“Blair?”
Gustav had come back through to the kitchen, mischief written all over his features.
“Please don’t tell me a busload of tourists have arrived and they’re all demanding the Ossibuchi,” Blair countered, naming the dish that had sold out an hour ago.
“No, nothing so simple. It’s Mr. Handsome. He wants to speak to you personally.”
Blair’s heart stuttered in her chest. “And you’ve given him my apologies, haven’t you.”
“No, actually. I said you’d be right out.”
“Gustav!”
“Look, it’s eleven-thirty, the restaurant is nearly empty, bar the dessert and coffees on table ten. You know the kitchen is under control. There’s no reason why you can’t go and enjoy a port with him before we close up. Go on, live a little. It’s about time you had some fun.”
Blair groaned inwardly. Ever since she’d broken her engagement to Rhys and summarily dismissed him and Alicia from their duties at Carson’s—a dismissal that had cost her dearly afterwards when their employment lawyer had pointed out she hadn’t followed due process—Gustav had been after her to lighten up and socialize.
If only he knew, she thought. She’d already had about all the fun she could handle. It was why she had thrown herself back into work as soon as she’d stepped off the plane a few weeks ago.
Gustav yanked on her apron strings and snatched the heavy linen swathe from her narrow hips, then handed her the lipstick she kept in a drawer near the swinging doors for those moments she went out to circulate amongst diners.
“Go on. It won’t kill you. Look, honey, if I thought I stood a chance I’d be at that table pronto, but he’s made it clear he wants you.”
Reluctantly, Blair took the lipstick and swiped it across her lips.
“There, satisfied?” she said, challenging him.
“Not hardly, sweetie.” He reached up and swiped the net she wore over her hair off her head and tousled her hair into a fluffy mess. “Now I’m satisfied.”
Gustav took her by the shoulders, spun her around and pushed her in the direction of the restaurant.
“Don’t worry about the kitchen. We’ll take care of everything. You just enjoy yourself.”
As the door swung closed behind her, Blair could swear she heard the faint sound of applause from her staff. A swift glance over her shoulder through the porthole-shaped window showed Gustav taking a bow. Blair fought back a smile as she turned her attention back to the man waiting on the secluded table set in the deep bay window of the old villa.
Draco rose as Blair walked toward him. For a while, he’d wondered if his waiter had been leading him on, saying that Blair would join him for an after-dinner drink, but here she was. Finally.
He raked his gaze over her, taking in the weariness that tightened the lines of her angular face. Not classically beautiful, certainly, but the sweeping arc of her slender, dark brows over eyes the color of dark chocolate, and the long straight line of her nose, lent character to a face that might otherwise be ordinary.
She walked with the grace of the naturally slender, the bulky chef’s jacket over baggy checkered pants—the standard kitchen uniform here in New Zealand—hiding the long, lean strength of her body and the perfectly shaped breasts he’d bet even now were tipped with rose peaks. A sudden flush spread across her high cheekbones and her eyes glowed with the flame of heat that he knew answered his own.
Deep inside him he felt the thrum of anticipation begin to build. By the end of the night she’d be in his bed. He knew it as well as he knew the contours of her body. And he could barely wait to feel her beneath him again. They had unfinished business to resolve between them. Blair Carson would learn she couldn’t run away from him and not expect him to follow.
His feral instincts wanted nothing more than to take her by the hand and lead her straight out the front door to his waiting car. To whisk her away to his Viaduct Basin apartment in the city and bare her to his gaze, to his hunger. And then to sate them both.
A fine tremor ran through his body as he fought back the urge to do just that. As she neared his table she displayed all the characteristics of a gazelle poised for flight. The last thing he wanted to do right now was scare her off. She’d run from him once before; it was up to him to ensure she wouldn’t do so again.
She lifted her hand to him as she drew to a halt beside the table.
“I trust you enjoyed your meal, Mr. Sandrelli.”
Draco let his lips relax into a smile, watching her pupils dilate in reaction, and her lips firm, as she read his humor at her attempt to keep things between them strictly on a business footing.