her chin, defiance blasting out from those green eyes with all of the heat of a fiery dragon. ‘It was no secret that you were sleeping with Debra at the time so you were not going to fire the person responsible for that particular disaster, were you? So I went. And she stayed. Does that help to make things a little clearer, Rob?’
Every sound in the cake shop seemed to fade into the background as Rob focused on the bitter words that had exploded from the lips of the pretty girl sitting so still across the small table from him.
Of course he remembered Debra.
A shiver of cold regret and bitter disappointment bubbled up.
His rules were simple and easy to remember.
They could have fun. They could have a fling and a great time together and while it lasted he would be the most attentive and faithful boyfriend that a girl could want. Then they would walk away and get on with their lives.
That was how it worked and he made damn sure that any girl he dated was very clear that he was not in the business of negotiating. They were either in or out. Black or white. Their choice.
Debra had lasted longer than most and they had enjoyed a pretty good relationship for a few months. Until the inevitable had happened. She had started pushing for a long-term commitment that he hadn’t been prepared to give. She had kept telling him how much she loved him and how different she was from all of the other girls, so his rules did not apply to her. She was too special and different to be treated like one of the others.
She had not felt so special when he’d packed his bags and had been out of her door an hour later. In fact he recalled crying, screaming, and a humiliating display of begging.
It was weeks later that he’d found out through the gossip channels that Debra had been getting over his breaking up with her with the help of vodka and free hotel wine.
Lottie was the apprentice pastry chef who he fired that night to teach Debra a lesson and try and shock her into taking her life back.
Well, that explained a lot.
‘I remember it well. I ended up taking Debra home to her parents a few days later and finding her the professional help that she needed. It was a great relationship while it lasted and Debra is a remarkable girl. I met up with her and her husband when they were in Los Angeles for a professional chef conference last autumn. They seem like a great couple who have a stunning restaurant together. I am happy for her.’
Rob slowly unfolded his arms and stretched them out across the table.
‘That was a long time ago, Lottie. I made a choice. It was the right decision at the time and I have to stand by that. End of story.’
There was a gasp from across the table and Lottie stared at him, wide-eyed.
‘The right decision at the time? For who? Your squeeze?’
She sat back heavily in the chair and blinked. ‘Is that it? Is that the only apology you have for me? Because I have to tell you that, as excuses go, that is pathetic.’
‘No excuses. It was my job to recruit top talent for the restaurant and Debra is a great pastry chef. I didn’t know about her drinking problems until they impacted her work.’
Rob leant forwards from the waist and pressed the flat of his hand down on the pale wood tabletop.
‘My only regret is that I allowed personal feelings to block my judgement. I should have spotted that Debra was in trouble weeks earlier and done something about it before things got out of hand. Instead I stayed away to give her some distance. The last thing she needed was me standing looking over her shoulder and shouting orders at her. That was my mistake.’
‘What about firing me as some sort of scapegoat? I was incredibly lucky to find another placement the next day after some serious pleading.’
A smile crept over his lips and he tilted his head towards Lottie. ‘Sometimes I’m just too sensitive and caring for my own good.’
‘Really? I had no idea.’ Lottie nodded but every word was dripping with venom. ‘You hide it so very well.’
‘On the contrary.’ Rob shrugged. ‘Take this charity fundraiser you conned me into.’ His hand flipped up into a question before he reached for his coffee. ‘I cannot wait to hear all about it. For a start, I would like to know who’s running the show. Whose idea was it to create scholarship funds for trainee chefs? Because I hope that they know what they’re getting themselves into. That is one hell of a lot of hard work.’
The blonde sitting opposite leant forwards, her forearms on the table until her face was only a few inches away from Rob’s nose, and smiled sweetly. ‘That’s an easy question to answer. It was my idea. I know precisely what I have got myself into and, yes, it is a lot of hard work. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’
Then she slid back, lifted her chin and smiled before replying. ‘This time I am the one who gets to set the rules and call the shots. And I can’t tell you how liberating that is.’
Then she nodded towards the plate she had slid towards him. ‘Take now, for example. No coffee without something to eat. This time it happens to be my speciality pear-and-almond tart. Enjoy.’
Rob stared at the food, and then looked up into a pair of sparkling green eyes.
Only Lottie’s eyes were not simply green. They were forest green. Spring-bud green. The kind of captivating green that knocked the breath out of his lungs.
It was hot outside, but it had suddenly become a lot hotter in this cake shop.
It must be the heat from the ovens.
Her attention was totally focused on him, and her head tilted slightly to one side as she waited patiently for his reply for a few moments.
Just for a second, her gaze faltered and a chink appeared in the façade through which he got a faint glimmer of something unexpected. Suspicion, maybe, but a fierce intelligence and power. It lasted only an instant. But it sent him reeling, before the closed-mouth smile switched back on.
Lottie polished a pristine fork on a clean corner of her apron before placing it next to the pastry on Rob’s plate. ‘You know how hard it is to make a name for yourself in the catering world. I was lucky and so were you. We had money and backup. A full scholarship is the only way most of these young people can afford to go to college and get the training they need to show what they can do. I happen to think that’s worth spending time on. Just because I chose to become a baker does not mean that I tossed my business management degree into the nearest bin on the way into the catering college.’
She gave a small shoulder-shrug. ‘Relax, Rob. The charity has a full-time administrator and a professional team running it. Any questions, talk to Sean. He has been through the details and offered the use of the Beresford for the event.’
Ah. So that was it. This girl thought that he was going to turn a charity auction into a Rob Beresford promotional event.
Was that really how she saw him? As a self-serving egomaniac? Well, this day was just getting better and better.
And
