thrown her into a tizzy with his word games.
She approached his table with the plates, studiously avoiding eye contact, and gently deposited the halibut in front of him. Then she decided to further test her savoir-faire by asking him whether his wine was all right.
‘Enough ice, sir?’
‘A bucket is more than enough,’ he agreed in a murmur. ‘And the little crab pastries were truly exquisite. My compliments to the chef.’
‘I’ll pass on the message,’ Shannon said, rather proud at her self-containment.
‘Very obliging of you.’ He looked at his food and she had a sneaking suspicion that there was something resembling a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.
She turned to his companion and the practised smile froze. She could feel the colour drain away from her face.
‘You!’ she whispered, clutching the plate of food. ‘What are you doing here!’ Her fragile mastery over her emotions crumbled spectacularly away in the face of Eric Gallway, who was sitting back in his chair, looking at her with smiling, polite blankness. He was as blond-haired and blue-eyed as she remembered, with the plastic good looks of someone who had spent a lifetime cultivating their outward image to the detriment of everything else. He’d captured her with his looks and then used every ounce of smooth charm at his disposal to try and get her into bed with him. Goodness knew, he might have succeeded as well in the end if she hadn’t found out about his wife and his children and the whole life he had conveniently concealed while promising her happy-ever-afters and wedded bliss. Only then had he turned vicious and the mask had slipped away to reveal a small man with a nasty, cruel mind.
‘Excuse me, do I know you, miss?’
In retrospect, it was the worst thing he could have said. In retrospect, Shannon liked to think that she wouldn’t have done what she had if he’d acknowledged her. Looking at her coolly and blankly and pretending that he didn’t have a clue who she was, it sent all the vanished colour rushing back into her cheeks. Her frozen hands began to tremble with rage.
‘Maybe you don’t. How disappointing,’ she agreed. She heard her mother’s voice telling her to always count to ten because her temper would get her into trouble one day, and made it to two before she removed the plate from the tray and tipped twelve ounces of medium-rare steak, dripping with Alfredo’s special sauce, accompanied by potatoes and vegetables, straight onto the pristine jacket and well-tailored trousers.
It was intensely satisfying to hear Eric Gallway’s yelp of pain as hot food hit the thin covering of expensive wool. It reverberated through the restaurant like the crash of breaking crockery in a china shop. He stood up and frantically began wiping the food with his napkin, while everyone in the restaurant stopped eating and positioned themselves the better to look at what was going on.
‘How dare you?’ he growled. ‘How dare you throw a plate of food over me? I don’t know who the hell you are, miss, but I’m damn well going to make sure you’re sacked! Get me your boss! This instant!’
Shannon had a strong urge to laugh and covered her mouth with her hand. No need to get her boss. Alfredo was hurrying over towards them while trying to encourage the other diners to carry on with their meals. Perhaps pretend that this was nothing but some simple Italian jollity.
‘What is going on here?’ Alfredo ignored Eric’s frantic cleaning-up process and stared at Shannon who hung her head. Hopefully, he would interpret that as a gesture of shame instead of an insane desire to stifle her mirth.
‘What,’ snarled Eric, ‘do you think the problem is? This…this…so-called waitress of yours has dumped a plate of food all over me and let me tell you right now that unless she’s sacked immediately, I’ll sue you for everything you possess! I’ll personally make sure that this restaurant is out of business!’
‘It sort of fell, the plate,’ Shannon said, her green eyes wide and luminous. If he could pretend not to know who the hell she was, then she could pretend that it had all been an unfortunate accident. ‘Sorry.’ She grabbed a serviette and made a flicking motion, which was venomously brushed aside. ‘I think some of the carrots oozed into your pocket, sir…and there are a few mange-tout on your left shoe…’
Eric seemed incapable of responding to the helpful observations and stared at her murderously as Alfredo launched into a profuse apology, ending with assurances that any dry-cleaning costs would be covered.
‘Oh, dear, your lovely patent leather shoes seem to be ruined,’ Shannon observed with extravagant seriousness.
‘Please, allow me to offer you a full replacement for your suit and your shoes.’ All eyes followed a path down the soaked trousers to the ruined shoes under discussion. Someone burst out laughing a few tables away.
‘You sack this creature immediately, my man, or you won’t be able to afford your next loaf of bread, never mind my clothes. And let me tell you something, I happen to know quite a number of people in high places!’
‘I think it’s time you took yourself off to the bathroom and cleaned up,’ drawled a familiar voice. ‘You’re making a spectacle of yourself.’
For a minute, Eric looked as though, now in his stride and regardless of the state of his clothes, he was more than prepared to stand his ground and continue his litany of threats, but after a few seconds he nodded and walked off, watched by everyone in the restaurant. Someone yelled for an encore and Shannon felt a rush of appreciation for the bawdy clientele who frequented their establishment.
‘I hope your friend will calm down,’ Alfredo began worriedly. ‘Of course, it was a dreadful accident, but all these threats of closing down my restaurant…well, I have a family to support! Perhaps I better go see what is happening in the bathroom, hope he listens to reason…’ He extracted a handkerchief from a pocket to wipe his brow and then hurried off towards the direction of the bathroom.
‘Sit down.’
Shannon slowly turned to look at the man, who seemed to be the only person in the restaurant unaffected by what had just taken place.
She slumped into a free chair and rested her head against her hands.
‘Feel better?’
She looked at him for a while in silence. ‘Not really, no, but thank you for asking.’
‘What was that all about?’
‘I’m very, very sorry that I ruined your lunch.’ She stared at the congealing halibut on his plate. There was nothing funny about what had just happened, she realised. Alfredo had had nothing to do with anything, but he had taken the brunt of it and it had all been her fault.
‘Forget the lunch,’ he said drily.
‘Poor Alfredo,’ she said miserably to herself. ‘I shouldn’t have dropped the plate of food all over your friend. It was wrong of me.’
‘He’s not my friend. You certainly know how to create a scene, don’t you?’
‘Were you very embarrassed? I’m very, very sorry.’
‘Will you stop apologising? And, no, I wasn’t embarrassed. It would take rather more than that little incident to embarrass me. Tell me what you’re going to do now.’
‘Resign,
