from pleasure. And he could probably wangle some other job in town for Hannah O’Neill if she wanted to stick around.
“Miss O’Neill is your new chef for Duchess.”
“What?” The word spilled out before Tony could catch it back. He instantly released Hannah’s hand and spun around to face his grandmother, frowning over her shock announcement. “You’ve chosen already?”
She smiled serenely at him. “You did leave the decision in my hands, Antonio. Miss O’Neill and I had been chatting for some time before your arrival. There is no question in my mind she will suit you very well.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs King!” Hannah flew past him and grabbed his grandmother’s hands, pressing them effusively. “I promise I won’t let you down. And any time you’d like me to cook a barramundi for you, just say the word and…”
Cook? Tony stared at the thick plait falling down to the delectable curve of her spine, which led to her even more delectable bottom, and couldn’t see Hannah O’Neill in a galley at all. He could only see her in a bed…with him!
Yet, here she was, dressed in positively provocative clothes, somehow getting on like a house on fire with his grandmother who was smiling at her as though she was the apple of her eye, not minding at all being pounced upon and gabbled at by a woman showing her naked navel with a butterfly tattooed around it!
Tony was still trying to get his scrambled mind around this incredible state of affairs when Hannah turned back to him and grabbed his hand again, squeezing it in both of hers.
“I’ll be the best chef you’ve ever had on Duchess,” she gushed, her eyes lit up like Christmas trees, lots of electricity sparking at him and pumping up his heartbeat. “I’ll learn everything that needs to be done double-quick. I promise you won’t be disappointed in me, Tony.”
Tony… She was doing it again, making his name sound like something she savoured on her tongue. It was almost a French kiss. And he sure as hell was going to be disappointed if she was working for him. Mixing it with an employee would only lead to trouble. Right now, with her hands clasping his, he had a mental image of her body clasping another part of his anatomy which was already giving him trouble.
“I think we should sit down and talk about this,” he said quickly, deciding that putting a table between them was fast becoming mandatory. Not only would it hide his physical discomfort but it would give him enough distance to view Hannah O’Neill in a business-like light. If that was possible.
“Oh, yes!” She released his hand to clap her own. “I need to know when you want me to start and…”
“All in good time,” he instructed, waving her to the other side of the table.
She virtually skipped around to the chair he’d indicated, her exuberant spirits totally irrepressible and almost mesmerising. Tony had to wrench his gaze away from her to get himself settled on a chair and his mind properly organised to deal with this problem.
He shot a glance at his grandmother who had resumed her seat. Her complacent air niggled him. She should have taken more time over this, should have consulted with him first before handing the job to Hannah. That bemused little smile on her lips…had she been mesmerised into an impulsive decision? His steely-willed grandmother?
“Ah! Here is Rosita with afternoon tea!” she announced with warm satisfaction, obviously happy now to turn this into a social situation.
Tony gave up. Hannah O’Neill had somehow wormed her way into his grandmother’s good books and she was now being given the ultimate seal of approval—afternoon tea with Isabella Valeri King in the loggia. He was going to have to run with this ball, whether he liked it or not.
His grandmother proceeded to play grand hostess, aided and abetted by Rosita who fussed around, making sure everything was to their liking. She even produced the carrot cake with the cream cheese and walnut topping—a sure sign the company rated five stars. He was definitely down the mine here without a tin hat to protect him.
Having accepted the inevitable, Tony pulled over the manila folder that contained Hannah O’Neill’s particulars, and focused his mind on getting down to business. Pleasure was now out. Regardless of how strong the temptation, it was utter madness to get sexually involved with an employee. He had to keep Hannah O’Neil at arm’s length. Though even the width of the table didn’t feel far enough.
“I see we addressed our reply to your application, care of Mason’s Shop at Cape Tribulation,” he started off, needing to establish a properly serious vein to this meeting.
“Mmm…”
He looked up to find her licking cream from her lips, and his stomach instantly contracted, hit by a bolt of desire so hard his mind was out for the count.
“I was picking up my mail there,” she explained, once she had her sexy mouth composed for speech. “I spent a couple of weeks exploring the Daintree. Such an amazing rainforest. Being in the midst of it was like being plunged back in time to when…”
“Yes,” he snapped, cutting off her disturbingly lyrical voice. He picked up a pen and jabbed it at the form she’d filled out. “So where are you staying at Port Douglas?”
She took a deep breath.
Her breasts rose distractingly.
“I haven’t found a place yet. I only came down from Cape Tribulation this morning. For the interview. But I’ll find somewhere before tonight. I’ve noticed there are loads of accommodation places here.”
Tony was gaining the fast impression Hannah O’Neill operated on a wing and a prayer. She wasn’t prepared for taking on this job.
“Tourist accommodation,” he pointed out. “If you intend to stay the whole season…”
“Absolutely,” she assured him. “I’ll look for something appropriate.”
“Where have you left your luggage?”
“I put it in a locker at the marina.” She leaned forward, smiling an eager appeal for understanding. “You see, it did rather depend on whether or not I got this job what I did next, so…”
Definitely a wing and a prayer, Tony thought sternly, battling not to drown in her eyes.
“You will need an apartment with a well-equipped kitchen,” his grandmother inserted authoritatively. “Antonio, until Miss O’Neill gets her bearings here, I think it best you put her in one of the guest apartments Alessandro keeps in the Coral King block.”
“A guest apartment?” Tony eyed his grandmother, wondering if she’d gone stark raving mad. Hannah O’Neill was not family or friend. She was an employee, and hardly a highly valued one at this juncture! She hadn’t even been on trial yet.
“I’m sure there’ll be one that’s not being currently used,” came the unshaken reply. “It will give Hannah the chance to settle into her new job and time to look around for suitable accommodation.”
So, it was Hannah now!
“This is very kind of you, Mrs King,” the fair-haired witch chimed in, her dangerous green eyes obviously casting spells in all directions.
“A
