âIt makes a delightful change to see you out of work clothes.â
âDelightful? Isnât that taking courtesy a bit far?â she asked feverishly.
âDonât you like being described as âdelightfulâ?â Kaneâs eyes were shuttered. âWhat adjective would you rather I used? How about sexy? Mmm. Yes, sexy might be more apt. Those freckles, that ivory-white skin and flaming hair. Not obviously sexy, but discreetly so. Like a woman in jeans and a manâs shirt, not thinking sheâs flaunting anything, but arousing all sorts of illicit thoughts anyway.â
His words made her feel limp. âI donât arouse illicit thoughts,â she squeaked.
âHow do you know?â
âGUESS whoâs here, Shannon!â
Shannon paused for a second to look up at her friend who was contributing to the general chaos of the kitchens by balancing a large circular tray, laden with empty crockery, precariously above her shoulder on the flat of her hand.
âWho?â She flexed her fingers and grinned which was an open invitation for Sandy to deposit her tray on the stack of paperwork on the desk and lean forward with a conspirational gleam in her eyes. Sandy did amateur dramatics twice a week and devoutly believed that there was nothing in life that couldnât benefit from elaborate gestures. She would never make it to the big screen.
âGuess!â
âI would if I thought that Alfredo would let us get away with playing a few guessing games when itâs pandemonium in here.â On cue, Alfredo yelled something threatening from across the kitchen and was blithely ignored. âThe Queen?â Shannon hazarded. âA famous Hollywood star interested in sampling a more down-market venue in fashionable Notting Hill? Someone from the Lottery Board coming to present you with a cheque for several million pounds?â
âHeâs here!â Sandy straightened up with a smug smile of satisfaction.
âWhat on earth is he doing here at this time of day?â Shannon felt a sudden little swell of excitement.
âWatch it, kid, youâre going red in the face.â
âWho is he with?â
âNo one. At the momentâ¦â Sandy allowed the tantalising titbit to drop. âBut heâs requested two menus!â
âWeâre sad people, Sandy.â Shannon stood up and smoothed down her calf-length black skirt. âWasting our time speculating on someone we donât know from Adamâ¦â Which wasnât entirely true. They did know him, in a manner of speaking. The man had been coming in regularly to grace their eating establishment every morning, no later than seven, for months. In fact, almost as long as Shannon had been living in London, and there was a pleasurable familiarity about the routine.
Of course, they had both given in to wild speculation about him.
He was too aggressively good looking to ignore. His hair was very short and very dark and the sum total of his features added up to an impression of understated power that made their spectator sport of watching him virtually irresistible.
âWhere are you going, my little Irish friend?â Sandy asked tartly. âDonât you have a spot of important typing to be getting on with?â
âIâll just have a quick peek at him. See if he looks the same at lunchtime as he does first thing in the morning.â
âYou mean you think that his mascara might have smudged? Lippy worn off a bit? Facial T-zones looking a bit greasy and in need of a dash of Almond Beige pressed powder?â
Shannon ignored her and quickly grabbed the cream and blue apron folded in the corner of her desk. Sheâd originally been hired as Alfredoâs secretary, to look after his books, do his typing, take phone calls and generally make sure that the nuts and bolts of the restaurant were well oiled and running smoothly, but the plan had gone pear-shaped on day three when one of the waitresses had failed to show up and sheâd been requisitioned to help serve tables. Since then, Shannon had combined her well-honed secretarial skills with her newly discovered waitressing talents, donning an apron whenever the situation demanded, and always in the morning when the paperwork could be left for a couple of hours.
By the time she had quickly slipped the apron over her head, Alfredo had appeared in all his five-feet-four, seriously corpulent Italian glory.