before I found out just how good you really were. We look after four art galleries in this city, and the bottom line is we need a professional chocolatier like yourself heading up our patisserie section.’
The breath froze in Daisy’s lungs as she tried to come up with a suitable reply, but she was too stunned to do more than stare.
‘Oh, I know,’ Marco said, flicking away her silent protestations. ‘You want to open a chocolate shop with your name over the door. You made that clear the first day you walked into my kitchen—and there is nothing wrong with that. Call it Flynn’s Fancies, or whatever. But think about this.’
His long arms pressed hard against the papers on the desk and Marco’s intense dark brown eyes seemed to burn a hole in Daisy’s forehead.
‘What if we put your name on the menu and make this a full-time job, with your own kitchen area and a sous chef to help you? You could reach hundreds of diners every day and have the flexibility to experiment with new ideas. Buy the chocolate you want. Best of ingredients. Best of everything. The job is yours if you want it.’ Then he gave a short shrug and grinned. ‘You can breathe again now.’
Daisy realised that she had been holding her breath the whole time the head chef had been talking, and grasped hold of the desk as she sucked in enough air to help clear her dizzy head.
‘Wow. Thank you. I certainly wasn’t expecting an offer like this. I am flattered—I really am—but as I said before my heart is still set on opening my own artisan chocolate shop. The restaurant work is brilliant, and we really are grateful for it, but if I did come here it would only be for a short time, and Tara would lose the business after I left. I’m not sure that it’s fair to either of us. Does that make sense?’
Marco sniffed once before replying, ‘How close are you to opening your own shop?’
Daisy pushed her hands flat under her bottom to stop herself from bouncing with excitement. ‘So close I can feel it. The real problem is that I want to make my own chocolate. I mean—from scratch. Right now I am buying commercial blends and they are good—very good—but they’re not there yet. It could take years to achieve that perfect blend. Or it could be months. I simply don’t know.’
Marco’s reply was to fling open his arms wide as he rocked back in his chair. ‘Then come and work for us. We can buy in bulk, get good deals from specialist suppliers, and I can guarantee you some room to experiment.’ He waved his right hand in the air with a casual twist. ‘Think of our diners as your product testers. We win—you win. And we can still use Tara for other things. It could work very well.’
He paused and pursed his lips before shrugging.
‘It makes sense for us to find a wonderful dessert chef to look after all of our catering operations, and I would like it to be you. But if you decide not to take up my offer there is a long list of other chefs who would like to show us what they can do—and some of them have worked with chocolate before. They could come up with some interesting recipes.’
‘But not the same as mine.’ Daisy smiled, her ego marginally more inflated than normal.
‘Perhaps not. But still fantastic. And then, of course, we would not need to use outside supplies. Perhaps you should talk this over with Tara? She might have an opinion about that.’
‘Oh. Yes. Tara. Of course.’ Daisy’s heart sank. ‘How long …? When do you need to hear back from me?’
‘I was hoping you would call me in the next few weeks.’ Marco smiled persuasively. ‘It can be fun working here. We have great customers who love their food. Let me help you to make up your mind. We only have a few lunch guests left, but some have ordered your chocolate and almond cake. How would you like to go out into the restaurant and hear what they have to say about your work? You might find that interesting.’
Daisy blinked, and swallowed down a lump of panic before squeaking out, ‘Do you mean right now? I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’
Except Marco had already made the decision, and was on his feet rooting though a pile of chef’s jackets hanging up behind the office door. ‘This is your chance to hear what the customers think about your work face to face. Here you go. This one should fit nicely. Ready?’
Before Daisy could change her mind she’d exchanged jackets and followed one of London’s most highly respected chefs out into the kitchen. Peering out over the serving hatch, she could see a few tables were still occupied.
Marco wiggled his fingers towards a table on the left. ‘Go and have a chat. You never know—the restaurant trade might be perfect for you after all.’
‘That table?’ Daisy stepped forward nervously and peered across the room towards a charming young couple who were obviously having a long, romantic lunch together.
The man’s back was to her, but the woman was dressed so elegantly that Daisy automatically ran her hands down the front of her clothing and checked that her uniform was clean and tidy. She knew the sort. This girl looked as though she had been born with perfect poise and style and did not have to try very hard to be stunning in any situation. In other words exactly the sort of girl who, quite innocently, always made her feel totally clumsy, tongue-tied and inadequate—like a country bumpkin out for a spree in the city, who did not truly belong there.
Then the man turned slightly and she took a closer look. There was no mistaking the shaggy, long dark blond hair, and the heavy stubble that spread above those bow lips, across a square chin and almost to the end of his prominent cheekbones.
It was the man from the food stall who had bought the chocolate rabbits. His black jacket was hanging over the back of his chair, and he was wearing a fitted black cotton long-sleeved shirt which had seen better and cleaner days. On any other man it would have looked scruffy and washed out, and hardly suitable for a lovely restaurant lunch. But drat if it did not suit his broad shoulders as he stretched forward. How irritating was that?
His hair looked as though he had just woken up and raked it through with his fingers, but for some reason the tousled look fitted him perfectly.
She gulped down something close to apprehension. Um. She had a fair idea of exactly what his response would be if she marched up and asked him what he thought about the chocolate dessert.
‘Forget that couple,’ the chef whispered in her ear, and Daisy breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘They are still waiting for dessert service. But those two ladies over there are just paying the bill. Perfect. Try them first, before looping back. Have fun! ’
Max had gone through a huge portion of lasagne, two servings of delicious warm bread, and had just inhaled a platter of cheese and biscuits when the waiter placed a dark circle of aromatic dense chocolate loveliness in front of Kate, then stepped around with his portion.
Max could already smell the chocolate, and instantly pushed his cheese plate to one side, ready for his dessert.
Kate responded with a small laugh. ‘I know that you are dying to tell me everything about this chocolate, so I’m going to simply sit here and drink my coffee while you enjoy yourself. Feel free to dig in any time you like. You do know that I shall insist that the chefs use Treveleyn Estate chocolate for my wedding reception, don’t you?’
Max chuckled. ‘Of course. You can consider it my wedding present to you both. So, what do we have here?’
He lifted the
