Romancing the Seas Page 4

  Was she mad? Exactly what did she think he’d do? Wrap his arms around her and shelter her from the elements? Hah, fat chance.

  “Well, if I were you, Juliet, I would resort to putting some warmer clothes on.”

  She pouted, and he assumed she thought her pout a pretty one, whereas small wrinkles appeared around her small-pursed mouth. Impatience tied in with exasperation toward her.

  “Surely you can come up with something better than that?”

  Jonathon laughed, forcing the sound to be natural. He couldn’t help comparing her to Pippa, to how fresh and free Pippa had looked in the sea breeze on their balcony. When the breeze touched Juliet’s hair, it didn’t move. He felt a touch on his sleeve and looked down to see the white tipped manicured nails rest on his bicep. Her hand gave a little squeeze, and he gently caught it and moved it away, ignoring the now dangerous glint in her blue eyes.

  “You see, Jonathon, I know this is a deal clinching trip for you. Having our contract would considerably increase the worth of Queen Cruises, not to mention what the deal would do for your own career.”

  Jonathon inwardly sighed. He had known this trip spelt trouble, but he hadn’t thought he’d have a seriously delusional woman to deal with.

  “And what I want, Daddy wants too.” Juliet stopped now, and took another sip of her drink.

  Jonathon took the glass from her, disregarding the flare of passion in her eyes. He had to tread very carefully here. He needed her on his side. “Juliet, you’re very sweet, but I really do think that drinking in the afternoon before you have acclimatised yourself to the movement of the ship may be a bit impractical.” He kept his tone appropriately playful. “Now come inside, before you do get too cold.” With this, he firmly grasped her elbow and pulled her back into the cabin. “I know you only flew in to Auckland this morning, so why not catch a few hours rest before the cocktails tonight, and don’t forget that you and your family are dining in my suite at nine tonight.”

  “Oh, of course, I wouldn’t want to ruin our dinner. And the cocktails, will you be there too?”

  Jonathon said a prayer that his exasperation didn’t show clearly on his face. “Of course I will, but I’ll be working.” Pushing her down on the sofa, he found a blanket to cover her. Thankfully, the combination of alcohol and jetlag were working together to induce a soporific stupor, and her eyelids dropped.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  Jonathon had nearly made good his escape before he heard her call out. “I do love a masterful man, Jonathon. Night-night.”

  • • •

  Jonathon made his way quickly through the maze of corridors, his mind keeping up with the pace of his legs. Juliet knew very well what the Stevenson deal meant to him and to Queen Cruises, offering the opportunity to expand. But he hadn’t counted on her making it clear that she was the deal clincher. He had to keep her sweet, but how to do that without appearing to succumb to her charms? Nearly cracking his head on a low doorframe — sometimes he hated the compactness of a cruise ship — he realised he had arrived at his office, and paperwork beckoned. At least it may distract him from the problem that was Juliet Stevenson. How was he going to manage her?

  • • •

  “This kitchen is a dream to work in.” Pippa smiled over at Jean-Pierre, after spending the last hour prepping the food for main service in Corals restaurant that evening.

  Jean-Pierre nodded back at her, pride in his glance. “We ’ave very dedicated staff ’ere. Christian, the kitchen porter, takes a lot of pride in this work. ’e also looks after the maintenance of ze appliances, and makes sure all is running smoothly for you. I also think that he will be a leedle bit in love with you, so will work even ’arder.” At this, he gave a clap and a laugh, his eyes twinkling in merriment at the thought.

  “Yes, I’m sure!” Pippa hoped her sarcasm wasn’t lost on the French chef, as she didn’t want him to think she was so immodest. But a quick glance at his good-natured face relaxed her.

  “Jean Pierre, I’d like to ask your advice.” Pippa had decided to check her menu with him, being that this was her first time cooking for the CEO. “Mr. Eagleton asked me for quite a basic menu: a hot starter, chicken main, and a dessert. So I thought to start with pan-fried scallops with warm tomato and avocado salsa, followed by baked chicken and pistachio pilaf with coconut, chili, and ginger sauce, fresh vegetables, and new potatoes. And to top the night off, white chocolate and berry cheesecake. What do you think? I want to do something classy for my first night.”

  “Mais oui, I like it. Would you like an ’and with it?”

  “No, merci, Jean Pierre, I’ll do it myself.”

  The hours flew by as Pippa flew around the kitchen, enjoying every minute as long as she didn’t think too much about later that night — cooking for the CEO and his esteemed guests. Fiona popped her head around the kitchen door about six P.M. to see if Pippa wanted to join her for dinner at the staff canteen.

  Pippa shook her head. “Thanks, Fiona, but I’ll just grab something here.” Nerves were stopping her from being hungry, but she didn’t want to admit that, not even to her new friend.

  The place started to get busy, with the waiting staff arriving full of good cheer for the first service of the cruise. Every time the out door to the restaurant swung open, Pippa heard cellos tuning amidst a low babble of voices. She paused, listening and loving the excitement palpable in the air. This was why she cooked. The tension before a busy service, the hard grafting during, and the relief and sheer tiredness afterwards. She thrived on it. And to have the opportunity to play with food all day long — heck, who wouldn’t love her job?

  She closed her eyes to give a good mental shake up inside and to get herself into top gear, ready to hit the ground running. She could do this. Upon opening them, she felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of seawater over her. In front of her, in full black tie — and what looked to be a black mood too — stood Jonathon. She gasped, then tried to strangle it in a cough, and ended up sounding like a silly goose.

  He scrubbed up well. The black tuxedo, clearly bespoke, moulded to his body and the shirt underneath with its soft folded collar had what must be a hand-tied burgundy bow tie, being ever so slightly off centre. The burgundy in the tie changed his tawny eyes to a molten gold, and the look they carried made her unsure whether her legs could sustain her anymore. After twenty-eight years of doing so, they were going to let her down now?

  • • •

  Jonathon forced himself not to stare. When he’d come through the kitchen door, Pippa had been standing there, eyes closed and before he knew it, his eyes feasted on the sight. The long dark lashes resting on high cheekbones, unruly curls pulled back in a high ponytail with an odd curl making a bid for freedom.

  When her eyes opened, he watched with fascination the way her pupils widened to nearly block out all green and then pull back only a little so her big eyes dominated her face. The desire to reach out and kiss them gently shut, then trail kisses down to her rosebud mouth nearly overwhelmed him. How many freckles did she have scattered over her nose anyway?

  “Mr. Eagleton, I mean Jonathon, I mean … oh I don’t know what I mean.” Pippa seemed thoroughly flustered now, and blew out an exasperated breath from pursed lips. Pursed perfect lips. The top buttons of her chef’s whites were open, and her neck appeared long and graceful, plenty of room for lots of trailed kisses to lead down to her cleavage, and further … his throat went dry. What was he thinking? Annoyance shot through him as he realised he couldn’t stop thinking about various parts of Pippa’s body. So, she was beautiful, but he was her CEO, dammit. He shoved thoughts of Pippa from his mind, ignoring the protest of his tightening body.

  “Daydreaming? As you seem to have lots of time on your hands, I would like to see the first draft of tomorrow’s lunch menu when I come back after drinks with the guests.” Good, the ha
rsher the better to quell any other salacious thoughts.

  Pippa looked down at his highly polished court shoes, and he saw her jawbone tighten. “Yes, of course, Mr. Eagleton, sir.”

  She stood straight and he could’ve sworn she was about to salute him. Instead, she made an abrupt turn and walked off. Jonathon watched her go, unable to wrench his gaze from her.

  Things weren’t going to be quiet in this kitchen.

  Or his suite.

  Chapter Four

  The closer Pippa got to nine P.M., the colder her blood ran. Her heart thumped erratically and the only way she could hold her nerves at bay was to put all her energy into preparing a melt-in-your-mouth meal for the evening. Still, her fingertips remained ice cold.

  Time just ticked inexorably by.

  As she clocked the waiters coming in to fetch the canapés for the cocktails, she wondered who to bring with her to serve her meal.

  “Jean-Pierre!” she called out through the busy kitchen and went off to find him in the cold room checking on the desserts. “I’d like to take a waiter with me to serve, who would you recommend?”

  Jean-Pierre shrugged in a typical Gallic way. “Bring Rob with you, ’e is very good. Rob!” Jean Pierre raised his voice and soon a young, attractive man of about twenty-five appeared. “Qui, Chef, what can I do for you?”

  “Peepa needs an ’and serving M. Eagleton and ’is guests. Pleeze look after her.”

  Rob gave Pippa a nod. “I’d be delighted to, chef.”

  Pippa smiled at him, her shoulders already relaxing in the knowledge that she just needed to supervise.

  Ready to start pan-frying the scallops, Pippa glared impatiently when Jonathon appeared at the door, holding it open with one hand to call over to her. “Sorry Pippa, we’re running over time. It’ll be at least nine forty-five before we sit down. Make sure the meal is nice and hot.”

  Pippa treated him to her best I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening face.

  He raised an eyebrow. “There’s a good girl.”

  The door swung shut behind him before Pippa had time to vent her impatience. She clenched her hand shut, fingernails biting into her palm. Could he not have told her before now? And did he have to patronize her? She was damn good at her job. Nice and hot, my eye. Who did he think she was? A kitchen porter just starting out? Of course the dinner would be nice and hot. In fact, it could be very hot. The sauce contained chili, after all. But only for him. She could bake his in a separate dish, add an extra bit of chili to ensure a nice and hot dinner. She relaxed her hand, playing with the Claddagh ring on her baby finger.

  There’s a good girl. She harrumphed to herself as she re-heard his words.

  Could she? Would she really dare to? Smiling to herself, she knew she’d love to, but perhaps in the interest of good relationships with her boss and roommate, she shouldn’t really. But adding some chili would’ve been a lot of fun.

  • • •

  Jonathon walked back over to the Stevensons, grinning wryly to himself at the look on Pippa’s face. As the string quartet played on, Jonathon thought surely his fake smile screamed lack of interest and still Juliet seemed blithely unaware of his indifference. She had walked into the bar like she was walking onto a yacht, ignoring all the eyes turned in her direction.

  Either she knew how to act or she had been extremely drunk earlier on, for not by a blink of an eye did she let on they had met earlier. As the busy bar hummed in the background, Juliet kept demanding his attention by putting her hand on his forearm, leaning into him. Her overpowering scent of Opium threatened to herald a headache and he wished she would step even an inch away from him.

  The other guests began to dissipate in search of dinner at any of the five restaurants on board. Only the Stevensons and another couple, the Bradley’s were in the bar, a pair who were so sycophantic they nearly sickened Jonathon. Once they had heard the Stevensons were on board, they came over and attached themselves like limpets.

  George Stevenson, Juliet’s father, was very gracious and endured Mrs. Bradley’s clumsy flirting with great equanimity. Nina, his wife, was less so but probably because the husband kept leering down her not-inconsiderable cleavage. They made an incongruous party, and glancing at his watch, Jonathon waited for a break in the conversation to galvanize the Stevensons for dinner. They were going to be really late unless they made a move now.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Bradley, we must go to dinner now — ”

  He got no further, as Della Bradley squealed, “Oh we’d love to, wouldn’t we, Barney?”

  Jonathon hoped his grimace didn’t show as he excused himself to tell Pippa the bad news.

  “Pippa?” he called out as he came through the kitchen door. Despite being in the middle of service, the kitchen radiated calmness. Delicious smells hung in the air, and he checked the dinners ready to be served. They looked sumptuous and his stomach growled.

  “Here,” came the reply and when she made it obvious she wasn’t coming to him, he sighed and went to find her. She was at the ovens, putting the tray of basted chicken in, absentmindedly blowing a stray curl from her face. He waited until she closed the oven door, shutting off the blast of hot air. The pot on the stove got her attention and she stirred it slowly, releasing the smell of ginger.

  “We have two more guests for dinner, and we’re heading up there now. Will you sort the extra meals out, please?”

  She still didn’t look up at him, and he didn’t know what it was — exasperation, annoyance or just plain desire to get her to look at him — but something made him reach in and stick a baby finger into the sauce.

  Now she was looking at him, askance on her face. He popped his finger in his mouth and sucked gently on it.

  “Delicious, but perhaps it could be a bit spicier, please, chef.” Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her flinch and he deemed a fast exit appropriate.

  “Yes, sir.” Her words were clearly spoken through clenched teeth and he smiled to himself. Was that sarcasm he heard in her voice? Her head was bent low, so he couldn’t see her expression. Too bad if it was sarcasm. This being the catering industry, you had to be prepared for the unexpected. If she couldn’t handle it, then she wouldn’t make the grade for head chef.

  “Fine, see you up there.”

  • • •

  The goddamn cheek of the man, sticking his finger in her work. Urgh. She placed the sauce pot in the sink and ran water into it to disperse it down the plug hole. Starting from scratch, because there was absolutely no way she would serve that now.

  “Rob?” Pippa raised her voice, looking for her helper. She stalked into the cold room and gathered the ingredients anew, mind working furiously. A bit spicier, hey. She’d give him spicy. Her hands flew whilst chopping the ginger and she moved onto the chili, glancing at her watch. She had to work fast.

  Without stopping to think, she chopped more chili and, after placing most of the ingredients into a main pot for all of the other guests, started a small pot. Especially for Jonathon. A little bit spicier indeed. Take that!

  There. Done. No turning back now, although a remote part of her stood apart with crossed arms saying, What the hell are you doing?

  “I’m here, chef.” Rob materialized beside her, looking over at her with bemusement. Pippa straightened her face with an effort.

  “I need to you move lightning fast, get up to the Doubtful, and add an extra two seats at the table. We have another two guests, and they are moving up there now. So you need to be quick. I’ll send the starters up in the lift as soon as the extra two are done. Now shoo!”

  “Okay, great. I’ll let you know when I’m clearing the starter.” Rob’s voice tapered out as he disappeared in the direction of the exit.

  Pippa concentrated on frying more scallops — two seconds extra frying and they would be ruined. She hummed distractedly, re
fusing to think of what she’d done. The only thoughts in her head was “spicier please.” The brazen look on his face, gold flecks in his eyes just daring her to react to him.

  Her mouth watered as the smell of frying scallops rose, reminding her she hadn’t had anything to eat yet. Pushing her hunger to the back of her mind, she loaded the butler’s tray and sent it up in the lift to Rob.

  Don’t think just do.

  The chicken sizzled nicely, and she tasted the sauce for the Stevensons. The pistachios added a lovely, almost toasted almonds taste, the chili stayed in the background only to linger on her tongue after she swallowed, and the taste of the coconut soothed the flavours down.

  Perfect. For some maybe.

  The food lift pinged its arrival, giving her heart a little jumpstart. Nearly dropping the dishes in her hurry to get them away from her, she loaded up the main course and sent it on its way.

  He deserves it, remember.

  But would she deserve getting sacked?

  Rationale finally managed to break through into her hothead.

  Damn what had she done? Groaning audibly, she flung her chef’s towel from her and left the kitchen at a run. Maybe she could get there in time to stop Rob serving. She huffed up the stairs and followed the long corridor around to the suites. Who knew it was so far from the kitchens?

  As she opened the door to the suite, she heard a peal of laughter, followed by a gaggle of voices. Piano music played in the background and the soft glow from the chandelier warmed the room. A balmy sea breeze blew through the doors, wafting around the suite to release the smell of roses from the display on the sideboard.

  All at odds with the jangling alarm in her veins.

  Jonathon glanced up from his conversation, tawny eyes warm as he smiled at her. She flashed him a quick smile, looking at the table to see what was in front of the guests. Of course. The main course was out, complete with sauce.