might suddenly spring up and attack him. ‘What did you call this stuff?’ he asked, picking up the serving fork and gingerly moving aside a pineapple ring.
Talia smiled. ‘I didn’t call it anything,’ she said, watching as he put some chicken on his plate and cut into it. ‘It’s labelled batch number seven—although the kitchen staff’s been calling it Chicken Hawaiian.’
John put his fork to his mouth, chewed slowly, then swallowed and made a face. ‘How about calling it a mistake and letting it go at that?’ he said, pushing his plate aside and taking a long sip from a glass of iced water. ‘Much too sweet—nobody wants anything that sugary today.’ He glanced towards the closed door that connected the executive dining-room to the kitchen. ‘What’s next? Or don’t I want to know?’
‘Something involving artichokes, fillet of sole and capers.’ Her boss rolled his eyes and Talia laughed softly. ‘Well, you asked Staff to come up with some exotic offerings, John.’
‘Remind me to tell them exotic doesn’t mean inedible, hmm?’ John’s mouth drew up in a good-humoured smile. ‘What the hell, that’s what our monthly Surprise Luncheon is for, isn’t it? Better to test out new concoctions on ourselves than on our clients. And we average far more successes than failures.’ He took another sip of water, then set down his glass and looked at Talia. ‘Speaking of successes, I’ve had glowing reports about the Miller Weekend.’
Talia looked up. ‘I meant to thank you for sending me a copy of the letter from the inn,’ she said. ‘I’m glad they thought it went well.’
Her boss shook his head. ‘Not just the inn. I had a letter from Miller himself yesterday.’ He paused as the connecting door swung open and a waitress appeared bearing a covered platter. John sniffed as she set it down and took off the cover, and then he sighed. ‘Capers and artichokes, hmm? Do us a favour, Ann. Ask the kitchen to send out a couple of omelettes, will you? Thanks.’ He waited until the girl had hurried off, and then he covered the offending dish and shoved it aside. ‘You win some and lose some, I guess.’
Talia leaned forward. ‘You heard from Logan Miller?’
Her boss nodded. ‘Yeah. The big man himself.’ He looked at her and smiled. ‘He was impressed. Very impressed. Good food, good service, everything planned to the last detail…’
‘As if he’d know,’ she said impatiently. ‘I told you, he never showed up. Well, I suppose he did, I know he was listed as speaker at their general meeting and as chairman at some workshop, but I never laid eyes on him. He wasn’t at the cocktail party Friday evening or the dinner either night or—’
‘No one ever introduced you, you mean.’
Talia shook her head. ‘He wasn’t there, John. You could tell from the way people were acting.’
‘Didn’t you say you only made cursory appearances each evening?’
‘I followed company policy,’ Talia said defensively. ‘Stay in the background, be available if needed—’
John held his hands up. ‘For heaven’s sake, I wasn’t criticising you. You did a great job—didn’t I just tell you that? I’m only pointing out that just because you didn’t see Miller it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. Anyway, you should count yourself fortunate he stayed out of your hair. Corporate weekends are rough enough without the top brass breathing down your neck.’
Talia nodded. ‘I know. And I’m glad to hear that Mr Miller was satisfied.’
‘More than satisfied, according to his letter.’ Her employer smiled. ‘I knew you’d be pleased; I gather you worked your tail off that weekend. You looked as if you hadn’t slept a wink when you showed up at the office Monday morning.’
Talia nodded as the door swung open again and the waitress brought their omelettes to the table. ‘It was—it was a tough weekend, yes,’ she said slowly.
John peered narrowly at his plate, then picked up his fork and stabbed at his eggs. A smile of relief eased across his face. ‘Thank God,’ he muttered. ‘Eggs unadorned. Remind me to give the chef who cooked this a bonus.’ He took a mouthful, chewed, then swallowed. ‘Of course the weekend was tough. A big job, and your first solo assignment. Why, I remember right after I started Diamond’s, I landed a huge account…’
It was a story Talia had heard before. Only half listening, she picked at her lunch while John rambled on. Talking about the weekend she’d spent at the Redwood Inn had brought a rush of unwelcome memories. Her thoughts drifted far from the small, handsomely appointed dining-room to a narrow trail winding through a shadowed grove of trees, to a man whose arrogant, handsome face had haunted her dreams for the past two weeks.
And that was ridiculous. What had happened on that trail had been unpleasant, even humiliating. The man had been brash and vulgar. But the only harm done had been to her ego. Talia knew that, just as she knew she should have long since put the whole incident out of her mind.
But she hadn’t. She was sure she knew the reason: as soon as the man had faded from sight, she’d thought of a dozen cutting remarks she should have made to put him in his place. At the very least, she should have dismissed him on the spot. He’d caught her off guard, she knew that, and she told herself she couldn’t be blamed for not reacting quickly enough to his insults.
By the time she’d hobbled back to the inn, she’d been burning with the desire to strike back at him. She’d shrugged off the concerns of the young couple who’d escorted her to the door, hurried to her room, exchanged her ruined shoes for a new pair and then rushed downstairs to begin her search for the man.
But he hadn’t been there. After a while, when she’d calmed down, she’d realised that there was no way he’d have stayed around. He’d certainly have figured out that she had been going to hand him his walking papers. And he’d never have let her have that satisfaction. He might be a drifter, but he wasn’t a fool.
The next day, she’d thought of asking if anyone knew his name. There was a certain camaraderie among those who drifted along the California coast, searching for the right wave or the right beach, and everyone knew someone who knew someone else. But it hadn’t seemed such a wise idea. People would have wanted to know why she was enquiring about him, and what would her answer have been to that?
She couldn’t have said he’d walked off the job. In this business, people did that often enough and it wasn’t the practice of employers to go looking for them. Nor could she have said he’d been insolent. To do that, she’d have had to explain what he’d done, and she wasn’t exactly sure what had happened to her in that redwood forest.
Besides, what would have been the point? The man had made a fool of her, but the incident was over and best forgotten. And she’d almost thought she had forgotten it, in the rush of activity that the day had brought. There had been no fresh mushrooms for the dinner salads, and one of the cooks had wrenched his back. By the time the day had ended, Talia had been exhausted and drained.
But, that night, she’d had her first dream about him. It had been filled with uncertain images. But the memory of his eyes, blazing with fire, had been as vivid as the memory of his mouth moving with fierce sweetness on hers. She’d awakened suddenly, trembling, stunned by the sharp reality of that kiss. Talia was almost thirty years old, she knew the facts of life—but she had never had that kind of dream before.
What was more upsetting was that what she’d felt in the arms of her dream lover had been more
