The By Request Collection. Kate Hardy

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ever after with lots of sproglets.’ She shook her head. ‘I of all people should have known the stupidity of believing that.’

      Her own parents hadn’t loved her enough to change their lifestyles—despite their endless promises to quit, their addictions had held sway over their world. Rendered them immoral and uncaring of anything except the whereabouts of their next fix.

      ‘How did you find out?’

      Ethan’s voice pulled her back to the present.

      ‘He “confessed” when I found him in bed with another woman. A hooker, no less. Turned out he’d been sleeping around the whole time. He’d told me that he wanted to wait to sleep with me until we got married, to prove I was “different”.’

      Little wonder her cheeks were burning—she’d accepted Hugh’s declaration as further evidence of his feelings for her, of his willingness to change his lifestyle for her, and her soul had sung.

      ‘In reality it was so that he could be free at night for some extracurricular action between the sheets.’

      For a second a flicker of relief crossed his face, before sheer contempt hardened his features to granite. Both emotions she fully grasped. If she’d actually slept with Hugh she would feel even more besmirched than she already did. As for contempt—she’d been through every shade, though each one had been tinted with a healthy dose of self-castigation at her own stupidity.

      ‘Anyway, once I got over the shock I chucked the ring at him, advised him to pay the woman with it and left. Then his publicity machine swung into action. Hugh’s first gambit was to apologise. It was cringeworthy. Next up, ironically enough, he offered to pay me to play the role of his fiancée. When I refused, it all got a bit ugly.’

      Ethan halted, his jaw and hands clenched. ‘You want me to go and find him? Drag him here and make him grovel?’

      ‘No!’

      But his words had loosed a thrill into her veins—there was no doubt in her mind that he would do exactly that. For a second she lingered on the satisfying image of a kowtowing Hugh Farlane and she gave a sudden gurgle of laughter.

      ‘I appreciate it, but no—thank you. The point is he said he’d never bother to pull a publicity stunt like this again. So I don’t need to make a stand for the greater good. To be honest, I just want it to blow over; I want the threats and the hatred to stop.’

      Ethan drummed his fingers on the counter and her flesh goosebumped at his proximity, at the level of anger that buzzed off him. It was an anger with a depth that filled her with the urge to try to soothe him. Instinct told her this went deeper than outrage on her behalf, and her hand rose to reach out and touch him. Rested on his forearm.

      His muscles tensed and his blue-grey gaze contemplated her touch for a stretch. Then he covered her hand with his own and the sheer warmth made her sway.

      ‘I’m sorry you went through that, Ruby. I’d like to make the bastard pay.’

      ‘It’s okay.’ Ruby shook her head. ‘I’m good. Thanks to you. You gave me a chance, believed in me, and that means the world.’

       Lighten the mood. Before you do something nuts like lean over and kiss him on the cheek. Or just inhale his woodsy aroma.

      ‘If it weren’t for you I’d still be under my duvet, ice cream in hand. Instead I’m here. Helping renovate a castle. So I’m really good, and I want to move forward with my life.’

      ‘Then let’s do exactly that.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Let’s go to dinner.’

      ‘Huh?’ Confusion flicked her, along with a thread of apprehension at the glint in his eye. ‘Now? You’ve had dinner, remember?’

      ‘Tomorrow. Pugliano’s. In the next town along.’

      ‘Pugliano’s? You’re kidding? We’d never get in at such short notice.’

      ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll get a table.’

      ‘But why do you want us to go out for dinner?’ For a scant nanosecond her heart speeded up, made giddy by the idea that it was a date.

      ‘To celebrate making your appointment official. You’re off trial.’

      ‘I am?’ A momentary emotion she refused to acknowledge as disappointment that it was not a date twanged. To be succeeded by suspicion. ‘Why?’

       Shut up, shut up, shut up.

      This was good news, right? The type that should have her cartwheeling around the room. But...

      ‘I don’t want this job out of pity.’

      ‘Look at me.’ He met her gaze. ‘Do I look like a man who would appoint someone to an important business role out of pity?’

      ‘Fair point. No, you don’t. But I think your timing is suspect.’

      ‘Nope. You’ve proved yourself this past week. You’ve matched my work drive without complaint and with enthusiasm. Tonight you went beyond the call of duty with Rafael and now you’ve told me the truth. No pity involved. So... Dinner?’

      ‘Dinner.’

      Try as she might the idea sizzled—right alongside his touch. His hand still covered hers and she wanted more.

      As if realisation hit him at the same instant he released his grip and stepped backwards. ‘It will be good for you as well. To see how Pugliano’s works.’

      ‘Good...how?’ Hurt flickered across her chest. ‘I’ve researched all your places. I’ve talked to your restaurant managers in Spain and France and New York. Plus I know how a top-notch restaurant works already.’

      ‘Sure—but as a manager, not as a guest.’ He raised a hand. ‘I know your engagement to Hugh was filled with social occasions in glitzy places, but you said it yourself you didn’t enjoy them and now I get why. I want you to see it from the point of view of a guest. Experience it from that side of the table.’

      Despite all her endeavour, the bit of her that persisted in believing the date scenario pointed out that she would positively revel in the experience alongside Ethan.

      The thought unleashed a flutter of apprehension.

       Chill, Ruby. And think this through.

      This was not a date, and actually... ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea. What if it reactivates the media hype? What if people think that I’m moving in on you, shovel in hand, kitted out in my gold-prospecting ensemble?’

      His broad shoulders shrugged with an indifference she could only envy. ‘Does it matter what people think?’

      ‘It does if it starts up a media storm.’

      ‘We can weather the storm. This is a business dinner, not a date, and I don’t have a problem going public with that.’

      ‘Well, I do. I can picture it—sitting there being stared at, whispered about...the

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