Читать книгу The British Bachelors Collection - Сара Крейвен, Kate Hardy - Страница 41
ОглавлениеTea, glorious tea. A celebration of teas from around the world.
Finding the perfect tea to drink with your meal is just as tricky as matching food and wine. One tip: green tea flavoured with jasmine is wonderful with Chinese food but serve it weak and in small cups, and add more hot water to the pot as you drink. And no hangover!
From Flynn’s Phantasmagoria of Tea
Friday
It was almost six on the Friday evening before Dee was finally satisfied that all of the leaf-tea canisters were full, the tea pots were all washed and ready for the Saturday rush and that everything the tea rooms needed for an eight a.m. start was in place.
But she still insisted on helping Lottie load the dishwashers, then cleaned the floor and generally got in the way of the last-minute customers, until Lottie had to physically grab her shoulders and plop her into a chair with a steaming cup of chamomile until the closed sign was up on the door.
Whipping away her apron, Lottie poured a cup of Assam and collapsed down opposite Dee with a low, long sigh before stretching out her legs.
Her fingers wrapped around the china cup and Lottie inhaled the aroma before taking a sip. Her shoulders instantly dropped several inches.
‘Oh, I am so ready for this. When did Fridays get so mad?’
‘When you decided to have a two-for-one offer on afternoon cream teas, that’s when. I have never served so much Indian tea in one session. How many batches of scones did you end up making?’
Lottie snorted. ‘Six. And four extra coffee-and-walnut cakes, and three chocolate. And I gave up counting the sandwiches. But the good news is...it worked. The till is full of loot which I will be taking to the bank before the lovely Sean picks up his princess to take her to the ball.’
‘The ball? I’m not so sure that I would call a management dinner a “ball”. But the food should be good and apparently all the Beresford clan will be there en masse to toast the staff. So there’s a fair chance I will score a free glass of fizz.’
Lottie cradled the cup in both hands and sat back in her chair. ‘Ah. So that’s what the problem is,’ she said, then blew on her tea before taking a long sip. ‘For the next few hours you are going to be up close and personal with Sean’s father and his swanky brother and sister, and you’re feeling the pressure. I see.’
‘Pressure? I don’t know what you mean. Just because his dad founded a huge chain of luxury hotels, and Sean’s older brother, Rob the celebrity chef, is flying in from New York especially for the occasion, it doesn’t mean that the family will be snooty and look down their noses at me.’ Dee flashed a glance at Lottie. ‘Does it?’
‘No, not at all. Why should they? And if my experience of management meetings is anything to go by, the owners will be way too busy talking to the staff and making sure they feel the love to worry about extra guests.’
Then Lottie leant her elbows on the table and grinned. ‘Think of it this way—you are going to a great night out in a lovely hotel on the arm of a handsome prince. You are a goddess! What can possibly go wrong?’
Dee choked on the tea that went down the wrong way and had to grab a couple of napkins to stop her from spraying Lottie with chamomile through her nose.
‘Are you kidding me?’ she spluttered. ‘I have a long list of things that could go wrong, and the more I think about it the more opportunities I have to put my foot in it. Everything from what I am going to wear, which is a nightmare, right through to my total inability to control the words that spill out of my mouth.’
Her hands came up and made circles in the air. ‘And, when it does all go wrong, I can wave goodbye to my free conference centre and any chance I have of finding a replacement venue at this short notice for the tea festival and—’ she swallowed ‘—show Sean up at the same time. Now, isn’t that something to look forward to?’
She slid her cup out of the way and dropped her head forward until it rested on the table. ‘I am doomed.’
Lottie shook her head and smiled. ‘What rubbish. Do you remember that first day we met in catering college? I had come straight out of the business world, had no clue what to expect and turned up to the first morning wearing a designer skirt-suit, four-inch heels and a silk blouse. I thought that the first morning would be paperwork and class schedules, just like university. Instead of which, I spent the whole day gutting fish and making white sauces.’
Dee put her head to one side and sniffed. ‘It was a different look, I’ll give you that.’
‘So you said—right before you passed me your new chef’s coat and trousers.’
‘I had spares. You hadn’t,’ Dee replied, sitting up, her shoulders slumped. ‘The funniest thing was when you had them bleached and starched at some posh dry cleaners overnight. It was hilarious.’
‘It was kind of you to offer me them in the first place. Which is why it is time for me to return the favour. I cannot believe I am saying this, because I think all your clothes are brilliant and suit you perfectly, but if you’re worried about not having a cocktail dress to impress Sean’s family then I can probably help you out.’
‘You’re going to lend me one of your fancy posh frocks?’ Dee asked in a quiet voice, eyebrows high.
Lottie nodded her head. Just once.
Dee propped her chin up with one finger and looked up at Lottie through her long, brown eyelashes.
‘And the shoes and bag to match?’
‘Natch!’ Her friend slurped down the last of her tea and rolled her shoulders back. ‘Good thing we take the same shoe size. Come on; we have a lot to do and not much time to do it in. You, my girl, are going to take time out and celebrate just how much you’ve achieved whether you like it or not. Let the makeover begin.’
An hour later Dee paced up and down on the bedroom carpet in bare feet, her hands on her hips as she moved from her bed to the wardrobe, then back to the bottom of her bed again.
It was quiet in her bedroom. A chilly, gentle breeze fluttered the edge of the heavy curtains, bringing with it the welcome sound of chatter and traffic from the street below. The sound of normal people living normal Friday-evening lives.
But inside the room the atmosphere was anything but calm.
She stretched out her hand to lift the black fitted cocktail dress from the hanger, then froze. Again.
She blinked at the dress hanging on the wardrobe door for several seconds, nodded, then slipped her feet into Lottie’s favourite stiletto-heeled sandals and tried a few tenuous steps. Lottie had told her that she should practise walking in them in case she had to take the stairs in the hotel. Four-inch heels with a platform slab under the toes were going to take some getting used to.
Two steps. Three. Then her right foot toppled over sideways on the slippery couture leather and she had to grab hold of the wardrobe door before she almost twisted her ankle as it bent over.
These were not shoes! They were instruments of torture, which had clearly been designed by men who hated their mothers and were determined to make all women suffer as a result. That was the only possible explanation!
And it did not matter one bit if they had pristine red soles if she couldn’t walk in them.
Her shoulders slumped and she rested her forehead on the waxed oak panel, not caring that she might destroy the make-up which had taken Lottie an hour to put on, wipe off, then put on again in a different way.
She was terrified that she was sending out the wrong message. Or was it the right message?
She had been aiming for elegant and attractive, while the girl who stared back at her from the mirror looked like a stranger. Some clone from a fashion magazine. Not her. Not Dee Flynn, the wannabe tea merchant.
This wasn’t working.
She had been mad even to think that she was ready to go out on a date with Sean Beresford. Even if it was for only one evening.
She tottered to her bed in one shoe, fell backwards and let her arms dangle over the sides.
She was just about to make herself a laughing stock in exchange for a few canapés and a glass of fizz in a luxury hotel.
Dee bit down on the inside of her lip. Deep inside, where she kept her dreams and most sacred wishes, she knew that she had every right to stride into that hotel in these high-heeled shoes with her head high and stun the lot of them, including Sean. Strong, and confident that she was the equal of anyone there.
She had worked for this success and deserved to be treated like a goddess.
Drat Sean for reminding her that she still had a long way to go.
Dee closed her eyes, her throat burning and tears stinging at the sides of her eyes.
She was pathetic.
This handsome and attentive man had chosen her to be his date for the evening. Which was so amazing that she still couldn’t believe it.
The past few days had passed in a blur of activity and mad work.
Sean had kept his word, and Prakash and Madge were now her official best friends in the whole world. Nothing was too much trouble. Extra power points for the hot-water heaters? No problem. Portable kitchen equipment, refrigerators and study tables appeared out of nowhere like magic.
Apparently the word had come down from on high that, whatever Miss Flynn needed for her festival of tea, the team had to make sure happened.
Especially when the boss, the one and only Mr Sean Beresford, had seemed to find his way into the conference area several times during the day, just to make sure that everything was on track.
Oh, it was on track. In more ways than one.
Strange how many times in the day he’d found a way to brush against her hand with his, or look over her shoulder at some suddenly vital piece of information on the floor plan.
She’d had to stop the tickling, of course. That had got completely out of hand and she’d had to scold him about being professional in front of his staff.
Of course, he had insisted on regular tea breaks. Just the two of them, sitting around an elegant table in the hotel dining room, chatting about her critique of the quite good tea the hotel served. And all the while he’d told her anecdotes about his work in the hotel trade which had her clutching her stomach with laughter, and family stories about the antics his brother and sisters got up to.
And maybe it was just as well that she had been kept busy. It had kept her mind from mulling over all of those intimate moments they had shared since he had walked into the tea rooms: the sly glances that set her pulse racing and the gentle touch of his hand on her back or arm. His kindness. His quiet compassion. His humour.
A girl could fall for a man like that.
Hell. She was already halfway there.
Then her smile faded. This evening was turning into a date with Sean when she should be focusing on taking her dream one step closer to being a reality.
And that sent a cold shiver across her shoulders.
She couldn’t let the exhibitors down. Some of the tea merchants were coming a long way to show London what tea was all about.
And she couldn’t let Sean down either.
No wonder she had the jitters.
Dee stole another glance at the dress hanging outside the wardrobe.
Lottie had done a fantastic job and the girl in the mirror looked every bit the type of sophisticated, elegant girl that Sean was used to having on his arm.
It was the world that Lottie had been born into. A world of luxury and privilege where eating dinner in a Beresford hotel costing hundreds of pounds was something her family did without thinking.
Lottie had her own problems to deal with, no doubt about that, but she could never truly understand what it felt like always to have been the new girl with the second-hand school uniform and the strange accent. Never feeling as though she fitted in. No matter what she did to change her clothes, her hair and the way she spoke, she was always going to be different. And her parents had loved that about her. Loved that she was unique.
Pity that as a teenaged girl going to a city high school the last thing the fifteen-year-old Dee Flynn had wanted to be was unique.
Strange. She thought that she had conquered that particular battle years ago when her flair for catering had taken her higher than she had ever expected.
But that was not the only reason for the jitters.
For the next few hours she would be dealing with Sean’s father and his wife Ava, their daughter Annika and Sean’s older brother Robert—the professional celebrity chef and current pin-up for a lot of trainee chefs at catering college. And Sean—the blue-eyed boy who had come to her rescue.
How was she going to make polite chit chat with Sean when they had become...what? Event planners? Friends? Or as close to it as you could be when you had spent half the week together.
Dee wrapped her arms around her bare waist, squeezed her eyes tightly shut and relived, once more, the sensuous pleasure of his gentle kiss in the park and the touch of his hand on the small of her back. All of those subtle moments where she had felt him next to her.
No matter that those thoughts had made for very little sleep the night before. In an hour or so she would be seeing him again. Holding him. Just being in the same room within touching distance.
Delicious.
Her eyes flicked half-open and she glanced across at the brightly coloured tulips which she had popped into a plain white milk-jug on her desk. She could smell their fragrance anywhere in the room, and just seeing the blossoms reminded her of Sean all over again.
His laugh. His smile. The expression of pure pleasure and delight on his face when he’d telephoned his brother the other day and talked to her about his family. They truly were the most precious people in the world to him. He loved his family. And they loved him right back.
It would be so special to be on the receiving end of that kind of devotion.
Had it only been a few days since Sean had walked into the tea room? It felt so much longer. And like the tulips he would fade and go out of her life. Back to his hotel chain, bottomless wallet and first-class everything. Back to the life she would never have.
A low groan of exasperation escaped her lips, and she would have wiped her eyes but Lottie had just spent her evening using make-up brushes Dee had not known existed to create the face that she was wearing. She dared not mess it up.
She dared not mess any of this evening up.
Too much was at stake. The tea festival was serious business and people were relying on her to do the very best she could.
But why now? Of all the times she could have chosen to have a crush, why did it have to be now, and why, oh why, did it have to be on Sean Beresford—the big-city hotel executive with the shiny, shiny lifestyle and looks to die for? The man who was in line to run the Paris branch of the Beresford hotel empire?
Fate had certainly played her a blinder of a hand. And Sean was currently holding all of the aces.
Sean could make her laugh like no other man, and discombobulate her with equal ease. But she dared not tell him. Could not tell him. Letting him know how attracted she was would only lead to heartbreak, disaster and embarrassment on both sides. He had his life and she had hers, and never the twain would meet. Wasn’t that how the poem went?
One evening—that was their deal. Sean had kept his side of the bargain. Now it was time for her to keep hers.
Shame it was so hard to remember that fact when he was so close.
She smiled and slipped off the bed.
Maybe Lottie was right—maybe it was time to celebrate everything that she had achieved and take time out to enjoy herself.
Why shouldn’t she enjoy his company for this evening? He had asked her to be his date. And that was precisely what she was going to be.
His date. Yes. That was it. Tonight Sean would be her date who she could rely on not to let her down. Even if it did mean never letting him out of her sight.
* * *
Sean rang the doorbell of Lottie’s Cake Shop and Tea Rooms. Twice. And heard the bell tinkle inside the shop.
There was a bustle of movement from behind the front door and he could see a dark shape slip forward; as he lifted his chin, the ornate half-glass door opened inwards.
A woman dressed in black was standing just a few feet away: slender, medium height and absolutely stunning.
So stunning that he had to do a double take for his brain to recognise who was standing in the doorway smiling at him with a quizzical look on her face.
It was Dee Flynn. Only not the hard working, tea-obsessed version of Dee he had half the week with.
She had been transformed into a completely different person.
This Dee was dressed in a black cocktail dress: sleeveless, with a high collar tied behind her neck with a ribbon. And a low-cut back. Totally hot.
Sean had seen enough French couture dresses, and had bought enough fashion for Sasha and Annika to know the real thing when he saw it.
The dress fitted her perfectly, the fabric draped close to her waist then flaring out over the slim hips to just above the knees.
Sheer black stockings covered long, slim but muscular legs.
Silk shoes with heels so high that for the first time during the week she came almost to his height.
In a flash he could suddenly feel the life force of this woman emanate towards him, and her energy sparkled like the jewels in the gold bracelet on her wrist. Intoxicating, invigorating and bursting with confidence.
She was effervescent, hot and so attractive he had to fight down that fizz of testosterone that clenched the muscles under his dress shirt and set his heart racing just at the sight of her.
‘Hello,’ he said, suddenly keen to break the silence and stop the ogling. ‘I thought it might be safer to stand outside just in case you had your judo costume stashed behind the counter. Last time I barely made it out alive.’ Then he grinned. ‘You look amazing, by the way.’
‘Why, thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.’ She nodded with her head towards the counter. ‘Do you want to come in out of the cold? I just need a minute to get my coat.’
‘No problem; we have plenty of time. No need to rush.’ He smiled and followed her into the warmth of the tea rooms. He was happy to be able to spend a few extra minutes alone with Dee before they joined the noisy crush of hotel guests and the management team, who were probably just hitting the bar back at the hotel.
Dee smiled back at him then swivelled towards the back of the room. Then, as he watched in horror, she flung both of her arms out into the air and launched herself towards the counter, as her right foot twisted over sideways and the girl literally fell off her shoe.
Sean leapt forward and grabbed her arm so that she wouldn’t fall, and heard her slow hiss of pain as she winced and exhaled sharply.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, looking into her face in concern.
Her response was an exasperated sigh followed by a sharp nod. ‘Fine. Just dandy. My ankle will survive. Unlike my dignity.’
Then she turned her back on him, feeling stupid and humiliated, and scrabbled to slip the silly shoe back onto her foot and fasten the strap tighter. But her trembling fingers let her down and the shoe fell to the floor.
Before Dee could reach down to scoop it up, she sensed his presence seconds before a strong hand slid onto each side of her waist, holding her firm. Secure.
She breathed in a heady fragrance of fresh citrus aftershave and testosterone that was all Sean, which made it impossible for her to resist as he moved closer behind her until she could feel the length of his body from chest to groin pressed against her back.
His arms wrapped tighter around her waist, the fingers pressing oh, so gently into her rib cage and Dee closed her eyes, her pulse racing. It had been a long time. And he smelt fabulous. Felt fabulous.
Sean pressed his head into the side of her neck, his light stubble grazing against her skin, and her head dropped back slightly so that it was resting on his.
Bad head.
Bad heart.
Bad need for contact with his man.
Bad, full-stop.
One of his hands slid up the side of her dress and smoothed her hair away from her face so that he could press his lips against the back of her neck.
‘Is there a rule somewhere that dictates that lovely ladies lose all sensible parts of their brain at the sight of shoes they can’t actually walk in? Because it does seem to be a very common affliction. I see it everywhere I go. Sad, really.’
Dee tried to pretend that it was perfectly normal to have a conversation with her back pressed against the pristine dinner suit of the most handsome and desirable man she had ever met.
‘Absolutely,’ she whispered. ‘They belong to Lottie, and she promised me that these were the latest thing in limo shoes. Dancing was out unless I wanted permanent disfigurement, but standing in one place could work. Would you mind holding me up here a little longer? I have a small problem standing up straight in Lottie’s stilettos and talking at the same time, and you might not be there to break my fall when I try to make it as far as the car.’
He chuckled deep in his chest as though suppressing a smile, and the sound reverberated across her collarbone, down her spine and into regions which were previously closed to reverberations of any kind.
Sean continued to breathe into her neck, and one of his hands slid up from her waist to move in small circles on her shoulder. The room began to heat up at a remarkably rapid rate.
She clasped hold of the serving counter as Sean gently, slowly, slowly, slid down the length of her body until he could reach down and pick the sandal from the floor.
It was quite remarkable that he also needed to touch the inside of her leg with his fingertips as he did so, sending shivers up and down her spine, which made it seriously difficult to breathe, focus and talk at the same time.
‘Over the years I have been dragged by the ladies in my family around every fashion shop and footwear retailer in London at one time or another so I could carry their loot home. And we never, ever, bought shoes which they didn’t try on in the shop and at least totter a few steps in. Walking any distance—now, that was different.’
She slowly lifted one of Sean’s hands from her waist, and pushed gently away from him, instantly sorry that she had broken the touch, but Sean had other ideas and held her even tighter this time as she turned to face him.
Without her shoes, her head came up to his chest and she leant back against the counter so that she could look into the smiling, quizzical, handsome face of a truly nice man.
His eyes never blinked or left hers, and her breathing seemed to match his; it was a few seconds before he broke the silence.
‘Did I mention that I am a hotel manager? Yes? I did? Well, we have these terribly practical health and safety standards which mean that I cannot condone any footwear which is likely to lead to personal injury. Not in our hotels.’
He took a step back and held both of her arms out wide as his gaze stayed locked onto her wonky feet.
He flicked one hand in the air and tutted. ‘My hands are tied. No choice—you can either slip your shoes off and go barefoot the whole evening, or you pop back inside and change into something you can walk in and stand in for several hours. What’s it to be?’
