had been very macho.
It couldn’t be him, could it?
Once he came inside and took off those sunglasses, Angelina reassured herself, there would no longer be any doubt in her mind.
And if he did have eyes like chips of blue ice? came the gut-tightening question. What then? How did you deal with such an appalling coincidence? What sick fate would send him back to her today, of all days?
The restaurant door opened and Angelina forced herself to look up from where she was practically hiding behind the front counter.
The hunk propped the door open with one elbow and ushered his elderly companion in ahead of him. The lady was not so fragile-looking up close, her face unlined and her blue eyes bright with good health. But she had to be seventy, if she was a day.
And the hunk? It was impossible to tell his age till he took those darned sunglasses off. He could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty, although there was an air of self-assurance about him that suggested he’d been around a while.
The grey-haired lady stepped up to the counter first. ‘I made a booking for two for twelve-thirty,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘The name’s Landsdale. Mrs Landsdale.’
Angelina was highly conscious of the hunk standing at the lady’s shoulder. Was he staring at her from behind those opaque shades? It felt as if he was.
‘Yes, I have your booking here, Mrs Landsdale,’ she replied, proud of herself for sounding so polite and professional in the face of the tension that was building inside her. ‘Would you like to dine inside, or alfresco? It’s really lovely outside today. No wind. Not too hot. And not too many flies.’
The lady’s smile widened. ‘Alfresco sounds wonderful. What do you think, Jake? Shall we sit outside?’
Angelina froze. Had she heard correctly? Had the woman really said that name?
Angelina stared, open-mouthed, as he finally took off his sunglasses, her whole world tipping on its axis.
It was him. Those eyes could not possibly belong to anyone else.
‘Jake,’ she blurted out whilst her head whirled with the incredibility of this scenario.
‘Hello, Angelina,’ he said in the same richly masculine voice he’d already had at seventeen. ‘I’m surprised you recognised me after all these years.’
If it hadn’t been for the eyes, she might not have. He was nothing like the boy she remembered, or the man she’d imagined he might have become. This Jake was smooth and suave and sophisticated. More handsome than ever and obviously no longer underprivileged.
‘Goodness, you mean this is Angelina,’ the grey-haired lady piped up before Angelina could find a suitable reply. ‘Jake, you naughty boy. Why didn’t you say something earlier?’
He lifted his broad shoulders in an elegant shrug. ‘I spotted her through the windows, and decided if she didn’t recognise me back I wouldn’t embarrass her by saying anything.’
Well, at least that meant he hadn’t deliberately come looking for her, Angelina realised with some relief. Still, this was an amazing coincidence, given she’d been thinking about him all morning. She could feel herself trembling inside with shock.
‘I—er—didn’t recognise you till you took off your sunglasses,’ she admitted whilst she struggled to pull herself together. Think, girl.
‘You do have very distinctive eyes, Jake,’ she added, bracing herself to look into them once more. This time she managed without that ridiculous jolt to her heart.
‘Do I?’ he said with a light laugh. ‘They just look blue to me. But now that you have recognised me, I must ask. Is your father around?’ he whispered. ‘Should I put the sunglasses back on, pronto?’
Angelina opened her mouth to tell him that her father was dead. But something stopped her. Some sudden new fear…
This man before her, this grown-up and obviously wealthy Jake might present more of a danger than the loser she’d been picturing barely an hour earlier. This man had the means to take her son away from her, in more ways than one.
She had to be very, very careful.
‘You’re quite safe in here,’ she said, deciding she would tell him absolutely nothing of a personal nature till she’d found out more about him.
But she was extremely curious. What woman—what mother—wouldn’t be?
The questions tumbling round in her head were almost endless, the main one being how on earth had he come to look as if he’d win the bachelor-of-the-year award in every women’s magazine in Australia? And who was this Mrs Landsdale? What did she mean to Jake and how come she knew about her?
Despite—or perhaps because of—all these mysteries, Angelina resolved to keep her wits about her. And to act as naturally as possible.
Picking up a couple of menus, she said ‘this way’ with a bright smile, and showed them to what she’d always thought was the best table outside. It was to the right of the ornamental pond, with a nearby clump of tall gum trees providing natural shade. All the outdoor tables had large umbrellas, where required. But this table never needed one.
‘Oh, yes, this is lovely,’ Mrs Landsdale said as she sat down and glanced around. ‘What a beautiful pond. And a lovely view of the valley beyond too.’
‘Papa chose this spot for the restaurant because of the view. And the trees.’ Too late, she wished she hadn’t brought up her father.
Swiftly she handed them both menus, doing her best not to stare at Jake again. But it was hard not to. Her gaze skimmed over him once more, noting his beautifully tanned skin and the expensive gold watch on his wrist. He had money written all over him. Lots of money.
‘The main-meal menu is on the front,’ she explained. ‘The wine list and desserts are on the back. We don’t have a vast selection at any one time, but the chef does change the menu every two weeks. I can recommend the Atlantic salmon, and the rack of lamb. For dessert, the coconut pudding is to die for. I think you—’
‘If you’re not too busy, Angelina,’ Jake interrupted, ‘could you find the time to sit down and talk at some stage?’
She wanted to. Quite desperately. But pride—and common sense—refused to let her appear too eager.
‘Well, we are pretty busy here on Saturdays.’
‘We can’t linger too long over lunch either, Jake.’ Mrs Landsdale joined in. ‘The property is only open for inspection between two and three. Maybe we could come back here afterwards for afternoon tea and you could catch up on old times with Angelina then. Do you serve afternoon tea here, dear?’
Angelina didn’t answer straight away, her mind ticking over with what the woman had just said about a property inspection. Was Jake a real-estate agent of some kind? Or an investment adviser? What kind of property was the woman talking about?
There were quite a few wineries for sale in the valley at the moment, from the boutique
