Recipe For Love

RECIPE FOR LOVE by

Sue Perkins

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS Whiskey Creek Press PO Box 51052 Casper, WY 82605-1052 www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright © 2008 by Sue Perkins Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. ISBN 978-1-60313-149-0

Credits Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston Editor: EJ Gilmer Printed in the United States of America

Other Books by Author Available at Whiskey Creek Press: www.whiskeycreekpress.com Three Hearts Travis Denton explodes into Darcy Farrell’s life, demanding custody of his eight year old daughter. Darcy must do what’s best for Brooke, but this creates a bigger problem when she becomes physically attracted to him! Darcy’s outlook is grim as she prepares to fight for Brooke’s future and try to deny her love for Travis.

Blue & Silver: Sky Castles Trilogy Book 1 Caishel’s life changes rapidly when she saves the life of Sire Ailan. Living in the floating sky castle, she maintains her male disguise. Danger continues to stalk Ailan, while Caishel’s attempts to discover the attacker’s identity bring her into close contact with the spirit like Eos.

Whiskey Shots: Volume 16: “Misty Memory” and “Wyrd Fortune”

Dedication ~~This book is dedicated to Jim Catterick. Jim and his wife Jude helped with the technical details of commercial catering in Recipe for Love. Jim, a fellow author and great friend, sadly passed away in 2007.~~

Chapter 1 Reeve ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. The ledgers on his desk didn’t make sense. His company had made an offer for the Hibiscus Hotel because the previous year’s accounts had showed a small, but healthy profit. The figures in front of him bore little resemblance to the previous ones. The accommodation income differed only slightly and could be due to the summer season not yet being in full swing, but the abrupt downturn in the restaurant profits was worrying. A year ago, the figures indicated the restaurant was popular for functions and casual dining plus the hotel guests. In the last six months, the casual customers had dropped fifty percent and few functions were booked in the foreseeable future. He scanned the books again, confirming what he’d already noticed. The downhill trend had started six months ago, slowly at first, but gaining momentum until the restaurant was now barely breaking even. Reeve closed the ledgers and stood, stretching to take the kinks out of his shoulders. He’d arrived at the hotel early to go over things with the manager, but had been slightly disconcerted to find Mr. Bennett had called in sick. The elderly man had also decided to take early retirement, which meant Reeve was now in charge. It had taken him nearly an hour to find the records he wanted 1

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in the untidy manager’s office, and another hour to check and recheck the figures. By now breakfast would be finished and it would be the best time to take the ledgers through to the restaurant and go over them with the head chef. Pausing to wipe the smear of dust from his hands, he sighed in annoyance. Crossing the reception area, he noticed how dark and old-fashioned it looked, but that didn’t excuse the untidiness. “Good morning,” he said, greeting the head receptionist. “Could you get one of your staff to tidy the magazines on the side tables? Oh, yes, I’d also appreciate it if you could ask the housekeeper to send one of her maids to thoroughly clean my office. Thank you.” The woman blushed and nodded in reply as he turned and headed for the restaurant. As he had expected, the room was empty. The tables had been cleared and set up for lunch, but once again the tiredness of the room drew his attention. Unfortunately, until the restaurant was making a profit, there would be no money to upgrade the dining area. A crash from the kitchen caught his attention and, placing the ledgers on a nearby table, he strode through the swing doors. He could hardly believe the sight that met his eyes. He had expected a well run, busy kitchen. Instead dirty breakfast dishes haphazardly overflowed the sink, flour was everywhere, and no work was being done. In fact the whole place appeared empty. Muttered words of anger drew him towards the far end of the kitchen where he found a young woman dressed in the kitchen uniform of checked trousers and white jacket. “Bother!” she exploded as she dragged the hat from her auburn head and threw it onto the nearby desk. 2

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“I don’t think that’s going to help, do you?” At the sound of his voice she spun round and stared at him. “I—um.” Green eyes flashed with annoyance as she struggled for composure, then she straightened and asked haughtily, “Can I help you?” “I hope so. I know you’re busy, but could you find the head chef and tell him I wish to see him in the restaurant.” The look on her face warred between surprise and irritation, her expression so comical that Reeve turned and left the room before he burst out laughing. **** For one second Kirsty considered hurling a flourcovered pastry ball after the retreating figure. It would make such a satisfying white mess in the perfectly groomed dark hair, but before she had time to act on the temptation, the stranger left the room and the restaurant doors swung in his wake. “What does he think I am?” Kirsty muttered as she headed for the staff cloakroom. “Some sort of lackey? And who the heck does he think he is, giving me orders?” She washed the flour from her hands, smoothed down her white linen jacket, and straightened her trousers. Inspecting her appearance in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose and carefully wiped the streak of flour from her forehead, then, returning the cap to her head, she tucked her wayward hair inside and marched through the doors to do battle with the stranger. The man sat at a table in the bay window with several ledgers open before him. Kirsty’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sun-tanned features and the well-muscled body. She hesitated for a moment before walking quietly across the room, 3

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her scrutiny becoming more intense as the distance between them narrowed. Mmm, not bad looking, she decided. But who the devil is he? His face made him appear to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and he was good looking in a rugged kind of way, with a slight bend in the nose. Kirsty shivered as she remembered the cynical way those grey eyes had looked at her. Attractive maybe, but a dangerous being lurked beneath those handsome features. With a decisive nod, she finished her appraisal and made up her mind. He’s a salesman. Probably with a few years experience under his belt. Well, I know exactly how to deal with stuck-up salesmen! She sailed across the remaining distance, her trim figure crisp and businesslike. The stranger glanced up as she reached the table, his eyes flickering with annoyance. “The head chef? I wanted to see him.” His pen tapped irritably on the table as he waited for her answer. “So you said, but Chef sees people at his convenience.” Kirsty looked down at him, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment at this battle of words. “And you can’t see him today. It’s his day off. I’m the sous-chef.” “You’ll have to do then.” Did he have to make it sound as if she was second best? He glanced down at the ledger books. “Now you’re here—please sit down.” “I’ll do no such thing. Come back another day when Chef’s around.” Head high, she marched back to the kitchen. **** Reeve rose, intending to follow the explosive young woman, but he hesitated. Perhaps it would be best to let her cool down first. As the seconds ticked by, he found himself 4

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amused by the prickly sous-chef. He liked staff who would speak their own minds; however, he did feel she was taking her attitude a bit too far, especially as most people tried to make a good impression on the new boss. Suddenly he remembered her words, and realised he hadn’t introduced himself. She wouldn’t have a clue he was now in charge of the hotel. With a smile on his face, he walked to the kitchen doors. He had hoped to implement his plans with the co-operation of the hotel staff and upsetting them on his first day would make things difficult. He’d better smooth things over with the woman before she blew the confrontation out of all proportion. **** Once in the safety of the kitchen, Kirsty leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief. Her knees trembled with the aftermath of anger, and she had to take several deep breaths before her legs felt strong enough to support her. After pushing upright, she walked slowly to the cloakroom and washed her hands. “Being upset by that cretin isn’t going to get anything done,” Kirsty muttered, drying her hands on the towel and putting on her apron. Re-entering the kitchen, she headed for her workstation and in a slightly louder voice asked the empty room, “Just who does that man think he is, anyway?” “Who do you think I am?” Kirsty spun round. Did he always move so silently? She didn’t trust people who sneaked up on her in such a quiet manner. “I imagine you’re a pompous salesman full of your own selfimportance,” she retorted, her anger getting the better of her. “And do you always talk to salesmen the way you spoke to me?” A dark eyebrow rose inquiringly. 5

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“No, I don’t!” Kirsty nervously bit the inside of her lip. Maybe he wasn’t a salesman, but if not, who was he? A horrible thought occurred to her. Oh, no, please don’t let him be the health inspector! It took a lot of willpower to keep her voice level as she continued. “Chef deals with salesmen. I’m sorry if I appeared rude, but you’ve got to admit your manner was very high-handed.” “Oh, I don’t think so.” Reeve’s eyes danced with anticipation as he looked at Kirsty. “I spoke to you the same way I speak to any member of my staff who isn’t doing his or her job efficiently.” “Member of your staff! Who— I mean...” Kirsty spluttered, then stopped. “The name is Reeve Stuart.” Humour twitched the corner of his mouth. “My group now owns the Hibiscus Hotel!” Kirsty’s eyes widened in horror as she tried to recall what she had said to the man towering over her. “O…Owner!” she gasped. “I heard they were selling the hotel to the Garden Group, but I thought Mr. Bennett was to stay in charge until he retired next month.” “Mr. Bennett has influenza and has decided to take early retirement. From now on, I’ll be in charge.” Reeve paused, and Kirsty realised he was waiting for her to respond. “Oh!” Kirsty stared at him, mouth open. She couldn’t think of anything else to say and knew he must think her a total idiot. She quickly shut her mouth. There was no need to look as stupid as she felt. “Is that all you can say?” Reeve sighed. “An explanation for the disgusting state of this kitchen would be appropriate, don’t you think?” Kirsty watched his gaze travel slowly over the dirty dish6

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es and flour-strewn work areas. When he looked back at her, his eyes repeated the question. “Flu!” she forced through frozen lips. “I beg your pardon?” “It’s Chef’s day off, and both our kitchen maids rang in sick this morning.” Kirsty swallowed nervously. “Look, I’m sorry if I was rude to you, but you didn’t say who you were and I’ve been on my own all morning. Trying to cope with the lunchtime menu single-handed isn’t easy. I’m afraid everything got on top of me.” She moved toward the sink full of dishes. “Leave that,” Reeve commanded and reached out to touch her shoulder, but he stopped before he made contact. He was standing so close she could smell his spicy after-shave. “Have you tried to find temporary staff?” Kirsty bit back an angry retort and forced herself to remain calm, but she found this difficult because his closeness started a warm, nervous feeling in her stomach. Dragging her mind back to the present, she turned towards her workstation. “I’ve rung the agency,” she replied, careful to keep her voice cool and reasonable. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the only place to be hit by illness. There is no kitchen staff available until tomorrow.” Reeve removed the jacket of his dark business suit and hung it up on a hook next to Chef’s desk. Kirsty licked her dry lips as she saw the muscles ripple under his brilliant white shirt. Tutting under his breath, he tied on a fresh apron and, rolling up his sleeves, he strode across the kitchen to the sink of dishes, sighing as he realised how many were hidden in the murky depths. 7

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“Can I assume you’ve engaged temporary staff for tomorrow?” he queried over his shoulder. “Of course. I’ve booked two people for the rest of the week.” Kirsty blinked in astonishment as she watched the immaculately dressed man pull on pink rubber gloves, then plunge his hands into the greasy water. She almost burst out laughing at the absurd picture he presented. “I would have thought a kitchen this size would have invested in a dishwasher,” Reeve muttered in annoyance as he ran more hot water into the sink. Kirsty quickly turned her laugh into a strangled cough, but a shiver ran down her spine as he glanced at her across the intervening space. Keeping her features composed, she pointed to the stainless steel monster lurking in the far corner, then turned her attention to her own work. She heard the clatter of pots and pans behind her as Reeve loaded the dishwasher. Kirsty tried to forget his presence and carry on with her own duties, but found it difficult. She was tempted to peek and see how the arrogant executive was coping with the enormous pile of breakfast dishes, some of which had to be washed by hand. Her mind wandered as she wondered what he meant when he said his group now owned the hotel. Did he mean he represented them? Or did he own the Garden Group? No, not at his age, she decided. Besides, rich bosses didn’t get their hands dirty with the dayto-day running of their properties. He was probably an accountant here to check up on the turnover. “What’s next?” he asked as she finished the seafood platter and placed the final savoury flan into the oven. She set the timer before replying. “The vegetables have to be prepared.” She nodded to the sack of potatoes sitting inside the doorway 8

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of the cool room. “The salad ingredients need washing and the dessert trolley has to be laid out.” “With what?” He glanced around the room. “Pardon?” “What are you going to put on the dessert trolley?” Reeve asked. “When everything else is finished, I’ll raid the freezer,” Kirsty told him, and when he looked at her in astonishment, she smugly explained, “We’re a small hotel. If anyone’s absent, it throws the kitchen routine into complete chaos. Chef always makes sure there are plenty of desserts in the freezer for an emergency. It’s replaced on a regular basis. Which reminds me, today’s menu will have to be altered.” Kirsty watched in amazement as Reeve displayed a good knowledge of food handling. In her experience, most up and coming young executives came straight from business college and didn’t have a clue about the practical side of things. This man knew exactly what he was doing, and he surprised her further when he set up the dessert trolley on his own, his speed proving he’d done it before. By the time the restaurant staff arrived, the soup and main courses were ready, and Reeve had altered the lunch menus and placed them in their folders. “I’ll get one of the waitresses from the restaurant to help with the lunchtime rush,” he stated as he pulled down his shirt sleeves. “That would be nice.” Kirsty realised Reeve hadn’t heard the sarcasm in her voice. Frowning in a preoccupied way, he shrugged his broad shoulders into the jacket of his suit and straightened his tie, then, picking up the altered menus, he strode purposefully 9

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through the restaurant doors. Kirsty couldn’t help herself…she simply had to see how he handled the pompous head waiter. Pushing the restaurant door ajar, she peered through the narrow gap and eavesdropped on their conversation. Relief flooded through her when she saw Reeve had his back to her, but she had difficulty suppressing her laughter when she saw the dismayed expression on the face of Henri, the head waiter. “Because of illness, one of your staff will have to help out in the kitchen during the lunch hour,” Reeve Stuart explained. “But that…that is impossible!” The head waiter’s face flushed a deep red and he stared at Reeve in disbelief. “I cannot possibly manage without a full complement of staff.” “Nonsense! If it becomes necessary, I’ll step in and wait on tables. No!” He held up a hand to silence Henri. “Without help, the kitchen won’t be able to cope and your diners will go hungry. I leave it to you to choose which waiter or waitress you can spare.” Kirsty ducked back through the door as Reeve turned toward the kitchen, and by the time he entered the room she was busy placing plates into the warmer. “Someone from the restaurant will come and help you with the clearing up, but I’m afraid the bulk of the work will fall on your shoulders. I’ll pop in from time to time to make sure there are no problems, but if you have any difficulties, contact reception and they’ll page me.” “Thank you, Mr. Stuart.” Kirsty hoped he realised she was being sincere. Without his help she wouldn’t have made it halfway through the food preparations, and wouldn’t be ready for the lunchtime rush. The implication that she couldn’t cope with the lunch orders ruffled her temper, but 10

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she forced the irritation down as she acknowledged she wouldn’t be able to cope on her own. She blinked as she saw his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Miss…” He waited for her to supply her name. “Lawrence. Kirsty Lawrence,” she replied as their hands touched, only to quickly withdraw hers as an unwelcome shock tingled her fingers. “Miss Lawrence.” He looked startled, and Kirsty wondered if he’d experienced a similar reaction. “Thank you for your hard work this morning. I realise you must have been working under difficult circumstances when I arrived on the scene.” Before she had chance to think of a reply the first orders came through from the restaurant and, with a sharp nod, Reeve left the room. The waitress detailed to help complained all through lunch. Her grumbling ranged from wanting extra money for doing work outside of her job description, to taking her complaint to the union. Her main accusations revolved around the new manager. “Who does he think he is?” the woman muttered as she packed the dishwasher for the third time. “He might look like he’s God’s gift to women, but I pity the poor girl who has to put up with such a bossy man at home.” Kirsty ducked her head to hide the smile twitching at her lips. She couldn’t let the woman realise she agreed with her. Several hours later, the work surfaces and ranges sparkled. After phoning through the vegetable orders, Kirsty put on the percolator and made herself a jug of coffee. It was a beautiful day and carrying the hot cup into the bright sunlight, 11

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she sank wearily onto the seat beside the kitchen door. The view in front of her was superb. The Hibiscus Hotel perched on cliffs high above the long stretch of Orewa Beach, north of Auckland. From this height, she could see the cars rushing along State Highway One, which separated the beach from the shops and main residential section. Luckily none of the exhaust fumes and noise reached this high. Kirsty closed her eyes and her thoughts drifted to her home on New Zealand’s South Island. Her mother ran a small restaurant alongside the family’s boutique vineyard in Marlborough. As a teenager Kirsty had earned money helping with the cooking. She’d enjoyed it and training to be a chef seemed the only way to go when she left school. After getting her qualifications, she worked a few years as a general chef, then beat several more experienced applicants to become sous-chef to Antoine here. Her parents had been so proud of her. “Even I’ve heard of Chef Antoine, Kirsty,” her mother had enthused. “His name’s famous in the catering world. I don’t know why he’s working in such a small hotel, but you can learn a lot from him.” Kirsty’s thoughts were interrupted by her friend Gina, the receptionist who worked the afternoon shift. “Hi, Kirsty. I helped myself to some coffee. Hope that’s okay? I’m on a ten-minute break.” “No problem.” Kirsty smiled as Gina sat beside her. Six months earlier, the bubbly receptionist had taken the new employee under her wing and introduced her to the big city. Even though she was a few years younger than Kirsty, the other girl acted as if she was the more experienced of the two. “What a gorgeous day.” Gina relaxed in the sunshine. “Even better when you can sit and look at this fabulous view.” 12

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Wrapping her hands around the cup, Kirsty sighed contentedly and slipped off her shoes. She looked fondly across at her friend as she took a sip of the hot coffee. Gina was one of those “always on the go” people and, at times, Kirsty found it difficult to keep up with the younger girl. “Hey, Kirsty!” Gina tried to make her voice low and confidential, but it rose with excitement as her questions bubbled forth. “What do you think of the new man? Have you met him yet? He’s a bit of a change from old Mr. Bennett, isn’t he?” “I’m afraid we got off to a bad start,” Kirsty confessed with a rueful smile. “I thought he was a salesman and told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of him.” “You didn’t!” Gina stared at her. “But someone said he helped you out during the lunchtime rush, so he can’t be that bad.” “I suppose he’s okay, and he did thank me for all my hard work,” Kirsty admitted. “I just wish he’d told me who he was, then I wouldn’t have treated him like something the cat dragged in. What really annoyed me was that this should have been my day. With Chef on his day off, I was in charge. Monday is the only chance I get to run the kitchen my own way, and today everything went wrong. Mr. Stuart breezing in and taking over like that was the final straw. I wouldn’t be surprised if the mess in the kitchen gave him the impression I’m some sort of incompetent idiot.” “Don’t worry about it. It’s his first day. By tomorrow he probably won’t even remember your name. A great looking guy like that has just got to have a nice nature to match. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.” “I wish I was as sure about that as you are.” Kirsty sighed 13

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and lifted the cup to her lips. “Ah, there you are, Miss Lawrence. I’ve arranged for one of the chambermaids to help out this evening.” Reeve’s voice made the two women jump, and Kirsty nearly upset her coffee. Why couldn’t the man make a noise instead of creeping around like that? Silently she prayed he hadn’t overheard any of their conversation. “That will cover the dishwashing,” Reeve continued. “But how will you manage if there’s a rush?” “It’s usually pretty quiet Monday evenings,” Kirsty replied, settling back on the seat. “We have two extra staff when we’re busy, and I’ve arranged for one of them to come in tonight, so I should be okay. By the way, I’d like to thank you for your help this morning.” “That’s not necessary.” His voice sounded distracted and his manner made Kirsty feel small and insignificant. “I’m in charge of the hotel now and I couldn’t allow the restaurant to be closed on my first day here. Which brings me to this evening’s meal. I noticed the main course is steak. It might be best to change that to something easier to prepare. With limited help, you won’t have time to cook individual meals.” Kirsty stared at him in disbelief. How dare he criticise her ability to run the kitchen? Before she could say a word, he strode away, but turned at the kitchen doorway. “By the way, Miss Lawrence, I believe you usually have a few hours off in the afternoon. Under the circumstances I’m sure you won’t mind cancelling them today. I’ll see you get time off in lieu at some future date.” Kirsty’s voice deserted her and she stared at him, anger darkening her eyes. Reeve turned and walked through the kitchen door, seemingly unaware of the turmoil boiling up 14

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within her. During the conversation Gina had looked on with dumb amazement, but now she turned to face her friend. “Well, you weren’t wrong when you said you two hadn’t hit it off, were you? If you could’ve seen the look on your face when he mentioned your afternoon break.” Kirsty didn’t hear Gina. She was too busy keeping a lid on her temper, but she fought a losing battle. “How dare he!” she exploded, her voice returning in a rush. “The pompous, insufferable, arrogant… Who does he think he is?” “He’s the new boss, Kirsty,” Gina said, amusement twinkling in her dark eyes. “Calm down, girl. You’re overreacting. Hey, do you think he’s actually the owner or just their representative?” “I don’t care who he is! He’s not my boss! Chef Antoine is my boss!” Kirsty’s temper boiled over. “I’d no intention of taking any time off this afternoon, but he shouldn’t have just assumed I’d stay. He’s got no right to tell me what to do. And as for time off in lieu—just wait until Chef hears about that!” **** Chef Antoine breezed into the kitchen the following morning and frowned as he ordered one of the temporary staff to make him a coffee. Then, with the cup in his hand, he settled behind his desk and called Kirsty over to report on the previous day. “First, Lawrence, you can explain why I find strangers in my kitchen this morning. What has happened to my usual staff?” Antoine scowled at one of the temps near enough to hear their conversation, and the young man quickly ducked his head and hustled away. “Both the kitchen maids are sick, Chef,” Kirsty told him, 15

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“with the flu. I’ve engaged the temps for the rest of the week. I hope that’s all right?” “Quite right, Lawrence.” Chef always called his staff by their surnames. “Now tell me what other disaster has befallen the hotel during my all too brief day off.” “Not exactly a disaster, Chef.” Kirsty’s lips twitched as she suppressed a smile. “Mr. Bennett also has flu, and his replacement’s taken over the hotel. His name’s Reeve Stuart.” “And?” Chef prompted. “By the tone of your voice, Lawrence, you don’t appear to approve of our Mr. Stuart.” “He rubbed me up the wrong way, Chef.” Kirsty grimaced. “I couldn’t get any temps yesterday and, with the others off sick, I had to manage on my own. Mr. Stuart arrived in the kitchen and didn’t tell me he was the new boss. I assumed he was a salesman and I’m afraid I was a bit rude to him. He did help me get the lunch menu ready, but then he changed the menus for the evening meal. I felt as if he didn’t trust me to run the kitchen when you’re not here. And he told me to cancel my hours off yesterday afternoon, then he had the cheek to tell me I could have time off in lieu.” Chef frowned as Kirsty paused for breath. “I think, Lawrence, you should provide me with all the details of what happened.” Kirsty described the previous day’s events in minute detail, and Chef Antoine’s expression darkened as she elaborated on her dealings with Reeve Stuart. She was secretly delighted to see the famous Antoine temper rising to the boil, particularly when she mentioned how Reeve had altered the menu for the previous evening. Her tale finished with a repetition of the suggestion of time off in lieu, and Chef gave an angry snort. With a crash, his chair flew back against the wall as he 16

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rose and stood breathing heavily. Kirsty half expected steam to gush from his mouth at any moment. However, he hesitated before storming off in his usual way. “Did you say he was the new owner, Lawrence?” “He said his group had bought the hotel, Chef,” Kirsty replied. “Keep an eye on the kitchen, Lawrence.” His expression had turned thoughtful. “I shall return when I’ve spoken with this Mr. Stuart!” The restaurant doors swung wildly behind Chef Antoine as he left the room. “That’ll teach Mr. High-and-Mighty Stuart!” A satisfied grin spread over Kirsty’s face. “He’ll soon learn the only boss in this kitchen is Chef Antoine.” **** Reeve was surprised when the head chef knocked on his door, then entered before being invited. He decided to treat Antoine with caution as the man’s reputation was that of a fiery individual who did not like to be crossed, either by management or junior staff. “Mr. Stuart? My name is Antoine, I am the head chef of the Hibiscus Hotel.” “Ah, Chef Antoine. Thank you for coming to introduce yourself to me. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I would have visited you in the kitchen, but I know how busy the early mornings can be.” Reeve tried to sound friendly. Antoine had a wary look upon his face, as if he wasn’t sure how to handle the new management. Reeve wondered what Kirsty Lawrence had told him about yesterday’s events. A highly biased version no doubt, making Reeve sound like the antagonist. Maybe he 17

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should have taken more effort to placate her, but he hadn’t been able to resist provoking her. When she got angry, her whole body responded. “My sous-chef tells me there was a bit of unpleasantness in the kitchen yesterday.” Antoine sat down without being invited. “Oh, not really,” Reeve reassured him. “More a misunderstanding. Once I realised Miss Lawrence was working under difficult circumstances, I quite understood why she reacted so strongly to a stranger in her kitchen.” “My kitchen, Mr. Stuart. Lawrence is a member of my staff, a not very efficient member I might add.” “My apologies, Chef. With regards to yesterday, I admit things were a bit hectic when I first entered the kitchen, but once she was given assistance, Miss Lawrence seemed to handle things quite well.” Reeve wondered where this was heading. Heads of departments usually dealt with their own staff problems and didn’t come bleating to management. “Perhaps I should explain Lawrence is only on trial as my sous-chef.” Antoine smiled apologetically. “She isn’t really qualified for the position, but I felt in such a small hotel it would be good experience for her future career.” “I see.” Reeve still felt confused—why was this man making excuses? “If that’s the case, do you think it wise to allow her full control when you’re not here?” “Until now there have been no problems, but it seems when the other experienced staff are not here, she’s unable to cope. I shall have to think again about her position, although I would like to give her another chance. I’ve put a lot of work into her training this last six months.” Antoine sat back and Reeve realised the man wanted him 18

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to make a decision regarding Kirsty Lawrence’s future. Well, he wasn’t going to be drawn into that type situation so early on in his management. “Chef, I suggest we leave things as they are for the present. The staff sickness should be over by your next day off and we’ll see how Miss Lawrence copes then. If such a situation arises again, I’ll arrange for help either from the chambermaids, or from one of our other hotels. I really don’t want to make any hasty judgements when I’ve only been here one day.” “There also seems to be a bit of misunderstanding as to whether you are the new owner or manager of the Hibiscus Hotel.” “I don’t see that it makes any difference,” Reeve replied, careful to keep his expression pleasant. “I’m the one in charge and responsible for the well-being of the business, regardless of whether I own it or represent the owners. Now if that’s all, Chef, I have an appointment with the head receptionist.” He rose and walked over to open the door leaving Antoine with no other alternative than to leave. Reeve walked with him across the reception area and through the dining room. “As long as Lawrence doesn’t adversely affect the restaurant’s reputation, I have no objections to giving her another chance,” Antoine said as they approached the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. “Thank you for your co-operation and understanding, Chef.” Reeve Stuart followed him into the kitchen. “I’m sure we won’t have a repeat of the chaos I found here yesterday.” Reeve shook hands with the man and left the kitchen. As the doors closed behind him, he heard Antoine say, “Law19

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rence, could you spare me a moment?” After his meeting with the receptionist, Reeve returned to his office. Leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out before him and hands folded behind his head, he frowned as he tried to fathom the natures of the two main kitchen staff. His perusal of the ledgers showed him the restaurant was losing money. Discreet enquiries indicated the restaurant’s reputation had also been damaged, despite having the highly respected Chef Antoine in charge of the kitchens. Hence, his reason for wanting to see the head chef yesterday. No specific complaints had been received regarding the quality of the food, but the public seemed to have lost interest in dining at the hotel and the books reflected the loss of income. His initial reaction on meeting Kirsty had been to blame her for the decline, but after working with her the day before, he knew he’d been wrong. Reeve considered himself a pretty good judge of character. Antoine had an air of “looking after number one” about him. Kirsty, on the other hand, appeared to be a fairly straightforward person and once she’d been given assistance, her work had been efficient and the kitchen had run without a hitch. Reeve checked through the previous manager’s records and found no complaints from Antoine about his sous-chef. Concerned with Chef Antoine’s motives, he decided to reserve judgment for the time being. A glance at the clock showed it was time to start his rounds. He stood, mentally deciding to stay away from the kitchen. He guessed Kirsty Lawrence would be less than amused by the head chef’s attitude and he grinned, remembering her feistiness in the restaurant yesterday. Unfortunately, in order to smooth things over and remain professional with her, he’d gone too far the other way and even to himself 20

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he’d sounded stuck up and arrogant. A sense of déjà vu scratched at his mind, and he realised the reason he’d felt confused and protective around Kirsty. She reminded him of Samantha. Samantha, who’d played him for a fool in an attempt to get what she wanted. Reeve made up his mind to keep things strictly professional between himself and Kirsty, even if it meant still sounding arrogant. No woman would trick him again. With a sigh he left the office, but a small inner voice hoped Chef Antoine wasn’t being too hard on his assistant. **** Rather than look as if she’d been hanging around to see the outcome of the meeting, Kirsty bustled about making pastry and preparing the fish for the entrées. She kept glancing at the clock and her anticipation slowly changed to concern as the minutes ticked by. Half an hour passed before she heard Chef’s voice as he came through the restaurant to the kitchen, and then she overhead Reeve’s parting remark. The doors closed behind Reeve and Kirsty feverishly tried to work out what had happened. Chef Antoine’s voice calling her to his desk startled her. Wiping her hands on a cloth, she obediently crossed the kitchen to Antoine’s desk. “I’ve had a long talk with Mr. Stuart, and we’ve worked out an emergency plan of action. If ever the kitchen is short-handed and temporary staff is not available again, one of the chambermaids will help out. They will take it in turn to be on emergency standby. I’ve told Mr. Stuart this will be quite satisfactory.” Kirsty stared at him, so stunned by his explanation she couldn’t utter a sound. It was totally unlike Chef Antoine to react so calmly, especially when the new management threatened his supremacy over the kitchen. Considering Antoine’s 21

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artistic temperament and Reeve Stuart’s arrogance, she’d expected the two men to be at each others throats. Instead it looked like they’d been getting buddy-buddy with each other! “One other thing, Lawrence,” he continued. “Although Mr. Stuart was too polite to complain, I’m of the opinion you were extremely rude to him yesterday.” “Not rude exactly. More annoyed with the interruption. He came in here—” Kirsty started to explain, but Chef cut her short. “Don’t let it happen again, Lawrence. In such a small establishment, we all have to work together, and that means being polite to one another. Especially”—he frowned at Kirsty as she opened her mouth to protest—“when someone takes time out to help you in an emergency. I’m very disappointed in you, Lawrence, and I shall expect you to do better in future.” “And am I supposed to take orders from him as well, Chef?” Kirsty asked, her anger rising. Antoine had no right to talk to her as if she was merely a kitchen junior. “Please control your temper, Lawrence. I’ll give you your orders as usual. However, Mr. Stuart will be treated with the respect his position demands. Is that understood?” Chef Antoine stared hard at Kirsty, and she reluctantly nodded her head. “Very well, we shall say no more on the matter. That will be all, Lawrence.”

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Chapter 2 Kirsty frowned as she returned to her work station. The nerve of the man! Somehow he’d managed to convince Chef his biased point of view was the truth. Now Antoine thought the rudeness had all been on her side. At the end of a long day, Kirsty wearily drove her old car down from the Whangaparaoa Peninsula through the lamp-lit streets of Orewa to the house she rented a few blocks back from the highway. Once inside her own front door she climbed the stairs and, with a sigh, sank into a chair in the lounge before kicking off her shoes. She relaxed and went back over the day’s events. Antoine had whipped the staff into a frenzy of activity to prove to Reeve Stuart his kitchen ran with total efficiency. The temps were unfamiliar with Chef’s methods, and every time he’d had to repeat his instructions, he’d looked at Kirsty and sighed dramatically. The look of sadness in his eyes made it appear he was reluctantly blaming her for the staff’s inadequacy. Luckily Reeve had not returned to the kitchen. Still smarting from what she considered to be an unreasonable reprimand, Kirsty would have found it difficult to be polite to the new manager. Reluctantly she dragged herself from the chair and head23

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ed for the bathroom. As she got ready for bed she remembered tomorrow was her day off, which meant she could have a long lie-in before spending a lazy day wandering around the shops. The housework could wait! With a bit of luck she’d be able to forget the overbearing Reeve Stuart until she went back to work on Thursday morning. Ten minutes later she tugged her shirt-style nightie around her knees and snuggled down in the warm bed. She fell asleep with a smile of happy anticipation on her lips. The next morning, a towelling robe protecting her against the cool morning air, Kirsty ate her breakfast in the sunshine on the outside deck. Halfway through her muesli the phone rang, and she ran inside to answer it with a cheerful, “Hi, Kirsty speaking.” “Good morning, Miss Lawrence.” Reeve Stuart’s cool tones came down the line and Kirsty’s heart sank. Why was he ringing her on her day off? “Good morning, Mr. Stuart,” she replied as evenly as she could. “I’m ringing to see if you’re ill.” “Ill?” Kirsty repeated in a confused voice. What made him think she might be ill? “No, I’m perfectly all right, thank you.” “Then may I ask why you’re not at work today?” “I beg your pardon?” Kirsty spluttered, her calm shattered. “Chef asked me to find out why you’re absent today.” “Why I’m absent today?” She heard herself repeating the words, but in her confusion she couldn’t help herself. “Really, Miss Lawrence, I’d have thought the question was quite straightforward. Why aren’t you here? You 24

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should’ve started work two hours ago.” Kirsty heard restrained impatience in his voice and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It wouldn’t help matters if she lost her temper. “I’m afraid there seems to have been a misunderstanding, Mr. Stuart,” she said, clearly and carefully. “Wednesday is my day off, and Chef Antoine is well aware of that fact.” That’ll teach him to talk to me like that, she thought, seeing her self-satisfied smile reflected in the mirror hanging behind the phone. “Yes, I realise that, Miss Lawrence.” Kirsty blinked in surprise. If he knew it was her day off why was he bothering her? “However, because of the sickness of the kitchen staff, Chef Antoine tells me he asked you to work your day off this week. Of course, you’ll be compensated for this at a later date.” “I most certainly was not asked to work today,” Kirsty replied indignantly. “Miss Lawrence!” Reeve Stuart sounded as if he’d reached the end of his patience. “Chef Antoine assures me he told you yesterday afternoon you’d be needed today. I don’t have the time to argue with you, Miss Lawrence. We’ll sort this out later. I’ll expect you within the hour.” Before Kirsty could utter another word, Reeve hung up. **** As he placed the receiver on its hook, Reeve let out a sigh. What was it about the sous-chef that made him get so irritated? Every time he saw her, there was a smouldering rage deep in her green eyes. Even speaking to her on the phone he could hear her suppressed anger. Despite the fact she re25

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minded him of Samantha, her moods were totally her own. Samantha had been cool and loving at all times, and only when she realised he wouldn’t marry her had her true colours shown through. He could hear Chef Antoine shouting at his staff before he reached the kitchen, but as soon as he saw Reeve, he waved a hand to dismiss them and hurried across the room. “I’ve contacted Miss Lawrence,” Reeve told him. “She’ll be here within the hour.” “Could I have a quiet word with you about Lawrence, Mr. Stuart?” He drew Reeve over to his desk where they could not be overheard by the other staff. “Lawrence is very good at general kitchen duties, but, as I mentioned yesterday, she’s barely qualified. I decided to give her a chance to start her career, but unfortunately I’m beginning to think I was in error. She’s a nice enough girl, but does not seem to be suitable for a position of such responsibility.” In his mind, Reeve saw Kirsty as she had been on Monday morning, dishevelled and streaked with flour. Part of him had wanted to help the forlorn waif, and this was the reason he’d assisted her in the kitchen. He could easily have drafted in someone from another of the hotels, but instead he’d rolled up his sleeves to help. He didn’t trust Chef Antoine, but Reeve could see no reason why such a professional person would lie. The phone call to Kirsty this morning had confused him. She had sounded truly surprised when he’d asked why she wasn’t at work. “You may be right, Chef Antoine, but I haven’t had time to sort through everything yet, and until I do, I’d rather there weren’t any major changes.” Chef’s eyes looked worried, then sly, and then calm—all 26

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in the matter of a few seconds. Of course the man could be concerned about his sous-chef’s competency reflecting on his own reputation, but somehow Reeve didn’t think so. Reeve left the room, but, despite his inner disquiet, an hour later his footsteps led him back toward the kitchen. Resolutely he dragged himself in the other direction. “Let Chef Antoine handle things,” he muttered to himself. **** Kirsty had been tempted to ignore the phone call, but if she did she’d probably be out of a job. She needed to be careful if she wanted to achieve her dream. Working for Chef Antoine gave her a high status in the New Zealand catering world, and with his recommendation, she hoped to eventually get a head chef’s job. Once she’d made a name for herself, she’d open her own restaurant. Besides, she loved working at the small Hibiscus Hotel—or at least she had until Monday. It was surprising what a difference one person could make. The kitchen was in absolute chaos when she entered. Chef Antoine was bellowing at one of the temporary staff, and Kirsty could see the other one cowering in the corner, trying hard not to be noticed. “And when I say clean, I mean clean!” Chef Antoine roared, loud enough for Kirsty to hear him as she went into the changing room. “Now do it properly this time.” Kirsty quietly put on her jacket, checked trousers and hat of the sous-chef’s uniform. Her nose wrinkled in disappointment as she thought longingly of the blue jeans and baggy yellow T-shirt she’d laid out when she got up this morning. With a sigh for the loss of her lost day off, she washed her hands, then entered the main room. After checking the day’s 27

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menu, she went to the pantry and the fridge. Laden with butter and eggs, she was heading for her work station when Chef turned and saw her. “Lawrence,” he roared, his voice rattling the pots and pans hanging above the work surfaces. “Where in Hades have you been? You’re late!’ “I thought I had the day off, Chef.” Kirsty spoke calmly as she put the butter and eggs carefully on the table. “Day off!” Chef pressed a hand dramatically to his brow. “What sort of staff have I got? Two sick and the third thinks she can take a day off any time she feels like it!” “Today is Wednesday, Chef, and that’s my normal day off,” Kirsty quietly reminded him. “I have no time to deal with such petty details now. Please get started on the soufflés at once.” “Yes, Chef.” Kirsty had already started whisking the eggs and she assumed the conversation was over. However, Antoine hadn’t finished. Coming closer to Kirsty, he lowered his voice. “Lawrence, with regards to today’s little misunderstanding. To stop this happening in future, it might be best if you check with me every Tuesday. Then I can let you know whether or not it’s convenient for you to have your day off.” “Yes, Chef.” Kirsty didn’t know whether to smile or frown as Antoine walked away. To her ears it sounded as if Antoine wasn’t sure whether he had told her she would have to work today. He couldn’t admit to Reeve that he hadn’t asked her to come in, so he was trying to smooth things over with Kirsty. His bland “whether or not it’s convenient” sounded more like Reeve Stuart than Chef Antoine, and this infuriated Kirsty. 28

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She didn’t mind working her day off in an emergency, but she did draw the line at the two men assuming she’d cancel her leisure time whenever it suited them. Anyone would think she didn’t have a life outside the hotel. Later that day Reeve entered the kitchen to speak to Chef. Unfortunately, Antoine had left the hotel for a few hours and the temp directed him outside to where Kirsty sat enjoying a cup of coffee in the afternoon sunshine. “Miss Lawrence.” This time Kirsty did spill her coffee. She wondered if he moved quietly on purpose. Perhaps he liked creeping up on people, hoping to catch them out in some wrongdoing. “Mr. Stuart,” she replied as she brushed ineffectively at her jacket, “is there something I can do for you?” “Please ask Chef Antoine to ring me when he returns to the hotel. You will remember to tell him, won’t you?” “Of course, Mr. Stuart. I’m quite capable of remembering such a small matter.” Kirsty spoke sarcastically, bristling at the implied criticism. She expected him to go back into the hotel, but he stared at her for a few moments before speaking again. “Miss Lawrence, I realise you were working under difficult circumstances when we first met, but that’s no excuse for your attitude now. In future I shall expect a much higher degree of efficiency and politeness from you.” Kirsty opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to silence her. “No. Please wait until I’ve finished. This morning’s mix up must not be repeated. If you have a faulty memory, it might be best to write things down in order to remember them. It’s also not very professional to try and blame your forgetfulness on another member of the staff.” 29

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He took Kirsty’s astonished silence as agreement and turned to go back into the hotel. “Exactly what mix up are you referring to, Mr. Stuart?” Kirsty asked, her voice dangerously even. He turned to look at her, and, for a moment, Kirsty regretted her outburst. From his stiff stance, the man standing in front of her was not used to having his word questioned. “Miss Lawrence”—his voice sounded clipped and even— “you are well aware I’m referring to your lateness this morning. Please do not pretend innocence.” “Mr. Stuart, I have already apologised for our unfortunate first meeting, but surely I should be asked to give up my day off, not ordered to work.” Kirsty’s eyes flashed with anger, but she continued to speak in a flat, unemotional voice. “I should also like to make it clear that I have no reason to lie. If I had agreed to work today, then I would have arrived at the hotel at my usual time.” “Unfortunately, Miss Lawrence, I only have your word for this.” To Kirsty’s surprise, Reeve Stuart appeared to be considering what she’d said. “Chef Antoine tells me otherwise. However, I do agree that you should be asked—not told—to work your day off. Perhaps in this instance we might put it down as a misunderstanding?” Several moments passed before Kirsty could think of anything further to say, and by that time he’d taken her silence for agreement and re-entered the hotel. Her anger bubbled to the surface and she released it with a few well-chosen words into the empty air. Close on the heels of anger came despair. It wasn’t fair! On a mere two days acquaintance, Reeve had decided she was a liar with a bad attitude. He seemed deter30

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mined to find fault with her, but worse than that, he’d somehow won Chef to his side and the two of them appeared to be ganging up on her. Kirsty decided not to mention the conversation to Antoine. Instead, she’d prove to both men that she was more than capable of doing her job, and able to remember instructions. **** Reeve kept his thoughts under tight control as he walked towards his office, automatically responding to greetings from those he passed. He threw himself into his chair and only then did he allow himself to think about his meeting with the souschef. Somehow Kirsty Lawrence had managed to twist everything around to make him appear to be in the wrong. She’d totally controlled the situation and her response to his warning made him question the head chef’s insistence that he’d asked Kirsty to work and she had agreed. Could Antoine be lying? But why? Chef Antoine had no need to lie, whereas Kirsty had every reason to if she was at fault and wanted to keep her job. He hoped she realised if she was lying, she would be jeopardising her whole career. He decided to check her resume and spent several minutes searching through the personnel files. Kirsty’s details weren’t there. As head chef, Antoine would be responsible for hiring his own staff. Maybe the missing file was with the kitchen records, which Antoine presumably kept in the filing cabinet by his desk. Kirsty’s face flashed into Reeve’s mind. He longed to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, then they could start afresh. He smiled to himself as he thought of how she’d stood up to him. Ramrod straight, eyes flashing, even her hair seemed to take on an extra glow when she be31

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came angry. It would be amusing to take her in his arms and kiss her until she looked up at him adoringly and— No! How had his imagination run so wild? He grinned ruefully. The last part was miles from the truth. There was no way Kirsty would look at him adoringly—like an angry spitting tiger maybe—but not adoringly. **** Over the next few days, Antoine seemed determined to drive his staff to distraction in his bid to impress the new management, and Kirsty had no time to relax. Thank goodness she ate her meals at the hotel because she wouldn’t have had the energy to prepare anything when she got home in the evening. By the time she shut the front door behind her, she barely had enough strength to undress and get into bed. Kirsty’s resolution to prove her efficiency wilted under Chef’s determination to find fault with everything she did. On Friday, his famous temper erupted and brought Kirsty near to tears. “Lawrence!” he roared as he appeared at her side and threw a pan of white sauce onto her work station. “What do you call this?” Kirsty swallowed and picked up the pan to look inside. The surface of the sauce looked like the moon, all pits, lumps and craters. How on earth had that happened? She’d only finished making it a few minutes before and had left a perfectly smooth sauce cooling on the rack beside the cooking range. “I’m waiting for an explanation, Lawrence.” “It was white sauce, Chef.” Kirsty frowned. “I left it on the cooling rack. I don’t know how it got like this.” “Stop making excuses for your incompetence, Lawrence. If the sauce didn’t turn out right, you should have said so, 32

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then made a new batch. No, don’t do it now.” He picked up the pan before she could touch it. “As usual, I must do things myself if I want them done correctly.” Kirsty stared at Antoine’s back as he marched across to the sink and threw the pan into the water. She wanted to convince him that the ruined sauce was not her fault, but she felt too tired to argue. Working ten days without any time off, and not having any afternoon breaks this week had exhausted her. Tears blurred her eyes as she turned back to the job at hand. Why was Antoine being so mean to her? He didn’t want to listen to any of her explanations. Instead, he seemed intent on proving to Reeve that she was incompetent. She felt someone standing nearby and looked up defensively. Reeve Stuart! Trust him to turn up at the worst possible moment. He looked at her thoughtfully before moving across to speak to Chef Antoine. The two men glanced in her direction several times during their conversation, and Kirsty felt like screaming. Had she made a mistake with the sauce? No, she most certainly had not! It was the tiredness confusing her. If only she could have some time to herself, she might be able to put things into perspective. Over the weekend, Reeve left her alone. On the few occasions their paths crossed, he ignored Kirsty completely, or looked straight through her as if she wasn’t there! When forced to speak to her, he addressed a point a few inches above the top of her head. On Chef’s day off the following Monday, everything appeared to be running smoothly. Both the regular kitchen maids had returned to work the previous day, and, despite her tiredness, Kirsty was confident the day would pass uneventful33

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ly. This was her chance to prove to Chef Antoine that he needn’t worry about leaving her in charge, plus the new management must be shown she was quite capable of running the kitchen. Reeve appeared an hour after Kirsty started work. He looked around, walked over and checked the menu tacked to the day board, then left through the restaurant doors. Kirsty objected to being spied on, but he hadn’t made any comment, so she decided to let it go this time. His next impromptu appearance was during the morning coffee break. Chef Antoine had handed Monday’s menu to Kirsty the day before, with strict instructions that no dishes were to be changed. The menu called for soup of the day, a main course of roast lamb served with mint sauce, duchess potatoes and steamed vegetables. The usual dessert trolley was available as the third course. An alternative to the roast was the panini stacks, wedge potatoes and salad, and Kirsty wondered why Antoine had taken the unusual step of putting in a second choice. Kirsty left her helpers to prepare the vegetables and soup ingredients, whilst she got the meat into the oven. They were all taking a well-earned rest when Reeve breezed through the swing doors. Ignoring the three of them, he walked over to the gas hobs and checked the pans, then turned and looked over the various food preparations on the work surfaces. He frowned, then beckoned to Kirsty. Leaving her companions to carry on with their coffee, she rose and crossed the room. “Keep calm,” she muttered under her breath. “Don’t let him get you annoyed, Kirsty.” “Have you no work to do, Miss Lawrence?” Once again the grey eyes stared at her, but Kirsty thought he looked 34

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hopeful rather than censorious. “It’s break time, Mr. Stuart.” Her heart thumped loudly, but she refused to let him see her nervousness. “Surely all meal preparations must be completed before any breaks are taken.” “That is quite right, Mr. Stuart.” Kirsty felt smug, positive this time there was nothing he could fault her on. “The main course meat and vegetables are ready or cooking, and the dessert trolley is in the cold room. Preparations for the stacks won’t be done until nearer the lunch hour.” “Really, Miss Lawrence? Then may I ask why the stock for the soup is not prepared? Correct me if I’m wrong, but surely a good soup relies on the quality of its stock. It should be ready for the remainder of the ingredients at least two hours before the restaurant opens for lunch.” Kirsty could have kicked herself. She was so sure she’d done everything right. Unfortunately, now the regular kitchen maids had returned, she’d relied on their experience and due to tiredness she hadn’t watched their every move. Why hadn’t she checked to see if all the work had been completed? Now the damage was done and, as the person in charge, the responsibility for any errors was hers. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Stuart.” Kirsty tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. It didn’t matter what she did, something always went wrong. Her efforts to appear efficient to both him and Antoine seemed to disintegrate, and to Reeve it must seem she wasn’t capable of running a kitchen. “I’m afraid that item has been overlooked. I’ll see to it immediately.” “One more thing, Miss Lawrence.” His curt voice stopped Kirsty before she could turn and instruct the staff. “Chef Antoine tells me you have very little experience being in charge, but we 35

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decided to give you the chance to prove yourself. Chef quite rightly stated you would not gain experience if someone was looking over your shoulder at all times, but I now reluctantly feel you are not ready for the responsibility. “Frankly, I fail to understand why Chef Antoine employed you in the position of sous-chef—kitchen helper would have been much more appropriate. In future, you will take your orders from me when Chef is not here. I shall speak to Antoine about this when he comes in tomorrow.” “One moment, Mr. Stuart!” Kirsty was so determined not to let him leave until she’d had her say in the matter that she reached out and touched his arm. Her breathing suddenly quickened and she attributed this to her agitation. “I strongly object to your accusations. I am experienced in kitchen management, and Chef Antoine knows this. I can’t understand why he feels he should need to ‘give me a chance’ as you’ve said.” “Miss Lawrence!” His eyes flashed, but his voice remained calm. “You’re within your rights to state your objections, but that doesn’t alter the fact I don’t consider you capable of running this kitchen.” “And you’re entitled to your opinion, Mr. Stuart. However, that doesn’t give you the right to ridicule me in front of the kitchen staff.” Kirsty glared at him, her face flushed and her eyes smouldering with anger. “I demand an apology from you.” “Very well, Miss Lawrence. I apologise for holding this conversation within the hearing of other staff members. However, I would ask you to remember that you were the one who started this heated exchange of words. Now, please carry on with your work. I will discuss this 36

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matter further with Chef Antoine.” **** Once more the restaurant doors swung wildly as Reeve left the kitchen. He’d been trying to be fair to Kirsty by not interfering—that’s why he hadn’t said anything the first time he’d entered the kitchen, but his instincts had told him something wasn’t quite right. Reluctantly, he decided Kirsty Lawrence hadn’t the required experience to run the kitchen. Despite the fact her cooking appeared to be excellent, her leadership and organisation skills were weak. Apart from anything else, the woman had a quick temper. He realised he’d been a bit insensitive when he’d said she would have been better as a kitchen helper, but somehow she brought out the worst in him. He’d regretted his words when he realised how tired and drawn she looked. Nevertheless, he honestly felt she wasn’t ready for the position of sous-chef and Antoine would surely agree with him. He returned to his office and, once more, tried to make sense of the restaurant ledgers. Something was definitely wrong. Since Kirsty had been employed, the number of covers had drastically reduced and the event bookings were virtually non-existent. Surely this couldn’t be Kirsty’s fault? In spite of their heated exchanges, he felt that basically she was an honest person, whereas Antoine left him with a nagging feeling of something not quite right. For the time being, he decided to reserve judgement, but the actions of both Chef Antoine and his assistant would be under scrutiny at all times. **** It took all of Kirsty’s reserves not to snap at her helpers as she told them to check the rest of the soup ingredients 37

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whilst she retrieved some stock from the freezer. “Who does he think he is calling me inexperienced?” she muttered angrily to herself as she banged and crashed her way through the recipe. “I could run this kitchen with one hand tied behind my back if he’d just stop interfering. He treats me like an idiot who can’t be trusted to do anything on her own. I shall have something to say to Chef if he agrees with Reeve Stuart’s little scheme.” The thought of the head chef made her frown. Why had he told Reeve that she was inexperienced? He knew she was quite capable of running the kitchen. In the past he’d complimented her on her ability to keep her head in a crisis, although she ruefully admitted she hadn’t shown much of that ability to Reeve. One thing was certain, she must keep her emotions under control when speaking to him. The shortness of breath and feelings of inadequacy she experienced when he was around would have to be brutally suppressed. Kirsty thought back over the past week and wondered if Chef Antoine was toadying up to Reeve Stuart, but instantly dismissed the idea. “Chef’s got no need to do that. He’s the real boss in this kitchen, not that arrogant man.”

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Chapter 3 Chef Antoine was carefully placing his tall white hat on his head the next morning when the phone on his desk shrilled noisily. “Good morning, Mr. Stuart,” Kirsty heard him say. “Yes, of course. I’ll be with you in about fifteen minutes. I must set my staff to work first.” Antoine replaced the receiver and called Kirsty over to report. Once she’d given him a brief account of the previous day, he detailed her orders for the morning and left the kitchen. Kirsty hadn’t mentioned her error or Reeve’s outrageous suggestion and the argument that had followed. If he wasn’t satisfied with her work, then he could tell Chef himself. No doubt, this was why Reeve had asked Antoine to come to his office. However, when he returned, Antoine didn’t mention any changes, but he did speak to her about her mistake. “Lawrence, please come here.” He beckoned her towards his desk. “Mr. Stuart informs me you were behind with your work yesterday. Why did you not mention this to me?” “I didn’t think it was that important, Chef.” Kirsty felt 39

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confused. Why had Reeve complained about her small error, but not mentioned her alleged insubordination. It didn’t look as if he’d spoken to Chef Antoine about taking charge on Monday’s either. “I forgot to start the soup early enough, but when Mr. Stuart pointed it out to me, I rectified the matter immediately. No harm was done.” “Let me be the judge of that, Lawrence. How do you think I felt when Mr. Stuart complained about a member of my staff, and I couldn’t respond because I had no idea what he was talking about?” Chef Antoine glared at her. “In future, you’ll tell me everything that happens when I’m not here. No matter how trivial you think it might be. Is that understood?” “Yes, Chef.” He turned away to carry on with his own duties, and an embarrassed Kirsty returned to her own work. Everything she did seemed to go wrong, and between them, Chef and Reeve were making her life a misery. She had intended to ask Antoine why he had told the manager she had no experience in kitchen management, but after the last few minutes, she thought she’d better leave it for the time being. However, if things didn’t get any better, she would have to seriously start looking for a new job as she couldn’t work in an atmosphere devoid of trust. By the end of the day, Antoine still hadn’t mentioned Reeve would be in charge when he wasn’t there, nor had he referred to her day off, so Kirsty broached the latter subject herself. “Chef, did you want me to work tomorrow, or shall I take my day off as usual?” “Really, Lawrence, your memory is atrocious. I’ve already told you I want you to work. You can see we’re extremely busy.” 40

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Kirsty was positive he hadn’t told her anything of the sort, but she was too tired to argue with him. Lack of time for herself had dragged her energy levels way down. “Chef,” she said quickly before Antoine could move away, “when am I likely to get all this time off in lieu? I’m not in any great hurry, but I am getting a bit run down. I’d like some idea when I can expect to be off work so I can make plans.” “Time off in lieu,” Chef spluttered. “You’re dreaming, Lawrence. Nobody has said anything to me about time off in lieu. You’ll be paid for working your rest days as you have been in the past.” “Mr. Stuart said I was to take the time off instead, Chef. Remember I mentioned it to you the day after he started?” “Well, I wouldn’t hold your breath, Lawrence. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no question of you taking time off instead. I’ll speak to Mr. Stuart about paying your overtime money as soon as possible.” Kirsty smiled as she wearily crossed the car park to her old car. Maybe things weren’t as bad as she’d thought. Until a few weeks ago, she’d have called Chef Antoine a fair boss, his one failing being that he had to be in charge of every aspect of his kitchen. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one unhappy with things. Maybe Antoine was venting his frustration on her because he couldn’t get angry with the real cause, Reeve Stuart! Of course, that didn’t explain why he’d played down her capabilities to the new manager. Kirsty shook her head. She felt too tired to sort that out at the moment. Until now Reeve had managed to work with the temperamental head chef, but Kirsty didn’t think that could go on for much longer. Chef Antoine would take only so much in41

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terference before his famous temper blew, and once that happened, things might improve. They could hardly get any worse. The next morning Kirsty threw back the curtains in her bedroom and groaned. It was raining heavily and her spirits plummeted with the mood of the weather. Chef Antoine was always in a foul mood when the weather was bad. Sheltering under a huge golf umbrella and wearing a bright red raincoat and matching gumboots, Kirsty splashed her way across the car park to the kitchen entrance. She could hear Antoine bellowing before she even got in the door. Apparently one of the kitchen maids had dropped a tray of bread rolls, and then made matters worse by trying to pick them up as if nothing had happened. When Kirsty entered the kitchen, Chef was reading the riot act to the woman about the level of hygiene required in a hotel kitchen. Chef Antoine’s kitchen in particular. Given the weather, Kirsty could have taken her day off. The rain meant the restaurant stayed half empty at lunchtime, and only a few more people braved the elements for dinner. Due to the continuing bad weather, the remainder of the week was slow as well, but Chef Antoine kept his staff busy as he took the opportunity to check the dry goods and freezer, and replenish any stores below normal levels. Kirsty felt tempted to ask if she could have a few days off to make up for the rest days she had worked, but, although it would have been entertaining to see Antoine’s reaction, she decided not to upset things because she didn’t feel able to deal with any further controversy. Wet day followed wet day and Antoine’s temper got worse. His anger erupted over the slightest thing and any mis42

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take made in the kitchen, regardless of whether it was her fault or not, he blamed on Kirsty. She spent most of the week trying to stay out of his way. After the Sunday lunch dishes had been cleared away, very little preparation needed to be done for the evening meal. Chef Antoine conveniently ignored the fact Kirsty hadn’t had an afternoon off in weeks and disappeared immediately after the restaurant closed. At first irritated by his thoughtlessness, Kirsty then sagged with reaction. The kitchen maids had gone home, and she didn’t have much to do during the next few hours. What a relief it would be to sit down and relax without Antoine accusing her of laziness and telling her to find something to do. She put the percolator on and was pouring herself a cup of coffee when her friend cautiously stuck her head round the door. “Got time for a coffee, Gina?” she asked with a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.” Gina smiled back. “Where’s the slave driver?” “Chef Antoine? He’s taken a few hours off, thank goodness.” Kirsty’s brow wrinkled with a frown as she placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of her friend. “Gina, do you think Chef’s acting a bit strange lately? Since that Stuart man arrived, it’s almost as if he’s worried about something and it’s affecting his temper and his memory.” “Nope, I haven’t noticed a thing,” Gina said, taking a sip from the cup and shrugging. “But then I don’t have much to do with Chef Antoine, thank goodness. Perhaps he’s worried about the new boss’s opinion of him.” “No, I don’t think it’s that. Chef can stand up to Reeve Stuart any day.” A small smile touched Kirsty’s lips as she im43

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agined the two men having a good argument, then her face changed to a thoughtful look. “No, whatever is upsetting him makes him more temperamental than usual. I suppose it could be something to do with his personal life. Hopefully he’ll be back to normal soon.” “You mean what’s normal for Chef Antoine.” Gina smiled, then putting down her empty cup, she stood. “How are things with you and the boss man? Any better?” “Not really. Apparently he thinks I’m not experienced enough to be sous-chef and treats me as if I’m not worthy of his attention. According to Mr. Stuart, Chef Antoine agrees with him, although he hasn’t said anything to me. Reeve told me all this last Monday and, unfortunately, I blew my top and demanded he apologise for the slur on my character.” “You didn’t!” Gina stared at her friend in wonder. “What did he do?” “He deliberately misunderstood me and apologised for having a heated discussion in front of the kitchen staff. He’s such a cold man. No, that’s not quite right. Sometimes he seems quite human and he certainly has a temper, even though he keeps it firmly under control. My problem is that he never seems to treat me like a real person who has feelings like everyone else. I’m just the annoying sous-chef who keeps upsetting his well-planned day.” Kirsty sighed. “It’s all getting too much for me, Gina. I’m not sure whether Chef is really dissatisfied with my work, but his forgetfulness is making things worse. Do you think I’m making too much out of it? It wouldn’t surprise me if I am…I feel so tired all the time. I haven’t had any hours off for weeks.” “Well, it can’t go on like that. They’ve got to give you a day off soon or they’ll be in trouble with the health authorities 44

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or the unions.” Gina glanced at the kitchen clock. “Help! I’d better get back to the desk or I’ll be in trouble with Mr. Stuart as well. See you later.” With a wave of her hand, Gina left. Kirsty lingered over her coffee for a while longer. She wished Antoine would get over whatever was bugging him. His apparent loss of memory, and his laying the blame for every little fault on her, was making her depressed. It didn’t help that Reeve had a poor opinion of her either. The next day was Monday, Chef Antoine’s day off. Neither of the two men had again mentioned Reeve being in charge of the kitchen, and Kirsty assumed the matter had either not been discussed between them, or that Antoine had disagreed with Reeve’s suggestion. In view of Antoine’s strange behaviour recently, it did cross her mind that he might have forgotten to tell her about such a decision, but Kirsty shook her head in denial. He would surely remember something that important so she assumed things were as normal. She arrived at the hotel slightly earlier than usual, as she always did when Chef was absent. Wearing clean trousers and a crisp white jacket, Kirsty walked briskly into the kitchen and headed for Chef Antoine’s desk. Halfway across the room she stopped and stared with disbelief. Reeve was sitting in Chef’s chair! “Ah, Miss Lawrence, here are your orders for the day.” He passed her a sheet of paper, and she automatically reached out and took it from him. “If you have any problems, please call my office.” He rose from the chair and had nearly reached the restaurant doors when Kirsty found her voice. “Excuse me,” she said indignantly, flapping the paper at 45

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him. “Would you mind telling me what this is?” **** For the first time in days, Reeve looked directly at Kirsty, his eyes dark with disappointment. He’d hoped if he kept away from her the feelings that kept disturbing his thoughts would disappear. Also, if things calmed down between them, maybe they could start afresh, but that seemed to be a dream that wouldn’t be fulfilled. “Really, Miss Lawrence,” he snapped, disappointment making his voice sound harsher than he had intended, “why must you continually question everything I say to you? I’ll repeat what I said so even you can understand me. The piece of paper in your hand has details of your orders for this morning’s work. Is that clear enough?” “It most certainly is not!” Kirsty retorted, her eyes sparkling with anger. “I’ve had no instructions from Chef Antoine that you are to be in charge of this kitchen in his absence. And I get my orders from him and only him!” Reeve couldn’t believe it. What did she hope to gain by lying to him? He’d talked to Chef about his decision last Tuesday and offered to inform her of the change himself, but Antoine had insisted the ruling would come better from him. Antoine had told him in the afternoon that Kirsty had been disappointed but accepted the situation. “Miss Lawrence, this is ridiculous. I told you last week what my intentions were. I spoke to Chef Antoine the next day, and he agreed you were not ready for sole responsibility of the kitchen. In view of the heated exchange between the two of us, agreed to speak to you about the matter. He assured me he had done so. Now either you improve your attitude and your memory, or I shall have to insist Antoine find a 46

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new sous-chef. This is your last warning. Please obey the instructions I’ve given you.” Reeve turned abruptly and left the room, aware he was leaving an extremely angry young woman in his wake. His own heart thumped wildly and he knew the reason was not entirely due to temper. When Kirsty got angry, her eyes sparked and her whole face and body came alive. Not even the drab kitchen uniform could hide the vibrancy that emanated from her. Her very nearness set his heart thumping and his body throbbing with reaction. He retreated to his office to get himself under control and then thought over his conversation with Kirsty. She couldn’t be lying. Everything about her shouted that she was a loyal, honest young woman. If only he could find her resume. He’d asked Antoine if the file was with the kitchen records, but had received a vague reply. But if he believed Kirsty was telling the truth, it meant Antoine was lying when he said he’d informed her of the changes. Reeve still couldn’t see why he would need to lie, but decided it was time to do some further investigation into the man’s background. As he reached for the phone, he made up his mind to get both Chef Antoine and his assistant to his office the next morning for a meeting to try and thrash out where the misunderstandings were originating. **** Kirsty flopped into Antoine’s chair, her head in her hands as she thought about what she should do. After a few minutes she came to the conclusion that any more arguments at this stage would be futile. Somehow the orders Chef and the manager decided on were getting corrupted before they reached her—or they weren’t reaching her at all. Her anger surged again as she thought of Chef Antoine agreeing with 47

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Reeve Stuart that she didn’t have enough experience to run a kitchen! Breathing deeply, Kirsty managed to calm down, then decided to wait until she could see Antoine and Reeve together. Perhaps a confrontation with both of them would help her to sort this mess out. Her fingers were still curled tightly around the sheet of paper and she decided it might be best to keep the peace and follow Reeve’s instructions. Smoothing it out, she ran her eye down the list and was surprised to find his orders were exactly what she’d intended doing—almost to the letter. During the day, Reeve popped in at intervals to oversee things, and Kirsty maintained a scrupulous politeness with him. Gina dropped in for a coffee during her afternoon break, and Kirsty asked her friend for her advice. “It’s getting really bad, Gina,” she said. “Mr. Stuart thinks I’m deliberately setting out to provoke him…either that or he thinks I’m so stupid I can’t remember a single thing. Then Chef Antoine is always so sure he’s told me the orders from on high. I’ve decided to ask to see them both together to sort it out. Do you know I’m starting to believe that maybe it is my fault? Perhaps I am losing my memory.” “Don’t be daft, Kirsty. The whole thing sounds a bit odd to me. Those two seem to be talking to one another and making decisions, which neither of them bothers to tell you. You know you’re not lying, so obviously it’s one of them. Personally, I think it’s Chef Antoine. If Mr. Stuart’s telling the truth, then Chef’s not passing on the orders, and you’re caught in the middle,” Gina said. “If you want my opinion, I think you’re doing the right thing. Get the two of them together and thrash it out. If you don’t, it’s you that’s going to 48

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be given the push, not Chef Antoine or Mr. Stuart.” “That’s what I thought.” Kirsty fell silent for a few moments. “Mr. Stuart’s right about one thing, though. We can’t carry on like this. I agree with you about Chef Antoine, too. Forgetting to tell me things seems to be the main problem. Something’s obviously bugging him, but he shouldn’t allow it to interfere with work, and what’s more important, he shouldn’t lie to cover up for himself. Well, they’ll soon realise that I’ve had enough. Mr. Stuart’s little speech this morning was downright insulting, and I’m not standing for it any longer.” “Good for you. I take it Antoine’s still behaving like a weirdo.” Gina grimaced. “I don’t know how you put up with him and his tantrums. I’d have chucked the job in long ago.” “Oh he’s not too bad normally. His artistic temperament makes him go off the deep end, but until recently he’s been very good to me, showing me ways of handling suppliers, and some shortcuts with recipes. Anyway, I won’t have to put up with this for much longer…another six months and I’ll feel confident enough to apply for a head chef’s position somewhere else. That’s if I last another six months here!” “You going to stay in hotels, or try for a restaurant?” Gina wanted to know. “I’m not sure yet,” Kirsty mused, glad for the change of subject. “I thought I might have a bash at the restaurant they’re opening in the new theatre in the city, but they probably want somebody with a bit more experience than I have.” “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You never know till you try. You might surprise yourself and get the job.” Gina grinned at her friend. “Maybe they’re looking for someone young with a lot of innovative ideas. You know you’re always 49

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complaining that you don’t make full use of your training in Antoine’s kitchen.” “Fool!” Kirsty said affectionately. “Well, I don’t have to make up my mind yet. Applications don’t close until the end of the month. Mind you, the way things are going here, I think I’ll send off for the form. I can always wait until I see how things are going before I fill it in.” **** Neither of the women had noticed Reeve standing behind the slightly opened doorway to the restaurant, and he moved quickly away before Gina left the kitchen. Back in his office, he thought about what he’d heard. Kirsty intended to apply for a post at the new theatre restaurant. He wondered exactly what position she was after. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on their conversation, but when the opportunity presented itself, he thought it might give him a deeper understanding of Kirsty. If either girl had seen him, she would probably have assumed he was doing his usual afternoon stroll, checking that everything was running smoothly in the hotel. A frown creased his forehead. It occurred to him that every time he’d entered the kitchens, Kirsty Lawrence was present, including the afternoons when kitchen workers usually took a few hours off. Senior staff normally took it in turns to remain on standby, but since Reeve had arrived at the hotel, Chef Antoine had always been absent. He must check and see the hours Kirsty had been working recently. The last thing he needed was trouble with the authorities about staff working over the legal hours. **** When Chef Antoine appeared next morning, Kirsty ap50

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proached him with trepidation. She reported on the kitchen events of the previous day, but when he nodded and waved her away, Kirsty stood her ground, even though her voice shook with nervousness. “Chef, I’d like to arrange a meeting with Mr. Stuart and yourself, please.” “I beg your pardon?” He frowned at Kirsty. “May I ask the reason for this request, Lawrence?” “I’d rather wait until we meet with Mr. Stuart,” Kirsty stated, her voice steadying as she grew more confident. “Very well.” Chef Antoine reached for the phone and, after speaking to Reeve for a few seconds, he turned once more to Kirsty. “Mr. Stuart says he can spare us a few moments if we go to his office now. I hope you’re not wasting everyone’s time with some silly nonsense, Lawrence.” “I don’t think what I have to say is nonsense, Chef.” With a grunt of irritation, Antoine led the way to the manager’s office. **** While Reeve waited for Kirsty and Antoine to arrive, he checked her time sheet and realised she hadn’t had any time off since he’d arrived at the hotel. Well, that would have to be rectified. He felt nervous about this meeting, but mentally rapped himself over the knuckles. Why should he feel nervous, for goodness’ sake? He’d been going to propose this meeting himself, but he couldn’t work out why Kirsty had suggested it. Maybe she meant to bring up her allegation that Chef Antoine hadn’t informed her of yesterday’s changes. If she didn’t, he certainly would. He wanted to get to the bottom of his problems with the sous-chef once and for all. Chef Antoine and Kirsty came through the door, and he 51

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noticed how tired she looked as her eyes roamed around the room, taking in the changes Reeve had made to the office. In his predecessor’s day, dusty old files had littered the desk, sharing it with coffee-stained cups and a clutter of pens. Reeve had placed the files in a cabinet and now the room looked neat and tidy. His uncluttered wooden desk gleamed with a warm glow reflecting the pen holder sitting neatly on the edge of the desk nearest the visitors. “May I assume you’ve come to apologise for your behaviour yesterday morning, Miss Lawrence?” Reeve waved them to the vacant chairs in front of his desk, then he leaned back in his own chair and steepled his fingers, keeping his eyes free of emotion as he looked at her. He hoped she wouldn’t apologise—that would mean she felt she’d been in the wrong, and he wanted so much for her to be telling the truth. Antoine looked from one to the other, a baffled expression on his face. “On the contrary, Mr. Stuart,” Kirsty told him firmly, “I’ve asked for this meeting to try and clear up the confusion that exists between us.” “Excellent, Miss Lawrence. Let us list the areas of confusion. You conveniently forget orders and, to make matters worse, you’re rude and question every word I say to you. Your work is totally unprofessional and I’d be surprised if you ever manage to gain your full qualifications as a chef.” By stressing her supposed faults Reeve hoped to provoke her into expressing her feelings, and thereby help him get to the truth. Kirsty picked up the challenge, a look of determination on her face to show him he was the person in the wrong. “Actually, Mr. Stuart, I’m already fully qualified as a chef. I felt I needed more practical experience before I applied for a position as head chef.” 52

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Reeve blinked in surprise. “My problem, Mr. Stuart, is the orders you talk about are a complete mystery to me. That is why I’ve asked Chef Antoine to be present. To begin with, I hope he can clarify why I was not informed you were to be in charge of the kitchen during his absence.” “Nonsense, Lawrence,” Antoine spluttered. “When I returned from discussing the matter with Mr. Stuart, I told you he’d be in charge during my absence. You’ve obviously forgotten. Perhaps Mr. Stuart is right when he says your professionalism leaves a lot to be desired.” “I beg your pardon, Chef. You may have thought you told me about Mr. Stuart being in charge, but I can assure you that you most certainly did not.” Reeve’s expression didn’t change, but inside he was pleased she had not backed down from the confrontation. He now believed she was telling the truth. To Kirsty, it must seem the two men were ganging up on her and trying to lay all the blame at her feet. He watched her jaw tighten as she prepared to do battle for her reputation. “This matter should be fairly easy to resolve.” Reeve reached tentatively for the phone on his desk. “We can get one of the kitchen maids in here. They always seem to be aware of what’s going on, and with their help, we should be able to sort everything out quite quickly.” He glanced at Kirsty, waiting to see if she would back down, but she folded her arms and stared defiantly back at him. Reeve’s eyebrow lifted, then looking across at Chef Antoine, he placed his hand firmly on the phone. “Wait!” Antoine looked flustered. “It is possible Lawrence could be right. I may have forgotten to tell her that 53

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you’d be in charge of the kitchen. We’ve been so busy the last few weeks that I could’ve forgotten to mention the matter.” “And my first cancelled day off, Chef?” Kirsty queried, apparently taking the opportunity to clear up the other misunderstandings. “I admit I thought I’d told you your day off was cancelled, Lawrence. However, on reflection, it is possible I overlooked this item as well. I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.” Kirsty realised this was as near to an apology as she was likely to get from Antoine. Reeve accepted Chef Antoine had been the one who’d lied. All three of them knew that, due to the rain, the last seven days had been very quiet, plus Antoine had assured him he’d told Kirsty of their decision. “Well, Miss Lawrence, are you happy with the situation now?” Reeve looked at her, trying to keep his face totally expressionless. “There is another matter I wish to discuss, Mr. Stuart— the extra hours I’ve worked. I usually get paid for these, but you mentioned time off in lieu instead. I’d like to know where I stand in regard to this as I’m getting extremely tired with no time off at all. I should also like it noted that I feel insulted by the suggestion an administrator can run a kitchen better than a fully qualified chef.” “Really, Lawrence, there’s no need to bother Mr. Stuart with these trivialities—” “I’m sorry, Chef, but I don’t consider them trivialities,” Kirsty interrupted. “My professional ability and qualifications have been called into question, and I feel the matter needs to be cleared up.” 54

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“Oh, very well, Lawrence, we’ll give you another chance to prove yourself. With regards to the overtime worked, you’ll, of course, be paid for this, as you usually are.” Chef looked annoyed that Kirsty had brought up what he considered to be a closed matter. “I really don’t see why you’re making a big fuss over such a small matter.” “On the contrary, Chef Antoine.” Reeve spoke quietly, yet firmly. “Miss Lawrence will be required to take time off in lieu. The hotel cannot afford to pay her for the excessive amount of extra time we’ve asked her to work recently.” Antoine looked at him, his expression blank, but his eyes showing the turbulent feelings surging beneath the calm exterior. “If that is what you wish, Mr. Stuart,” the man said, his voice rigidly polite. “However, I must insist you consult me before confirming which days off Lawrence will be allowed. It would cause a lot of inconvenience if certain items are on the menu and she isn’t there. Please accept my apology for any misunderstanding my forgetfulness has caused you. I can only state that pressure of work has pushed these matters to the back of my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Lawrence, come along.” Antoine rose and headed for the office door. Kirsty stood up to follow him, but Reeve spoke before she had taken more than a few steps. “One moment, Antoine. I’d appreciate a word alone with Miss Lawrence, if that’s convenient.” Chef Antoine nodded briskly and, without turning round, left the room. “Please be seated, Miss Lawrence. It seems I owe you an apology. I can imagine how upsetting it must be to have con55

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flicting orders given to you, or not given to you as has happened in this case. On top of that, I realise I’ve accused you of lying on several occasions. It put you in a very awkward position, and I’m sorry for any slurs I may have inadvertently made on your character. “The circumstances of our first meeting gave me a false impression of your abilities, although I soon realised you were labouring under very difficult conditions. Could we possibly wipe the slate clean and start afresh? I promise not to interfere in the running of the kitchen unless we both feel it’s absolutely necessary. I’ll also respect your competence and qualifications and discuss any details with you before I implement them. Does that sound fair?” Reeve cocked an eyebrow at Kirsty, a warmth in his eyes. “That sounds fair enough, Mr. Stuart. I should be happy to start afresh,” she replied, obviously surprised he was big enough to apologise for his mistakes. “As you say, the last few weeks have been confusing.” “Well, let’s say no more on the subject then. So that we have no more confusion, please let me know when you wish to take your time off, and I’ll approve it with Chef Antoine.” **** Kirsty rose at the same time as Reeve. She bobbed her head and muttered, “Thank you,” but Reeve coughed and she was forced to look up. He held out his hand, and she nervously reached across the desk and touched his outstretched fingers. Reeve’s grip felt dry and warm as his large hand enveloped her smaller one. The warmth raced up Kirsty’s arm and flooded through her body making her feel both nervous and excited. The heat reached her neck and she felt the heat of a 56

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flush as it crept rapidly from her chin to the top of her forehead, whilst her heart beat an irregular tattoo. Hastily Kirsty pulled her hand back and ducked her head. Whatever was the matter with her? Her body was reacting like a teenager with a crush and she seemed to have no control over it whatsoever. From beneath lowered lashes she glanced up to see if Reeve had noticed her extraordinary reaction. His grey eyes were puzzled and his head tilted to one side as he looked at her. It seemed as if he was seeing her for the first time. The expression on his face told her he had at last realised she was a person as well as an unruly employee. “I should be getting back to the kitchen. We’re very busy,” she muttered and hurried from the room before Reeve could comment.

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Chapter 4 Kirsty donned her outdoor clothes, ready to go home at the end of the day, but Chef Antoine called her to the centre of the kitchen. “Lawrence,” he said loudly, and the other staff looked up in surprise. “Due to the fact that business appears to be slow this week, you may take your day off tomorrow.” “Thank you, Chef,” Kirsty said meekly, lowering her head to hide a smile. Chef Antoine turned away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At last she would be getting a break from the hotel. Working such long hours had brought her to the edge of exhaustion, and Chef Antoine had been unbearable since she’d returned from Reeve’s office that morning. Every time he’d had to speak to her, he’d done so in a clear voice, loud enough to ensure the other staff could hear his words. He presumably thought this would eliminate any chance of a misunderstanding. Maybe the tiredness had affected her nerves. Since the handshake in Reeve’s office she’d jumped every time the doors to the restaurant swung open. She didn’t know whether to be sorry or glad she hadn’t seen him since this morning, but 58

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she hoped a day off would give her time to sort her feelings out and pull herself together. Perhaps she was going down with the flu, which would explain the strange feelings she’d experienced when he touched her. Kirsty found it difficult to settle down that night because, every time she closed her eyes, she remembered her reaction to Reeve’s handshake. Did he realise the mere touch of his hand sent her senses spinning? Maybe he hadn’t been aware of her reaction. He probably thought she needed to hurry back to her work. Tossing and turning in her bed, Kirsty tried to think of other things, but Reeve’s face and his clear grey eyes haunted her. Eventually, lack of sleep won and her eyelids fluttered down and remained shut. Waking up the following morning, she saw the sun shining through her bedroom curtains and realised from its position in the sky that it must be around nine o’clock. Revelling in her leisure, she slowly stretched, then, pushing the duvet back, she unfolded herself from her bed. Dragging on denim shorts and her favourite baggy yellow T-shirt, she hurried to the kitchen, determined not to miss any more of this lovely day. Moments later she carried a tray laden with croissants, orange juice and coffee out onto the sun deck and placed the feast on the outside table. She tucked herself into the patio chair and sighed with pleasure. She knew how tired she’d been, but not how badly she’d missed her time off. She was really going to enjoy this day! Sitting in the sunshine, Kirsty slowly ate her breakfast, savouring every bite as she looked at the view. The ground floor garage meant the living areas were on the first floor and 59

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this gave her a nice view from the deck. During the summer months she planned to set up a barbecue out here and have friends ’round to eat. Kirsty daydreamed, preparing the food and the guest list. She imagined herself taking perfectly cooked steaks from the barbecue, then handing them to Reeve. Oh, not again! Her thoughts shot back to the previous morning. Why had she acted like a hormone-driven teenager when her hand had touched his? It wasn’t as if she’d never been involved with a man before. Despite the fact there’d been no one serious since the broken engagement to her high school sweetheart, she wasn’t exactly a nun. So why had she reacted like that? The man had done nothing but pick on her since he’d arrived at the hotel, so why did his touch make her heart beat so rapidly? It couldn’t be the flu because now she’d had a good night’s sleep she felt fine, so what was wrong with her? “I know what it is,” Kirsty told herself firmly. “Too much work and not enough play. It must be ages since I had a night out, let alone a date. Tomorrow I’ll ask Gina if we can plan something for next week—or maybe this week if I can have some of that elusive time off they keep promising me.” This reminded her of Chef’s strange behaviour. Since Kirsty had started working at the hotel, he’d been very helpful, but lately he seemed to be in a world of his own and the blame for every error fell in Kirsty’s lap. Well, if things didn’t improve, she really would apply for another job. She might even fill in the application form she’d received for the head chef position at the theatre restaurant in Auckland. Breakfast over, Kirsty decided to clean the house as it hadn’t had a good going over for a few weeks. Dusting and vacuuming didn’t stop her thoughts from dwelling on the dif60

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ficulties she was experiencing at work. Kirsty methodically cleaned every single room in the house, but when she’d finished her thoughts were still confused. She decided to take a late morning cup of coffee out onto the deck and enjoy the sunshine. Crossing the lounge, she caught sight of the head chef application form and paused indecisively. Uncertainty vanished and, picking up the form and a pen, she took it out onto the deck with her. As she sipped her coffee she carefully answered the questions and resolutely signed the bottom of the form. Determination fuelled her movements and she fetched copies of her resume and certificates, addressed and stamped an envelope, and placed everything inside, then sealed it with a resounding thump. She cradled the empty cup in her hands and gazed at the glimpse of the golden sands and blue sea she could see between the houses, her thoughts miles away. Suddenly her eyes snapped into focus and she gave herself a mental shake. No good would be gained from sitting here going over and over things. She’d take each day as it came and see what happened. The warmth of the sun shone down on her bare arms as Kirsty stood and stretched, her body curving and arching like a cat. Movement on the sands caught her attention, and she shaded her eyes with a hand to help her see better. A sail whisked across the small stretch of beach she could see, and she realised the sand yachts were practising for the weekend races. There must be quite a good breeze down there for them to be out and about. Because she usually worked on the weekends Kirsty didn’t often get a chance to see them so she decided to drive to the beach and watch their practice runs. Hurrying inside she rummaged in the dresser drawers until she found her swimming gear, then she stripped. Pausing a 61

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moment, she turned this way and that as she viewed her naked body in the full-length mirror behind the bedroom door. Her eyes travelled over the taut breasts, down over the flat stomach and on to her shapely legs. With hands on hips she stood and looked at herself full on. “Not bad,” she murmured. “Even if I do say so myself.” She postured for a few moments longer, daydreaming about a handsome man sweeping her off her feet and making languorous love to her, his lips tracing erotic lines all over her body as she lay back, incapable of resisting him. In her dream, the man glanced up, his smile a sardonic grin, and hidden in the sparkling depths of the grey eyes she saw the heat of passion. Suddenly the whole of Kirsty’s body flushed a rosy red as she realised she had been daydreaming about Reeve Stuart making love to her—and what was worse—she’d been enjoying it! Hastily she pulled on her swimming costume and covered it with the baggy T-shirt and shorts. After slipping her feet into comfortable jandals, she grabbed a towel and sunscreen and danced to the kitchen. A picnic on the beach would make the most of this glorious day, instead of dreaming about a man who barely knew she existed. Despite the kitchen being small, Kirsty believed in keeping it well-stocked and it only took a few minutes to put together a delicious picnic lunch. Two fresh baguettes quickly became long salad and tuna rolls, and a chocolate cake from the freezer provided a rich dessert. Next to these, she placed a flask of fresh coffee and, as a last-minute decision, she whisked a chilled bottle of white wine from the fridge. This vintage came from her parents’ vineyard and it was the last of the ones she’d brought with her when she’d moved to the 62

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city. She felt a bit decadent, but then reminded herself this was the first chance she’d had to relax in weeks and she was going to make the most of it. After placing the hamper on the passenger seat, Kirsty backed her car out of the garage and onto the road, then headed for the beach, stopping at the post box on her way. She hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing the job application through the slot. She returned to her car, negotiated the traffic and parked at the east end of a cul-de-sac beside the beach, and leaving the picnic basket in the car, she walked across the grass to the edge of the sand. Yachts of varying hues and shapes either waited their turn, or hurtled recklessly across the hard-packed sand. Some looked as if they’d been professionally made, but most of them had that individual look of an amateur craft. The sea at low tide left a wide expanse of damp sand for the yachties to race on, and she was glad she’d decided to bring a picnic because it looked as if they would be here for some time. Kirsty sat watching the yachts for about an hour. The racers had marked out an elliptical track and were speeding around this with up to six vehicles at a time charging down the beach. Along with several other spectators, Kirsty held her breath each time a yacht hurtled around the curve, usually leaning way over with two wheels in the air, before dropping back to the sand and racing to the bends at the other end of the track. The racing stopped just after midday, although the drivers and their helpers didn’t appear to be packing up. She overheard one of the other spectators mention a break for lunch, so Kirsty returned to her vehicle and retrieved the picnic basket and a travel rug she kept in the car. Returning to 63

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the beach at an angle, she arrived on the sand farther along from the yachts and placed the basket in the shade cast by the overhanging trees at the edge of the grassy area. Once she’d spread the blanket in the sun, she stripped off her T-shirt and shorts, but before stretching out, Kirsty covered the skin on her arms and legs with sunscreen, then lay down on her stomach in the warm sunlight. **** Every time Reeve went near his office on Wednesday morning he remembered his reaction when he’d touched Kirsty. He hoped the desk had hidden his physical response, which he put down to over-enthusiastic male hormones. However, it didn’t explain the tingling warmth that suffused his body with a mere handshake. His unsettled feelings eventually drove him to change into casual clothes and leave the hotel. Driving past the beach he saw the sand yachts and, as a fellow enthusiast, he stopped to watch, hoping to take his mind off Kirsty. He strolled along the beach when the yachties stopped for lunch and just before he turned to retrace his steps, he recognised the auburn hair of the sunbather a short way in front of him. Walking behind her, he allowed himself the luxury of watching her for a few minutes before she realised he was there. God, she’s gorgeous! Long, golden limbs and a perfectly curved body. The kitchen uniform didn’t completely hide her shape, but it did disguise how slim and supple she was. He started to reach towards her, his hand itching to stroke the soft skin and silky hair, but she moved and he drew back quickly. **** Kirsty sat up and stretched her arms above her head, then, with a happy sigh, she stood and turned towards the 64

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trees. She gave a small start of surprise when she saw Reeve looking her over, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. Her body trembled as his piercing grey eyes seemed to strip her naked. Embarrassed, she turned quickly and dragged on her T-shirt, getting tangled up inside in her haste. When her head emerged through the neck she saw Reeve grinning at her. His grin was exactly as it had been in her daydream, and Kirsty blushed and her hair fell forward to curtain the redness of her face as she bent to pull on her shorts. By the time she straightened up, she had her emotions under control. Walking toward the picnic hamper, she casually greeted Reeve, trying to sound as if meeting him here was the most natural thing in the world. “Hi! Are you enjoying a day off in the sun, too?” Kirsty said, proud of how nonchalant she sounded. “Have you been here long?” Fool! How could she have said that? It made her sound as if she wanted to know how long he’d been watching her, and she didn’t want him to think she was that interested. Even the first question sounded ridiculous. Of course he had taken time off…why else would he be dressed in an open neck shirt, which showed the dark hair on his chest, and the blue denim jeans that outlined his muscular thighs. Stop it, Kirsty, she mentally scolded herself. Or you won’t be able to look at him without feeling embarrassed. “I’ve only been here a few minutes,” Reeve replied. “But that was certainly long enough to enjoy the view.” To hide her confusion, Kirsty bent to pick up the picnic, but he beat her to it. In one fluid motion, Reeve caught the basket in his right hand and handed it to her with a slight bow. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that really a picnic ham65

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per?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in query. “Yes, it is!” Kirsty couldn’t help her sharp, defensive response. Her parents, knowing her love of al fresco meals, had given her this fully complemented basket as a “leaving home” present. “I find it very useful when I want to eat outside.” “Please.” Reeve held up his hands in mock defence. “I wasn’t criticising. It brings back fond memories. My grandparents had one years ago, but I didn’t realise they still made them.” Kirsty’s face flushed with embarrassment at her defensiveness and to make amends, she indicated the basket and asked, “Would you like to join me? I always pack too much food for myself.” “If you’re sure it’s all right.” Kirsty nodded and Reeve smiled, and this time the warmth of his lips was reflected in his eyes. “In that case, I’d love to join you.” Reeve took the basket from her, and side by side they moved to the blanket on the sand. He hesitated and Kirsty indicated he should set the picnic hamper down in the middle. She tucked her legs under her and sat on one side of the basket, pointing to the other side as Reeve dropped down beside her. He grinned cheekily and made a show of reluctant obedience as he sank down on the blanket, then looked on with interest as she lifted the lid. A low whistle pursed his lips. “You do yourself proud when you pack a picnic, don’t you?” he commented as she placed the baguettes and cake onto plates retrieved from the basket. Kirsty placed a small plate, fork and empty glass in front of him, then lifted the wine from the hamper. The polysty66

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rene cooler had kept it cold and she held the moisture beaded bottle and a corkscrew out to Reeve. “Would you mind?” she asked politely. “Then I can get the food sorted out.” “Not at all.” Reeve took the proffered bottle and held it at an angle whilst he scanned the label. “Mm, a Mansion vintage. A good year as well. You have good taste in wine, Miss Lawrence.” Kirsty had been going to tell him that Mansion was her parents’ vineyard, but that “Miss Lawrence” made her lips go thin with annoyance. Even on her day off and when she was sharing her lunch with him, he had to remind her that he was the boss. Reeve didn’t seem to notice her ruffled temper as he opened the wine. Kirsty sliced each baguette in two, then she cut the cake into segments. As she worked, she glanced at Reeve from under her long lashes. He really was quite nice looking, she decided, especially when he wasn’t being the big bad boss. His face was tanned and his dark hair had been disturbed by the wind. Casual clothing suited him and made him seem more approachable. If she hadn’t experienced his overbearing manner she would have been tempted to get to know him better. The cork left the neck of the wine bottle with a discreet pop, and Reeve poured the golden liquid into the glasses. She waved a hand towards the food, but he passed her the drink, then lifted his own glass to his lips and sipped. He gave an appreciative sigh as the nectar slid down his throat. “Pure silk,” he commented. “I must admit I’m surprised to find such a good quality wine at a picnic on the beach. I’d have thought on your salary wines like this would have been 67

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way above your touch, or at least kept for a special occasion.” “Are you suggesting I came by it dishonestly?” Kirsty asked, her temper rising and putting an edge to her words. “Because if you are...” “Of course not, Miss Lawrence. I merely commented on your taste.” “Oh, this is ridiculous.” Kirsty had had enough of this fencing with words. “Every time I talk to you, we end up arguing. If you must know, my parents own Mansion Vineyards and they like to make sure I have a good supply of wine.” “Miss Lawrence, I agree the situation is ridiculous. Maybe it’s because Miss Lawrence makes you sound so formal and aloof. Perhaps I could call you Kirsty when we’re not at the hotel?” Positive he was being facetious, she glanced at him, but his expression showed a man waiting patiently for an answer, so she nodded. It wasn’t until later she realised he hadn’t asked her to call him Reeve. “Your health.” Reeve lifted his glass in salute and she picked up her own drink and took a sip. “So tell me, Kirsty, what made you want to be a chef instead of going into the family wine business?” “It’s an extension of the wines really. Mum runs a small restaurant at the vineyard, and I earned my pocket money helping out when I was at school. The lure of cooking grabbed me early and I took it from there. I like the taste of wine more than the technicalities of producing it. What about you? How did you become interested in hotels?” Kirsty grinned at him as she bit into her baguette. Let him do some of the talking while she satisfied her ravenous appetite. “In a similar way to you,” Reeve answered in an offhand 68

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manner. “The family owned two small hotels, so I took a management course and eventually took over. I assume you ultimately want to get a post as head chef. Have you had any thoughts about when or where?” Kirsty had the feeling Reeve had avoided telling her too much about himself, and why had he asked about her future plans? She didn’t know why, but his last question sounded as if an ulterior motive lay behind it. Well, two could play at that game. She would throw a few evasion tactics herself. “I’ve not thought much about it,” she replied casually, sipping her wine. “Until recently I’ve been content to work for Chef Antoine. He’s got quite a name for himself in the catering world.” “I know. At first I assumed his fame was local, but he soon put me right about that.” Reeve’s eyes bore into hers with far more intensity than his words suggested. “You said ‘until recently.’ Does that mean you might be making plans to move on?” “Are you still trying to get rid of me?” Kirsty asked suspiciously. “Because if you are, you’ll have a fight on your hands. I’ll go when I’m good and ready and not before.” “Whoa!” Reeve held up his hands in mock defence. “I thought we agreed that we’d start afresh and not jump down each other’s throats. The way you’ve been treated over the last few weeks, nobody would blame you if you wanted to move on, and I thought you might be referring to that. I apologise if it sounded like I wanted to fire you. The real reason I ask is because I’m interested to know if I’ll have the pleasure of getting to know you better.” “Oh!” Kirsty felt lost for words, a state she frequently seemed to be in when dealing with Reeve Stuart. “Sorry if I 69

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jumped the gun, but nothing seems the same since you arrived at the hotel.” “Really? In what way have things changed?” “Well, some things are for the better—the reception area for one. Although it looks more welcoming than it did a few weeks ago, the cosy, comfortable feeling of the place has changed. What would be really nice would be to combine the efficiency you’re trying to introduce, with the relaxed family atmosphere we used to have. The hotel staff aren’t quite sure where they stand at the moment. They used to be more at ease and helpful, but now most of them are on edge all the time. It’s as if they’re trying to prove they’re good at their jobs.” “Are you talking about yourself in that last statement?” Reeve asked, and Kirsty got the impression he was worried about something. “No…well, yes, when it comes to being on edge. But in this case I don’t think it’s all your fault. Chef Antoine has always had an artistic temperament, but since you arrived at the hotel he seems to be more— I don’t really know how to describe it. More prone to mood swings and forgetfulness, I think.” Kirsty frowned as she swallowed the last of her salad roll, then took a sip of wine. A wave of disloyalty flooded through her as she remembered who she was talking to. “I’m sorry. Forget it. I expect Chef has something personal on his mind. He’s usually very fair and supportive to me in my position as sous-chef.” “Like you say, let’s forget it.” Reeve leaned back on one elbow and smiled at her. Kirsty felt momentarily dazzled by the whiteness and evenness of his teeth. He looked far more handsome when he allowed his 70

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features to relax and his natural warmth broke through the cold, reserved attitude he wore for work. She realised she was staring at him, so dropped her head and began to separate out a slice from the cake. “Thank you,” Reeve said pleasantly as she handed the plate to him. “Did you make this?” “Yes,” Kirsty replied modestly. “When I make a rich cake like this one, I freeze it in slices. This one looked too good to cut, so I froze it whole. It should be defrosted by now, though.” “Remind me to taste some of your dishes at the hotel,” Reeve stated through crumb dusted lips. “This is superb.” A forkful of cake found its way to Kirsty’s mouth and she chewed it slowly as she thought over what Reeve had said. It might be his way of making up for all the nastiness. Could he really be trying to put everything behind them and start afresh? She decided she’d never know for sure, but it wouldn’t hurt her to be pleasant to him—and it might make him easier to work with. A movement further down the beach caught her attention. “Do you like sand yachting?” she asked, thankful for the change of subject. “That’s the main reason I came down to the beach. I don’t often get the chance to watch their races, but they’re practising today.” “I have to confess I’m a bit of a sand yachtie myself, but I haven’t got a craft of my own and have to rely on friends. Unfortunately, I’m a stranger in town and don’t know any of the people here.” “What a pity. I’d love to have seen you race.” Kirsty spoke sincerely. Reeve looked the type of man who enjoyed outdoor sports, and she could imagine him throwing himself 71

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wholeheartedly into something as energetic as sand yachting. He helped her pack the picnic basket and they moved back to the bank overlooking the impromptu race track. Kirsty realised more yachts had arrived during the lunch break and, after placing the basket on the ground, she hung on to a tree branch as she took a step forward to enjoy a better view of the racing. “Maybe you could tell me something.” She turned to face Reeve. “I’ve always wondered if this type of vehicle…or is it a vessel? Anyway, what I want to know is if this type of thing has ever been used as a means of transport? Do you know?” “I’m not really sure. I believe history states the ancient Chinese and Egyptians had some form of vehicles driven by wind, but I don’t think it took off as a sport until the beginning of this century in America. Now every country in the world seems to be having a go at it.” Kirsty smiled her thanks and turned back to watch the racing, but her foot slipped, and Reeve placed his hand under her elbow to steady her. Again her heart leapt and the warmth of his touch started a flood of liquid heat pulsing through her. She quickly moved away, forcing him to let go of her arm. “Sorry,” she apologised breathlessly as she sat down on the bank. “I’m a bit sensitive to static electricity.” “Really?” As he sat beside her Reeve’s eyebrow rose in the disbelieving manner she had grown to dread. Even to Kirsty her excuse sounded feeble and Reeve’s expression didn’t surprise her. She sat rigidly beside him, wondering why on earth she kept reacting this way when he touched her. Kirsty and Reeve remained silent for several minutes, then he commented on the design of one of the yachts, and 72

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she replied. Before long the tension drained slowly from her, and she felt at ease again. Or at least as much as she could be with Reeve sitting so close to her. After another hour of spills and thrills, the racers loaded their yachts onto the trailers and Kirsty sighed. “I suppose it’s time to go.” “You don’t sound as if that makes you very happy,” Reeve commented. “It’s been such a glorious day, it seems a pity for it to end. A night in front of the television sounds a bit tame after all this fresh air.” Kirsty started to rise, but it turned into a scramble to get to her feet when she saw Reeve stretching out a hand to help her. She’d had enough embarrassment for one day, thank you! “The day doesn’t have to end, Kirsty,” he said as they walked towards the car park. “Would you like to come out to dinner with me tonight? It would make me feel less guilty about eating that magnificent lunch.” Dinner! She couldn’t go out to dinner with him. What if he touched her again? Don’t be silly, Kirsty, she cautioned. You can’t go through your whole life avoiding him. Maybe not, the voice in her mind answered, but I can restrict our meetings to work. She opened her mouth to politely decline his offer, but he forestalled her. “I don’t know many people in this area. Of course, there’s the added bonus of taking a lady to dinner who can truly appreciate the cuisine.” The look in his eyes reminded Kirsty of a puppy she’d had as a child, pleading with her to make him happy. Just in time she remembered the puppy had ripped her best dress to shreds, and she straightened her back as she firmly shook her head. 73

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“I’m sorry, Mr. Stuart, but I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure.” His lips twitched as he bowed his head in acceptance. “No, Miss Lawrence—Kirsty, I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry we got off to such a bad start that you don’t feel comfortable in my company. Thank you for a delicious lunch. I shall see you at the hotel tomorrow.” Kirsty watched unhappily as Reeve walk towards a powerful dark blue car parked near her older, much loved banger. He waved his hand and reversed from the parking space, then roared off down the road. He’d gotten the wrong impression about her refusal to have dinner with him, but she couldn’t tell him the real reason. What would he think if he realised she wouldn’t go out with him in case his hand brushed hers and started that horrible, lovely, unexplainable reaction in her body?

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Chapter 5 The following afternoon Kirsty cornered Gina in the office behind the reception desk. “Gina, do you fancy going out one night next week?” “Sounds good to me,” Gina replied. “I could do with a wild night of partying.” “Hey, I meant going to a club or the movies,” Kirsty protested with a laugh. “Something to give us a break from work. I feel as if all I’ve done the last few weeks is eat, sleep and work.” “I was only joking…well, half-joking. Any particular place you’d like to go?” “That really depends on if we can get time off together,” Kirsty told her. “When’s your day off?” “Next Tuesday,” Gina stated. “But you’ve just had yours, haven’t you?” “Yes, but Mr. Stuart keeps talking about me taking time off to make up for the extra hours I’ve worked. He says the hotel can’t afford to pay me overtime. I thought I’d ask if I could have Tuesday afternoon and evening off. That way I can leave for my afternoon break and not come back until Thursday morning.” “Sounds like heaven.” Gina looked thoughtful. “Here, 75

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you don’t think the hotel’s in trouble, do you?” “No, why?” “The hotel being sold, and Mr. Stuart saying they can’t afford to pay you overtime. Maybe it’s a what’s-it—you know where they take over a company and liquidate its assets.” Gina sighed. “It would be just my luck to be made redundant when I’m saving up for a holiday.” “A holiday! Where are you thinking of going?” Kirsty smiled. Gina was always saving for one thing or another. She usually got as far as a few hundred dollars, then a new dress caught her eye, or she simply had to have a night on the town and she blew all her savings. “I thought maybe England. You know—look up the rellies Mum and Dad have over there. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question. Do you think the hotel’s in trouble?” “I haven’t really thought about it, but I don’t think Reeve Stuart’s the type of man to get involved with something that’s losing money, especially if the rumours are true and he’s the one who’s bought the place.” “Let’s hope not.” Gina sighed again. “Now I’ve got work to do, and I bet you do, too. Let’s leave it that we go out next Tuesday if you can get the time off. Let me know if there’s any problem.” “Will do.” Kirsty grinned over her shoulder as she opened the door. Unfortunately Reeve was entering the room as she tried to leave and she brushed against him. Once again that uncomfortable warm, fluttery feeling rushed through Kirsty’s body. “Excuse me,” she muttered “No, excuse me,” Reeve replied with a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise there was anybody in here.” 76

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“Mr. Stuart.” Kirsty decided to strike while the iron was hot, plus it took her mind off the unsettling feelings he sparked off when he touched her. “About the extra time that’s owed me. Would it be possible for me to have some of it next Tuesday evening? I’d like to leave for my afternoon break, then take the rest of the day off.” “I have no objections, Miss Lawrence, but I would appreciate it if you could check it’s all right with Chef Antoine.” Reeve grinned crookedly at her. “I realise it’s my job to do this, but as you are heading that way...” He left the question hanging in the air, and Kirsty smiled at him. She didn’t realise the smile lit up her face and made it glow with health and happiness, transforming her from a nice looking young woman into an extremely attractive one. “No problem, Mr. Stuart. I can easily do that.” “Well, if you or Chef Antoine could confirm your time off on Tuesday within the next twenty-four hours, Miss Lawrence, then I see no problem.” Kirsty thanked him and hurried across reception to the door leading to back-of-house. When she reached the kitchen, she went straight across to Chef Antoine, who was sitting at his desk sorting through invoices for the kitchen supplies. “Chef, I’ve spoken to Mr. Stuart about having a half day next Tuesday. I asked if I could leave for my afternoon break, then take the rest of the day off. Naturally he said I must check with you before he could give his approval.” “I should think so!” Chef looked at her indignantly. “Next Tuesday? We might just about manage without you for that evening, Lawrence. You may tell Mr. Stuart I’ve given my consent.” “Thank you, Chef.” 77

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Kirsty turned away, puzzled by his attitude. Although Antoine could be prone to sarcasm, in the past his comments had been tempered with a touch of humour. Lately, his manner towards Kirsty had been brusque and unfriendly. What was wrong with the man? He couldn’t be taking petty revenge for her actions in Mr. Stuart’s office because his manner had changed before that meeting. Reeve showed Kirsty a pleasant politeness when she told him Chef Antoine had approved her time off. The pleasantness continued through the following Monday when he consulted her about the slightest detail before making any comments or orders regarding the working of the kitchen. Relieved not to be at loggerheads with him all the time, she realised he was being extra careful around her and responded accordingly. Gina rushed into the kitchen Monday evening with a harassed look on her face. “Kirsty, I’ve got to work tomorrow afternoon,” she grumbled. “Bother! That means we’ll have to cancel our night out.” Kirsty felt really annoyed. She’d been looking forward to her girls-night-out with Gina. “What?” Gina said distractedly. “Oh, no, I can still go. What makes me mad is that I wanted to have a long soak in the bath, then take my time doing my nails and hair tomorrow afternoon. Now I’ll have to bring my stuff in and change here. Somehow it’s never the same when I have to do things in a rush.” “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to change it to another night? It doesn’t bother me,” Kirsty said, silently crossing her fingers that her friend wouldn’t take her up on the offer. 78

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“No, that’s okay. Would you mind coming back to the hotel to meet me tomorrow night?” “No problem,” Kirsty told her. “I’ll walk up if it’s fine. Is seven-thirty all right?” “Great! I’ll order us a taxi for a quarter to eight.” Gina’s normal good humour was restored and, with a grin, she hurried from the kitchen. When Chef came in on Tuesday morning, a relieved Kirsty announced there had been no major upheavals the previous day. “Fine, Lawrence.” Antoine flapped a hand in her direction. He didn’t seem in the least bit interested in what she’d been saying. “However, we do have work to do today, so if you don’t mind…” Kirsty had been going to remind him about her afternoon off, but decided to leave it until later in the morning. By the time the lunch rush was over, she felt like a wet rag. Antoine hadn’t helped with the food preparation. Instead, he’d flung conflicting orders left and right, then criticised Kirsty and the maids over every little detail. Now he’d changed into his street clothes and was headed toward the door leading outside the hotel. “I’ll be gone for a few hours, Lawrence. Please have everything ready for the evening meal by the time I come back.” “Wait, Chef!” Kirsty hurried towards her boss. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be here. Have you forgotten I have the afternoon and evening off today?” “Nonsense, Lawrence. That’s for next week, not today.” “No, it’s not. It’s today. I’m sorry, but I’ve made plans to go out.” “Then you’ll have to cancel them, Lawrence, because my 79

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errand is extremely important. Much more urgent than your little outing. You really should make more effort to remember things. I distinctly recall you asking for next Tuesday off, so you’ll have to change your plans, won’t you?” Chef Antoine turned and headed for the door again, leaving Kirsty seething with frustration. “One moment, Chef!” **** In view of Antoine’s antics over the past few weeks, Reeve had decided to check there was no problem with Kirsty’s time off. He had entered through the restaurant doors in time to hear Kirsty’s exchange with Antoine. Now he stood behind Kirsty, determined to be her champion and ensure her evening off wasn’t cancelled. “Please, Mr. Stuart, can’t this wait? I have an urgent appointment and I really must hurry.” Chef Antoine moved impatiently towards the door again. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to reschedule your urgent appointment, Chef Antoine. Miss Lawrence is correct—her time off was approved for today.” “Nonsense, Mr. Stuart. As usual, Lawrence has made a mistake. I gave permission for her to have half-a-day next Tuesday, not today.” Chef glowered at Kirsty, his eyes threatening dire consequences if she dared to contradict him. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Chef Antoine,” Reeve told him firmly. “If you recall, I confirmed your approval of Miss Lawrence’s time off. I mentioned today by date and time, and you agreed it was correct. Therefore, Miss Lawrence has every right to leave this afternoon. We really must honour our commitments to her, mustn’t we, Chef Antoine?” Out of the corner of his eye, Reeve saw Kirsty looking at 80

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him. Did she suspect he had deliberately asked Antoine about the details of her time off in case the man had had one of his “memory lapses”? “Really, Mr. Stuart, Miss Lawrence is a member of my staff. If I order her to work this evening, then she’ll work.” Chef Antoine acted as if his statement finished the argument, but Reeve wasn’t going to let him wriggle out of anything. “Miss Lawrence, please change to your street clothes and carry on with your time off as planned.” Reeve saw Kirsty looked hesitantly from one to the other, then she slowly walked towards the staff room, but she kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she was sure Antoine would win in the end. “Mr. Stuart, this is ridiculous. Lawrence no doubt has some little get-together planned with her girlfriends, whilst my appointment is extremely important.” Chef’s voice wavered, and Reeve wondered if it was anger or spite that caused the wobble. “If your appointment is so important, Chef Antoine, I wonder why you made it for today. You knew Miss Lawrence was going to be absent,” Reeve said as Kirsty emerged from the staff room. “I evidently forgot, Mr. Stuart, but I’m sure Lawrence can rearrange her calendar.” He turned to Kirsty, who stood nervously in the doorway, for once looking unsure of herself. “You wouldn’t mind doing me such a little favour, would you, Lawrence?” “Under no circumstances will Miss Lawrence change her plans.” Reeve’s voice snapped out like a whiplash. “The hotel has taken enough of her free time. Apart from anything else, the law demands that she should only work a certain number 81

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of hours each week. During the past two weeks, Miss Lawrence’s work schedule has far exceeded those hours. The least we can do is honour our agreement with her, without expecting her to change her plans at a minute’s notice. Miss Lawrence, you’re free to go.” Reeve held open the dining room door and, firmly holding Kirsty’s arm, he ushered her from the kitchen straight through the dining room and into reception. Kirsty hesitated again, but Reeve didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. “Sorry about that, Miss Lawrence,” he said when they stopped in the hotel foyer. “I feel we should stick to our word concerning your time off. You’ve worked far too many hours, and I knew if I left you alone with Chef Antoine, he’d have talked you in to staying.” He smiled warmly at her, and pushed her towards the outer door. “Now off you go and have a nice evening.” “Thank you, Mr. Stuart,” Kirsty said shyly, but Reeve turned away, afraid he would show the emotions which had surged up inside him as he touched her. **** Gina had been dealing with a customer at the reception desk, but Kirsty knew she’d been keeping an eye on her talk with Reeve and now her eyebrows rose in query. Tell you tonight, Kirsty mouthed silently and, with a wave of her hand, left the hotel through the glass doors at the main entrance. It was such a nice evening Kirsty walked up the hill to the hotel, arriving a few minutes before seven-thirty. She waited outside the entrance, expecting her friend to come rushing out with tales of last-minute things holding her up. As she waited, she wondered if she’d dressed in the right clothes 82

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for the occasion. Her pale blue dress with a light woollen throw-over and white sandals would be fine for a restaurant and some of the clubs, but if Gina decided to visit a more upmarket place she would be dismally under-dressed. A glance at her wristwatch showed it was way past seven-thirty and Gina still hadn’t appeared, so Kirsty went into reception to look for her. “Gina, what are you doing behind the desk?” she hissed at her friend. “You should’ve finished work and be ready to leave by now.” “The evening girl’s got the flu!” Gina wailed softly. “I only found out I had to work about an hour ago. I tried to ring you, but you’d already left.” “No, I hadn’t. I was in the shower. I heard the phone ring, but I had a head full of shampoo and thought whoever it was would ring back. Why didn’t you?” “What? Oh, why didn’t I ring back?” Gina turned away to hand someone their room key before she continued. “That’s why. There’s a block booking of salesmen in the hotel. I’ve been rushed off my feet this evening, so I didn’t have time to ring again. Sorry.” “Oh, well, I suppose it’s back to the telly again tonight. Maybe we can arrange it for another time.” Kirsty turned sadly away, but a broad male chest stopped her in her tracks. **** As Reeve had crossed the reception area on his way home, he’d noticed Kirsty talking to Gina and heard their final words to one another. He hadn’t realised how close he’d been standing behind Kirsty until she turned and bumped into him. A slight frown marred his forehead as she jumped away from him. “We can’t have the hotel spoiling your plans, Miss Law83

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rence.” He smiled warmly at her, and, without thinking he added, “Perhaps you’d do me the honour of joining me for dinner.” “I...” Kirsty stuttered, and Reeve smiled as she glanced nervously towards the dining room doors leading off reception. He realised she thought he expected her to eat in the hotel dining room with Chef Antoine only a door’s width away! “Oh, not here, Miss Lawrence. I was thinking of one of the city restaurants.” He looked questioningly at her. “Have I mentioned I’m a stranger in town? I’m sure you won’t mind keeping a lonely man company?” As he waited for her reply, Reeve asked himself why he had invited Kirsty out to dinner. In some way he hoped it would make amends for the offhand and dictatorial way he had treated her since he’d arrived at the hotel. But that didn’t explain the stirring of excitement he felt deep inside, or the eager anticipation he felt when he thought of the evening ahead. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?” Kirsty laughed and threw caution to the winds. Caution returned when he tried to take her arm and escort her to the door and she moved quickly forward forcing him to follow her. At the door she glanced back to the reception desk. Gina’s eyes were wide with astonishment as she watched Kirsty and the boss leave for an evening together. The look in Gina’s eyes told Kirsty her friend would expect a detailed account of everything that happened. Reeve strode across the car park towards the powerful blue car Kirsty had seen at the beach. He opened the door for her and she settled into the comfortable passenger seat. After walking around the car, he climbed into the driver’s seat, then 84

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turned the key in the ignition. With an expensive purr the car moved forward, but at the car park exit he stopped and turned to face Kirsty. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He smiled at her. “I’ll have to go home and get changed. You don’t mind a small detour, do you?” “N-no.” Kirsty looked straight ahead as Reeve drove down the road. Her thoughts were in turmoil. He seemed such a gentleman, but could this be a ploy to get her in a compromising situation? He’d made it obvious he hadn’t liked her during his first days at the hotel, but since she’d confronted him in his office, his attitude had changed. Her over-active imagination warned her he might be trying to lull her into a false sense of security. It might be a trick to get rid of her. He only had to say she’d come on to him to give him reason enough to sack her. She realised she was letting her imagination run riot, but she couldn’t help herself. True, he probably wouldn’t go to such lengths to dismiss her. If he wanted to sack her, he’d find an easier way. With a start, she saw they’d left the highway and taken one of the side roads and she was horrified when Reeve stopped the car in front of a villa which stood alone, the nearest house barely visible in the distance. “Would you like to come in?” Reeve asked with a smile. “I won’t be long.” “No, that’s all right. I’ll sit here and enjoy the view.” Kirsty smiled nervously at him. With a brief nod Reeve got out of the car, and after walking up the short path, he entered the house. Kirsty looked at her surroundings. The outside of the villa was yellow weatherboard and the walls and iron roof had 85

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been newly painted. A covered veranda stretched along the front of the house with old sofas providing a comfortable sitting area, but the garden in front of the house showed signs of neglect. Not surprising when she considered the hours Reeve spent at the hotel. Real estate agents would call it a lifestyle property or farmlet because several of the paddocks rising behind the villa were accessed through the drive next to the house. A horse cropped the grass in the nearest field and farther away Kirsty could see the white dots of several sheep. “He probably leases the land to someone else,” Kirsty told herself, then her eyes swung back to the front door of the villa as Reeve emerged. Dark blue cords fitted snugly around his muscular thighs and a pale blue shirt stretched over his chest, with a knitted dark blue tie providing a touch of smartness. As usual his clothes were clean and well pressed, and Kirsty wondered irrelevantly if he did his own laundry. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he apologised as he settled in the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Is there any particular restaurant you’d recommend? I bow to your knowledge of the area over my own ignorance.” Kirsty mentioned the name of an Auckland restaurant that had a good reputation, gave him directions on how to get there, then settled back to enjoy the ride. Reeve’s hands on the steering wheel caught her attention. Strong, tanned fingers held the wheel firmly and she realised he was the sort of driver who would have complete control over the car no matter what the speed or road conditions. He drove down the motorway at exactly the right speed, adroitly avoiding some of the less experienced or incautious drivers who threatened to get in his way. 86

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Within twenty minutes they were parked in the city, a few spaces away from the place Kirsty had suggested. The door to the restaurant swung open at Reeve’s touch, and to Kirsty’s relief it only looked half full. On the way to Auckland she had wondered if such a popular place might be busy, but Tuesday night evidently wasn’t one of the favourite times for the trendy set to be out and about. The maitre d’ showed them to a table for two in the corner of the large room, and Reeve waited until Kirsty had been seated before lowering himself into his own chair. A waiter appeared at Reeve’s side and handed him the wine list. “Would you like a drink before we order?” he asked Kirsty. “Yes, please,” she answered. “I’d like a dry white wine. Thank you.” Reeve ordered a white wine for himself, and the waiter gave them ornate menus to peruse. Kirsty read through the items, then frowned as she realised there were no prices on hers. She looked up and saw Reeve watching her and smiled. “Have you decided what you’d like?” he asked. “I think I’ll have chicken kiev with salad,” Kirsty told him. “No starter?” She shook her head, and he continued, “Perhaps I should follow your example. I always find if I have a starter, then I have no room for dessert. I’ll have the porterhouse steak instead of chicken. With your family connections, I think a bottle of Mansion Chardonnay is the only choice for wine, don’t you?” “That sounds lovely.” Kirsty smiled shyly at Reeve. The waiter placed their pre-dinner drinks in front of them and took their orders for the main course. 87

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“This is a very nice restaurant,” Reeve commented as he looked around the room. “I’m surprised it’s not busier than this.” “I think you’ll find more people here later in the week,” Kirsty told him. “It’s one of the ‘in’ places for the trendy. Tuesday must be one of the few days they don’t do the night scene.” “You seem to know a bit about the ‘night scene’ as you put it. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have the time to indulge in such activities.” “I don’t,” Kirsty replied. “By the time I leave the hotel at night I’m too tired to go out gallivanting, even if I wanted to. I heard about it through the catering grapevine. We get to hear about the new restaurants and how popular they become. I believe this place tried to ‘poach’ one of Chef Antoine’s rivals when it first opened.” “Has anybody ever tried to poach you?” Reeve asked. “No.” Kirsty laughed. “I’m not well known enough for that to happen. I’m surprised Chef Antoine hasn’t been approached, though.” “Maybe he has, but hasn’t mentioned it.” Reeve looked thoughtful for a moment, then his face cleared and he flashed Kirsty another smile. “Enough of work. I believe our meal is here.” A smiling waiter placed plates in front of them. Kirsty’s professional eye noted the attractively laid out food with portions that were neither meager nor overabundant. She also liked the cutlery arriving with the food, wrapped in a napkin, rather than have it on the table when patrons sat down. “Does the meal meet with your approval?” Kirsty started as she realised he had been watching her 88

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surveying, then tasting the food. “Yes, as a matter of fact it does. One day, when I’m older and wiser”—she laughed at her own joke, then her face took on a serious expression—“I’d like to own a restaurant like this. Small and exclusive, so I can run it the way I think a high class restaurant should be run.” “I must admit I approve of the way our meal was presented. I’ve been in places where it was dumped on the table with no thought for appeal, or in some cases hygiene.” Reeve tasted his food. “This steak is excellent. How’s your chicken?” “Moist, cooked so the filling is right. The sauce is superb. In fact, the whole thing is very good.” “You sound like a food critic.” Reeve laughed. “You also sound surprised that the meal is up to your standards.” “Sorry, force of habit.” Kirsty blushed and took another sip of her wine. As she placed the glass back on the table, Reeve reached across to fill it and their hands brushed. Kirsty was relieved to find his touch did not start the embarrassing blush. It did send a tingle up her arm, but no warm flushes were triggered and for that she was extremely grateful. “It’s funny you should mention that you want to own a restaurant.” Reeve returned to the earlier topic of conversation. “When I left school, my ambition was to own a small hotel. I wanted to make it exclusive so I could pick and choose the clientele, and it would have a good chef to offer a top-class restaurant service.” “But don’t you own the Garden Group? You should be able to make your dream come true any time you wanted,” Kirsty commented, surprised to find herself wistfully imagining herself as the top-class chef. Now she was more at ease with Reeve, the idea of working in such a place with him 89

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seemed very attractive to her. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? I’d rather others didn’t know I own the Garden Group. It’s easier if everyone thinks I’m just an employee. ” Reeve smiled briefly, then changed the topic. The conversation during the remainder of their meal concerned mundane matters such as the weather and land yachting. Kirsty found Reeve very easy to talk to. He seemed to be setting out to be pleasant, and a combination of the surroundings, the company and the wine made her relax and she started to enjoy herself. The waiter cleared away their dessert dishes and asked if they would like coffee, and Kirsty nodded. “Would you like a liqueur with your coffee?” Reeve asked. “I’m afraid I’m driving so I won’t be able to join you, but please go ahead and order one if you wish.” “Actually, I like a French coffee at the end of a good meal,” Kirsty replied. “It’s like Irish coffee only made with brandy instead of whisky.” Reeve nodded and gave the order to the waiter. A few minutes later he reappeared at their table with the brandy coffee for Kerry, and a short black for Reeve. A discreet folder contained the bill. This last item he placed before Reeve. “If you’ll let me know how much my portion of the bill is, I’ll settle up with you when we get outside,” Kirsty said quietly, trying to save them both any embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Kirsty, but I thought you understood the meal was to be my treat.” Reeve looked across the table at her. “It was the least I could do after the hotel situation messed up your evening. I also thought it would be a chance to get to know one another better. Once we feel more relaxed with each other, we’ll be able to work together better.” 90

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Kirsty didn’t know what to say. At least there was a lot she could have said, but telling him what she thought about being made an item on his expense account was not a subject she could bring up in the restaurant. Meekly she submitted to him paying the whole bill, then allowed him to escort her from the restaurant and back to the car. During the drive home, she went over in her mind what she should have said to him, but she knew the moment had passed and it was now too late to tell him she objected to his high-handed attitude. Reeve broke the silence by commenting on the antics of some of the other drivers on the road, and by the time they arrived in Orewa they were chatting naturally again and Kirsty had almost forgotten she should be annoyed with him. “If you’ll tell me which way to go, I’ll drop you at your house,” he said, and Kirsty gave him the directions. Reeve stopped the car in her driveway, then reached across and took her hand. She blushed as her heart twitched and the familiar warmth raced up her arm, but once again she was saved from the embarrassment of a red-faced reaction to his touch. “Thank you for a really lovely evening, Kirsty.” His grey eyes poured warmth into her green ones. “The food and the restaurant were excellent, and the company wonderful. I’d like to do this again. Do you think that would be possible?” Kirsty opened her mouth to say no, she’d rather not be taken out on a “business” date, thank you, but her voice betrayed her. “I’d like that, but I insist I pay my own way next time. Otherwise, I don’t think I can accept your offer.” “I had a feeling you weren’t happy when I said it was my treat. Please believe me, Kirsty, I really enjoyed your compa91

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ny this evening. It’s very lonely not knowing anybody socially when you’re new in town.” Reeve’s eyes had that puppy dog look again, and Kirsty almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but his act wasn’t quite good enough to fool her. She had the feeling the words were genuine, but something else lurked behind them. Something he hadn’t told her. Well, two could play at that game. She’d go on another evening out with him, but she’d keep alert and try to find out what he was being secretive about. “As long as you understand I pay my own way,” Kirsty told him sternly, “then I’d be happy to go out with you again.” Kirsty’s firm manner shattered as Reeve released her hand and, moving quickly, placed his arm around her shoulders, then drew her to him and pressed his lips against hers. The breath whooshed out of her lungs and her eyes widened with surprise, but instead of pushing him away, her body snuggled closer into his embrace. As the warmth of his kiss strengthened, her eyelids fluttered shut and her lips softened and responded with equal passion. He pulled gently away from her and his free hand cupped her chin as he smiled at her. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. You looked so adorable, but I think I’d better go, don’t you? Before we both do something we might regret.” His arm slid from her shoulders, and with a final kiss on the tip of her nose, he drew back and got out of the car. In seconds he had opened the passenger door and helped her to alight. With a gentle push he moved Kirsty towards the house, then waited until she’d put the key in the lock and opened the door. Kirsty turned, intending to thank him for the evening, but Reeve raised his hand in farewell before trotting back to 92

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his car and starting the engine. Kirsty shut the door and leaned against it as he reversed out of the drive and drove off. She couldn’t understand why she felt so disappointed and worked up at the same time. When he’d kissed her, a great comforting warmth had enveloped her, instead of the tingling and embarrassment she usually felt when he touched her. Could this be a case of when you couldn’t have something, the more you wanted it? But when you got it, that something wasn’t what you’d thought it would be. If that was the case, why had she reacted with such a welcoming response. My God! What if he thought she’d been trying to entice him into her bed? She’d given him enough encouragement to think that. How on earth was she going to face him on Thursday morning? **** Reeve felt annoyed with himself as he drove away. “Fool,” he muttered. “You’re a complete and utter fool, Stuart. A real lunatic, that’s what you are. You’ve probably frightened her off now, pushing yourself on her like that.” During the evening he’d realised he had become very attracted to Kirsty; in fact, entranced would be more truthful. One good thing had happened, though. He had, at last, realised she was nothing like Samantha. Kirsty was a straightforward and honest person who he would like to know better. For now, though, he’d best back off until he’d sorted out the mysterious loss of earnings at the hotel. Time enough for a love life when the business returned to profit. If his friendship with Kirsty developed into anything deeper it might influence the final outcome of his investigations.

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Chapter 6 Hopefully I won’t see Reeve Stuart today, Kirsty thought as she entered the kitchen on Thursday morning. But the way my luck’s been running recently, he’ll be the first person I bump into. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Reeve wasn’t the first person she met, but circumstances forced her to call him within minutes of entering the kitchen. Kirsty was straightening her jacket when the phone on Chef’s desk rang. Antoine didn’t seem to have arrived yet so she picked up the receiver. She found the voice on the other end difficult to understand, and at first Kirsty didn’t realise it belonged to Chef Antoine. “Lawrence, is that you?” Antoine’s croaky voice asked, and when Kirsty confirmed her identity, he continued, “I’m afraid you’ll have to manage on your own for a few days. It seems flu bugs are not particular about who they attack. Would you please let Mr. Stuart know I won’t be in. I don’t feel I can manage another phone call at this moment.” “Of course, Chef. Don’t you worry about a thing. Just concentrate on getting well again.” Kirsty frowned. Chef Antoine sounded really terrible. “Have you got someone to look after you, Chef? Someone who’ll take care of you while 94

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you’re recovering?” “Thank you for your concern, Lawrence.” Antoine’s voice sounded worse with each word he spoke. “My mother is with me. I’ll call you again when I can let you know the date of my return.” “That will be fine, Chef—” But Antoine had hung up, and Kirsty was talking to the dial tone. Hesitantly she picked up the in house phone and rang Reeve’s office. “Reeve Stuart speaking.” His voice sounded brisk and business-like. “Mr. Stuart, it’s Kirsty Lawrence. Chef rang to say he has the flu and won’t be in for the next few days. He asked me to let you know as he didn’t feel well enough to make another phone call.” She held her breath as she waited for him to reply. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes, Miss Lawrence.” His words left Kirsty in a flutter. When he appeared, should she refer to Tuesday night? Or should she ignore the fact they’d gone for a meal together, followed by that kiss when they’d reached her place? No, she decided, it would be best to stick to business. Reeve took the decision out of her hands by being extremely business-like when he arrived in the kitchen. “Has the menu for today been drawn up? And do you need any extra staff to cope whilst Chef Antoine’s away?” “Today’s menu is fairly simple,” Kirsty told him. “As to extra staff, maybe we could have someone to do general kitchen duties, then the two regular staff could concentrate on food preparation.” “Fine. If you give me the name of the agency you nor95

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mally use, I’ll arrange a temp for the remainder of the week. Now, what about the weekend? Friday and Saturday seem to be quite hectic nights for the restaurant. Do you think you’ll be able to cope, or would you like my help?” Reeve’s hands went up in defence as he saw Kirsty’s temper begin to rise. “I’m not questioning your ability. I just want to be sure you know you can call on me if you need to.” “Sorry,” Kirsty apologised. “It’s just that...” “You thought I was ‘having a go at you.’ I don’t blame you, but that’s in the past. I assure you the thought never crossed my mind.” He looked at her with a slight smile on his lips. “Would you mind if I took a stab at this on my own?” Kirsty asked, her voice trembling as she reacted to his nearness. “Chef always leaves a menu plan for me to follow on his day off, with strict instructions to follow it to the letter. I’d appreciate the chance to run the kitchen in my own way. I promise to let you know if things start getting out of hand and I need help. I know you’ve not had much reason to have faith in me, but could you trust me to do that?” “Of course I trust you, Miss Lawrence. I know the misunderstandings of the past few weeks haven’t been your fault. You may not run the kitchen the same way as Chef Antoine, but I’m sure you’ll have equally high standards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see about that temp.” He smiled again and Kirsty turned towards Chef’s desk. She thought Reeve had left the kitchen and jumped nervously when his voice sounded right behind her. “Thank you for your company on Tuesday evening. I wondered if you’d like to come to the Waiwera Thermal pools with me next Wednesday, and have dinner afterwards.” The warmth of 96

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his smile sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. “Thank you,” she replied shyly. “I’d love to.” “Of course, we’ll have to wait and see what happens with Chef Antoine,” Reeve cautioned. “If he’s still sick, we may have to postpone it until the following week. That’s if you’re free then.” “Hopefully, Chef will be back by next week. I’d like to thank you for Tuesday evening. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.” She could have kicked herself. Now he would think she wanted to encourage him, but Reeve’s long stride had taken him halfway across the kitchen on his way to the restaurant. Kirsty’s mind swam as she checked the day board. Reeve must have liked what he saw that day on the beach; otherwise he wouldn’t have asked her to the thermal pools. Her face flushed as she realised next week he’d be wearing swimming trunks, too. This time she’d be able to see all his unclothed body. The arrival of the kitchen maids distracted her, and Kirsty told them Chef Antoine would be off sick for some days. She noticed a look of relief pass between them and it occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t the only one Chef had been horrid to lately. Keeping busy all morning meant they had everything ready by lunchtime, and Kirsty felt pleased when the meal ran smoothly. In fact the kitchen worked at a much higher efficiency rate than usual. Could the absence of the head chef be the reason? Lunchtime dishes had been cleared away and her staff had gone home for a few hours. Kirsty sat at Chef Antoine’s desk, secretly revelling in the sense of freedom and authority this gave her. Picking up the engagement diary for the next 97

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week, she checked the entries. The only major event was on Saturday afternoon when the restaurant had been booked for a wedding reception. She decided to plan the menus for the remainder of the week before checking up on this event. The planning didn’t take long and Kirsty thought that, as a gesture of goodwill, she’d submit them to Reeve Stuart for his approval before ordering the supplies. Now for the wedding reception. First she needed to check how far Chef had progressed with his preparations, as Reeve was bound to ask. He’d want to know what she intended to do to complete the arrangements, and she meant to prove to him everything would run smoothly. To her horror, she found Antoine hadn’t made any preparations for a reception for over one hundred people. She scrabbled through the special order book they kept for important functions, but could see no sign of any delicacies being ordered. The only reference was the booking confirmation, a handwritten plan of the menu and the number of guests anticipated. Kirsty found a phone number on the confirmation and, taking a deep breath, she dialled the number. “Good afternoon, could I please speak to Mrs. Miller?” she asked when a woman answered the phone. “Speaking.” “Good afternoon, Mrs. Miller. My name is Kirsty Lawrence. I’m the sous-chef at the Hibiscus Hotel. I’m phoning about your daughter’s wedding reception on Saturday. It’s our policy to do a final check with our clients a few days before the event. We like to make sure we’re aware of any last minute alterations to the booking. May I go over the details we have so far?” “Oh, what an excellent idea!” Mrs. Miller said. “Yes, of 98

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course, my dear, do go ahead.” Kirsty read out the menu and confirmed the number of guests invited, and Mrs. Miller agreed that everything appeared to be correct. “Before I ring off, Mrs. Miller, is there anything special you’d like done for Saturday? Any special arrangement of tables, for instance?” “Oh, I think we’ll leave that in your capable hands, dear,” Mrs. Miller said. “You seem to have everything so well in order. As long as people feel welcome and my daughter has a happy day. Oh, by the way, you do realise we’ll be providing our own wedding cake, don’t you? We’ll bring it along to the hotel tomorrow evening if that’s all right with you.” Kirsty said that would be quite all right, and at the same time a flood of relief surged through her. She’d forgotten all about the wedding cake, and Antoine’s notes hadn’t mentioned it. “Very well then, dear, we’ll see you tomorrow night, and thank you once again for your thoughtfulness.” Kirsty thanked Mrs. Miller for taking the time to talk to her and, replacing the receiver, she leaned back and let out a huge sigh of relief. She’d crossed the first hurdle, and now she needed to order the food for the recipes on the menu. An hour later, Kirsty only had one item left to find. The bride had mentioned she’d like to taste caviar on her wedding day. Her parents, wanting everything to be right for the most important day in their daughter’s life, had specified Russian caviar for the hors d’oeuvres and Kirsty had trouble finding a supplier who could deliver by Saturday morning. Frustrated at every turn, Kirsty decided to ask Reeve if he had any ideas. She needed to see him about the setting up 99

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of the restaurant and his approval of the daily menus any way. She rang his office, but she got no reply, so she contacted reception. They’d probably know where he was to be found. “Reception.” Kirsty was relieved to hear Gina’s voice. “Gina, it’s Kirsty. Is Mr. Stuart anywhere in reception? I need to speak to him urgently and he’s not in his office.” “He’s here talking to a guest. Hang on and I’ll get him for you.” Gina’s voice lowered to a whisper. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten your date with him on Tuesday night. I expect you to tell me all about it, Kirsty Lawrence.” Kirsty smiled to herself. Trust Gina not to be side-tracked. She could hear a murmur of voices in the background, then her friend came back on the line. “He said to tell you he’s on his way in to see you, Kirsty. I’ll talk to you later.” As Kirsty put the phone down, Reeve entered the kitchen. “You wanted to see me, Miss Lawrence?” he said, crossing the room to her side. “Mr. Stuart, were you aware we have a wedding reception booked for Saturday afternoon?” Kirsty asked, suddenly sure Chef Antoine hadn’t told anyone about the booking. “This Saturday? No, I most certainly did not know. Has the restaurant been informed?” “I haven’t checked,” Kirsty confessed. “I looked through the engagement book and saw it pencilled in. No special supplies had been ordered, and I began to wonder if Chef had told anybody else about it. I’ve—” “I think we’ll have to put our heads together on this one, Kirsty,” Reeve interrupted. “Do you think you can organise 100

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the meal, while I ring the clients?” “Mr. Stuart, please, can I finish?” Kirsty saw him nod, but her heart was doing somersaults against her ribcage. They were at work, but he had called her Kirsty! She took a deep breath to calm herself and continued. “I’ve checked with Mrs. Miller and she confirmed the menu and number of guests. With regards to the restaurant layout, she leaves that up to us. I’ve worked out the amounts needed and ordered everything but one item. Mrs. Miller specifically requested Russian caviar for the hors d’oeuvres, and I can’t find a local supplier who can deliver by Saturday morning. I wondered if you had any ideas, plus I’ll need your help with the restaurant and”—she hesitated and smiled hopefully at Reeve—“could you possibly speak to the head waiter? I’m afraid I find him a bit daunting.” “Well done, Kirsty. My compliments on your handling of the situation. You’ve coped very well with a difficult problem. Now, to business. Where have you tried to obtain the caviar from?” “I’ve tried every supplier in the area, but none of them have any in stock. The first date they can deliver is Monday.” She leaned back wearily in her chair. “I wonder if the Millers would accept a substitute? Mrs. Miller seems such a nice lady, so maybe she’d understand.” “All the more reason why we should do our best not to disappoint her. Can you give me a list of suppliers for the whole country? I’ll see what I can do. As for the head waiter…” Reeve grinned at her. “Leave Henri to me. I suggest the three of us meet in the restaurant before it opens for dinner tonight and see if we can come up with something innovative for the layout. Now, is there anything else?” “No. Oh, wait. Would you like to approve the menus 101

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for the rest of the week?” Kirsty handed him the menu book and he took it from her, but didn’t open it. “I don’t think there’s any need for me to approve the menus, do you? However, I would like to see what you have in store for us. May I?” Kirsty nodded and he opened the book. Silence held for a few minutes whilst he turned the pages, and she waited with bated breath to see his reaction to her choices. “Excellent,” he exclaimed, a smile of delight crossing his face. “Very fresh! I’m pleased to see you haven’t stuck to mundane recipes most people can prepare at home. My compliments to the chef, Miss Lawrence. I look forward to sampling a few of these dishes.” “Thank you.” Kirsty felt shy under his approving gaze. She glanced at the clock. “Heavens, I’d better get on with the orders for the daily menus or it’ll be back to what you call mundane dishes. I’ve got this evening’s dinner to start as well.” Reeve thanked her once again and left her busily talking on the phone. When she finished, she picked up a pad of paper and slipped into the empty restaurant. The kitchen door was on one long wall with a blank wall opposite. One of the other two walls had a massive bay window, which looked out onto the gardens and terrace of the hotel, while the last wall had two massive sideboards standing sentinel on either side of the glass doors to reception. Kirsty thought the walls looked rather drab with faded wallpaper and uninteresting landscape paintings and wondered whether clients thought the food as dreary as the surroundings. With tongue poking from the corner of her mouth, she started to sketch how she wanted the tables laid out and made 102

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notes of the type of decorations she felt would brighten the room. Thirty minutes before the dining hour, Reeve returned and asked Kirsty if it would be convenient for her to come to the restaurant with him. “Henri has arrived and I thought this would be a good time to plan the layout for Saturday afternoon,” he explained. Kirsty took one last look around the kitchen to ensure everything was well in hand for the evening meals, then, picking up her pad, she followed Reeve through the swing doors. “Mr. Stuart, I really must protest at the short notice I’ve been given concerning the wedding on Saturday,” Henri, the head waiter, complained as soon as they approached him. “Two days is simply not enough time to work out exact table arrangements and place settings. Chef Antoine always gives me at least two weeks’ notice.” The head waiter glared at Kirsty, letting her know he considered it her fault that there had been a lack of communication between kitchen and restaurant. “I’m afraid that, in this case, it slipped Chef Antoine’s mind,” Reeve told the irate man. “He’s been busy of late. However, we’re not here to lay blame. The table formations and settings must be sorted out now, before the restaurant opens.” “Can I make a suggestion?” Kirsty queried, hesitantly. “I really don’t see the necessity for the sous-chef to be present at this meeting,” Henri stated, giving Kirsty a cold look. “The tables are always laid out to the same plan, with a slight variation for the numbers involved. We don’t need Miss Lawrence’s help.” “On the contrary, Henri, I feel Miss Lawrence has a lot 103

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to offer this meeting. She is, after all, a woman, and so is the bride. Now let’s get on with it, shall we?” Reeve glanced at Kirsty, a twinkle in his eye. “You were going to offer a suggestion I believe, Miss Lawrence.” “I think we should put the head table along the wall opposite the kitchen doors,” Kirsty began as she opened her pad. “Then...” “Absolute nonsense!” Henri expostulated. “The top table is always—always—put in front of the bay windows. It would cause absolute chaos if we changed the order of things for no reason other than a feminine whim.” “My suggestion has nothing to do with feminine whims.” Kirsty passed her rough sketch to Reeve. “If the bride and groom sit in front of the bay window, the sun will be shining from behind them and none of the guests will be able to see anything but their outline. If we put them against the far wall, the bride and groom and their friends at the top table will be able to see the gardens, plus everyone else in the room will be able to see the happy couple. Perhaps we could find a decorated screen to hide the kitchen doors and brighten up the room?” “I’m sure we can do that.” Reeve beamed at Kirsty. “I think those are excellent suggestions, don’t you, Henri?” “But we always...” Henri stuttered. “All the more reason to try something different,” Reeve told him firmly. “Now that we’ve settled that, what sort of decor would you suggest, Miss Lawrence?” “I thought white table cloths, with white satin ribbons looped around each table and caught up in the centre front with a white satin bow. I always feel simple things carry the most impact, Mr. Stuart. Then, perhaps, there could be small 104

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vases of white and yellow flowers set at intervals on the tables. Matching floral decorations on a bigger scale could be placed around the walls.” “But what about the spun sugar sculptures?” Henri asked in horror. “Chef Antoine always...” “Chef Antoine is not here, and we must do our best under trying circumstances,” Reeve told him, but when he glanced at Kirsty she saw a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “That seems to be all, unless either of you can think of anything else. No? Well, in that case, I believe it’s almost time for the restaurant to open. Thank you for your assistance, Henri, Miss Lawrence.” Kirsty smiled at him and returned to the kitchen to oversee the evening meals. Her staff had everything ready and were waiting for the first orders to come through from the restaurant. “By the way, Miss Lawrence,” Reeve said, popping his head round the swing doors, “I managed to get some caviar from Wellington. It’ll be flown up early on Saturday morning and should arrive about ten o’clock.” “Thank you, Mr. Stuart.” Kirsty frowned, and Reeve’s eyebrow rose in that familiar querying expression. “It must be very expensive to have it flown here. I’m not sure the kitchen budget will stand the extra cost, and we can’t pass it on to the client.” “Don’t worry, Miss Lawrence. The cost will come from the hotel’s special account. If this wedding reception is a success, then others will follow. Hopefully, next time it won’t be such a last-minute rush.” Reeve moved further into the room as a waiter pushed past him with the first order of the evening. “I was impressed with your suggestions for the layout and 105

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decorations. It’s pleasant to hear a calm, fresh solution to what could’ve been a disaster.” Kirsty glowed with pride at this unexpected praise, but the trickle of orders from the restaurant turned into a flood, and she could only nod her thanks and turn her hand to the job in front of her. On Friday afternoon, at Reeve’s request, Kirsty visited the Orewa shopping centre to choose a dozen glass vases for the table decorations. The housekeeper had told them that they had an abundance of large vases, but there were no small ones to be found. Reeve showed Kirsty the existing stock and suggested she use her own judgment whether the small ones should be matched, or if a contrast would be better. Kirsty tried one shop and found nothing suitable. She walked towards another specialty shop, but stopped when she thought she saw Chef Antoine. He stood further along the street, looking into the window of a baker’s shop. She moved towards him a puzzled frown marring her features, but when only a short distance separated them, the man hurried off in the opposite direction. Kirsty frowned in confusion. Why had Chef Antoine sped away like that? Surely he couldn’t be fully recovered yet? Most people who had fallen victim to the bug had taken days before they could even get out of bed. She must have been mistaken. It couldn’t have been Chef. She entered the glassware shop and crossed her fingers for luck as she went through the door. It must have worked because on a circular table in the middle of the display area were half a dozen vases in the exact design she was looking for. She prayed they had the complete dozen, otherwise she’d have to go farther afield and she didn’t really have the time for 106

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that. Thankfully there were one dozen of those vases in stock. Kirsty filled out the order form from the hotel, while the shopkeeper made out an invoice and packed the glassware. There would be no hope of replacement if any got broken, so Kirsty brought the car around to park in front of the shop. Collecting the heavy parcel, she carefully placed it on the floor between the seats, then slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Before pulling away from the kerb, she checked the traffic and thought she saw Antoine again. He was leaving the stationery shop about five metres from where she was parked. Kirsty leaned forward, peering through the windscreen to get a better look, but Antoine, if it was him, glanced in her direction, then hurried off down a pedestrian precinct. Kirsty tried to solve the puzzle as she drove back to the hotel. If it had been Antoine, why had he avoided her? And if he’d recovered from the flu, why wasn’t he back at work? She didn’t know the answers and pushed the questions to the back of her mind. All her concentration needed to be focused on tomorrow’s wedding reception. The function must be a success, not only for her own self-esteem, but also for the bride. The happy couple didn’t deserve to have their big day spoilt because Chef had forgotten to organise the reception properly! By the time the wedding cake arrived on Friday evening, Kirsty had done all she could for the reception preparations. Nothing else could be started until the next day. Before she left the hotel, she did a final run through of her checklist with Reeve. “Flowers,” she gasped. “I forgot about the flowers!” “Stop panicking, Kirsty. Ordering flowers isn’t part of 107

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your duties. Everything is arranged. The tables will be decorated and the flowers put in place as soon as the restaurant closes after lunch. All you need to worry about is making sure the menu is right. Perhaps, though, when everything’s ready, you could do a tour of the restaurant with me to make sure nothing’s been overlooked.” On Saturday Kirsty introduced a buffet-style lunch. Once the cold dishes were laid out, she told the normal daytime staff to make sure the buffet remained well stocked. With Reeve’s approval, she had asked the two evening staff to work from Saturday noon, and so the three of them were able to concentrate on preparing the food for the wedding reception. To her immense relief, the caviar had arrived on time and now sat on a bed of ice in the cold room. The restaurant had closed and the buffet had been cleared away when Chef Antoine suddenly appeared at the outer door of the kitchen. He looked remarkably well for a man who had been ill with influenza, but Kirsty had no time to dwell on his health. Ignoring everyone else in the kitchen, he bore down on her with a face like thunder. “Lawrence, why are you standing around doing nothing? What about the preparations for this afternoon’s wedding reception?” Antoine glared at Kirsty, and in the depth of his eyes, she could see a gleam of malice. “You’ve forgotten all about it, haven’t you? I suppose now you’ll go bleating to Mr. Stuart and say I never told you anything about a wedding reception for the Miller family?” Kirsty looked at him, a dumbfounded expression on her face. The man thought she didn’t know about the reception, and he was glad. What had she ever done for him to be so spiteful to her? All gratefulness for his past treatment of her 108

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vanished as she realised Chef Antoine had been trying to get her into trouble all along. If she hadn’t forced the issue by insisting on a meeting with him and Reeve, she could have been sacked for incompetence. “I see you’re feeling better, Chef,” she said calmly. “I’m pleased to say that all preparations for the Miller reception are under control. We’re merely waiting for the tables to be set up in the restaurant.” “Nonsense, Lawrence,” Chef blustered, a surprised look on his face. “You couldn’t organise a children’s party, let alone a wedding reception. You’re lying again, and this time Mr. Stuart will realise you’re the one who has been at fault all along.” Antoine swept towards the swing doors leading to the dining room and Kirsty followed in his wake. Roughly pushing the door open, Antoine stopped a few feet inside the dining room and looked around in horror. The restaurant staff had set the tables in the layout suggested by Kirsty, and the table linen and ribbon decorations were in place. The finishing touches to the place settings and flower displays were almost complete and Kirsty, standing at Antoine’s side, felt the room looked simple but elegant. “Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!” Chef roared. “Why is the top table not in the window? And what are those weeds doing on the tables? Where are the spun sugar sculptures? It will all have to be done again. I can’t leave you to do the slightest thing, can I, Lawrence?” Chef Antoine waved his arms about and called out to the restaurant staff to stop what they were doing. Henri, catching sight of his ally, crossed the room and began to excuse himself as soon as he arrived in talking distance of Antoine. 109

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“My dear Antoine, I do hope you don’t think this is any of my idea.” Henri waved his hand dismissively at the tables. “I told Mr. Stuart this is not the way we do things here at the Hibiscus Hotel, but he overruled me. Your sous-chef’s ideas were adopted despite my objections. And such short notice, too! She only told me about this reception two days ago!” “I’ll deal with Lawrence later,” Chef replied. “For the moment we’ll have our work cut out to get the room back to its usual format for these functions. As for not being told until two days ago, that is also Lawrence’s fault. I told her several weeks ago to let you know about today’s reception.” Kirsty felt she was being torn to pieces by two rabid dogs. Neither of the men took any notice of her as they rapped out orders for the room to be reorganised. The restaurant staff shrugged their shoulders and moved towards the tables. They had removed the place settings and were starting on the floral decorations when a voice of reason spoke from the doorway leading to reception. “Put those things back where they were.” **** Reeve had been standing in the doorway for some moments before he spoke. He had worked on the theory that Antoine would incriminate himself. However, when the afternoon reception became threatened by Chef’s orders, he knew he had to step in. He nodded at the harassed staff, then walked across to where Kirsty and the two men were standing. “Chef Antoine, surely you realise there’s no time to alter the room now. If I may have a word with you and Miss Lawrence in the kitchen. Henri, I leave you to make sure that the restaurant preparations are completed to the layout and decora110

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tions which were decided on Thursday.” Moving to the kitchen door Reeve held it open for Kirsty and Antoine to pass through. When all three had entered the kitchen, he told the helpers to take a ten-minute break out in the afternoon sunshine, then turned to Antoine. “Now then, Chef, what appears to be the problem?” Reeve saw despair shadow Kirsty’s face. Naturally she assumed Antoine would plead his tale of woe, that she had known all about the Miller’s reception, and that he had told her weeks ago to inform the restaurant. His words in the restaurant may have led her to believe he would side with Chef, but he had to let the man incriminate himself before he could act. “Mr. Stuart, I rose from my sickbed when I remembered we were booked for a wedding reception this afternoon.” Chef sagged his shoulders, and Reeve had to suppress a smile. Antoine’s acting was a bit too dramatic to be true. “Despite the fact that several weeks ago I ordered Lawrence to inform the restaurant about the booking, she obviously forgot. Now I find she has not followed the set-up procedure for restaurant events and the room looks a complete shambles. There are weeds masquerading as flowers on the tables, instead of my beautiful sugar sculptures.” Antoine looked as if it was all too much for him, and he put a hand on the table to steady himself. “Chef, as I stated in the restaurant, it’s too late to alter things now. You’re evidently not fully recovered from your illness.” Reeve tried hard to put sympathy into his voice, and he saw Kirsty’s shoulders droop. Could she feel the metaphorical boot kicking her out the door? Reeve longed to reassure her, but knew he couldn’t right now without letting Chef 111

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Antoine know what he was up to. “I think it would be best if you returned to your sickbed and left me in charge of things here. I promise that whatever happens at this reception, it will not in any way affect your reputation. The results of this afternoon’s function will be placed on Miss Lawrence’s shoulders, not yours.” “If it won’t inconvenience you, Mr. Stuart, I believe I’ll take you up on your suggestion.” Chef passed a weary hand over his forehead and pushed himself from the table. “I feel I’ve been affected by the influenza far more than I realised.” “I quite understand, Chef, so, by all means, go home and rest. I don’t expect to see you in the hotel again until Tuesday at the very earliest. This flu bug can knock you down very hard, and it takes several days to get it out of your system.” Reeve shook hands with Antoine, who tottered unsteadily from the room. Privately Reeve thought the man should have won an Oscar for his performance. Chef must have been laughing his head off at the way he thought he had made Kirsty the scapegoat. The thing that puzzled Reeve was why. What did he hope to gain by getting Kirsty fired? “Is everything ready, Miss Lawrence?” Despite the fact that over the last few days he had called her Kirsty when they were alone, he felt it best to revert to “Miss Lawrence” for the time being. **** To Kirsty, the use of her surname proved Reeve believed Chef’s tale of lies and deceit. Her voice low, she replied, “Yes, Mr. Stuart, everything is ready. All we need now are the guests.” Reeve smiled at her and hesitated. Should he reassure her and tell her he knew Antoine had lied? Before he could say 112

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anything, the kitchen staff returned, and he nodded at her and disappeared through the restaurant doors. The bridal party arrived an hour later and, although Kirsty kept extremely busy in the kitchen, she did manage to peep round the screen to check everyone was pleased with the room and food. When the meal had finished, Henri came into the kitchen. He ignored Kirsty and whisked the cake into the dining room. Sounds of laughter and clapping heralded the best man’s speech and the reading of emails, and Kirsty felt she could relax. As far as she could tell, everything had gone off as planned. Reeve suddenly appeared in the kitchen and approached her, a serious look on his face. Kirsty’s heart sank. What had gone wrong now? “Miss Lawrence, the parents of the bride would like a word with you. Follow me, please.” Kirsty apprehensively followed Reeve into the restaurant and up to the top table. She blinked with surprise as Mrs. Miller pulled her forward and Mr. Miller called for silence. “Now then, you lot,” he roared, “this is the young lady we have to thank for the perfect end to a lovely day. What’s your name, dear?” “Kirsty Lawrence.” “Well, Kirsty, we really appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to. It’s made our daughter’s happiest day extra special. Thank you. How about a round of applause, you lot.” Kirsty blushed and murmured her thanks. The guests were still clapping when she walked back across the room toward the kitchen doors. On her way she had to pass Henri and, under cover of the noise, she heard him mutter under his 113

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breath, “That’s it, take the credit that really belongs to somebody else. Not so quick to take any blame though, are you?” Hours later, with the dining room and kitchen set to rights again, Kirsty was wearily pulling on her coat when strong male hands took it from her. “Here, let me help.” Reeve smiled at her. “I couldn’t let you go without thanking you for doing such a fine job.” “But...” Kirsty frowned. “I don’t understand. After what Chef Antoine said I thought you’d be mad at me.” “What he said made no difference to the fact you worked extremely hard to make the reception a success. As to his accusations, we’ll deal with them next week when he returns.” Kirsty flashed him a watery smile and turned to go, but Reeve caught hold of her arm. This time no tingle or warm flush affected her. She felt far too tired and disillusioned to react to anything. “Kirsty, please listen. There are things happening you know nothing about. No matter what happens next week, please believe I’m on your side.” Kirsty frowned, then shook her head. This was all too much for her to take in. She’d had a long, tiring day, both emotionally and physically. She just wanted to go home and fall into bed. Wearily she moved away from Reeve, forcing him to release her arm. “Can we talk about this some other time?” she asked him. “I’m afraid I’m too tired to concentrate at the moment.” “Of course.” Reeve hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind. “Will you promise me one thing, though?” “Sure,” Kirsty said, not really paying attention to what he said. “Promise me you’ll trust me. No matter what happens.”

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Chapter 7 Kirsty was so tired she overslept the next morning and arrived at work an hour late. “Bother,” she muttered, struggling into her jacket and trousers. “This isn’t going to endear me to Reeve, is it?” She paused, his name jogging her memory. Vaguely she remembered him saying something last night about trusting him no matter what happened, but she’d been so tired she couldn’t have heard him correctly. One of the staff asked her a question as she entered the kitchen and the events of yesterday faded from her mind as the needs of today took priority. She tried several times to contact Reeve concerning a billing matter, but reception told her that Mr. Stuart had been called into the city on business. Business, huh, Kirsty thought scornfully. It’s all right for some. Here’s me worrying about oversleeping and it looks like he’s decided to make a business meeting an excuse to take the whole day off. Gina arrived for afternoon coffee demanding to know all about Kirsty’s date with Reeve. Kirsty had completely forgotten about the previous Tuesday, and Gina’s questions took her by surprise. “We had a nice meal,” she stated, after she’d told Gina 115

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which restaurant they’d gone to. “Then he drove me home.” “Surely there’s more to it than that?” Gina probed. “Not really. He’s quite pleasant to talk to when the subject isn’t the hotel. In fact, since Chef’s been ill, I’d begun to think he might be really nice. But now...” “Now what?” Gina took the bait, just as Kirsty had intended she should. Any subject was better than the events of Tuesday evening. Besides, the receptionist had always been a good friend and Kirsty needed to talk to someone about yesterday’s fiasco. “Gina, I need your advice. You know we had a wedding reception here yesterday.” Gina nodded, a curious expression on her face. “Well, Chef Antoine appeared about an hour before it started. He breezed into the kitchen and started shouting at me, saying I’d forgotten the reception. As soon as he realised I had everything under control, he called me a liar, then began to criticise things.” “What things?” Gina prompted. “The layout of the dining room for starters. He tried to make out he’d told me all about the booking and blamed me for Henri not being told. After calling me a liar in front of the kitchen staff, he insinuated the same thing in front of everybody in the restaurant. Then Mr. Stuart showed up and things went from bad to worse.” “Why? What did he do?” “Instead of telling Chef Antoine he’d overridden Henri and authorised the layout in the dining room, he told him it was too late to change things. Then Chef put on an act about dragging himself from his sick bed, and Mr. Stuart fell for it. He told him to go home, that he wouldn’t be expected back at 116

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work until Tuesday and they’d sort everything out then. Then Mr. Stuart said the outcome of the reception would affect my reputation, not Chef Antoine’s.” Kirsty looked at her friend, despair written all over her face. “Gina, I think Chef will be believed and I’m going to get the sack.” “Nonsense! Chef’s the one to blame, not you.” Gina put an arm round Kirsty. “Mind you, they’re not likely to give him the push, are they? Perhaps it’s time for you to move on, Kirsty. You’re a good chef and you shouldn’t have to put up with all this hassle. No matter what happens on Tuesday, you can’t possibly carry on working with Chef Antoine after this. If the hotel doesn’t appreciate you, then it’s their loss, and I shall tell Mr. Stuart so!” “Gina, you wouldn’t!” Kirsty drew back from her friend in horror. “Well, only if he asks me.” Gina grinned. “I’m serious though, Kirsty. You really should sort this mess out, and try to find another job. It’s going to be a choice between you and Antoine, and you can guess who everyone’s going to believe—Antoine. Even if you could prove it wasn’t your fault, they’d still take his side. Did you send off that application for the theatre restaurant?” “Yes. I filled it in and sent it. It won’t be much use, though, if I get the push from here. I won’t even be considered for such a top notch position. I can’t resign either, because I haven’t got enough savings to live on until I find another job. Gina, I’m caught in the middle and I don’t know what to do!” “First things first. Keep looking for other jobs and don’t give up on the theatre one until they let you know they’re not interested.” Gina methodically bent one finger after another as 117

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if she was checking the items on a list. “Next, stand up for yourself. Don’t let Chef Antoine walk all over you. There’s one thing he probably did that you might not have thought of.” “What’s that?” Kirsty asked eagerly. “Well, it sounds as if he expected to waltz in and save the day. If that’s the case, he must have made arrangements to cater the wedding. All you have to figure out is what, if anything, he’d organised and see if you can get some proof.” “He didn’t have to do anything, Gina. That’s the whole point. He wanted to make it look like I’m inefficient and unreliable.” Kirsty’s hopes were dashed once more because she’d really thought Gina had come up with something. “Inefficient and unreliable to who, though, Kirsty?” Gina’s finger prodded her friend in the side. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think Antoine’s trying to discredit you without allowing any of the blame to stick to his name. If yesterday’s function ended up as a disaster, the customers wouldn’t have cared less about the name of the sous-chef. They’d have wanted to know why the head chef hadn’t done their catering, and any blame would have stuck to his name. “I think he wanted to come in as a last-minute hero and save the day. To do that, he must’ve made arrangements to cover the catering so it could be delivered with only the slightest delay. Then everyone would have said what a wonder he is and how they couldn’t do without him.” “Do you know, you might have something there, Gina,” Kirsty said thoughtfully. “That’s exactly the way his mind works. There’s something else as well. He’s not just trying to get me in trouble…he’s trying to get me sacked, and I need to find out why.” “Maybe he’s got a friend or relation who needs a job,” 118

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Gina suggested with a shrug. “He can’t get rid of you without a reason, so he has to make it look as if he’s got one. Didn’t you say Mr. Stuart promised Chef Saturday’s reception would be your responsibility, and his reputation wouldn’t suffer. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you the function was a success? That means the credit goes against your name, not Antoine’s. I’d love to see his face when he realises it. Oh, no, look at the time. If anyone’s noticed I’ve been gone this long, I’ll be the one getting fired, not you!” Gina hurried off and Kirsty walked slowly back into the kitchen. She felt better after talking to her friend. Thinking over their discussion, she wondered if the receptionist could be right about Antoine ordering supplies for the wedding. How could she get proof of this? She mulled over the problem when she got home on Sunday night, but couldn’t reach any conclusion about how to investigate the matter. Now she felt glad she’d taken Gina’s earlier advice and filled in and sent off the application for the theatre restaurant. Kirsty had just signed for a vegetable delivery late on Monday morning when a solution for the supplies mystery struck her! If Antoine had prepared an alternate menu for the reception, then either he would have to foot the bill from his own pocket, or some of the regular suppliers would be sending their invoices to the hotel. One other thing bothered her about Chef placing a separate order—what on earth had he done with all that food? During the rest period after lunch, Kirsty sat at Antoine’s desk and looked up the list of regular suppliers. Would he have used the normal companies, or would he have gone to new outlets? She decided he would have gone to places where 119

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they knew him so he could be invoiced instead of paying cash. Apart from the fact only a few firms supplied specialty items for things like weddings and special dinners, if Chef Antoine did intend to pass the bills through the hotel accounts, it would be easier if they were from suppliers who knew him. Kirsty wondered which firm she should try first. Slowly, a grin pulled up the corners of her mouth. Of course! The caviar! The Millers had specifically requested Russian caviar, so that’s where she would start. Her first few calls brought her no joy. Nobody knew anything about an order for caviar for the Hibiscus Hotel. It seemed as if she would luck out on the next call as well when the woman on the phone at first denied any knowledge of an order. “Wait a minute! Did you say the Hibiscus Hotel? That’s where Chef Antoine works, isn’t it?” “Yes, that’s right. Chef’s sick at the moment and we need to trace his suppliers for caviar.” Kirsty held her breath as she waited for the woman to continue. “Well, we didn’t have an order for the hotel, but Chef Antoine put in a private order a few weeks ago. He picked it up on Friday afternoon.” “Thank you so much.” Kirsty nearly blew a kiss down the phone. “I’ll put your company’s name in the book of specialty suppliers.” As she put the phone down, Kirsty’s lips widened into a smile. This was what she’d been looking for. If Chef Antoine had picked up the order on Friday afternoon, why hadn’t he called to remind the hotel about the reception? He couldn’t tell Reeve Stuart he’d only remembered the wedding at the last minute if he’d picked up a delivery for the reception the 120

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day before. Kirsty began to giggle as she realised Antoine had literally been left holding a bucket of fish eggs. A few more phone calls informed her that Antoine had placed orders for supplies for the wedding at the beginning of the month, all with specific instructions to be delivered early on the Saturday afternoon and not before. Without exception, the firms stated he had phoned just before delivery time with profuse apologies and asked for the orders to be cancelled. He’d given the excuse there had been an accident and the wedding had been called off at the last minute. All orders had been placed in Antoine’s name, not the hotel, and Kirsty thought he had been very lucky the suppliers had been so understanding. When she tried to make an appointment to discuss her findings with Reeve, she was frustrated. Apparently he had left the hotel at lunchtime and wasn’t expected back until the following day. Monday evening’s dinner period went exceptionally well. Kirsty, with Reeve’s approval, had introduced several new dishes to the menu. Antoine’s choices were one main course, with variety provided by different vegetables, pasta, salad, soup and entrées. For the third course, the patrons had to make do with the dessert trolley. If necessary, Chef would personally prepare an omelet or some other quick dish for a valued customer. Kirsty had added another main course of contrasting content. For the Monday night’s main course, she’d prepared beef stroganoff and, as an alternative, diners could order a mixed fish platter. The dessert trolley was available as usual, but she’d added an alternative choice of hot apple pie with cream. The customers seemed pleased with the new option, 121

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and on one occasion Kirsty had been called into the restaurant to receive compliments from a party of diners. Kirsty arrived at the hotel early on Tuesday morning, before Chef Antoine or Reeve had put in an appearance. She wanted to be ready for any accusations Antoine threw at her. No way would she let him walk all over her and shout her down as he’d done on Saturday. Kirsty Lawrence meant to have her say and put up a good fight. Positive she would be fired anyway, she felt it wouldn’t make any difference if she angered Reeve and Chef. Antoine arrived and passed her written instructions for her work, then ignored her. The internal phone rang soon after the breakfast orders were finished and, still without speaking directly to her, Chef beckoned Kirsty to follow him as he led the way to Reeve’s office. Reeve waved them to the chairs they’d used at the last meeting in this room. Chef Antoine opened his mouth to speak, but Reeve started talking before Antoine had a chance to utter a word. “I’d like to say at the start of this meeting we’re not here to apportion blame, at least not until all the facts have been aired. We’re here to find out the truth.” He looked at Antoine. “Chef, would you begin by telling us what you know regarding the Millers’ reception. Start at the initial booking if you please.” “Several weeks ago Mrs. Miller rang to ask if we could cater for their daughter’s wedding reception. Their original venue had double booked, hence the reason for the lateness of the inquiry.” Chef paused and looked at Kirsty, his eyes full of malice. She realised Reeve would be unable to see Chef’s expression from his position, and therefore wouldn’t realise the 122

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enjoyment Antoine got from his explanation. “I told Lawrence immediately and asked her to let the head waiter know the date so he could make other arrangements regarding the guests and regular clientele. As you know, we’ve been extremely busy since then and it didn’t occur to me Lawrence hadn’t relayed the details to Henri. On Saturday I lay reading the paper in my sickbed when I realised the day’s date sounded familiar and suddenly it came to me! It was the date of the Miller wedding.” Antoine paused and shrugged his shoulders dramatically. “The rest you know. Lawrence has been remiss in her duties in recent weeks, so I hurried to the hotel, only to find that she hadn’t remembered to alert Henri until two days before the function, plus she’d totally ignored the standard format for wedding receptions, leaving the restaurant looking like a pigsty.” Antoine leaned back in his chair, his arms folded and a hurt expression on his face. “That’s not true!” Kirsty burst out. “And besides—” “Please, Miss Lawrence,” Reeve interrupted. “You’ll have your turn to speak later. So, Antoine, you maintain you left the details to Miss Lawrence and didn’t check to see if your orders had been carried out?” “I did indeed. That’s an oversight I now bitterly regret.” “And the ordering of the supplies? Who is usually in charge of that?” Reeve’s eyes narrowed as he waited for Antoine’s answer. “I regret to say I had an error of judgment in that regard.” Chef Antoine looked sorrowfully at Kirsty, but, in their depths, his eyes glinted with spite. “I thought Lawrence should be given the chance to do the catering. Of course, I intended to check everything, but, as you know, I was unfortu123

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nately stricken by this deadly bug. Alas, Lawrence proved herself not as capable as I originally thought her to be.” Kirsty found it difficult to keep herself from laughing at Chef’s dramatics. Like a cold shower, the thought rose in her mind this was not a laughing matter. Her career in the catering world depended on the outcome of this meeting. If only Reeve would listen to her before he made any decision. “Miss Lawrence, do you have anything to say regarding these allegations?” Reeve’s eyes were like chips of ice, and Kirsty’s heart sank. He’d already made up his mind and nothing she said could make any difference. She determined to have her moment of glory, though. “I most certainly do...” she began. “Please remember to stick to the facts, Miss Lawrence,” Reeve cautioned her. “Very well, Mr. Stuart. The facts are that when Chef Antoine became ill, I checked the kitchen engagement diary to see if any functions were booked. To my dismay, I found a wedding reception booked for Saturday—a wedding I knew nothing about. I therefore checked the special order book, which is kept for such functions. There were no orders relating to Saturday. “Consequently, I went over the menu for the wedding and contacted the necessary suppliers.” Kirsty paused for breath. Here goes, she thought. Reeve wants facts…well, he’s going to get them. “As you know, Mr. Stuart, I had difficulty obtaining any Russian caviar and you kindly arranged for some to be flown up from further south. I have since found out—” “Flown up!” Chef exploded. “Mr. Stuart, I do hope this will not be put against the kitchen budget. Although my staff made the mistake, I’m sure if I’d been here I could have ob124

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tained it locally. Besides which, Lawrence has already exceeded the daily budget by placing an extra course on the menu.” “You did obtain some caviar locally,” Kirsty said angrily. “I checked, and you picked up an order on Friday afternoon from Gunsey’s.” “Nonsense, Lawrence. I was sick in bed all day on Friday.” “But they said—” “Miss Lawrence, may I remind you that I stated I wanted facts, not hearsay.” Reeve turned to Antoine. “I can assure you, Chef Antoine, the cost for the transportation of the caviar will be taken from the hotel’s special emergency account, which I may use at my discretion. Miss Lawrence, have you anything else to say?” “Yes, I have, but I don’t see the point in continuing if you’ve already made up your mind I’m at fault. You accept what Chef Antoine says as fact, but anything I say is put down to hearsay. Despite your biased opinion, I feel I must state I was never, at any time, informed a wedding reception was to be held here last Saturday. Nor was I ordered to do anything regarding the function. And I am not a liar!” “My dear Miss Lawrence, nobody has suggested you’re lying.” Reeve’s eyes seemed warmer and appeared to be pleading for understanding, but Kirsty refused to pay attention to him. “Yes, they did! Chef Antoine accused me of lying on Saturday. He said it in front of the kitchen staff, if you want to check. Then, when he talked to Henri, he implied I had been untruthful. I can tell you one thing—I won’t go quietly. I know I’m in the right and if you want to get rid of me, you’ll 125

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have to sack me, and you’ll have to come up with a better excuse than this, or I’ll get the union onto you.” At this point, Kirsty ran out of breath, but she gasped in a great lung full of air and rose to her feet, intending to storm from the room. “Miss Lawrence,” Reeve said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Please sit down. This will not lead to a termination of your contract. However...” “Mr. Stuart, one moment, please.” Antoine had risen to his feet. “You may not feel it is a sacking matter, but I do. I cannot and will not have such a disobedient, lying, unreliable person on my staff. If Lawrence does not go, then I will!” He drew himself up to his full height and looked at Reeve, daring him to call his bluff. Reeve sighed, frustration showing in every line of his body as he turned to face Kirsty. “I think until tempers cool it might be better if you take the time off that’s owing to you, Miss Lawrence. To my knowledge, we owe you at least two days, plus your day off this week. May I suggest that, at the hotel’s expense, you remain at home until next Monday? By then I may have been able to sort something out regarding this matter.” “I insist that Lawrence is sacked,” Chef Antoine said haughtily. “I will not have such a devious, lying person anywhere near my kitchen. And don’t think you can sneak her in to take my place next Monday. I warn you now, I will not be taking my day off next week. I will not give her the opportunity to take control when I’m not there.” “Please, Chef, bear with me on this,” Reeve requested calmly. “Tempers have risen this morning, and I believe we should all have a cooling off period. We’ll sort this out next week when everyone is calmer. Until then, Miss Lawrence, 126

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you’re on paid leave.” Chef Antoine stuck his nose in the air and left the room, but when Kirsty tried to follow him, Reeve called her back. “Shut the door, please. Now, what were you saying about the caviar?” he asked. “Why do you want to know?” Kirsty allowed her anger to surface. “It’s not facts, merely something the lady at Gunsey’s told me over the phone.” “Then it won’t hurt to tell me, will it?” Reeve’s dark head tilted to one side. “Oh, all right! She said Chef Antoine had picked up some caviar on Friday afternoon. Exactly the amount needed for the reception. Apparently he didn’t put it on the hotel account, but on his own personal account. Several of our other suppliers also said he placed orders, then cancelled them early Saturday afternoon. He gave the excuse an accident had happened and the reception had to be cancelled.” Kirsty paused, then decided she might as well say everything on her mind. “There’s also the fact that, if Chef Antoine lay ill in bed on Friday, why did I see him twice at the shopping centre when I went to get those vases? The first time I could’ve been mistaken, but the second time, I know I saw him, even though he took great pains to walk quickly away.” “Perhaps Chef has a double. They say everybody has one somewhere in the world.” Reeve appeared to casually dismiss her comment. “You do realise this proves nothing, don’t you, Kirsty? It’s your word against his. I’m afraid there’s not a lot I can do about it at the moment.” “No, there’s not, is there? As you say, it’s my word against his, and we all know who you’re going to believe, don’t we? You didn’t even tell him you authorised the altera127

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tions to the wedding reception layout and agreed to the extra main course. You let me take the blame instead.” Kirsty strode toward the door, anger in every step that she took, but Reeve caught her arm before she had taken more than a few steps. He spun her round and, before she realised what was happening, his arms wrapped tightly around her and his lips found hers. Once more the heat flowed through her body, turning her limbs to jelly, and her anger turned to yearning as she responded to his caress. Slowly the kiss ended and Reeve gently pulled back. “Give me time, Kirsty? Please.” “Time for what?” Desire made Kirsty’s voice husky, but then she remembered how he had betrayed her and she pushed him away. She wiped her lips, and with that gesture, she tried to wipe the embrace from her thoughts. “Time for you to cook up something else against me. Why did you kiss me like that? To lull me into a false sense of security? Make me think you’re on my side? You should be careful, Mr. Stuart, because the mood I’m in, I’m likely to have you up on charges of sexual harassment.” “I suppose this means our day at the hot pools is off?” Kirsty stared at him in disbelief, but Reeve looked completely serious. She reached for the door and flung it open, then turned, determined to have the last word. “You really are the limit, you know. Do you think I’d even consider going out with you after the way you’ve shafted me? The next time you’ll see me, Mr. Stuart, will be on Monday morning.” Kirsty left the room and took great satisfaction in slamming the door behind her. Before she left the hotel, Kirsty had to retrieve her bag from the staff room. Holding her head high, she stalked 128

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through the kitchen and into the small room where the staff kept their outdoor clothes and personal items. Antoine wasn’t anywhere to be seen and, in her haste to be gone before he returned, she nearly tore her uniform jacket as she ripped it from her body. After snatching up her bag, she marched out of the room and headed for the outer door. The kitchen maids watched her in amazement. They didn’t know what was going on, and Kirsty realised, to them, it must look as if she’d been fired. She reached the area outside the kitchens and her heart dropped as she saw Antoine leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He must have been waiting for her because, as soon as he caught sight of her, he levered himself upright and barred her way. “Lawrence, listen to me. You’re not going to win this battle. If you admit you’re wrong, I’ll write you a good reference so you can get a decent job elsewhere. All you have to do is tell Mr. Stuart I’d given you orders regarding the reception, and that you forgot and then told lies about it.” “Why should I do that? You know as well as I do that you were the one at fault.” Kirsty glared at him, daring him to refute her words. “Have it your way, Lawrence, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll only have yourself to blame when you’re left without a job and no references.” His malevolent smile sent a shiver down Kirsty’s spine. “I hope you realise you’re looking at the end of your career in catering.” Pushing roughly past her, Antoine walked back into the kitchen. Kirsty watched him go, then her shoulders sagged in despair as she made her way to her car. He was right. If Reeve believed Antoine and fired her, then any hopes she had for her 129

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future career would be over. Tired with the whole situation she climbed into her old banger and drove slowly home. Several hours later she looked around her small kitchen and wondered what on earth had possessed her to make so much food. With an unhappy smile, she admitted to herself she always cooked when things seemed bad…it gave her a sort of comfort. Before she could decide what to do with this colossal amount of baking, the phone rang. “Kirsty, is that you?” Gina asked. “Of course it is, you idiot. Who did you think it’d be?” “What happened?” Gina’s voice was barely audible as she whispered her question. “Word around the hotel is you’ve been fired. Is that right?” “No, suspended. Reeve Stuart believed Antoine and things got rather overheated so he suggested—no, actually he ordered—me to take time off. I’ll be away from work until next Monday.” Kirsty glanced at the worktop full of food and a smile lit up her face, although it didn’t reach her unhappy eyes. “Hey, Gina, how about coming for an early lunch tomorrow before you go to work? I can tell you all about it then.” “Been baking to take your mind off things?” Gina knew Kirsty’s habit when unhappiness darkened her mood. “Okay, I’ll come about eleven. Is that all right with you?” Gina arrived the following day and looked at the sumptuous display of food laid out on the table. A groan escaped her lips. “You really did have a cooking binge, didn’t you? Those two men must have got right under your skin because this is too much, even for you.” Kirsty laughed, but it sounded hollow, and Gina looked 130

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at her keenly. “Right, you make the coffee while I freshen up, then you can tell Aunty Gina all about it.” Ten minutes later the two women sat down at the loaded table and, with a little prompting, Kirsty told her friend what had happened. “Glad to hear you took me up on my suggestion. Surely Mr. Stuart listened when you said you’d checked with Gunsey’s?” Gina wanted to know. “He said he wanted to hear facts, not hearsay. He let me take all the blame, right down to the layout of the restaurant and the extra course on the daily menus. The rotten so-and-so still didn’t mention he’d authorised everything!” Kirsty took a bite of her spinach quiche. “Although, to be fair, he did ask about the caviar when Antoine had gone.” Kirsty thought she’d better not mention the passionate embrace and Reeve’s words. He’d only done it to distract her so he could get things to turn out the way he wanted. In his own way, Reeve could be as devious as Antoine. “Gina, Antoine is doing this deliberately. When I left the hotel, he was waiting for me. He said if I admitted I’d lied he’d make sure I got a good reference.” “And if you didn’t admit it? What then?” Gina wanted to know. “Reeve will believe him, and I’ll get the sack. Added to that, Antoine will blacken my name in the catering world. The final outcome will be the end of my career.” Kirsty had tears in her eyes as she picked up the empty plates and took them into the kitchen. “But that’s not fair!” Gina shouted after her. “He can’t do that, can he?” 131

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“Gina, life’s not fair,” Kirsty told her as she came back to the table after wiping her cheeks. “And yes, he can do it. Antoine’s word carries a lot of weight in catering and if he puts it about I’m no good, then that’s it. My lifetime dream is down the drain.” “We’ll see about that,” Gina said fiercely, and Kirsty hastened to caution her friend. “Gina, don’t do anything silly. This is among me, Antoine and Reeve Stuart. I’d hate for you to get caught up in the middle of it all. You might lose your job, and I’d never forgive myself if you suffered for me.” “What are friends for?” Gina wanted to know, then, seeing Kirsty’s face, she reluctantly gave in. “All right, I won’t say anything, but I will keep my eyes and ears open. You never know…I might be able to get some dirt on Antoine.” Early the next morning Kirsty pushed her muesli around and around in the bowl and jumped when the phone went. “Hello,” she said, assuming it was Gina. “Good morning, could I speak to Kirsty Lawrence, please.” “I’m Kirsty.” She wondered who on earth this woman was and why she’d rung her at this time of the morning. “I’m calling on behalf of the Apollo restaurant. I’m sorry it’s such short notice, but we wondered if you could come in for an interview.” “Pardon?” Kirsty couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “The theatre restaurant,” the woman explained. “You applied for the position of head chef.” “Head Chef,” Kirsty repeated. “I mean, yes, of course I did. Did you say you wanted me to come in for an interview?” “Yes. We wondered if you’d be able to come in this 132

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morning?” “This morning.” She could hear herself repeating the other woman’s words, but couldn’t stop herself. “That shouldn’t be a problem. What time?” “Would eleven o’clock be suitable? Here at the restaurant. I apologise again for the short notice, but one of our panel has to leave for America tomorrow.” “Eleven would be fine.” After the woman rang off, a shaken Kirsty felt her legs give way and she flopped into a chair. They thought her good enough to interview! Just wait until she told Gina. She sat going over the conversation in her mind until she reached the part where the interview time was arranged. With a start she looked at the clock and realised she’d have to hustle to be ready on time. After shooting into the bedroom, Kirsty rummaged through her wardrobe. Should she go for smart casual, or would business woman be more appropriate? She glanced out the window to check the weather and realised the sun was shining out of a clear blue sky. After several false starts, Kirsty decided on a beige linen trouser suit with a red blouse. Fifteen minutes later she slipped on her fawn shoes and frantically stuffed her belongings into the matching handbag. She grabbed her keys and dashed down the stairs and out the door. She still had an hour to go when she left Orewa, but knowing how the traffic into Auckland could build up, she realised by the time she reached the city and found a parking space she’d be cutting things a bit fine. The journey went well until she reached the Harbour Bridge, where she found the cars at a standstill. At the crest of the bridge, the blue and red 133

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lights of police cars flashed, and in the distance she could hear the ambulance siren rapidly getting louder as it made its way towards them. The dashboard clock showed ten-thirty, and Kirsty tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “Come on. Come on,” she muttered, then felt ashamed of herself. Someone up ahead might be hurt or dying, and selfishly she had thought only of herself. Despite her guilty feelings, she sighed with relief when the police started directing traffic onto the clip on lanes and she soon headed off the motorway at the Cook Street turnoff. Arriving with five minutes to spare, she tidied her hair and checked her makeup before entering the building. Satisfied she looked her best, she pushed open the glass doors leading from the foyer to the restaurant and approached the young man standing behind the reception desk. “Can I help you?” “My name is Kirsty Lawrence. I have an appointment at eleven o’clock.” “If you’ll take a seat, I’ll let them know you’re here.” Kirsty sat nervously on the edge of a dining chair and watched the man cross the room to a door at the side of the reception area. He soon returned and ushered Kirsty into the interview room. Three people sat behind a large kauri table on the other side of the room and Kirsty felt her stomach churn, but she straightened her shoulders and told herself she had the qualifications and the capability to do this job. “Do sit down.” The only woman of the panel gestured to a chair on Kirsty’s side of the table and she crossed the room and sat, tucking her legs discreetly to one side. “Thank you for attending this interview at such short no134

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tice,” the slimmer of the two men stated. “Now that’s she’s here, let’s get on with it,” the stouter gentleman snapped. “You’re fully qualified as a head chef, so why are you working as a sous-chef?” “My main reason is because it gives me the chance to work with one of the best chefs in the country.” “I wouldn’t have thought you’d pick up much experience in such a tiny hotel.” “Why did you apply for this job?” The woman frowned at the previous questioner. “I felt it was time to use my talents to their full potential.” Kirsty hoped this didn’t sound too pompous, but she could hardly state Antoine had been trying to sabotage her career. “When I saw your advertisement in the trade papers, I knew I should apply.” “You knew?” “Yes,” Kirsty answered the antagonistic man. “I have the necessary qualifications, and I now have the practical experience. I also know I can do the job.” “Your present position is at a fairly quiet location.” The slimmer man spoke so quietly Kirsty had to strain to hear his words. “What makes you think you’d be able to cope with a busy theatre restaurant?” “I worked in Wellington for two busy restaurants while I completed my training. I believe I coped very well with the pressures of non-stop clientele.” More questions followed. The woman’s were sensible, eliciting the information she wanted with the minimum of words. The antagonistic man barked a few queries, and the quiet man only asked one more question. “If we were to offer you the position of head chef, what 135

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type of contract would you require?” “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” Kirsty frowned. Surely they had the right to state the terms of employment? “Some chefs have specific clauses in their contracts stating what they will or will not accept in their kitchen and their staff.” “If you offered me the position, I’d need to discuss the contract terms with my employers, which presumably means yourselves. I’m not unreasonable and I’m sure we could come to some mutual agreement.” “I think that’s all, gentlemen?” The woman glanced at each man in turn, and both responded with a nod of the head. “Do you have any questions to ask us, Miss Lawrence?” “I’d like to know a little more about the kitchen, the number of staff and the expected number of covers during the dining hours.” Once her questions had been answered, Kirsty rose to leave. Both men stood politely, but the woman came around the table and escorted Kirsty to the door. “Thank you once again for coming in at such short notice. We’ll be in touch in a few weeks and, if you’re successful, we’d need you to start in six weeks. You would, of course, also be expected to participate in the choosing of the senior kitchen staff.” On her way back up the motorway, Kirsty kept going over in her mind her responses to the interviewers. Had she come across as too sure of herself? Had she made them aware of her experience and confidence of being in charge of a large, busy kitchen? “Well, it’s too late now.” Her voice shook with relief that she’d survived the ordeal. “They’ll either choose me or 136

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they won’t.” She spent the rest of the week trying to forget both the interview with Reeve and Antoine, and the one for the job at the theatre restaurant. **** Reeve hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. He steepled his fingers in front of his chin and tapped them absently against one another as he considered the information he’d just received. The Garden Group had purchased the theatre restaurant a few months ago and he’d asked to be kept informed of any likely applicants for the head chef position. To be told they were seriously considering Kirsty had surprised him. Why would she be looking for another job now? True, things had been difficult for her recently, but didn’t she believe him when he told her everything would soon be sorted out? If things went the way he wanted, she would have no need to look for another job. A few weeks ago he would have considered this evidence of her guilt, but now he knew this wasn’t true. He should have been pleased for her, but he’d grown fond of her and didn’t want to lose her. Unfortunately, it looked as if this could be a distinct possibility. If only he could tell her what he was trying to do, but it was too soon. He needed more proof before he could show his hand and the trail had proved to be elusive. He’d checked everything he could think of regarding Chef Antoine, but still couldn’t fathom why the man would try to bring about Kirsty’s downfall. Antoine had visited him every morning to reaffirm he would not allow Kirsty back into his kitchen. Reeve sighed in frustration, then realised he 137

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was looking at the filing cabinets and an idea flashed into his mind. He jumped up and crossed the room to rummage through the drawers holding the staff contracts. Finding Antoine’s he sat down at the desk and slowly began to read through it. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, his finger pointing to the spot he’d just read. “That’s the reason he’s picking on Kirsty.” A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but then he grew more sober. “Please, Kirsty, hang on a few more days,” he pled quietly, wishing he had some way to make her keep trusting him. **** Each day off work dragged as Kirsty tried to stay busy and keep her mind off the hotel. Every time the phone rang, she half expected it to be Reeve, although he had no real reason to call her. At night she tossed and turned until sleep claimed her, but Reeve haunted her dreams. His kiss had affected her more than she’d realised. Every morning she woke with the warmth of his arms around her, and for a moment she would lie there content. Then she would realise it was a figment of her imagination. Reeve Stuart was not her lover, he was her betrayer! All too soon, Monday arrived and a nervous sous-chef made her way to work in the early morning sunshine. She hadn’t even reached the staff changing room when Chef Antoine ordered her from the kitchen. “I have repeated my statement to Mr. Stuart, Lawrence. Your services are no longer required at this hotel. He promised me he would speak with you this morning, no doubt to give you formal notice. Unfortunately, it seems he will not be in today. I’m sorry to say you’re not welcome in my kitchen 138

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and, as far as I’m concerned, your employment has already terminated.” Antoine looked at Kirsty, a nasty gleam in his eye. He lowered his voice so the kitchen staff couldn’t hear him. “That’s it, Lawrence. I gave you the opportunity to save something for yourself out of this situation, but you wouldn’t listen, would you? Well, it’s too late now. The catering business has had enough of you. Your career’s finished, Lawrence!”

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Chapter 8 Blinded by tears, Kirsty drove as far as the beach before she stopped on the grass verge overlooking the sand and sea. Despite the beautiful view in front of her, she was unaware of her surroundings. Chef Antoine’s last words were what hurt the most. All her dreams of the future had been blown away by the actions of one vindictive man, and she still didn’t know why he’d done it. Thinking back over the events of the past few weeks, Kirsty tried to figure out when he’d begun to act in such a weird way. At first she thought it had started when Reeve Stuart arrived at the hotel, but then she remembered little things that had happened prior to then—a finishing touch missing from a plate, even though she knew she’d done it properly; a salty taste to a sweet dish when the caster sugar bag still remained on her work space. These and many more errors had been blamed on her, and each one had earned her a soft reprimand from Chef Antoine, with a reminder to keep her mind on her work. Chef had seemed so understanding about these small lapses that Kirsty had convinced herself she must have been at fault, but now she knew better. He’d known exactly what had 140

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happened each time because he’d been the one making things go wrong. How could she have been so dense? She should have realised someone was trying to sabotage her work, even if it hadn’t occurred to her the someone responsible was Chef Antoine. Rummaging in her bag, Kirsty found a tissue to wipe her tear-stained face and blow her nose. Before her stretched the golden sand and turquoise sea. It seemed wrong to be so tense and unhappy in such a setting and her senses calmed, leaving her feeling limp and worn out. Her thoughts turned to Reeve. Chef Antoine had made a fool of her professionally, but the new owner had taken her for a ride emotionally as well. She’d been so gullible to believe his “promise me you’ll trust me, no matter what happens.” Well, if she had been fired, she needed to let him know exactly what she thought of his underhanded methods. Chef Antoine had said Reeve had taken a day off from the hotel, so he would probably be at home. Kirsty drove back to the highway. She headed south, searching for the side road Reeve had taken on their evening out. So much had happened since that night, she could hardly believe only two weeks had passed. She recognised the road and turned the car into it. Several metres later the road surface changed to a dirt finish and she saw Reeve’s yellow villa nestling in front of the horse paddocks. A knock on the front door brought no response, so Kirsty knocked harder, then hammered with her fist. Still no response. She decided to have a look around and see if she could find Reeve at the rear of the property. She passed the garage and noticed a window in the side door and, standing on tip141

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toe, she caught a glimpse of Reeve’s car parked inside. “Well, at least he’s somewhere around,” she muttered to herself. No Reeve could be seen at the back of the villa. Kirsty returned to the front to try the doors. He could be inside, but hadn’t heard her. Then again, knowing her luck, everything would be locked up and the elusive Reeve Stuart would have been taken out for the day by friends, even though he’d said he didn’t know anybody in the area. She no longer put any trust in anything he’d told her. The kitchen door opened at her touch and she nearly fell into the room beyond. Even more surprising was the state of the kitchen. What a mess! Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink and some had even crashed to the floor. She stepped into the room and her foot slid on potato peelings, which had overflowed from the waste bin. Knowing how immaculate Reeve appeared in the workplace, Kirsty could only surmise he liked being a slob about the house on his days off, but somehow that didn’t ring true. “Hello,” she called nervously. “Is anyone home?” At first she could hear no reply, then from one of the rooms off the nearby hallway Kirsty heard a low groan. “Mr. Stuart, is that you?” She walked further into the kitchen, then crossed to the hallway door. “Reeve, are you there?” This time the groan sounded louder, and she realised it had come from behind the nearest slightly ajar door. Kirsty’s hand trembled as she reached out to push the door wider. Slowly it swung back to reveal a dishevelled figure groaning as he tossed and turned in the tousled bed. She blinked as the face rolled towards her and she recognised the unshaven, 142

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gaunt features of Reeve. The grey eyes were no longer expressionless. They were wild with fever, and Kirsty hurried forward and placed her hand on his forehead. The skin felt hot and dry and she noticed his lips were cracked with flecks of blood where they’d dried out. “Reeve, can you hear me?” She leaned closer to him, trying to make him understand her words. “It’s me, Reeve, Kirsty Lawrence. How long have you been like this?” His body tossed away from her touch, and Kirsty slung her bag into a nearby chair, then hurried out into the hallway. Thank heavens she’d taken that extra course of healthcare when she was at college. She found the linen cupboard and took fresh sheets, pillow cases, a washcloth and thick towel into the bedroom. Fetching a bowl from the kitchen, she filled it with lukewarm water, then carried it back to the sick man. Carefully Kirsty removed the T-shirt Reeve wore and gently rinsed his face and upper torso. As she towelled him dry her hand lingered on his chest, her fingers tracing the damp whorls which outlined his nipples. Reeve moved and she finished the ablutions with a light dusting of talcum powder. She rummaged through the dresser drawers until she found a clean T-shirt and pulled this over Reeve’s head, hiding that tempting chest from view. Except for that one moan Reeve had been quiet during her ministrations, but now he began tossing and turning once more and several minutes passed before he calmed enough for her to change the sheets. Pushing him over to one side of the bed, Kirsty propped him up with pillows so he wouldn’t roll back, then stripped the bed and remade it with clean sheets. Realising his body had been starved of moisture, Kirsty 143

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hurried to the messy kitchen and searched until she found a jug and glass. “He’ll have to make do with water for the time being,” she muttered, filling the jug from the kitchen tap. “I’ll make him some juice later.” She placed the jug on the bedside table, poured out a glass, then sat beside Reeve and propped him up against her body as she tried to get him to drink. As soon as his lips felt the water caress them, he grabbed at the glass and tried to gulp down the liquid as quickly as he could, but Kirsty pulled the drink away from him. “No, Reeve,” she told him gently. “Take it slowly or you’ll make yourself sick.” Although he showed no awareness of her presence, her words seemed to reach him and he no longer tried to gulp the water. Instead he allowed her to dribble the liquid past his dry lips. Kirsty thought one glass should be enough for now, and she settled him back into the bed. He seemed more comfortable as he drifted into a quiet sleep. For a few moments Kirsty stood and looked down at him. His stubbled chin indicated he’d been like this for a couple of days and the dark, untidy hair lay damply across his forehead. She reached out and tenderly pushed it back, realising his forehead no longer felt dry. Kirsty had come here intending to tell this man what she thought of him, but she couldn’t do that now. Despite her concern for his illness, as she stood with her hand on his forehead, her thoughts turned from motherly concern to a romantic interlude. She imagined herself lying next to him on the bed. He turned towards her, his hand sliding to the fastenings of her clothes as he removed every last scrap of cover from 144

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her body. His eyes were full of admiration as they swept over her bare body and slowly, ever so slowly, he started to make delicious love to her. Reeve groaned, bringing Kirsty back to the fever-laden bedroom. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be imagining him making love to her whilst he lay there dehydrated and feverish. Sheepishly she took her hand from his forehead and crept from the room. In the kitchen she stood with hands on hips and surveyed the mess. Leaving the hall door ajar so she could hear Reeve if he called, she marched towards the sink of dishes and turned on the tap. A smile touched her lips as she thought of the first time she had met Reeve. Now their roles were reversed and it was she who was left to clear up the dirty crockery. Several hours passed before he stirred, and during that time, Kirsty cleared the mess away and searched the pantry and cupboards to see what food he had. A saucepan of dried vegetables now simmered slowly on the hob and a demi-glace mixture stood to one side, waiting to be liquidised with the vegetables into a smooth puree. Once she had cleaned the kitchen, Kirsty could see it had been recently modernised. The dark blue work surfaces were unstained, and the cabinets still emitted a pine aroma from their natural state. The floor had been so dirty Kirsty had swept, then mopped it clean. Beneath the potato peelings and broken crockery she found blue floor tiles with the grout still sparkling white. She sat at the now-spotless kitchen table enjoying a cup of coffee when a succession of coughs from the bedroom alerted her that Reeve was awake. She hurried in to see if he was all right. “Hi,” she said, as his eyes turned towards the move145

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ment at his bedroom door. “Kirsty! What are you doing here?” Reeve struggled to sit up, but the effort became too much for him and he slumped back against the pillows. He looked at Kirsty as if he thought he might be hallucinating, and she hurried forward and touched his hand. “You really are here, aren’t you?” he croaked. “I don’t understand, how did you...” “How did I get in?” Kirsty teased. “You left the back door unlocked, and before you ask what I’m doing here, I’ll only tell you if you promise to lie there quietly.” Reeve didn’t say anything, and Kirsty took that as agreement he would lie still. “I came here to have an argument with you…well, not exactly an argument. I really wanted to tell you what I thought of you.” Kirsty grinned at him. “Perhaps I should do that now I’ve got you where you can’t put up a fight. No, I’m only joking. When I got here, you didn’t reply to my knock on the door, but your car was in the garage. I tried the back door, found it open and called out to you. I heard groaning, so I came farther into the house and located this room. You were tossing and turning and obviously dehydrated. I couldn’t leave you like that, could I? So I stayed to try and make you more comfortable. That’s it.” She moved towards the door, intending to fetch the jug of juice she’d made for him. “You’re not going, are you?” Reeve pleaded in a croaky voice. “No, I’ll be back in a minute. I’ve made some juice. You must get as much liquid into you as possible. Stay there and I’ll be right back.” 146

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By the time Kirsty returned to the bedroom Reeve had fallen asleep and she crept back to the kitchen so as not to disturb him. He woke again in mid-afternoon. This time he slowly drank two glasses of the juice Kirsty had made before he settled back on the pillows. “Why on earth didn’t you phone for someone to come and take care of you?” Kirsty wanted to know. “There isn’t anybody,” he stated. “My parents are dead, and my sister lives in Australia. Besides, I thought I had a mild bout of flu at first. By the time I realised how badly it had affected me, it was too late.” “Well, they say every cloud has a silver lining.” There was a hint of bitterness in Kirsty’s voice. “If Chef Antoine hadn’t chucked me out of the kitchen, I wouldn’t have got mad as a hatter and driven up here to tell you what I thought of you.” “Wait a minute, what do you mean Chef Antoine chucked you out of the kitchen?” Reeve frowned. He looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “Oh, come off it, Reeve. You and he made up your minds that I had to go, and it just needed you to tell me the bad news. At least that’s the way Antoine tells it.” Reeve was still frowning at her, and Kirsty sighed. “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you. When I arrived at work this morning, Chef Antoine told me to get out of his kitchen. He said you’d both decided I should go and all that remained was for you to give me formal notice. The fact you weren’t at the hotel meant the notice would have to be delayed, but it didn’t mean he had to put up with me in his kitchen. As far as he was concerned, my employment had already been terminated.” 147

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“Really?” Reeve looked thoughtful. “I’m afraid Chef Antoine has jumped the gun a bit there. I had no intention of sacking you. Kirsty, do me a favour, would you?” “Sure, what do you want?” Kirsty expected him to ask for more juice, or perhaps help getting to the bathroom. “Stay away from the hotel until I’m back on my feet again? Please,” he said as she opened her mouth to say she’d do no such thing. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I need to think about this a bit, and I’m afraid my mind’s not up to it at present.” “All right, I’ll stay away for the rest of this week. You should be able to return to work by next Monday, so I’ll come back then.” She chewed her bottom lip, then grinned at him. “And I’ll expect to be paid for this time as well.” “Don’t worry. There won’t be any problem with that.” Reeve smiled back at her, and although his skin had a sickly pallor, the smile made him look like a little boy who’d just been given a new toy. “Well, if you don’t rest, you’ll be the one who isn’t there next Monday,” she told him firmly, drawing the duvet up around his shoulders. “Now try and get some sleep.” Kirsty pottered around the kitchen tidying things away and wondered why she felt so happy. Despite the fact Reeve had said he had no intention of sacking her, nothing had really changed. No way would Antoine allow her back into his kitchen. In any case, why should she trust Reeve? He’d stood back and let her take the rap far too often for her liking. She decided to forget about work for now and concentrate on looking after Reeve. Perhaps that was why she felt so happy. She had him just where she wanted him—helpless and at her mercy. Reeve didn’t wake again until early evening and Kirsty 148

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entered the room with a tray. “Mmm, that smells good,” he said, pulling himself into a sitting position. “I feel a lot better now, and I’m starving.” “Well, you’ll have to put up with a light diet for the time being,” Kirsty told him. “I’ve made you some vegetable puree.” “Oh, yuck! I’m not a baby, you know. In fact, I’ve been cutting up my own food for years.” “Really?” Kirsty looked at him with a serious expression on her face, but her eyes twinkled with humour. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d passed the spoon and pusher stage yet. Here, get it down you before it gets cold.” She placed the tray on his lap, but forced herself to refrain from picking up the napkin and tucking it under his chin. She felt surprised with herself. Even though she had him at her mercy, that didn’t explain this feeling of wanting to mother him and take care of him! Not wanting to stare at him while he ate, she let her gaze rove around the room. The decorators had been here, too, and Kirsty thought how much the room suited him. He’d relieved the grey of the wallpaper with a few pop art paintings and dark blue velour curtains. The duvet on the queen-size pine bed matched the curtains, while the carpet tended toward a lighter blue. Mixed with the musky smell of Reeve’s body, Kirsty could detect a hint of the spicy aftershave he always wore. “That was delicious!” Reeve stated as he put the spoon back into the empty bowl. “How come you’ve never got married, Kirsty? With cooking like that, you must have had hundreds of men after you.” “Hundreds! I don’t think so.” Kirsty bent to pick up the 149

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tray, but Reeve placed his hand on her arm, stalling her. “Stay the night, Kirsty? Please!” His eyes begged her not to go, and she gently disengaged his fingers, then picked up the tray. “I had no intention of leaving you on your own tonight. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve made up the bed in the next room so I can hear if you want anything in the night. We’ll see if you feel better tomorrow, and if you do, I’ll get some food in for you before I go.” “Thank you.” Kirsty took the tray to the kitchen and washed up the few dishes, then sat down to finish the light supper she’d been eating when Reeve woke up. Once she’d cleaned and tidied the kitchen, she went to see if Reeve needed anything before settling down for the night. She found him half out of bed and hurried forward, scolding as she moved. “What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t spend all day trying to make you comfortable so you could undo all my good deeds by getting up too soon.” “Kirsty, wait,” Reeve protested weakly as she pushed him back into bed. “I’m not comfortable, but I didn’t want to embarrass you.” “Whatever do you mean?” She frowned at him, then her brow cleared. “Oh, sorry. I should’ve thought of that. You want to visit the bathroom, don’t you?” “Please,” he said, surprisingly showing more embarrassment than she felt. She steadied him as he got out of bed and shuffled across the hall to the bathroom. “There,” she said, putting his hand on the rail beside the toilet. “I’ll leave you with that to hold onto. Give a 150

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shout when you’re finished.” A few minutes later she tucked Reeve back into bed and made sure he had everything he needed before he settled down for the night. “Your juice is on the table next to the bedside light, and I found this little bell in one of the kitchen drawers. Ring it if you need me. I’m in the next room.” “What are you going to do now?” Reeve queried. “I’m off to bed,” Kirsty stated, surprised that he should ask. “I go to bed fairly early because I have to get up early for work. It’s a hard habit to break.” Kirsty gave his duvet a final twitch, then left the room. Too tired to even have a quick splash in the bathroom, she went to the room next to Reeve’s. Whilst Reeve had slept that afternoon Kirsty had liberated one of his T-shirts and she now took off her trousers and blouse and put the shirt on to wear to bed. Despite the fact it had been laundered, it still had the distinct male smell of Reeve, and Kirsty found herself hugging it to her body as she snuggled down in the bed. Within minutes, her eyes closed and she was fast asleep. “Wassat? What’s the matter?” Kirsty woke with a start. No light shone through the window and she wondered what had woken her. “I must’ve been dreaming,” she decided, turning over to go back to sleep. The tinkling of the bell from the next room disturbed her attempt to settle and she hurried to see what Reeve needed. A smile crossed her lips when she opened the door and saw him lying flat on his face, the covers tangled around him. The bell had fallen from the bedside table and was lying on the duvet. As Kirsty watched Reeve stirred and his movements 151

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made the bell tinkle as the duvet slipped beneath it. She picked up the bell and replaced it on the table. Then she gently tugged the duvet from under Reeve and covered his body. For a few moments she stood beside the bed looking down on him, a small smile tickling her lips. He looked so vulnerable lying there, she wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him not to worry. Shaking her head in wonder at her feelings, Kirsty returned to her own room and, within moments, she was asleep again. The sun shining through the window woke her the next morning, and for a minute, she wondered where she was. A tinkling of the bell in the room next door reminded her, and she hurriedly pulled on her clothes and went to say good morning to Reeve. “Hi,” he said as she entered the room. “I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?” “Cheeky so-and-so,” Kirsty replied. “I’m glad to see you’re looking better. How are you feeling this morning?” “Not too bad.” Reeve seemed surprised. “I thought I’d feel like death warmed up, but apart from an all over feeling of weariness, I feel as if yesterday could have been a dream.” “You might be feeling a bit better, but don’t try and get out of bed today. If you do, you’ll soon find out just how weak you are. Now what do you want for breakfast?” “Toast, marmalade, juice, coffee.” Reeve gave her a cheeky look. “Eggs Benedict, glass of wine.” “So far all I can manage is the coffee,” Kirsty told him. “There’s no bread left, I haven’t seen any marmalade and you’re out of juice as well.” “Bread’s in the freezer in the garage, marmalade is at the back of the pantry and the juice is growing on the trees in the 152

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back yard.” Reeve folded his arms, waiting for the question he knew Kirsty would ask. “I beg your pardon, did you say the juice was growing on the trees in the back yard?” Kirsty looked at him with disbelief. “What have you got, an orchard or something?” “Nope, just a few trees. I usually squeeze the fruit fresh each morning. There’s a juicer in the cupboard.” “Ok...ay. First let’s get you to the toilet, then I’ll make the breakfast while you get yourself comfortable.” She noticed Reeve’s movements were much stronger this morning and she had no qualms about leaving him whilst she went to the kitchen. A trip to the back yard proved he hadn’t been joking. She had a choice of orange or grapefruit and decided to squeeze both as Reeve was no doubt still a bit dehydrated. Kirsty picked up the tray and turned to take it into Reeve’s room. She almost dropped it when she saw him standing in the doorway. “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked angrily. “I am capable of walking across the hallway to my bedroom,” he retorted. “Can’t we have breakfast on the veranda?” “Not today,” Kirsty told him and hustled him in front of her, making him move toward the bedroom. “It’s a bit windy outside. Now get into bed like a good boy, and I’ll get my breakfast and keep you company.” “Yes, Mother.” Reeve pecked Kirsty’s cheek as she bent over to place the tray on his lap. She pulled back quickly as her cheeks turned bright pink. “I’ll get my breakfast.” She left the room as fast as she could. In the kitchen she leaned against the wall to catch her breath. His lips on her cheek had brought back the surging 153

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warmth and pounding heart, and she needed to take a few moments to calm down. Reeve had finished his juice and had started on his toast when she settled herself in the chair beside his bed. “Sorry I couldn’t manage the Eggs Benedict.” “You forgot the wine,” Reeve complained. “I don’t think you’re quite ready for alcohol.” Kirsty grinned at him. “Fruit juice and water is more your style at the moment.” Reeve leaned back against his pillows, his cup of coffee cradled in his hands as he watched Kirsty pop the last piece of toast in her mouth. “You don’t realise how grateful I am that you found me.” He grinned at her. “I’d probably still be tossing and turning in crumpled sheets if you hadn’t turned up.” “Nonsense,” Kirsty said briskly, stacking both sets of dishes onto one tray. “You’d have managed. It would just have taken you a bit longer.” “Kirsty.” He caught hold of her wrist, his eyes serious. “Please don’t let what’s happening at the hotel colour your judgement of me.” “We’ll talk about that later.” She gently disengaged his fingers and busied herself with the trays. “Now, your cupboards are a bit low, so I’ll pop into Orewa for some shopping.” She looked steadily at him. “You’re to stay in bed. Only get up if you need to use the bathroom, then straight back here. Understand?” “Yes, ma’am.” Reeve grinned, but his voice held a trace of concern as he continued. “You will come back, won’t you?” “Of course I will. I need to get you some groceries or you’ll starve to death.” 154

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Kirsty went to her own house first when she reached town. Here she luxuriated in a warm shower and put on fresh casual clothes. On impulse she packed a small bag with underwear and extra T-shirts and shorts, and placed this in the boot of her car. She shook her head in bewilderment. Why was she doing this? She didn’t need extra clothes if she was coming home tonight, did she? A small nagging thought told her Reeve might take a turn for the worse, and if he did, she would need her bag. With a shrug of her shoulders, she firmly closed the boot and drove off to the supermarket. Less than two hours had passed when she stopped in Reeve’s drive, but entering his bedroom she could see he was bored and restless. “I can’t stand this,” he said irritably when he saw Kirsty. “I’ve got to get out of this room before I go stir crazy!” Kirsty would not be browbeaten into letting him get dressed. She did allow him to get out of bed and go to the living room, but she made him lie down on the sofa and covered him with a blanket. “And don’t you move off there,” she ordered as she bent to turn on the gas heater. “It won’t hurt you to stay off your feet for one day. I’ll turn on the television for you. I’m not sure what’s on, but there must be something on the box to keep you occupied.” Dumping the remote control on his blanket, Kirsty left the room. She straightened his bed, then busied herself in the kitchen making sure there was plenty of cake and biscuits in the tins, and freshly squeezed juice in the fridge. Before returning to the living room, she tidied up the kitchen and made him a cheese omelette. “Reeve, I have to go soon.” She placed the tray on his 155

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lap. “Eat this up, then I’ll help you back to bed before I leave.” “Can’t you stay another night?” His grey eyes pleaded with her. “I don’t feel ready to go back to bed yet. I seem to have been in it forever. Please, Kirsty, stay just one more night.” Kirsty looked at him. His pale face with the beginnings of a dark beard did look haggard without the vibrant energy he usually exuded. He had appeared weak when she’d helped him to the sofa and he definitely had that “washed out” look. Against her better judgement, she gave in to his pleading. “Okay, but only for one more night. I do have things to do, you know.” “Like what?” he asked cheekily, making it obvious he was happy now he’d got his own way. “You don’t have to go to work until next Monday.” “Look, Reeve”—Kirsty sat in the chair at the other end of the sofa—“I know you said I still had my job, but, no matter what you say, Chef won’t let me back in his kitchen again so I’ll have to find another position. I can’t leave it too long or I’ll run out of money.” “Please, Kirsty, trust me.” Reeve looked at her intently. “I promise you everything will work out all right. Give me time to sort things out.” “I believe you’ll try your best, Reeve, and if it works— fine. But you have to understand it may not be possible for you to sort out this mess. That’s why I have to start looking for another job.” “But you’ll stay if I can find a solution?” Reeve stared deeply into her eyes, and she felt as if he searched her soul for the answer. Kirsty nodded. “Yes, I will,” she said, her voice so low it 156

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was almost a whisper. They spent the evening watching television, and it was still quite early when Kirsty helped Reeve to the toilet, then back to bed. The next morning, Kirsty prepared breakfast before getting dressed. She hummed happily to herself as she worked, but when she looked up, she saw Reeve in the kitchen doorway. “What are you doing out of bed?” she demanded, acutely aware she only wore a T-shirt and panties. “You should’ve waited until after you’d eaten your breakfast. It would have given you more strength.” “I’m feeling a lot better, strong enough to visit the loo on my own. I stopped here to make sure you were preparing enough breakfast for yourself as well as me. I enjoyed it when we ate together yesterday and wanted a repeat performance.” He looked like a guilty schoolboy, caught stealing apples. “I’ll only join you if you go back to bed,” she told him sternly. “Now, shoo!” Kirsty had prepared a more substantial breakfast this morning—scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, marmalade, juice and coffee. Reeve sat propped up in bed eating his food, while she settled on a chair beside him, a tray on her lap. “This is pleasant, isn’t it?” he commented when he’d finished eating. “Nice company, good food and the sun shining through the window.” “Thanks for the compliment.” Kirsty grinned as she leaned forward and took his tray from him. “Kirsty, I…er…” Reeve hesitated, as if unsure what to say next. “No thanks are necessary.” Kirsty anticipated his words. 157

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“I couldn’t let the boss stay sick when he’s my only chance of keeping my job, could I?” “Oh, damn!” he exclaimed. “Every time I try to get close to you and try to tell you how I feel about you, work gets in the way. Now you’re deliberately misunderstanding me. Come here, you silly woman!” “I will not!” Kirsty stared at him in surprise. She’d never seen him like this before. Even when he’d been angry with her at the hotel, it had been a controlled anger. This time he appeared to have lost all restraint as he lunged across the bed and grabbed her wrist, his movement spilling the tray of dirty dishes onto the floor. Kirsty opened her mouth to protest, but Reeve placed a hand behind her head and pulled her towards him, his kiss sealing the words within her. She lost her balance and fell onto the bed, her lips still locked with his. A thrill of excitement passed through her body, but her mind told her she shouldn’t be allowing this to happen. She struggled, but without any real force in her movements. Reeve still clasped her wrist, but his other hand caressed the back of her neck and his lips softened as they pressed against Kirsty’s. The warmth of his embrace melted her resistance and she nestled into the comforting strength of his arm as he released her wrist and encircled her body. Ripples of warmth ran up and down her skin as his hand caressed the skin under her T-shirt. Dimly she realised they were lying beside each other on the bed and made a half-hearted attempt to rise. Reeve rolled on his side until he was looking down at her. He pressed her down into the mattress, his hand sliding under her clothing until he reached her breast. Her nipples surged upwards as his 158

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palm brushed across them. As if by instinct, his palm gently caressed each nipple in turn, whilst his fingers traced the outline of each breast. The blood roared through her veins as she reacted to his touch and her body arched towards him. His hand disappeared, and Kirsty realised he had moved to lie on the bed beside her. Glancing across at him, she saw his skin had a grey tinge and a faint mist of sweat. Remorse filled her as she remembered he was still very weak. “Are you all right?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow. “You haven’t had a relapse, have you?” “I’m feeling absolutely exhausted.” He grinned up at her. “I think you’re right—this flu has taken more out of me than I thought. I’m afraid any passionate interludes will have to wait.” He grinned at her, and Kirsty tried to hide her disappointment from him. The rapidly cooling fires within her depressed her and she pulled the T-shirt down and swung her legs from the bed. “You have a sleep,” she told Reeve. “I’ll tidy up the kitchen and get some laundry going.” “Sleep sounds good to me. See you later.” **** Reeve rolled away from her and pulled the duvet up over his shoulder, trying to appear unconcerned by his aborted attempt at lovemaking. He heard Kirsty leave the room and quietly shut the door behind her, then turned onto his back, hands behind his head as he mentally kicked himself. “Fool,” he muttered. “Couldn’t wait until you’d got your strength back, could you? Now she’ll either think you’re a sex maniac or just not interested.” 159

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A voice in the back of his mind told him he was being stupid, but in his weakened state, he didn’t believe it and only when sleep overtook him did his restless mind relax.

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Chapter 9 Kirsty didn’t go home at all the next two days. The day after their interrupted lovemaking, Reeve seemed stronger and they breakfasted on the front veranda. She wasn’t sure whether it was the fresh air or the company, but the juice and toast had never tasted so good. “What would you like to do today?” Reeve asked as they lingered over their coffee. “Doesn’t matter what I’d like to do. It depends more on how you’re feeling,” she replied. “Personally, I feel like lazing around and doing nothing. All work and no play makes Kirsty a very exhausted girl.” “And you’ve been doing nothing but work these last few weeks. I think we should follow your suggestion and stay in bed all day.” “I said no such thing! Besides, you said you couldn’t wait to get out of bed,” Kirsty exclaimed, then saw the laughter in Reeve’s eyes. “Oh, you, stop teasing me. Anyway, if you want something to eat I’ll have to spend some time in the kitchen.” “Let’s go for a walk first.” Reeve helped her stack the dirty breakfast dishes and together they carried them through to the kitchen. 161

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“Are you sure you’re up to it? Wouldn’t you like a shower first to freshen up after the fever?” “I’ll have one when I come back. I think I’ll be all right as long as we don’t go too far,” he replied, drawing her arm through his. “Leave the dishes and we’ll do them later.” Arm in arm they wandered through the overgrown garden. “You really should get someone to see to this.” Kirsty tugged herself free from a rose which had rambled too far over the path. “If you leave it much longer, you’ll have to have it re-landscaped.” “Somewhere in amongst this jungle is a garden seat.” Reeve picked up a stick and whacked indiscriminately at the nearby plants. “Ah here we are.” Under a layer of rampant convolvulus Kirsty could just make out a wrought iron garden seat, but when Reeve at last cleared a space, it was too covered in green slime for them to sit down. “Well, it was a good idea while it lasted.” Reeve shrugged, then held out his hand palm up. “I think it’s starting to rain.” He’d hardly said the words when the heavens opened and the rain poured down, turning the overgrown gardens into a quagmire. Slipping and sliding, they ran back to the house. It was only a short distance, but by the time they got there, they were soaked through to the skin. “Phew!” Kirsty shut the door and leaned against it to get her breath back. She glanced across at Reeve and noticed he was breathing hard. “Are you okay?” “Just a bit winded,” he replied. “Haven’t got my strength back properly yet. Where are you going?” 162

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“To run you a bath. If you don’t get warm and dry, you’ll catch a chill.” She was heading out the door when Reeve’s chuckle stopped her. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t got a bath. Only a shower.” “I hadn’t really noticed. I’ve been using the shower in the laundry area to make sure I didn’t disturb you. Warming you up is the important thing, and a shower will do just as well. Now, you get under the warm water, and I’ll grab you some dry clothes.” As she rummaged in his dresser drawer, Kirsty heard him turn on the water and, assuming him to be behind a shower curtain, went in to leave his clothes ready for when he’d finished. As soon as she entered the room, she realised her error. The bathroom had been modernised and the shower was an integral part of the room, with no door to cut if off from the other areas. Reeve stood under a strong stream of steamy water, and Kirsty caught her breath as her eyes devoured every detail of his body. He stood with his head bowed, his back towards her, with hands leaning against the wall of the shower, legs apart so the water streamed over his back in rivulets. At the base of his spine, two dimples moved enticingly as his buttocks flexed. Strong thighs supported him, and as she watched, the muscles of his calves twitched. “Enjoying the view?” Kirsty realised he had ducked his head low enough to peer under his outstretched arm and he’d been watching her as she surveyed his body. Reeve pushed off from the wall and turned and his arousal grew as she watched. His hand stretched towards her, palm up in invitation. She hesitated 163

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and he took one step forward and dragged her into the shower with him. The warmth flooding through her was not due to the hot water. She leaned back against the tiles, eyes closed in anticipation, as Reeve peeled the wet clothes from her, each brush of the fabric bringing her excitement to a higher level. She realised he had stopped touching her and opened her eyes to see why. He stood a few steps back, his eyes raking her body so intensely she felt as if each glance was a finger tracing a pattern on her bare skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered so low that she barely heard him above the sound of the water. “I think I’m going to have to disobey one of my parents’ rules.” “What rule is that?” “Look, but don’t touch.” He grinned at her. “I can’t wait any longer.” With one stride he was beside her, his fingers tangled in her hair, his lips crushing hers. She felt him brush against her and her longing for him surged. His hands roved over her body until they cupped her buttocks. With gentle movements he caressed her, then, with one swift action, he lifted her up and lowered her slowly onto him. She gasped as he entered her and when he thrust deeper, she thought she could take no more. Leisurely he lifted her until they almost disengaged, then slid her back down again. The speed grew, and with it, her own excitement. Her arms linked behind his neck and she threw her head back and let her natural responses take over. As the rhythm increased, so did her own excitement until starbursts of sensation rushed through her and she screamed with release. Reeve shuddered inside her, his own release only seconds after hers. 164

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Sliding slowly down the shower walls, they both sat panting on the floor of the shower, until Reeve reached up and turned off the water. After a few moments, they struggled to their feet and arm in arm went towards the bedroom. Day by day, Reeve’s strength grew and he teased her, saying his recovery was due to all the extra exercise he was getting. He only had to touch her for the kissing to start, and holding each other in a loving embrace often led to the act of love. One evening, he lit the log burner and they sat on the floor in the circle of warmth, Reeve leaning against a chair with Kirsty propped between his thighs. “Do you own this property?” she asked curiously. “Yes, I bought it for the peace and quiet.” Reeve grinned down at her. “I lease out the paddocks, though, all but the top one. That’s got such a stupendous view I couldn’t bear not to be able to go up there when I feel like it. If the weather’s good we could climb up there tomorrow.” “Only if you feel up to it.” Kirsty was still curious. “Where do the rest of your family live?” “I think I told you my sister lives in Sydney. She’s married with a little boy. I try to get over to see them as much as possible.” Kirsty glanced up and saw a wistful look in Reeve’s eyes. “Not as often as I’d like to, though. How about you? Anybody else but you and your parents?” “Nope. Oh, there’re aunts, uncles and cousins, of course, but apart from that, there’s only me, Mum and Dad.” “Ah, the makers of the delicious Mansion vintage. I’d like to meet them some day. They must be nice people if they can make wine like that.” He stretched his arms above his 165

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head, then brought them down around Kirsty and kissed the top of her head. “And make a lovely daughter like you.” “How about your parents? Did they live in New Zealand?” “Yes.” The word was devoid of emotion and she glanced quickly at him. “Sorry, but it still hurts. They were killed in a car accident about eight years ago. That’s how come I own the Garden Group of hotels. They started it and left it to me to carry on.” They talked for a while longer, then Kirsty realised Reeve hadn’t spoken for some moments. Looking up, she realised he had fallen asleep and she slipped from his arms and knelt beside him. “Reeve, come on, sleepyhead. It’s time for bed.” He groaned in his sleep, but then his eyelids flickered open, and she helped him get up and go into the bedroom. “No, Reeve, this time you rest,” Kirsty told him as he reached for her. “You’ve been overdoing things and a good night’s sleep won’t hurt you.” “Spoilsport,” he muttered, but when she turned back after removing his shoes, he had fallen asleep again and, with a smile, she pulled the covers up to his chin. Saturday afternoon the sun shone brightly and Reeve took her up through the paddocks to the top of the hill. As they ambled along in the sunshine with arms entwined, he sighed. “It seems such a shame that I have to go back to the hotel tomorrow.” “You could always leave it until Monday, then we’d have the whole weekend before we even have to think about 166

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work,” Kirsty suggested. “No, my love.” Reeve planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Much as I’d love to stay here with you and forget the rest of the world, I’m afraid I’ve got to get back to the office and sort things out.” “Oh, all right.” Kirsty pouted, not willing to let go of these halcyon days. “And you don’t want me to come in until Monday, is that right?” “You don’t mind, do you?” Reeve glanced down at her, his eyes suddenly serious. “Chef Antoine will be much easier to handle if I’m not being distracted by your beautiful face.” His hands began to caress her body. “And this gorgeous, delicious body.” He bent his head and his teeth nipped her nipples through her T-shirt. “Stop it, Reeve. Somebody might see us.” Kirsty laughed, a feeling of breathless anticipation stealing over her. “Nobody can see us here, we’re miles from the nearest road, and the closest house is mine.” Reeve continued stroking her body, his hand stealing up under her T-shirt. “Don’t you want to make love in the open air, Kirsty?” “Reeve, we can’t! No, stop it!” Kirsty squirmed. His exploration of the intimate areas of her scantily clad figure had her body responding with an urgency she couldn’t control. She realised her panties were damp with her body’s moisture as her desire rose. Despite her token protests, her body betrayed her and, straining toward him, she could feel his arousal. Cool air caressed her skin as he removed her T-shirt to reveal swollen breasts, nipples straining for the lost contact. Reeve’s hands caressed the bare flesh and her nipples reached again towards the male strength which warmed them. His lips 167

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left hers and Kirsty’s eyes opened as she felt his breath move down her bare skin. Through the veil of her lashes she saw him look down at her near-naked body and remembered their first time in the shower. This time his movements were slower as his head dipped and she drowned in a whirlpool of exquisite torture when his mouth teased her nipples. Hands circling her breasts, he gently pushed them together so his tongue could dart from one to the other. Leaving her breasts, one hand slipped towards the top of her shorts and soon she had only her lace panties between her skin and his. Instead of removing the obstacle his hand travelled further down and brushed the silky material covering the centre of the passion nestled between her thighs. Kirsty gasped. Her fingers clutched at his hair and her thumbs caressed Reeve’s ears, bringing a moan of pleasure from his lips. Strong fingers pulled at her panties and Kirsty lifted her lower body so he could drag the flimsy garment down until it reached her ankles and she could kick them away. The fresh air caressed her bare skin and she found it strangely sensuous. Reeve watched her reaction for several moments before he aided the breeze by stroking and teasing her naked body. Reeve’s lips returned to cover Kirsty’s mouth, and she placed her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. One hand caressed her breasts, but the fingers moved to stroke her stomach. A quick, light brush across the fuzzy triangle at the top of the dark, moist place between her thighs brought a gasp from Kirsty and her body surged to follow the elusive hand. “Kirsty, my beautiful Kirsty,” Reeve murmured as he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips and then her neck. His body pressed close to hers and she realised that 168

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sometime in the last heated moments, he had removed his own clothing. She could feel his need for her and responded automatically. Reeve’s hand brushed across her sensitively charged skin, and she pushed her body hard against him. He slid over her and she opened herself to him, her hips pulsing up and down as she became more and more excited. Reeve rose above her. Kirsty’s emotions were at fever pitch as the weight of his body descended on hers. With infinite care, he possessed her, and her body moved with the same rhythm as his until they reached the heights of fulfilment together. Exhausted, Kirsty relaxed, feeling as if she could sink right through to the centre of the earth. “Oh, Reeve.” She sighed, her body satiated with the touch, taste and feel of him. “Kirsty, my Kirsty,” he replied softly, and she opened her eyes to see him looking down at her. “Oh, Reeve, I do love you.” Now the tingling feelings and the other reactions to his touch fell into place. She’d been falling in love with the man, and what a gorgeous feeling it was to be in love. “Happy?” Reeve rolled her onto her side and his body moulded to her back, his face lying against her shoulder. “Very,” Kirsty murmured, turning in his arms until she faced him. Her fingers drifted across his chest, teasing the pennysized nipples and stepping from rib to rib down his body. Her hand traversed the flat stomach and flicked across the dark bush at the source of her pleasure. Immediately his arousal nudged her hand and she stroked and caressed it, making Reeve groan with pleasure at her touch. She felt the muscles of his buttocks clench as he held himself in check while his 169

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hands began to stroke her, bringing her to fever pitch. Just when she felt she could take no more, he eased himself between her throbbing thighs and entered her. Slowly he rocked back and forth, and Kirsty matched his rhythm until their senses exploded at the same time, leaving them both in a state of pleasant exhaustion. The breeze strengthened, forcing them to don their clothes and, hand-in-hand, returned to the villa. They spent their last night together curled in each other’s arms in Reeve’s big bed, and the next morning they parted with fond looks and a touching of hands as Reeve drove off to the hotel and Kirsty returned to her small Orewa house. She spent the morning happily cleaning the rooms until they shone. Reeve had promised to call in to see her after he finished work, and she wanted her home to look its best. After deciding on a menu, Kirsty began to cook. The duchess potatoes were ready for their final browning, the vegetables sat in a pan of water and the Burgundy beef in red wine simmered in the oven. Remembering Reeve’s comment about starters, she concentrated on dessert and was whisking up egg whites for a pavlova when the phone rang. She rushed to answer it, thinking it was Reeve. “Hi, Kirsty here.” “Kirsty, where have you been?” Gina sounded worried. “I’ve been ringing and ringing. You can’t have been out every time I called.” “Sorry, I went away for a few days,” Kirsty apologised. “Was it something important?” “Something important? Kirsty, you get kicked out of the hotel kitchen by Chef, there’s a rumour going round that you’ve been sacked, and you wonder if I’ve been trying to get 170

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hold of you for something important.” Gina sounded highly indignant. “I thought we were friends. Why didn’t you ring to let me know what was happening.” “Oh, Gina, I’m so sorry. I got really upset and just wanted to get away from it all. I should’ve rung you before I left. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” Kirsty pleaded with her friend. “So tell me what happened. Were you sacked? Did Chef fire you or was it Mr. Stuart? No, it couldn’t have been him because he’s been off with flu the past few days. Come on, Kirsty, and tell me everything.” “Honestly, Gina, there’s not much to tell.” Kirsty furiously tried to think of an explanation for her friend. She didn’t want to lie, but she couldn’t tell the whole truth either. “Chef did order me from the kitchen, but according to my contract, I have to be officially dismissed by Mr. Stuart. As you said, he wasn’t there, so I sort of left things hanging until I could see him. Is he back yet?” The last words Kirsty said very tongue-in-cheek. If she let Gina realise she knew his whereabouts, her friend would want to know what was going on. “Yes, he came back this morning. I’d leave it till Monday if I was you, though. He’s got a terrific backlog of work. The poor guy doesn’t seem to have had a minute to himself all day.” “Gina, can you hang on a moment?” Kirsty asked as the call waiting tone sounded. “Somebody’s trying to come through on the other line.” “That’s okay, Kirsty. I’m on early shift tomorrow so I’ll call around before I come into work. We can talk about it then.” “Gina, wait!” Kirsty was horrified. If Reeve spent the 171

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night with her, as she hoped he would, he’d still be there when Gina arrived. But she was too late. Her friend had already hung up. With a sigh, Kirsty switched over to the other line. “Hi, Kirsty!” Even over the phone Reeve’s voice sent shivers up and down her spine. “How are you, my love?” “Fine now,” Kirsty told him. “I’ve missed you.” “I’ve missed you, too.” He spoke as if he needed to get the words out as quickly as he could. “I’m sorry, my darling, but I’m going to have to wait a bit longer before I can hold you in my arms again.” “What do you mean?” she asked uneasily, casting an eye over the food laid out in her kitchen. “Kirsty, I’ve got a stack of work here that I have to get through. By the time I even make a dent in it, it’ll be too late to come to your place for dinner. Then tomorrow night we’ve got the Freemasons function here at the hotel. I won’t be able to see you until Monday.” “Oh, Reeve, that’s not fair. You shouldn’t be working so hard when you’ve only just recovered from the flu.” Kirsty couldn’t help complaining, and her voice was tense with frustration. “Can’t you leave some of the paperwork until next week?” “No, I can’t, my love. Believe me, I’d dump it all in the bin if I could, but I really need to get things up to date.” Reeve sounded genuinely upset, and Kirsty was sorry she’d been so irritable. “Listen, Kirsty, come into work about nine o’clock on Monday, and we’ll get everything sorted out between you and Antoine.” “Wouldn’t it be better if I came in at my normal time? I’d think Chef would get even more annoyed if I come in 172

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late.” Kirsty thought it wouldn’t matter what time she arrived, Chef still wouldn’t let her in the kitchen, but she had to give Reeve the chance to try and sort things out. “No, Kirsty, please do it my way. I want to clear my desk before you get here. Then I can give the problem my undivided attention.” After a few more endearments, Reeve rang off, and Kirsty was left with her frustration. She had no idea why Reeve felt so sure he could charm Chef into letting her have her job back. And how serious were his feelings for her if he let work come first? Shaking her head to clear the confusion, Kirsty packed the duchess potatoes into the freezer and threw the vegetables into a stockpot. The beef could sit in the fridge when it was cooked. She had to make sure there was no evidence of her romantic dinner to make Gina suspicious. The more she thought about it, the more upset Kirsty became. They’d only parted this morning, but Reeve already sounded different, more distant. He had returned to being her boss instead of her lover—her oh-so-passionate lover. She shuddered with delighted memories, then forced herself to become calm again. Surely he didn’t regretting the idyllic days they’d spent together? Or had he decided he’d lowered himself by making love to one of his employees? No, Reeve wasn’t like that. He had told her the truth. He was busy and thought it best to get the work out of the way before he became distracted by her. That’s it! Kirsty thought. You wait, my girl. He’ll be as loving as you want him to be when you see him next. Laughing at herself for allowing her fears to overcome her, Kirsty tidied up the kitchen and watched television until bedtime. 173

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Gina breezed into the house on Sunday morning, full of news from the hotel and questions regarding Kirsty’s situation. “Did you say Mr. Stuart has had the flu?” Kirsty tried to make her question sound innocent. “Yes, he was off all last week,” Gina replied as she dipped her hotcake in the maple syrup. “Came back yesterday. Not too sure how it’s going to affect you, though.” “What do you mean?” “Well”—Gina paused to swallow another mouthful— “Hmm this is great. I never have time for breakfast at home.” “How’s Mr. Stuart coming back going to affect me, Gina?” Kirsty asked persistently. “Well, he’s your main hope of keeping your job, isn’t he?” Gina finished eating and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction, then picked up her cup of coffee. Kirsty felt her fingernails bite into her palms as she clenched her hands under the table. Why couldn’t Gina just get on with it instead of dragging things out like this? “Where was I? Oh, yes. Mr. Stuart came back yesterday morning. First we knew he was back was when he strolled through reception and went into the kitchen. Then he came out with Chef Antoine and they headed for his office. Can I have another cup?” Gina held her cup out, and Kirsty forced herself to be calm as she poured her friend some more coffee. “Anyway, Chef waltzed back through reception about fifteen minutes later with a big grin on his face.” “A grin?” Kirsty couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. If this was Reeve’s solution, then he had a very funny way of sorting things out, “Yes, he seemed very pleased with himself.” Gina peered 174

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at her friend, trying to see how her news was being received. “Doesn’t sound too good for you, does it?” “No.” Kirsty’s abrupt reply startled Gina, who blinked at the anger in that short word. “Sorry, Kirsty, but I thought you should know. At least now you’ll have some idea what to expect tomorrow.” “Thanks, Gina. I know you mean it for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept that my career has just gone down the drain.” Kirsty tried to conceal how upset she was by collecting the dirty dishes and taking them into the kitchen. “So what will you do?” Gina picked up more dishes and followed her. “Start looking in the situation vacant column, I suppose.” “You need to contact the union, Kirsty, and there must be something in your contract that stops Chef firing you like that.” “I never even thought of looking at my contract,” Kirsty confessed. “I felt so mad about everyone using me as a scapegoat that I just wanted to blast off at them.” “If I was you, I’d dig it out and go over it with a magnifying glass.” Gina reluctantly stood and collected her belongings. “Sorry…I’ve got to go, but if I hear anything at work, I’ll give you a ring, okay?” She put her arms around Kirsty and gave her a hug. “It’ll all turn out right in the end. Who knows, maybe the theatre restaurant will be so impressed by your application they’ll offer you the job anyway.” Kirsty kept a brave face while saying goodbye to her friend, but once the front door had shut behind her, she sagged against it, hard put to climb the stairs. With an effort, she pushed off from the door and dragged herself up to the 175

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lounge, where she collapsed on the sofa. The loss of her job was bad enough, but expected. It was the news of Reeve’s friendliness with Chef Antoine that really upset her. What hidden agenda was he following if he could make love to her one day, telling her she could leave things up to him, then the next day be on such good terms with the man who had tried to get rid of her? Deciding the only person she could rely on was herself, Kirsty went to her bedroom and grabbed the cardboard box she kept her important documents in. Sitting on the sofa, she rummaged through its contents until she found her contract with the Hibiscus Hotel. “Let’s see.” She ran her finger down the page until she came to the clause regarding dismissal. “Theft as a servant, repeated disobedience, insufficient respect for customers, dishonesty. I suppose he could get me on the last one if he can make his accusations stick. Shame it’s Sunday. I could do with a union rep to help me understand all this legal stuff.” She decided she could do nothing more until the following day and, looking out the window, she realised the sun was shining from a glorious blue sky. Maybe a stroll along the beach would clear her mind of the never ending round of questions and confusion. Walking across the Orewa streets, she resolutely focused on getting to the beach. Once there she kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes in the golden sand as she lifted her face to soak up the sun. No breeze blew today, so no sand yachts raced and only a few people enjoyed the sunshine. Kirsty felt invigorated by the strong ozone smell of the sea and the warm sun shining down on her. Carrying her shoes, she walked to the southern end of the sand, then back north, the exercise 176

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filling her with contentment and dreams of the future she hoped to share with Reeve. Her mind insisted Reeve couldn’t be the type of guy to make exquisite love to her one day, then stab her in the back the next. She drew level with the place she’d started from and sat down in the shade on the grassy bank linking her hands around her knees. Staring out to sea, her mind dwelt on Reeve and the time they’d spent together at his villa. She remembered how wonderful she’d felt when he touched her and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Her eyes stared down the beach, but she was not paying any attention to the scene in front of her. She frowned and her eyes snapped into focus. At first she told herself she was seeing things. Maybe her daydreams of Reeve had been so strong she’d conjured up his image. A man walked back from the water’s edge and it looked exactly like him! But it couldn’t be Reeve. He’d told her he was busy at the hotel. Besides this man walked arm-in-arm with a woman. An extremely attractive woman who seemed vaguely familiar to Kirsty. She rose to her feet, intending to stroll towards the pair, but at that moment, the man put his arms around the woman and hugged her close. Then he smiled at her and his head dipped as he kissed her cheek. He released her and with a wave of his hand hurried toward a car parked on the road side of the grass verge. Kirsty’s temper rose. She might not be able to see his face, but she could recognise Reeve’s car when she saw it. “The sneaking rat!” she exploded. “Just wait until I see him. He’d better have an explanation for meeting another woman when he told me he’d be at the hotel. If he hasn’t got a good reason, he’ll wish he’d never heard of Kirsty Lawrence.” Realising her voice had grown quite loud, Kirsty glanced 177

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round to see if anyone had heard her. The only other person on her part of the beach was the woman Reeve had been with, and she moved rapidly towards another exit. Within moments, the stranger walked out of sight. Kirsty spent the rest of the day waiting for Reeve to call her. The more she went over things in her mind, the more she convinced herself he’d betrayed her, and she got madder and madder. One thing kept rearing its head above all her other thoughts. Although he’d called her “my love,” not once had Reeve said he loved her. It was early evening before the phone rang. “Hi, Kirsty.” His voice caressed her and despite her anger, her body warmed with an automatic reaction. “Sorry I couldn’t ring sooner, but I’ve been so busy. I’ve only got a moment, but I thought I’d better remind you about tomorrow. You won’t forget, will you? Nine o’clock and not before.” “No, I won’t forget,” Kirsty promised. “Reeve...” “That’s a good girl. See you tomorrow.” And he had gone. She stared at the dead receiver in her hand, her mind seething with frustration. He hadn’t let her get a word in so she hadn’t been able to ask about the woman on the beach, and why Reeve had met her in secret. Kirsty went to bed at eight o’clock that night, intending to get up at her usual time and arrive at the hotel earlier than Reeve expected her to. He’d been so insistent she arrive promptly at nine that she convinced herself he was hiding something from her. Her imagination ran riot as she visualised herself confronting Reeve with what she’d seen on the beach, and she tossed and turned in her bed. In the early hours of the 178

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morning she settled into a deep sleep, and the clock showed eight-thirty when she woke on Monday morning. After a hurried breakfast, Kirsty took pains with her appearance. She might not be able to dress up for work, but she could certainly make sure that everything she wore looked clean and fresh. Her nerve almost failed her as she parked in the staff car park. It was almost nine o’clock. Should she go straight to the kitchen, or would it be better if she went to Reeve’s office? He hadn’t told her where to go, just when to arrive. “As far as I’m concerned,” she decided, “I’m still employed here, so I’ll go to the kitchen. I just hope Reeve’s there, but I doubt he’ll have the nerve to show up. Rat that he is, he’ll probably let me fight it out with Chef on my own.” She had misjudged Reeve. Kirsty arrived in the kitchen as he entered from the restaurant doorway. Chef glared at Kirsty as she entered, his back to the restaurant. “Lawrence, what are you doing here?” Antoine’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, a nasty sneer on his lips. “Come to beg for your job back, I suppose.” “On the contrary, Chef, I have no need to ask to be reemployed. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still a member of the staff of this hotel.” Kirsty stared at him, daring him to refute her words. “We’ll see about that, Lawrence.” He looked as if he was prepared to order her from the premises again. “Mr. Stuart is back, so your time here this morning will be short.” “Chef Antoine, I should like to see Miss Lawrence and yourself in my office.” The firm voice made the chef jump. It was obvious he hadn’t realised Reeve had come up behind him. “Really, Mr. Stuart, I don’t see the need for me to be 179

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present when you officially dismiss this incompetent member of staff.” Chef threw Kirsty a smug glance. “Nevertheless, Chef, I’d like you to be present. If you don’t mind.” Reeve held the door open and Antoine strode through with Kirsty following in his wake. She didn’t look at Reeve as she passed him. She knew she wouldn’t be able to control her face enough to mask her anger from him. In the office, Reeve shut the door decisively and waved them to seats before he took his place behind the desk. “Now then, Chef, I’d like to know exactly what is going on in your kitchen. Ever since my arrival, your area of the hotel has not functioned to the standard expected and required. With one exception.” Reeve fixed Chef with his steely eyes, and Kirsty was reminded of a butterfly being pinned to a board. “My dear Mr. Stuart, I would have thought the explanation was obvious.” Chef Antoine’s voice dripped condescension. He no longer bothered to hide the fact he considered Reeve to be a person far inferior to himself. “The problem all along has been Lawrence. I began to give her more responsibility about the time you arrived here. I admit I was in error…she wasn’t ready. But what I didn’t expect was how deceitful the woman could be. She hid her mistakes well, probably believing she wouldn’t be found out, but her plans failed when she tried to lay the blame at my door. I really don’t see why it is necessary for me to tell you this. All that needs to be done is to give Lawrence her marching orders.” “Please be patient, Chef.” Reeve’s voice was calm, but it sounded deadly to Kirsty because she could hear the hidden strength beneath the placid tones. “As I mentioned, there was 180

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one period of exception when the kitchen functioned perfectly. This was—” “This last week, of course,” Chef interrupted. “When Lawrence was not here.” “On the contrary, Chef. From the reports I’ve received, the kitchen has been functioning even less efficiently during the past week than it has been before. The period I mention was when you were absent with the flu, Chef Antoine. The period, in fact, when Miss Lawrence was in sole charge.” “She would have to take extra pains to get things right when she had nobody to hide behind,” Chef blustered, evidently unsettled by Reeve’s accusation. “Surely you’re not saying it is I who am at fault, Mr. Stuart? I’d have you know I am highly respected throughout the catering world. I will not be accused of being less than perfect in my own kitchens. I assure you, I could walk out the door of this miserable establishment and instantly have a position in a much better establishment.” “Such as the theatre restaurant?” Reeve asked in a quiet voice. “I know you’ve applied for the position of head chef. In fact, I understand you told them at the interview that you’ll be available for the position, as soon as you have cleared up the problem of your contract with this hotel.” “Then you have heard wrong, Mr. Stuart.” Chef’s voice had risen and now held a hint of panic. “I admit I’ve been approached by the theatre restaurant, but, of course, I have told them I cannot accept another position whilst I am under contract to this hotel. A fact of which you are well aware.” “A contract which states it shall become null and void if, and I quote, ‘the facilities and working environment fall below the chef’s required standard...if the standard of staff em181

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ployed to assist the head chef shall fall below the standard expected and required by the head chef.. if the reputation of the hotel should suffer due to any of the aforementioned reasons, or for all of the above reasons, then this contract shall be terminated by either the employer or the employee.’” Reeve leaned over the desk and pinned Antoine with a steely look. “I put it to you, Chef Antoine, that you have deliberately sabotaged the hotel restaurant in order to use the escape clause in your contract. To keep your own reputation intact, and to fulfill the requirements of the escape clause, you have been placing all the blame on Miss Lawrence.” “Nonsense I—” “Don’t dig yourself in any deeper, Chef Antoine. I’ve checked with the suppliers for the Millers’ wedding reception. All of them stated you’d placed a personal order of exactly the same quantity of goods as that ordered by the hotel, then, at the last moment you cancelled the orders. All except the caviar that is…you had already collected that from Gunsey’s on the Friday when you were supposed to be ill. I wonder what you did with such a large amount of fish eggs.” Reeve’s steely smile held no warmth, and Kirsty shivered. She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that icy glare. “Furthermore, Chef Antoine, I had glowing reports from the Millers regarding their daughter’s reception, whereas the Freemasons dinner last night has brought nothing but complaints. They had stopped using us because of the drabness and lack of originality of food and restaurant setting but, as Mr. Miller gave us such a glowing recommendation, they decided to give us another try. They were sadly disappointed.” “I don’t have to sit here and listen to such rubbish!” Chef 182

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stood up, his face a study of injured pride. “I will not stay here and be insulted by your totally unfounded accusations. You have no basis for treating me in this manner. I—” “Sit down!” Reeve’s voice sounded low but commanding, and Antoine sat down with an astounded expression on his face. “My accusations are not unfounded, as you put it. Every time you found fault with Miss Lawrence, the error turned out to be yours. The wedding reception had not been mentioned to anyone at the hotel and to say you told Miss Lawrence to organise this event is untrue, as well you know. The order was given to you, Antoine, no preparations were made and Mr. Miller assures me he contacted you a week before the function and you told him everything was in hand. “Surely you’d have checked with Miss Lawrence that this was correct if you had placed the function in her hands. Instead, you acted as if the restaurant had no bookings for that day. I have no doubt you wanted it to seem you had appeared at the last moment and saved the day. Miss Lawrence, however, is far too professional to forget a wedding reception and, when faced with a seemingly impossible task, she organised the event so smoothly the Millers were unaware anything untoward had happened.” Kirsty blushed as Reeve poured on the praise, but she reminded herself he was only being fair. No matter how he stood up for her, it didn’t alter the fact he’d been with another woman on the beach yesterday, a mere forty-eight hours after making love to her. “I feel extremely sorry for you, Mr. Stuart,” Antoine said. “Lawrence has you under some kind of spell. None of your accusations can be proven, so I will not take action against you or the hotel. However, you must see it is impossi183

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ble for me to carry on working here whilst the management obviously holds me in such disregard. Therefore, I must regretfully tender my resignation.” “Somehow I expected you to say that, Chef Antoine. Unfortunately, you have no grounds for resigning. I have written proof you placed orders for the Millers’ reception, then cancelled them at the last moment. In this envelope you’ll find all monies owing to you.” Reeve held a white envelope out to Antoine. “You’ll also find a document detailing the termination of your contract, written by the hotel’s legal advisers. In view of the circumstances concerning this cancellation of contract, I’d be grateful if you would leave the premises as soon as possible.” “You can’t do that!” Antoine shouted, jumping to his feet. “I’ll take this matter to the union, to the courts of law! You have no right to dismiss me without good reason.” “When you get home, I suggest you study the contents of the envelope carefully. The notice states the exact reasons for dismissal. It might also interest you to know that the Garden Group has purchased the franchise for the new theatre restaurant. Somehow I don’t think we’ll want to employ a chef who has been dismissed from one of our other establishments, do you? Goodbye, Chef Antoine.” Reeve rose and crossed to his office door. Antoine had no option but to leave. “This matter is not over, Stuart. I’ll see you in court,” he snarled as Reeve shut the door behind him. “Phew!” Reeve came across and sat on the edge of the desk nearest Kirsty. “I thought he’d never go.” “He won’t really take it to court, will he?” Kirsty’s voice trembled. “I mean, despite what you said about proof, we 184

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can’t really prove I was right and he was wrong, can we?” “When he opens that envelope, he’ll realise he hasn’t got a leg to stand on. The lady at Gunsey’s was only too happy to confirm in writing the Hibiscus Hotel chef had placed an order for caviar. The same goes for the other suppliers. Don’t worry about it, Kirsty. Come here and give me a kiss.” Reeve held out his hand, but Kirsty stood up and side-stepped out of his reach. “Does this mean I have my job back?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. “You never lost it, Kirsty. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the new head chef of the Hibiscus Hotel.” Reeve frowned. She had moved further away from him. “Kirsty, what’s the matter? Why won’t you let me near you?” **** He had worked hard over the last few days, collecting the evidence against Antoine and forcing down his eagerness to spend time with the woman he loved. He’d been determined to complete the business with Antoine so he could tell her everything, but now Kirsty was backing away from him. She spoke, her voice low, and Reeve shook his head. She couldn’t be saying what his ears were hearing. “I’ve been thinking about us over the last few days and I honestly don’t feel we should see each other when we work together, do you? You know, keep business and pleasure separate.” Reeve stared at her in disbelief. Not see each other! What was she talking about? Kirsty looked away, and he reached out and grabbed her arm before she could move. “What is all this?” His voice was brittle with disappointment and anger. “We spend the best part of the week in bed together, then I leave you alone for two days because of an 185

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overload of work. Now you tell me you want to keep our relationship on a ‘business basis.’ You’ll have to do better than that, Kirsty, if you want me to believe you.” “Well, that’s it, isn’t it?” Kirsty’s voice wobbled and she took a deep breath before continuing. When she spoke again, her words came out in a rush. “We didn’t really have anything but good sex, did we? I mean it was the heat of the moment. You were ill and we sort of fell into a situation, didn’t we? That’s all there is to it.” “Are you trying to tell me our lovemaking was a result of my catching the flu? Next you’ll be telling me you slept with me to keep your job. My God, Kirsty, I couldn’t have been wrong about you. You can’t possibly be that hard-hearted.” His own words washed over him like a cold shower. She couldn’t be that devious. Not his Kirsty who had been as passionate as he during their lovemaking. What had happened in the last two days for her to decide she didn’t want to be with him? He glanced down and saw he still held Kirsty’s wrist. Slowly his eyes rose until he stared into her eyes. She seemed so calm and sure of herself, comfortable with the bombshell she had just dropped on him. Fool, he told himself. She’s used you for her own ends! He tried not to let Kirsty see his hurt and disappointment, but couldn’t stop himself as he flung her arm from him and turned his back on her. Over his shoulder, he spat words full of bitterness at her. “If keeping your job was your aim, you got more than you expected out of your little sexual fling, didn’t you? You got a promotion as well. Be assured, Miss Lawrence, I’ll be watching to make sure you deserve your new position. I suggest you start to prove your worth by making sure the lun186

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chtime preparations are well in hand.” “Reeve, I...” Kirsty reached out and touched his shoulder, but he shrugged and dislodged her hand. “Leave me alone, Kirsty. Just get out of my office. From now on, we’ll do it your way. We’re employer and employee. See if you can pretend the last week never happened. I know I won’t, but you’ve evidently got a much shorter memory than I have!”

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Chapter 10 Blinded by tears, Kirsty stumbled from Reeve’s office and hurried to the nearest ladies room. The area was empty and she quickly washed and wiped her tearstained face. Straightening her clothing, she took a deep breath and marched into the kitchen. The kitchen staff were talking nervously to one another, but all conversation stopped when Kirsty entered the room. Nodding to them, she went to the staff changing room and put on her trousers, jacket and cap, then returned to the main room and walked purposefully across to Chef’s—no, her!— desk. She heard a swift intake of breath from the women as she sat down, but when she looked at them, they hastily turned away, trying to look busy. Kirsty glanced up at the day board, but whatever had been written there had been wiped clean. She guessed Antoine had done this before he left, and she found he had also rifled through the desk. The wastepaper basket on the floor indicated he had destroyed or removed anything he thought might help her in her new position. Oh, well, Kirsty thought doggedly, I didn’t do all that training for nothing. Perhaps in the long run it’s better to be dumped 188

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in at the deep end. At least that way I can prove to everybody I’m capable of doing the job. She didn’t admit to herself that the only person she really wanted to impress was Reeve, but she pushed the thought ruthlessly from her mind as she felt the tears begin to well up again. The kitchen maids told her Antoine had cancelled preparations for today’s meals and indicated the new head chef would give them their orders. Kirsty set them to work, preparing the soup of the day and the potatoes. She then checked the store cupboards and the freezers to see what she could put together for the main course. At first the kitchen maids chatted quietly to one another discussing the unexpected turn of events, but as Kirsty proved her ability running the kitchen and getting a lunchtime menu prepared, they started acting as if she’d always been in sole charge. Reeve appeared in the kitchen about half an hour before lunch. He sounded cold and formal as he checked with her that everything was in order, and Kirsty’s heart sank. She had been thinking things over and decided she’d been overwrought and had allowed herself to be influenced by her emotions when she’d told him she wanted to keep things on a purely business basis. Instead, she should have been her usual forthright self and asked him what he’d been doing meeting another woman on the beach. Lunch went off without a hitch. Afterwards, Kirsty left the kitchen maids to clear up and took a cup of coffee to the seat outside the back door. She really wished she’d kept her temper and asked for an explanation. Was it too late? Would he listen to her if she apologised, or would he merely fling her own words back at her? 189

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With a sigh, Kirsty rose and returned to the kitchen. Now was not the time to try and do anything about it. She had far too much work to do. After planning the dinner menu and getting her helpers started, she rang Reeve’s office and asked if she might have a word with him. In a cool voice, he agreed to see her if she could come to his office immediately. Any hopes she might hold for taking a moment to sort out their personal problems were dashed when he greeted her in a cold and formal voice. “Sit down, Miss Lawrence.” The chips of ice were in the grey eyes again. “What did you want to see me about?” Kirsty’s heart sank. He had called her Miss Lawrence again, which meant he had no intention of allowing her to get inside his guard. She mentally drew her courage around her as she sat down. If that’s the way he wants it, she thought, that’s the way he’ll get it. “I’m sure you realise we are now short-staffed, Mr. Stuart. Of course I will not be taking any time off this week, but I would like to ask if you or I should take steps to alleviate the situation?” Kirsty found it difficult not to clasp her hands in her lap as she waited nervously for his reply. “The matter is in hand, Miss Lawrence. An advertisement has been placed in the national and trade papers, and the agency has been asked to provide a temporary sous-chef to tide us over until I can engage someone on a permanent basis.” He stared coldly at her. “Will that be all?” “Reeve, I’m sorry about this morning. Can we—” “You made your feelings abundantly clear, Miss Lawrence. You wish to keep our relationship on a purely business basis. I have no objections to that. Now, if there’s nothing else, I, for one, have work to do.” 190

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As she reached the door, she glanced back, but he had bent his head over the papers on his desk. A dark cloak of depression enveloped Kirsty and a hollow pit grew in her stomach. He really wasn’t interested in listening to her apology. What hurt most was the realisation his cold anger revealed that his feelings for her must have been as strong as hers for him. By the end of the day, Kirsty felt exhausted, both mentally and physically. Gina popped in to find out what had happened, but Kirsty didn’t have time to talk to her, and in any case, she didn’t really feel ready to discuss the major upheaval in her life. Her wounds still felt too raw and vulnerable. Kirsty tossed and turned that night, but no matter which way she moved, her thoughts chased after her. She went over and over the words that had passed between Reeve and her. Then she thought about what she should have said and wished she had the time over again, but the morning alarm presented the situation in the same light as when she’d eventually fallen asleep. Over the next few days Kirsty threw herself into the job, but she spent restless nights tossing and turning in her bed and dark shadows appeared beneath her eyes. During the day, she allowed the normal chattering of the maids to pass over her, although she was alert to anything concerning the catering. The two women were close friends and spent endless hours talking about family and mutual acquaintances. On the Thursday morning, her ears pricked up as she heard a familiar name mentioned. “Did you hear about Mr. Stuart?” one woman asked. “My husband knows someone who works at one of the big hotels in the city. He says Mr. Stuart’s group bought their hotel and 191

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ended up getting rid of a lot of staff.” “Ooh! You don’t think that’s going to happen here, do you?” The other woman stared wide-eyed at her colleague. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Apparently he never stays long in any one place. He buys the place, sorts out any problems, then buys another one. He got rid of half the staff at the city hotel, and now he’s given Chef Antoine the push.” Kirsty pretended she hadn’t heard their comments, but everything clicked into place. Reeve had wined and dined her so he could learn the ins and outs of the Hibiscus Hotel. He hadn’t sacked Antoine because of her; he’d done it to get the place running smoothly as quickly as possible so he could move on to his next purchase. Gina wouldn’t let her off the hook and she waltzed into the kitchen after the restaurant closed and took Kirsty by the arm. Liberating two cups of coffee from a surprised kitchen maid, she propelled Kirsty outside. “Now then, Kirsty, sit down and drink this,” she ordered. Obediently Kirsty sat and sipped at the hot coffee, but after one mouthful she cupped it in her hands and stared out over the sea, her eyes glazing over as the thoughts tumbled around inside her head. “Kirsty!” Gina’s voice snapped her back to the present. “Tell me what happened. Whatever it was doesn’t seem to have made you very happy. Tell Aunty Gina all about it.” Kirsty’s lips curved into a weary smile, but she took another sip of coffee and turned to look at her friend. “Tell me what you know,” she said. “Then I’ll fill in the gaps if I can.” “First—Chef Antoine has got the push. Second—you’re 192

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in charge of the kitchens, but I don’t know if that’s permanent or until they get a replacement?” Gina had been ticking off items on her fingers, and she now held up finger number three. “Third—I don’t know what happened in Mr. Stuart’s office, but since Monday, both of you have been looking like the sky’s fallen in on you. On top of that, his temper’s been foul. You know how he can be critical in a freezing sort of way? Well, he’s found so many faults that everybody’s treading very carefully in case they follow Chef Antoine out the door.” “You mean you haven’t heard the scuttlebutt about Reeve troubleshooting the hotels he buys? He comes in, sorts out any problems and moves on to his next victim.” She could tell by the look on Gina’s face that her friend had heard the gossip. “Well, yes,” Gina admitted reluctantly. “I did hear something like that, but so what? You know the hotel was getting run down. Poor old Mr. Bennett couldn’t hack it any more.” “I feel as if I’ve been used, Gina.” Kirsty took another sip of coffee. “He got close to me so he could trap Chef Antoine.” “You could be right, Kirsty.” Gina looked thoughtful. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the rest of the gossip, have you? The Garden Group’s bought the theatre restaurant. It’s a close kept secret at the moment, but the head receptionist told me to keep my cool a bit longer because we wouldn’t have to put up with Reeve Stuart for much longer as he’d be moving on to his newest acquisition. I’m not sure if she’s right, though, because I also heard he’s buying a house here on the Peninsula.” “I’d heard about the theatre restaurant, but that makes it even worse, Gina. And it still doesn’t alter the fact he used 193

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me to get the goods on Antoine so he could get rid of him. He couldn’t sack Mr. Bennett because the man had already retired, so he picked on Antoine instead.” “Hey, hold on! You’ve got a short memory. He wouldn’t have sacked Chef if he hadn’t had a good reason.” “I know.” Kirsty sighed. “I still feel he shouldn’t have involved me. It makes me feel dirty! And to think I thought I loved the guy.” “Wait a minute! What’s all this about loving him?” Gina stared at her. “It doesn’t sound as if you’ve told me everything, Kirsty. Start from the beginning and tell me all about it. You’ll feel a lot better if you get all your worries out in the open.” “Okay,” Kirsty said quietly. “Let’s take your queries one at a time. First—yes, Antoine’s gone, but I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m not sure if I understand the whole thing myself. Second—I’m the new head chef permanently. Mr. Stuart’s looking for a sous-chef and the one we’ve got now is a temporary. As for the rest, well...” To Kirsty’s surprise, tears sprang to her eyes when she remembered what had happened in Reeve’s office and she hastily pulled a tissue from her pocket. “That wind’s got in my eye,” she muttered to Gina as she scrubbed at her eyes. “Pull the other one, girl, I’m not that stupid.” Her friend put her arm around Kirsty’s shoulders. “Come on, Kirsty. Something happened in Mr. Stuart’s office and it might help if you told me about it. We’ve been friends long enough for you to know I won’t spread it round the hotel.” “You know last week when Chef chucked me out of the kitchen?” Gina nodded and Kirsty took a deep breath, then 194

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carried on. “Well, I knew Reeve was away that day, but I didn’t know he was sick, so I decided to go to his place and give him a bit of my mind.” “Just a minute, how did you know where he lived?” Gina asked sharply. “That evening he took me to dinner when you were working…well, he had to go home and change first.” Catching the look in Gina’s eye, she hastened to add, “I stayed in the car and waited for him.” “I believe you.” Gina grinned. “So what happened when you got to his place last week?” “I knocked on the door, but there was no reply, so I went around the side. I could see his car in the garage so knew he must be around somewhere. The back door was unlocked, but, even though I knocked and called with the door open, nobody answered. Then I heard a moan from a room off the hallway leading from the kitchen.” Kirsty paused for breath, then collected her thoughts and carried on. “I found Reeve in bed with a high fever. He was tossing and turning and a bit delirious. I couldn’t leave him like that, could I? Anyway, I looked after him for a few days and…well, I’d started falling for him even before then. As he got better, let’s just say we got to know one another better.” “Maybe that should be intimately instead of better?” Gina queried with a grin. “Okay, yes, we did make love. That’s what makes it hurt so much. It was love, Gina, not sex. I thought he felt the same, but I must have been wrong because, since he came back to work, he’s made one excuse after another to avoid me. I realise now that he never said he loved me. On Sunday, he told me he was working, but I saw him on the beach kissing 195

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a woman. I felt so angry and hurt, so when Chef Antoine left the office, I told Reeve I wanted to keep our relationship purely business. Now I know about the takeovers and everything, I’m sure he used me to get at Antoine. I know it was me who finished with him, but he seemed relieved to get rid of me so easily.” The tears sprang to Kirsty’s eyes once more. “Are you sure you’ve got this right?” Gina frowned. “From what you’ve said in the past, Antoine deserved everything he got, especially as he was trying to dump you in it. You should know better than to jump to conclusions, Kirsty. I bet you didn’t even ask Mr. Stuart what was going on, did you?” “No, I didn’t.” Kirsty took a fresh tissue from her pocket and swiped at the tears. “I could kick myself now, Gina. At the time I could only think of how he’d betrayed me, but maybe I was wrong about that. I should at least have given him a chance to explain.” “Well it’s not too late, is it?” “I think it might be,” Kirsty replied. “I had to talk to him later on the day Antoine left and I meant to take the opportunity to ask him to explain. He sounded so cold and aloof, I chickened out, but now I wish I hadn’t. Everything feels so sort of unfinished.” “I still say it’s not too late,” Gina repeated stubbornly. “Even though I only know him as a boss, Reeve Stuart doesn’t seem the type of man to take advantage of you just to get proof about Antoine. Go and see him, Kirsty. Ask him about the woman on the beach and the gossip floating around the hotel. You won’t be able to move on until you get this all sorted out.” Gina went back to work and Kirsty returned to the 196

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kitchen. She started preparing for the evening menu, but her mind kept going over what her friend had said and she realised Gina was right. She had to see Reeve and find out exactly how he felt about her, and get him to explain about the other woman. Only then would she know if his feelings for her were as strong as the love she had for him. Several times the next morning she reached for the phone, intending to ask Reeve if she could see him in his office, but each time her nerve failed before she’d even dialled his number. After lunch, Kirsty sat at her desk staring at the phone, but although her mind pushed her to ring Reeve, her hand wouldn’t obey her. “This is silly,” she muttered. “Perhaps if I got away from here I’d be able to see things more clearly.” Luckily the temporary sous-chef had asked if he could try out a new recipe during the afternoon lull, so Kirsty could go home for a few hours. A half-hour soak in the bath made her feel physically better, but her mind was still confused. Normally she’d bake her way to a clear head, but she didn’t have enough time before returning to the hotel. Wrapped in a dressing gown, her hair surrounding her face in damp tendrils, she sat on the sofa and tucked her legs under her. Picking up a writing pad, she tried to make a list of the questions she should ask Reeve. “Number one, the woman on the beach.” She spoke aloud as she wrote. “Two, why he didn’t tell me what was going on with Antoine, and why did he use me in such a rotten way?” She looked at her list and frowned. She could ask Reeve these questions, but what if he refused to answer? Would it mean he didn’t trust in her? And what if he did answer and she 197

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didn’t like what he said? “Drat!” The doorbell interrupted her reverie and plonking the pad onto the coffee table, she untucked her legs and headed for the stairs. Her irritation increased when the doorbell rang a second time. “All right,” she muttered. “I heard you the first time.” She opened the door, her mouth already forming the words to tell her caller what she felt about his impatience, but the words froze on her lips. Reeve stood on the doorstep. Without a word he pushed past her and climbed the stairs. Kirsty’s anger raced to the surface and shutting the door, she quickly hurried after him. “What do you think you’re doing? Barging in here like that?” she asked when she caught up with him in the lounge. “Be quiet, Kirsty,” he commanded. “Sit!” “Now just you wait a minute…” she began, but with a gentle push from Reeve she landed on the sofa. “I said be quiet. You had your say on Monday, and now it’s my turn.” Reeve ran his fingers through his hair as he strode to the window and back again. “This whole mess is partly my fault. I should’ve told you what was happening, instead of expecting you to go along with what I said. The truth is I knew as soon as I took over the hotel that something was badly wrong with the restaurant. In the last six months, the takings and number of covers for each meal had plummeted. It’s my practice to find out who’s responsible for such losses and get rid of them.” “I know.” Kirsty’s anger melted as he blinked in surprise. “It’s on the hotel grapevine, Reeve. You didn’t honestly think they wouldn’t know what you were up to, did you? I must 198

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admit it took longer than usual for the scuttlebutt to get around. I didn’t hear about it until yesterday.” Kirsty’s thoughts sobered as she remembered the results his hidden agenda had produced. Reeve peered at her intently. “You thought I’d made love to you so I could get information on Antoine, didn’t you?” He accused her, a hurt look on his face. “My darling, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I admit I did stand back and let things take their course at the meeting after the Millers’ reception. I needed to lure Antoine into making a stand regarding his employment. But using people is not my way, Kirsty, especially after last week. The way I feel about you I could never, ever use you in such an underhand way.” “But why did it look like you were siding with Chef Antoine? Gina said he was all smiles after he’d spoken to you when you went back to work. And why did you seem to be avoiding me? Then on Monday you wouldn’t let me come into work until nine o’clock. Why, Reeve, why?” Kirsty looked at him, her thoughts a confused jumble. “By appearing to side with Chef Antoine I hoped he wouldn’t do anything too drastic and his smile resulted from keeping him sweet until I’d got written proof about him. I had to protect you, Kirsty, so I couldn’t appear to be friendly with you. As for Monday, I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted. Antoine had to go. He’d become a danger to your professional reputation, as well as to the hotel. As for avoiding you, I didn’t want to betray to Antoine how strong my feelings for you were. I thought if I stayed away from you until after the confrontation with him, you wouldn’t get hurt in the backlash.” “You did that for me?” Kirsty asked, her eyes round 199

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with astonishment. “Yes, I did. It didn’t work, though, did it? I stayed away from you, but you still got hurt, and I found it nigh on impossible to hide how I felt about you,” Reeve told her as he sat down beside her. “Part of the downhill trend of the hotel was because Mr. Bennett slowed down as he got nearer retirement. But the drastic fall in restaurant takings over the last six months couldn’t be explained. When I first encountered the sous-chef I thought I had the answer.” “Thank you very much!” Kirsty stuck her nose in the air, trying to assume a picture of injured pride, but she collapsed into giggles as she saw Reeve’s impish grin. “I soon got that idea knocked out of my head when the headstrong sous-chef demanded a showdown. I also felt I couldn’t possibly be so wrong in my instincts. How could I fall in love with someone who on the surface seemed so devious? Do you remember how hard I was on you that first week? I felt I couldn’t trust my own mind. Antoine tried to convince me you weren’t to be trusted, but every time I came near you, I wanted to pick you up and take you away somewhere where we could be on our own.” Kirsty smothered a gasp. He had said he’d fallen in love with her. Wait a minute, her cautious mind warned. That was weeks ago. How does he feel now? “It soon became obvious you were totally honest and when Chef went sick, it merely underlined the problem was him, not you.” Reeve paused and his expression turned serious. “What you didn’t know, Kirsty, was that, although you had a high opinion of him, a lot of the catering business felt there was a slightly bad smell about some of his activities. “The previous group who owned the Hibiscus Hotel had 200

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been unable to pin anything on him, which is why they sent him here where he couldn’t do too much harm. He didn’t work here by choice, you know, although he somehow managed to get those ridiculous clauses written into his contract. They didn’t tell me about this to start off with, hoping if I found some dirt on him I’d assume they hadn’t known about it, and would terminate his contract without any fuss. He’d been charging things to the hotel that were intended for his own personal use, plus he let the standard of the restaurant fall drastically, which is why there wasn’t too much in the way of catering functions recently. Last but not least he tried to blame you.” “I still don’t understand why he did any of that. What on earth did he think he would gain by blaming me? At the very best he’d end up with a new sous-chef.” Kirsty frowned. Something had been said in Reeve’s office which nagged at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite recall the words. Reeve spoke again, and suddenly she remembered—the clause in Antoine’s contract. “On the contrary, if you were proved to be unsuitable for the job, he could call in the escape clause in his contract. Then he could waltz off to a new job at the theatre restaurant with no stain on his character. He tried to use you as a fall guy, my love.” Reeve’s hand covered Kirsty’s and she looked at his face and trembled as she saw the tender flame of love warming his eyes. “I thought I had it all planned out, Kirsty. Get rid of Chef, promote you to head chef, then we could sort out our personal life together.” Reeve peered intently into her green eyes. “What went wrong, Kirsty? It couldn’t only have been because you thought I’d used you. You told me you’d only 201

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found out about the way I conduct my takeovers yesterday. So what happened, Kirsty? Why did you tell me that ridiculous story about keeping our business and private lives separate.” “It was all my own stupid, jealous fault, Reeve. I didn’t trust you enough to ask you to explain the real thing that bothered me.” Kirsty looked down at her lap, but Reeve’s free hand cupped her chin and he lifted her face to his. “So ask me now, Kirsty. Let’s get everything out into the open, once and for all.” “It doesn’t matter.” She decided she’d overreacted enough for one day. The woman on the beach didn’t really matter, did she? Yes, she did! A definite reply came from her brain. “Let me guess,” Reeve said. “You saw me meeting another woman on the beach.” “How did you know?” Kirsty gasped. Reeve pointed at the writing pad on the coffee table and grinned. “It’s not funny, Reeve. I thought you were avoiding me once you got back to the hotel. You said you had a backlog of work. That didn’t bother me too much, but it made me feel a bit unsettled. Then I saw you on the beach with that woman. I thought I was seeing things as you weren’t very close to where I was sitting and I wasn’t sure it was you. But then you hugged and kissed her before you drove off. I recognised your car.” Kirsty dropped her eyes as the tears welled up again. “It hurt because I thought you loved me, but there you were with another woman when you said you didn’t have time to see me.” Beside her she felt Reeve shudder and an apprehensive feeling stole over her. He must be trembling with suppressed anger. She had annoyed him by her lack of trust. All she’d 202

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wanted was a chance to explain her feelings and ask him what had happened and now she’d blown it by telling him she didn’t trust him. “You goose!” Reeve gasped and Kirsty glanced up in surprise, her tears forgotten. Instead of shaking with anger, he was convulsed with laughter. “Oh, Kirsty, my love, I suppose I should be flattered you were so jealous about what you thought you saw.” “I did see you hug and kiss her!” Kirsty couldn’t let him get away with laughing the matter off. “Think, my adorable Kirsty. Think about it. Imagine you’re back on the beach and have just seen me.” Reeve held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes, willing her to picture the scene. “The two of you walked up the beach from the high tide line.” She frowned as she called up the memory. “Then you gave her a hug. After kissing her, you went to your car and she turned and walked off along the beach. Oh!” Kirsty raised her eyes to Reeve’s. “I’m so sorry Reeve. I’m such an idiot. You kissed her on the cheek.” “Exactly!” Reeve’s lips still curled upwards with humour. “Louise is an old friend from the city office of the Garden Group. She drove up to deliver the documented proof about Chef’s involvement with the wedding, plus the dismissal letter from the lawyers and the other details of his unsavoury background that she’d dragged out of the old owners of the hotel. We couldn’t meet at the Hibiscus in case Antoine saw us. I’d been hoping I could pop in here and see you before I went back, but I thought it best not to. I couldn’t be sure I’d be able to carry on my act at the hotel if I’d made love to you again.” “Oh, Reeve, can you forgive me?” Kirsty pleaded with 203

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her voice and eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, Kirsty. You misunderstood, and it was all my fault. I should have taken you into my confidence a bit sooner. Now that’s all behind us there is one other thing I need to know.” Kirsty’s heart fluttered as she waited for him to continue. “Do you really want to become the head chef at the theatre restaurant?” “How did you... Oh, of course, the Garden Group’s bought the franchise, hasn’t it? And now I realise where I’d seen Louise before. She was the lady on the interview panel. No, Reeve, I don’t want the theatre job. I applied for it when things began to get uncomfortable with Antoine.” Like a shower of cold water Kirsty’s unhappiness returned. He hadn’t asked the question she’d hoped he would ask. “How did you know about it anyway? Surely they didn’t consider me for the position?” “On the contrary, they were very impressed by your application and put you on the shortlist for my consideration. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay in Orewa. My mysterious woman friend on the beach asked whether I thought you’d still be interested once Antoine had gone.” Reeve chuckled, but then his eyes became serious. “Talking about the data she gave me…I don’t suppose you’ve heard I’m buying a house on the Peninsula?” “Yep!” Kirsty grinned, partly with relief and partly with humour at Reeve’s surprise. “I told you, the hotel grapevine is one of the best in the area.” “Well, one thing they don’t know is that I intend making the Hibiscus Hotel my pet project.” Reeve smiled smugly as he leaned back, arms folded as he waited for her answer. 204

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“Ah, there you have me,” Kirsty admitted. “The grapevine hasn’t got that little detail yet.” “Remember when we went out to dinner I told you about my ambition to run a small, select hotel some day, and you told me your ambition of owning a restaurant?” He smiled at Kirsty, who nodded. “But you’ve already achieved your ambition,” Kirsty said, a puzzled expression on her face. “I’ve done more than that, but I feel I’ve lost my objective by owning more than one place. My parents left me my first two hotels and when they died and I took over, the whole thing just sort of grew until I now have five properties, six with the theatre franchise. I’d like to get back to basics once in a while, and I intend using the Hibiscus for that purpose. I want to use it as a training ground for managers. I’ll need a top class chef and I think you know what I’m about to ask, Kirsty. Would you consider being half-owner of a restaurant which is part of a hotel as the answer to your dreams?” “I might,” she said hesitantly. “It depends on what terms are being offered.” “First, I’d better tell you about my ideas for the hotel. I want to make it one of those small but exclusive places where people fight to get in. I remember what you said about the staff feeling nervous when I took over, and I’d like to make it run efficiently, but not lose the family atmosphere. I know you’ll agree the whole place needs to be refurbished, but I don’t want it to become all marble and stainless steel. Part of the success of a good hotel hangs on the quality of the restaurant and obviously that depends on the head chef. My first choice would be you. I hoped we could go into partnership.” Again he sat back and waited for her reply while she thought over what he’d said. 205

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“It’s a lovely idea, Reeve, but I can’t afford that sort of money. I’m quite happy to work for you, though. More than happy.” “In that case, can I make the restaurant a present to you? I really need your help, Kirsty.” He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Say yes. You know you’re dying to do it.” “No, it’s too much. I couldn’t possibly accept such a gift from you.” Kirsty would rather have gone on with the kiss than continue talking about the hotel, but she realised the problem had to be solved, or it might stand in the way of their future relationship. “Would you reconsider my offer if I made it a present for the bride on her wedding day?” His face was serious as he waited for his question to sink in. “Wedding day! You mean? Really?” Kirsty couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. “Yes, really. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a bit oldfashioned about some things.” Hitching up his immaculately pressed trousers, Reeve went down on one knee. “Kirsty Lawrence, I love you with all my heart. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” “Oh, Reeve, I… Yes. The answer is yes. I’d love to be your wife and your head chef.” Kirsty’s words came out in a breathless rush. He rose and his arms enfolded her. “This is where you belong, my Kirsty,” he murmured as he rained small kisses over her face. “Here in my arms for evermore.”

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Sue Perkins grew up in the West Country of England. In her youth she traveled the world with her husband. Sue and her family immigrated to New Zealand many years ago. Now her son and daughter travel the world while Sue and her husband enjoy a quiet life on their three acre block at the top of New Zealand’s South Island. Sue works as a graphic design artist, combining her love of computer work and art. She enjoys reading, writing, genealogy and line dancing. You are invited to visit her website at: http://www.sueperkins.wcpauthor.com/

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