Trouble on Her Doorstep (10 page)

The breakfast crew had scarcely had time to munch through their paninis and almond croissants before the first round of sales-mad shoppers had arrived, looking for a carb rush before they got down to the serious shopping, and the crush had not stopped since.

Ending with the Thursday evening young mums’ club who held their weekly get-together in the tea rooms between seven and nine p.m. while their partners took care of the kids. And those girls could eat!

Lottie had gone into overdrive and a production line of cakes, muffins and scones had been emerging from the tiny kitchen all day. The girl was a baking machine in the shape of a blonde in whites.

And the tea! Lord, the tea: white; green; fruit infusions; Indian extra-strong. Pots. Beakers. And, in one case, a dog dish for a guide dog. She must have hand-washed at least sixty tea cups and saucers by hand because the dishwasher had been way too busy coping with the baking equipment.

They had never stopped.

But there were some compensations.

Whenever she had a moment it only took one quick glance at the huge display of bright tulips which Lottie had moved onto the serving counter to put the smile back on her face. Sean!

Dee padded through the small sitting room into her bedroom, unbuttoning her top as she went, and collapsed down on her single bed.

She slipped off her espadrilles and dropped her trousers and top into the laundry basket before flopping back onto the bed cover, arms outstretched.

Bliss! The bedroom might be small but Lottie had agreed to a rent which was more than affordable. And it was hers. All hers. No need to share with a nanny or friend or relative, as she’d had to for most of her life growing up. This was her private space and she treasured it.

She bent forwards and was rubbing some life back into her crushed toes when the sound of Indian sitar music echoed around the room and made her almost jump out of her skin.

Dee scrabbled frantically from side to side trying to work out where the song was coming from for a few seconds, before she realized it was bellowing out from the phone that Sean had sent over that morning.

Dee picked it up and peered at it before pressing the most obvious buttons and held it to her ear. ‘Hello. This is Dee. And I should have known that you would set my ringtone to something mad.’

‘Hello, this is Sean,’ a deep, very male voice replied with a smile in his voice. The same male voice that had kept her awake most of the previous night, reliving the way it had felt to saunter down the streets with Sean holding her hand.

Which was so pathetic it was untrue.

It was her choice not to have a boyfriend. And just because he had asked her to be his date at a company dinner did not mean that they were dating. Not real dating. His brother wanted to talk to her about tea. It was a business meeting.

She had tried that line on Lottie, who had still been laughing and muttering something about her being delusional when she’d staggered home.

‘I was wondering how you were getting on with your new phone. Do you like it?’

She snuggled back against the headboard and smiled. ‘I do like it. It was one of those unexpected gifts that take you by surprise and then make you smile. Thank you. Sorry I haven’t had time to call. We have been really busy.’

‘No problem. And you can change the ringtone to anything you like. There are several to choose from on the special options menu.’

Dee held the phone at arm’s length and made a scowl before holding it closer. Suddenly she felt as though she was being asked to sit an exam and she had not had time to study the subject.

‘Sean. It is flowery and shiny, and there are so many touch-screen buttons that working out which one to use is going to take me the rest of the day. If I can stay awake that long. I’m long past the tired stage.’

‘I know what that feels like.’ He breathed out hot and fast. Then his voice faded away until he was speaking in little more than a whisper that reached down the phone and sent tendrils of temptation into her mind, mesmerizing, tantalizing and delicious. ‘So here is an idea—have dinner with me tonight. I know a few restaurants in your part of town and we can have a great meal and a glass of wine while I squeeze in a master class on how to use your phone.’

Just the way he breathed out the word ‘squeeze’ was so suggestive that Dee almost dropped her new phone.

Dinner?

Oh, that sounded good.

But she was shattered and full of cake.

And not sure that she could sit opposite Sean Beresford without pouncing on him, which would be bad news for both of them.

‘That sounds great, Sean, but work has been mad and I ate earlier. And now you have made me feel extra guilty for not calling to thank you.’

‘No need. This is the first real break that I’ve taken all day. And if anything I should be thanking you.’

‘Why? Talk to me. After all, that’s why you sent me this phone. Wasn’t it?’

A gentle laugh echoed down the phone that warmed her in places that even her best hot tea could not reach. It was a laugh designed to tantalize any female within earshot and make her skin prickle with awareness. Right down to her toes. Pity that it was a sensation she liked more than she would ever be willing to confess to a man like Sean. He would enjoy that far too much.

‘I was giving a presentation to our new group of trainee hotel managers this morning and after thirty minutes in the all-white holding cell, as you described it so delightfully, I began to understand what you meant by an airless, windowless room. So do you know what I did?’

‘You went to the park and sat on benches and fed the ducks.’ Dee smiled. ‘The wannabe managers had to train the ducks to race for the food and the trainee with the fastest duck got the best job in the hotel chain. Was that how it worked?’

‘Ah. Duck training and Pooh sticks are only used in the advanced management courses. These were first-year students. If it had not been raining, I might have given them a treasure map to follow around London, but that option was out. So I decided to take your advice instead and I moved the whole group to the conservatory room at the Riverside, opened every door to the lawns and turned the presentation into a discussion about hotel design and meeting customer expectations. It was fascinating. And useful. Every one of those trainees seemed to come to life in the conservatory. They were transformed from sitting in total silence to being open and chatty and much more relaxed. You should have seen their faces when I told them why we had moved.’

Dee sucked in a breath. ‘Did you mention my name so that they could pin it to a dart board for target practice?’

‘Not specifically.’ He laughed. ‘You were a valued event planner who gave me feedback on the repressive feeling of the breakout rooms. But they totally got it, in a way that I couldn’t have predicted. Instead of telling them about the impact of room design, they described how they felt in the two spaces and worked it out for themselves. It was brilliant. Thanks.’

‘Ah. So that is the real reason for this call. It’s confession time. What you really want to say is that you listened to my whining about how intelligent people shouldn’t be packed into closed box rooms and then pretended that you had come up with the idea all by yourself. Is that right?’

‘Drat, you have seen through my evil plans,’ Sean replied in a low, hoarse voice which sent shivers down her back. She imagined him sitting in his office in the minimalist hotel surrounded by all-white marble and smooth, plastic surfaces, and instinctively pulled the silky cover over her legs.

‘Are you still at work?’ she asked, daring to take the first move.

‘I just got back to the penthouse at Richmond Square. The view from up here is fantastic. Pity you aren’t here to share it with me. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Breathtaking skyline. I have a feeling you might enjoy it.’

Dee closed her eyes to visualize how that might look and took a couple of breaths before replying. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I would hate to be one of those girls who only suck up to you because they want to share the view from the penthouse over breakfast.’

The second the words were out of her lips, she winced in embarrassment. What was it about this man that caused apparently random sounds to emerge from her mouth which bypassed the brain?

‘You could never disappoint me. And, as it happens, I know how to make breakfast without needing to call for room service.’

I bet you do.

‘I told you that you were cheeky.’ Dee smiled and nibbled at one corner of her little fingernail. ‘But I may have been mistaken about that.’

‘So you do make mistakes?’ Sean hit right back across the net. ‘And just when I thought that you had all of the answers.’

‘Cheeky does not come close. Brazen might be a better description. Does this wonderful breakfast include tea?’

‘Dee,’ he replied in his rich, deep, sensual tone that reached down the phone and caressed her neck, ‘for you, it would include anything you like. Anything at all.’

Suddenly she was glad that she was lying down because her legs seemed to turn to jelly and her throat went dry.

Closing her eyes should have helped but all she could hear was his lazy, slow breathing in her ear which did nothing at all to calm her frazzled brain.

A handsome man who she liked far more than she ought to was holding something out to her on a velvet cushion, gift-wrapped and sumptuous, and she already knew that it would be astonishing.

And terrifying. She was going to have to face him in less than twenty-four hours and somehow she had to get a hold on this out-of-control attraction before it spiralled away into something more elemental which could only ever be a short-term fling.

So she did what she always did when someone came too close. She put a smile in her voice and hit him right back between the eyes.

‘Would that be part of the Beresford five-star service or the VIP special?’

His open and carefree laughter was still ringing in her ear when she said, ‘Goodnight, Sean. See you tomorrow.’ And she pressed the red button then turned the phone off.

Goodnight, Sean. Sleep tight.

EIGHT

Tea, glorious tea. A celebration of teas from around the world.

Finding the perfect tea to drink with your meal is just as tricky as matching food and wine. One tip: green tea flavoured with jasmine is wonderful with Chinese food but serve it weak and in small cups, and add more hot water to the pot as you drink. And no hangover!

From
Flynn’s Phantasmagoria of Tea

Friday

It was almost
six on the Friday evening before Dee was finally satisfied that all of the leaf-tea canisters were full, the tea pots were all washed and ready for the Saturday rush and that everything the tea rooms needed for an eight a.m. start was in place.

But she still insisted on helping Lottie load the dishwashers, then cleaned the floor and generally got in the way of the last-minute customers, until Lottie had to physically grab her shoulders and plop her into a chair with a steaming cup of chamomile until the closed sign was up on the door.

Whipping away her apron, Lottie poured a cup of Assam and collapsed down opposite Dee with a low, long sigh before stretching out her legs.

Her fingers wrapped around the china cup and Lottie inhaled the aroma before taking a sip. Her shoulders instantly dropped several inches.

‘Oh, I am so ready for this. When did Fridays get so mad?’

‘When you decided to have a two-for-one offer on afternoon cream teas, that’s when. I have never served so much Indian tea in one session. How many batches of scones did you end up making?’

Lottie snorted. ‘Six. And four extra coffee-and-walnut cakes, and three chocolate. And I gave up counting the sandwiches. But the good news is...it worked. The till is full of loot which I will be taking to the bank before the lovely Sean picks up his princess to take her to the ball.’

‘The ball? I’m not so sure that I would call a management dinner a “ball”. But the food should be good and apparently all the Beresford clan will be there en masse to toast the staff. So there’s a fair chance I will score a free glass of fizz.’

Lottie cradled the cup in both hands and sat back in her chair. ‘Ah. So that’s what the problem is,’ she said, then blew on her tea before taking a long sip. ‘For the next few hours you are going to be up close and personal with Sean’s father and his swanky brother and sister, and you’re feeling the pressure. I see.’

‘Pressure? I don’t know what you mean. Just because his dad founded a huge chain of luxury hotels, and Sean’s older brother, Rob the celebrity chef, is flying in from New York especially for the occasion, it doesn’t mean that the family will be snooty and look down their noses at me.’ Dee flashed a glance at Lottie. ‘Does it?’

‘No, not at all. Why should they? And if my experience of management meetings is anything to go by, the owners will be way too busy talking to the staff and making sure they feel the love to worry about extra guests.’

Then Lottie leant her elbows on the table and grinned. ‘Think of it this way—you are going to a great night out in a lovely hotel on the arm of a handsome prince. You are a goddess! What can possibly go wrong?’

Dee choked on the tea that went down the wrong way and had to grab a couple of napkins to stop her from spraying Lottie with chamomile through her nose.

‘Are you kidding me?’ she spluttered. ‘I have a long list of things that could go wrong, and the more I think about it the more opportunities I have to put my foot in it. Everything from what I am going to wear, which is a nightmare, right through to my total inability to control the words that spill out of my mouth.’

Her hands came up and made circles in the air. ‘And, when it does all go wrong, I can wave goodbye to my free conference centre and any chance I have of finding a replacement venue at this short notice for the tea festival and—’ she swallowed ‘—show Sean up at the same time. Now, isn’t that something to look forward to?’

She slid her cup out of the way and dropped her head forward until it rested on the table. ‘I am doomed.’

Lottie shook her head and smiled. ‘What rubbish. Do you remember that first day we met in catering college? I had come straight out of the business world, had no clue what to expect and turned up to the first morning wearing a designer skirt-suit, four-inch heels and a silk blouse. I thought that the first morning would be paperwork and class schedules, just like university. Instead of which, I spent the whole day gutting fish and making white sauces.’

Dee put her head to one side and sniffed. ‘It was a different look, I’ll give you that.’

‘So you said—right before you passed me your new chef’s coat and trousers.’

‘I had spares. You hadn’t,’ Dee replied, sitting up, her shoulders slumped. ‘The funniest thing was when you had them bleached and starched at some posh dry cleaners overnight. It was hilarious.’

‘It was kind of you to offer me them in the first place. Which is why it is time for me to return the favour. I cannot believe I am saying this, because I think all your clothes are brilliant and suit you perfectly, but if you’re worried about not having a cocktail dress to impress Sean’s family then I can probably help you out.’

‘You’re going to lend me one of your fancy posh frocks?’ Dee asked in a quiet voice, eyebrows high.

Lottie nodded her head. Just once.

Dee propped her chin up with one finger and looked up at Lottie through her long, brown eyelashes.

‘And the shoes and bag to match?’

‘Natch!’ Her friend slurped down the last of her tea and rolled her shoulders back. ‘Good thing we take the same shoe size. Come on; we have a lot to do and not much time to do it in. You, my girl, are going to take time out and celebrate just how much you’ve achieved whether you like it or not. Let the makeover begin.’

An hour later Dee paced up and down on the bedroom carpet in bare feet, her hands on her hips as she moved from her bed to the wardrobe, then back to the bottom of her bed again.

It was quiet in her bedroom. A chilly, gentle breeze fluttered the edge of the heavy curtains, bringing with it the welcome sound of chatter and traffic from the street below. The sound of normal people living normal Friday-evening lives.

But inside the room the atmosphere was anything but calm.

She stretched out her hand to lift the black fitted cocktail dress from the hanger, then froze.
Again.

She blinked at the dress hanging on the wardrobe door for several seconds, nodded, then slipped her feet into Lottie’s favourite stiletto-heeled sandals and tried a few tenuous steps. Lottie had told her that she should practise walking in them in case she had to take the stairs in the hotel. Four-inch heels with a platform slab under the toes were going to take some getting used to.

Two steps. Three. Then her right foot toppled over sideways on the slippery couture leather and she had to grab hold of the wardrobe door before she almost twisted her ankle as it bent over.

These were not shoes! They were instruments of torture, which had clearly been designed by men who hated their mothers and were determined to make all women suffer as a result. That was the only possible explanation!

And it did not matter one bit if they had pristine red soles if she couldn’t walk in them.

Her shoulders slumped and she rested her forehead on the waxed oak panel, not caring that she might destroy the make-up which had taken Lottie an hour to put on, wipe off, then put on again in a different way.

She was terrified that she was sending out the wrong message. Or was it the right message?

She had been aiming for elegant and attractive, while the girl who stared back at her from the mirror looked like a stranger. Some clone from a fashion magazine. Not her. Not Dee Flynn, the wannabe tea merchant.

This wasn’t working.

She had been mad even to think that she was ready to go out on a date with Sean Beresford. Even if it was for only one evening.

She tottered to her bed in one shoe, fell backwards and let her arms dangle over the sides.

She was just about to make herself a laughing stock in exchange for a few canapés and a glass of fizz in a luxury hotel.

Dee bit down on the inside of her lip. Deep inside, where she kept her dreams and most sacred wishes, she knew that she had every right to stride into that hotel in these high-heeled shoes with her head high and stun the lot of them, including Sean. Strong, and confident that she was the equal of anyone there.

She had worked for this success and deserved to be treated like a goddess.

Drat Sean for reminding her that she still had a long way to go.

Dee closed her eyes, her throat burning and tears stinging at the sides of her eyes.

She was pathetic.

This handsome and attentive man had chosen her to be his date for the evening. Which was so amazing that she still couldn’t believe it.

The past few days had passed in a blur of activity and mad work.

Sean had kept his word, and Prakash and Madge were now her official best friends in the whole world. Nothing was too much trouble. Extra power points for the hot-water heaters? No problem. Portable kitchen equipment, refrigerators and study tables appeared out of nowhere like magic.

Apparently the word had come down from on high that, whatever Miss Flynn needed for her festival of tea, the team had to make sure happened.

Especially when the boss, the one and only Mr Sean Beresford, had seemed to find his way into the conference area several times during the day, just to make sure that everything was on track.

Oh, it was on track.
In more ways than one.

Strange how many times in the day he’d found a way to brush against her hand with his, or look over her shoulder at some suddenly vital piece of information on the floor plan.

She’d had to stop the tickling, of course. That had got completely out of hand and she’d had to scold him about being professional in front of his staff.

Of course, he had insisted on regular tea breaks. Just the two of them, sitting around an elegant table in the hotel dining room, chatting about her critique of the quite good tea the hotel served. And all the while he’d told her anecdotes about his work in the hotel trade which had her clutching her stomach with laughter, and family stories about the antics his brother and sisters got up to.

And maybe it was just as well that she had been kept busy. It had kept her mind from mulling over all of those intimate moments they had shared since he had walked into the tea rooms: the sly glances that set her pulse racing and the gentle touch of his hand on her back or arm. His kindness. His quiet compassion. His humour.

A girl could fall for a man like that.

Hell. She was already halfway there.

Then her smile faded. This evening was turning into a date with Sean when she should be focusing on taking her dream one step closer to being a reality.

And that sent a cold shiver across her shoulders.

She couldn’t let the exhibitors down. Some of the tea merchants were coming a long way to show London what tea was all about.

And she couldn’t let Sean down either.

No wonder she had the jitters.

Dee stole another glance at the dress hanging outside the wardrobe.

Lottie had done a fantastic job and the girl in the mirror looked every bit the type of sophisticated, elegant girl that Sean was used to having on his arm.

It was the world that Lottie had been born into. A world of luxury and privilege where eating dinner in a Beresford hotel costing hundreds of pounds was something her family did without thinking.

Lottie had her own problems to deal with, no doubt about that, but she could never truly understand what it felt like always to have been the new girl with the second-hand school uniform and the strange accent. Never feeling as though she fitted in. No matter what she did to change her clothes, her hair and the way she spoke, she was always going to be different. And her parents had loved that about her. Loved that she was unique.

Pity that as a teenaged girl going to a city high school the last thing the fifteen-year-old Dee Flynn had wanted to be was unique.

Strange. She thought that she had conquered that particular battle years ago when her flair for catering had taken her higher than she had ever expected.

But that was not the only reason for the jitters.

For the next few hours she would be dealing with Sean’s father and his wife Ava, their daughter Annika and Sean’s older brother Robert—the professional celebrity chef and current pin-up for a lot of trainee chefs at catering college. And Sean—the blue-eyed boy who had come to her rescue.

How was she going to make polite chit chat with Sean when they had become...what? Event planners? Friends? Or as close to it as you could be when you had spent half the week together.

Dee wrapped her arms around her bare waist, squeezed her eyes tightly shut and relived, once more, the sensuous pleasure of his gentle kiss in the park and the touch of his hand on the small of her back. All of those subtle moments where she had felt him next to her.

No matter that those thoughts had made for very little sleep the night before. In an hour or so she would be seeing him again. Holding him. Just being in the same room within touching distance.

Delicious.

Her eyes flicked half-open and she glanced across at the brightly coloured tulips which she had popped into a plain white milk-jug on her desk. She could smell their fragrance anywhere in the room, and just seeing the blossoms reminded her of Sean all over again.

His laugh. His smile. The expression of pure pleasure and delight on his face when he’d telephoned his brother the other day and talked to her about his family. They truly were the most precious people in the world to him. He loved his family. And they loved him right back.

It would be so special to be on the receiving end of that kind of devotion.

Had it only been a few days since Sean had walked into the tea room? It felt so much longer. And like the tulips he would fade and go out of her life. Back to his hotel chain, bottomless wallet and first-class everything. Back to the life she would never have.