looking for something or someone to give them a buzz. You will be fine.’
‘A buzz?’ Dee groaned. ‘I am not trained to give anyone a buzz. Ever. All I know about is tea!’
‘Well, for a start that’s not totally not true,’ Lottie replied as she sprinkled cinnamon and crystallized brown sugar mixed with chopped pecans over the tops of the muffins. ‘Who was the star of the celebration-cake contest? And your eggs Benedict are the best. I can only dream of making a hollandaise sauce that good. Remember what I told you when I called you at the tea warehouse and asked if I could buy you lunch? Universities do not award first-class degrees just for turning up. If I am going to set up a business with someone, I only work with the best.’
‘True. Three first-class degrees in a class of forty-two.’
‘Damn right,’ Lottie said as she popped the muffin trays into the oven and set the timer. ‘You, me and Luca Calavardi.’ She stood up and pressed a sugary hand to her chest. ‘Oh, my. Now you’ve done it. Reminded me about the lovely Luca.’
‘Oh, stop. He was fifty-six, happily married with children and grandchildren, and only came on the course because he was fed up with being a sous chef all his life. That man had forty years of catering experience under his belt and we had four months.’
‘All the more reason to feel proud of what we achieved. Right? Sean is a lucky man, and you are going to knock their socks off. You wait and see. And in the meantime...’ Lottie grinned and looked over Dee’s shoulder as the doorbell chimed. ‘We have our first customer of the morning. They will probably want tea and plenty of it. Go to it, girl. Show them what you can do.’
Dee popped the last napkin holder onto the tray with a snort and walked out of the kitchen and into the tea rooms. But, instead of her usual customers, a short man in a biker’s jacket with a motorcycle helmet over one arm was standing at the counter.
‘Delivery for—’ he glanced at the screen of a palm top computer ‘—Miss D Flynn. Have I got the right address?’
‘That’s me. You have come to the right place.’ Dee smiled and leant on the counter with both elbows. ‘What delights do you have in your bag today?’
The courier flashed Dee a withering glance, then dived into his rucksack and pulled out a small package the size of a book which he passed onto the counter. Dee barely had time to scratch her name with the stylus onto the computer screen before he was out of the door.
‘And thank you and goodbye to you too,’ Dee said as she turned the box from side to side. Too small for tea samples or festival flyers. Too large for a personal letter.
Intriguing.
A small, sharp knife and a whole bag of foam curls later, Dee stood in silence, peering at an oblong box. It was covered in fluorescent-pink gift paper with a dark-blue ribbon tied in an elaborate bow on the top. There was a small pink envelope tucked into the ribbon and she hesitated for a moment before opening it up and reading the note.
With thanks for a lovely morning. Operating instructions are included and my personal number is number one on the list.
Prakash is next.
Have fun.
Sean.
Dee had a suspicion she knew exactly what was inside the gift box but she tugged away the ribbon and peeked inside anyway.
Staring back at her from a whole pack of scary accessories and manuals was a very shiny, very elegant version of the smart phone that Sean had been using yesterday. But with pastel-coloured flowers in shades of pink and cream printed onto the silver cover.
‘Oh my,’ Lottie whispered over her shoulder. ‘Please excuse my drool. Your boy has very good taste in toys. Am I allowed to be jealous?’
Dee shook her head. ‘I know. And it would be churlish to send it back. But...I’m not sure how I feel about Sean sending me personal gifts. I’ve only known him two days.’
‘Think of it this way—it gives him pleasure to send you a phone, and you need one to keep in touch with the hotel if you are out and about doing your organizing thing. It’s a winner. Go on, have a play.’
Lottie finished drying her hands and pointed to the shiny silver button. ‘That’s the power button.’ Then she stood back and smiled before giving Dee a quick one-armed hug. ‘There you are. He took your photo yesterday when you hit the streets. You look so sweet carrying those tulips.’
Then Lottie gave a quick chuckle. ‘Might have guessed. Dee, darling, I hate to state the obvious but that boy is smitten with you. Totally, totally smitten. And, the sooner you get used to the idea that you are being wooed, the better!’
‘Wooed! Have you been sniffing the brandy bottles again? I haven’t got the time be wooed by a Beresford. I have a tea festival to organize.’
‘Wooed. Whether you like it or not. And, actually, I kind of like it. Sean and Dee. Dee and Sean. Oh yes. And that’s my oven timer. Have fun with your phone.’
Dee watched Lottie jog back into the kitchen and waited until her back was turned before picking up Sean’s note and reading through it again with a silly grin on her face. He had written it himself, using a pen on paper. That must have been a change for him. The man seemed to live for his technology.
Her foolish and very well hidden girly heart leapt a few beats as she scanned down to the photo he had taken when she’d stopped at one of the market stalls to look at the antique silver teapots.
The girl smiling back at her with her arms full of tulips looked happy and pretty.
Was that how Sean saw her? Or as a girl who had a problem with enclosed spaces who could deck him any time of the day or night?
Her finger hovered over the menu button. She was so tempted so call him right there and then and spend five minutes of easy, relaxed chatter like they had enjoyed the day before. Talking about their lives and how much he missed London sometimes, just as she missed warm weather and the mountains.
Two normal people enjoying a sunny winter’s morning. Getting to know one another.
How had that happened?
Dee licked her lips and was just about to ring when a group of women swooped in and headed straight towards her. Customers!
Perhaps Lottie was right. Perhaps she was being wooed. Strange how much she rather liked that idea.
* * *
Sean looked out over the London skyline from the penthouse apartment at the Beresford hotel Richmond Square and watched the planted arrangements of ferns and grasses thrash about in the winds that buffeted his high-rise balcony.
No spring flowers or tulips here. Not on a cold evening three storeys above the street level where he had strolled with Dee the previous day.
But she was still with him, and not only in a photo on his phone.
No matter where he went in the Beresford Riverside he could almost hear the sound of laughter and easy chatter. Even Madge had smiled as he’d passed her office.
But it was more than that. Sean felt as though he had been infected with the Dee virus which coloured everything he did and made him see it in a new light.
He had spent the day getting to know the new hotel management trainees. They were a great group of young and not so young graduates: bright, keen and eager to learn. The future lifeblood of Beresford hotels.
It had been a pleasure to take them through some of the Beresford training materials, materials written and tested by experts in the hospitality industry and used in the hotels around the world. And yet, the more time he’d spent standing at the front of the minimalist meeting room at Beresford City, working through the elegant presentation materials while the graduates had scribbled away taking notes, the more his brain had reworked what she had said to him.
Was it really the best way to engage with his staff and motivate them?
Frank Evans was not the only hotel manager who had left Beresford hotels in the last twelve months, and they needed to do something different to keep the staff that were crucial to any hotel business. And it was not just the investment the family made in their training and development; it was that precious connection between the manager, his staff and the hotel guests. That kind of connection took years to build up and could transform customer service.
But it had to come from the top.
Perhaps that was that why he had turned off the projector after a couple of hours and herded these intelligent adults out onto the footpath to the Riverside hotel. He’d let them talk and chatter away as they’d walked, and he’d listened.
It was a revelation. A twenty-minute stroll had given him enough material to completely change his view on how to retain these enthusiastic new employees and make them feel engaged and respected.
The rest of the afternoon had been amazing. He had felt a real buzz and everyone in the room had headed back to their hotels exhausted and dizzy with new ideas and bursting with positivity.
He couldn’t wait to tell Dee all about it.
He couldn’t wait to see Dee and share her laughter. Up close and personal.
Sean flicked open his notebook computer and smiled at the new screensaver he had loaded that morning.
Dee’s sweet, warm smile lit up the penthouse. Her green eyes sparkled in the faint spring sunshine under that silly knitted hat as she clasped the red and yellow tulips to her chest.
She was life, energy and drive all in one medium height package.
The kind of girl who would enjoy travelling on rickety old railways, and always be able to find something interesting to do or someone fascinating to talk to when their flight was delayed. Dee was perfectly happy to spend her days serving tea to real people with real lives and real problems.
She was content to work towards her goal with next to nothing in the way of backing or support, making her dream come true by her own hard work.
His mouth curved up into a smile. He hadn’t forgotten the hit in his gut the first time that he had looked into those eyes only a couple of days ago. The touch of her hand in his as they’d walked along the London streets like old friends, chatting away.
Sean turned his screen off, got up, walked over to the window and looked out over the city where he had grown up.
Where was his passion? He was a Beresford and proud to be part of the family who meant everything to him. There had hardy been a day in his life when he had not been working on something connected to the hotels.
Sasha had accused him of putting his work before everything else in his life, blaming him for not having time for a relationship.
But she had been wrong. Sasha had never understood that it was not the work that drove him. It was the love for his family, and especially his commitment to his father.
That was the fuel that fed the engine. Not money or power or success. They came with the job.
When his mother had died of cancer a few short months after that first visit to the doctor, he had shut down, blocking out the world, so that he could grieve alone and in silence. His father was the only person who had been able to get through to him and prove that he had a home and a stable base where he was loved unconditionally, no matter what happened or what he chose to do.
The family would be there for him. His father and his half-brother Rob: Team Beresford.
Damn right. His father might have remarried when he’d gone to university, and he had a teenaged sister on the team now, but that had only made it stronger.
So why was his mind filled with images of Dee, her smile, the way her hair curled around her ears and the small brown beauty spot on her chin? The curve of her neck and the way she moved her hands when she talked?
Magic.
Sean ran his hands over his face.
Was it a mistake inviting Dee to the management dinner and introducing her to the family?
Paris was a short train ride from central London and Dee would love it there.
Maybe he could take a chance and add one more person to Team Beresford?
Only this time it would be for totally selfish reasons. His own.
* * *
Dee locked the front door, turned the lights off one by one and then slowly climbed the stairs to the studio apartment where she lived above the tea rooms.
What a day!
She never thought that she would be complaining about the tea rooms being busy but they had been going flat out. It was as if the rays of sunshine had encouraged half the tea-drinking and cake-eating population of London out of their winter hibernation in time for a huge sale at a local department store. And they all wanted sustenance, and wanted it now.
The breakfast crew had scarcely had time to munch through their paninis and almond croissants before the first round of sales-mad shoppers had arrived, looking for a carb rush before they got down to the serious shopping, and the crush had not stopped since.
Ending with the Thursday evening young mums’ club who held their weekly get-together in the tea rooms between seven and nine p.m. while their partners took care of the kids. And those girls could eat!
Lottie had gone into overdrive and a production line of cakes, muffins and scones had been emerging from the tiny kitchen all day. The girl was a baking machine in the shape of a blonde in whites.
And the tea! Lord, the tea: white; green; fruit infusions; Indian extra-strong. Pots. Beakers. And, in one case, a dog dish for a guide dog. She must have hand-washed at least sixty tea cups and saucers by hand because the dishwasher had been way too busy coping with the baking equipment.
They had never stopped.
But there were some compensations.
Whenever she had a moment it only took one quick glance at the huge display of bright tulips which Lottie had moved onto the serving counter to put the smile back on her face. Sean!
Dee padded through the small sitting room into her bedroom, unbuttoning her top as she went, and collapsed down on her single bed.
She slipped off her espadrilles and dropped her trousers and top into the laundry basket before flopping back onto the bed cover, arms outstretched.
Bliss! The bedroom might be small but Lottie had agreed to a rent which was more than affordable. And it was hers. All hers. No need to share with a nanny or friend or relative, as she’d had to for most of her life growing up. This was her private space and she treasured it.
She bent forwards and was rubbing some life back into her crushed toes when the sound of Indian sitar music echoed around the room and made her almost jump out of her skin.
Dee scrabbled frantically from side to side trying to work out where the song was coming from for a few seconds, before she realized it was bellowing out from the phone that Sean had sent over that morning.
Dee picked it up and peered at it before pressing the most obvious buttons and held it to her ear. ‘Hello. This is Dee. And I should have known that you would set my ringtone to something mad.’
‘Hello, this is Sean,’ a deep, very male voice replied with a smile in his voice. The same male voice that had kept her awake most of the previous night, reliving the way it had felt to saunter down the streets with Sean holding her hand.
Which was so pathetic it was untrue.
It was her choice not to have a boyfriend. And just because he had asked her to be his date at a company dinner did not mean that they were dating. Not real dating. His brother wanted to talk to her about tea. It was a business meeting.
She had tried that line on Lottie, who had still been laughing and muttering something about her being delusional when she’d staggered home.
‘I was wondering how you were getting on with your new phone. Do you like it?’
She snuggled back against the headboard and smiled. ‘I do like it. It was one of those unexpected gifts that take you by surprise and then make you smile. Thank you. Sorry I haven’t had time to call. We have been really busy.’
‘No problem. And you can change the ringtone to anything you like. There are several to choose from on the special options menu.’
Dee held the phone at arm’s length and made a scowl before holding it closer. Suddenly she felt as though she was being asked to sit an exam and she had not had time to study the subject.
‘Sean. It is flowery and shiny, and there are so many touch-screen buttons that working out which one to use is going to take me the rest of the day. If I can stay awake that long. I’m long past the tired stage.’
‘I know what that feels like.’ He breathed out hot and fast. Then his voice faded away until he was speaking in little more than a whisper that reached down the phone and sent tendrils of temptation into her mind, mesmerizing, tantalizing and delicious. ‘So here is an idea—have dinner with me tonight. I know a few restaurants in your part of town and we can have a great meal and a glass of wine while I squeeze in a master class on how to use your phone.’
Just the way he breathed out the word ‘squeeze’ was so suggestive that Dee almost dropped her new phone.
Dinner?
Oh, that sounded good.
But she was shattered and full of cake.
And not sure that she could sit opposite Sean Beresford without pouncing on him, which would be bad news for both of them.
‘That sounds great, Sean, but work has been mad and I ate earlier. And now you have made me feel extra guilty for not calling to thank you.’
‘No need. This is the first real break that I’ve taken all day. And if anything I should be thanking you.’
‘Why? Talk to me. After all, that’s why you sent me this phone. Wasn’t it?’
A gentle laugh echoed down the phone that warmed her in places that even her best hot tea could not reach. It was a laugh designed to tantalize any female within earshot and make her skin prickle with awareness. Right down to her toes. Pity that it was a sensation she liked more than she would ever be willing to confess to a man like Sean. He would enjoy that far too much.
‘I was giving a presentation to our new group of trainee hotel managers this morning and after thirty minutes in the all-white holding cell, as you described it so delightfully, I began to understand what you meant by an airless, windowless room. So do you know what I did?’
‘You went to the park and sat on benches and fed the ducks.’ Dee smiled. ‘The wannabe managers had to train the ducks to race for the food and the trainee with the fastest duck got the best job in the hotel chain. Was that how it worked?’
‘Ah. Duck training and Pooh sticks are only used in the advanced management courses. These were first-year students. If it had not been raining, I might have given them a treasure map to follow around London, but that option was out. So I decided to take your advice instead and I moved the whole group to the conservatory room at the Riverside, opened every door to the lawns and turned the presentation into a discussion about hotel design and meeting customer expectations. It was fascinating. And useful. Every one of those trainees seemed to come to life in the conservatory. They were transformed from sitting in total silence to being open and chatty and much more relaxed. You should have seen their faces when I told them why we had moved.’
Dee sucked in a breath. ‘Did you mention my name so that they could pin it to a dart board for target practice?’
‘Not specifically.’ He laughed. ‘You were a valued event planner who gave me feedback on the repressive feeling of the breakout rooms. But they totally got it, in a way that I couldn’t have predicted. Instead of telling them about the impact of room design, they described how they felt in the two spaces and worked it out for themselves. It was brilliant. Thanks.’
‘Ah. So that is the real reason for this call. It’s confession time. What you really want to say is that you listened to my whining about how intelligent people shouldn’t be packed into closed box rooms and then pretended that you had come up with the idea all by yourself. Is that right?’
‘Drat, you have seen through my evil plans,’ Sean replied in a low, hoarse voice which sent shivers down her back. She imagined him sitting in his office in the minimalist hotel surrounded by all-white marble and smooth, plastic surfaces, and instinctively pulled the silky cover over her legs.
‘Are you still at work?’ she asked, daring to take the first move.
‘I just got back to the penthouse at Richmond Square. The view from up here is fantastic. Pity you aren’t here to share it with me. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Breathtaking skyline. I have a feeling you might enjoy it.’
Dee closed her eyes to visualize how that might look and took a couple of breaths before replying. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I would hate to be one of those girls who only suck up to you because they want to share the view from the penthouse over breakfast.’
The second the words were out of her lips, she winced in embarrassment. What was it about this man that caused apparently random sounds to emerge from her mouth which bypassed the brain?
‘You could never disappoint me. And, as it happens, I know how to make breakfast without needing to call for room service.’
I bet you do.
‘I told you that you were cheeky.’ Dee smiled and nibbled at one corner of her little fingernail. ‘But I may have been mistaken about that.’
‘So you do make mistakes?’ Sean hit right back across the net. ‘And just when I thought that you had all of the answers.’
‘Cheeky does not come close. Brazen might be a better description. Does this wonderful breakfast include tea?’
‘Dee,’ he replied in his rich, deep, sensual tone that reached down the phone and caressed her neck, ‘for you, it would include anything you like. Anything at all.’
Suddenly she was glad that she was lying down because her legs seemed to turn to jelly and her throat went dry.
Closing her eyes should have helped but all she could hear was his lazy, slow breathing in her ear which did nothing at all to calm her frazzled brain.
A handsome man who she liked far more than she ought to was holding something out to her on a velvet cushion, gift-wrapped and sumptuous, and she already knew that it would be astonishing.
And terrifying. She was going to have to face him in less than twenty-four hours and somehow she had to get a hold on this out-of-control attraction before it spiralled away into something more elemental which could only ever be a short-term fling.
So she did what she always did when someone came too close. She put a smile in her voice and hit him right back between the eyes.
‘Would that be part of the Beresford five-star service or the VIP special?’
His open and carefree laughter was still ringing in her ear when she said, ‘Goodnight, Sean. See you tomorrow.’ And she pressed the red button then turned the phone off.
Goodnight, Sean. Sleep tight.
