Page 27 of The Final Seduction


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‘Well, it’s certainly big enough!’

His mouth twitched. ‘Shelley—’

‘Don’t even say it, Drew!’

He sat back in his seat and studied her. Her blue eyes looked as big as a fawn’s—she didn’t really need mascara, but then she never had. ‘I was right,’ he said. ‘You do wash up well.’

‘Why, thank you.’

‘Right—that’s the flirting out of the way.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Now what shall we talk about?’

Shelley raised her eyebrows. ‘Flirting? Is that what we were doing? Rather an unsophisticated version of flirting, I would have thought.’

‘I bow to your superior knowledge, of course,’ he said mockingly.

To Shelley’s everlasting relief, the waiter appeared. ‘Are you ready to order, Mr Glover?’

‘Not quite. Give us five minutes, would you, please?’

The waiter went away again and Shelley quickly picked up her menu, then looked over the top of it into a pair of sapphire eyes. He certainly seemed at ease in such a lavish setting. ‘What is it with the Mr Glover bit?’ she asked him. ‘They seem to know you pretty well here. Don’t tell me you’re a regular, Drew?’

‘You’d find that surprising, would you?’

‘Well, yes, I would—to be honest.’

His eyes were questioning. ‘Because?’

‘Well, it’s very expensive, isn’t it? And I know that you make a good living from carpentry, but…’ Her voice tailed off, slightly embarrassed, and he gave her another bright, searching stare which somehow had the ability to make her feel very uncomfortable indeed.

‘But I’m not Bill Gates, right?’

She shrugged. ‘Right!’

He slitted his eyes. ‘Like I said—I’ve done a lot of work for them over the years—and that’s how they know me. In fact—’ and he lowered his voice by a fraction ‘—they give me a discount, too!’

‘Oh, I see!’

He smiled thinly. ‘So mind you look out for my handiwork!’

She looked around the restaurant. It was full, which was surprising for a Sunday evening in October. Even more surprising was the fact that Shelley didn’t recognise one face in the place. Not one. And people were dressed in clothes which she instantly recognised as costly. A bit like Drew’s, she realised. It looked more like a big-city restaurant, she thought in surprise, than one perched on an isolated part of the south sea coast in a small village.

‘I don’t recognise any locals in here either,’ she observed.

‘They’re not. People travel some way to eat here. Great food, great view—with enormous beds upstairs should the urge take you.’ He looked at her deliberately. ‘What more could you ask for?’

Shelley began to look around the room with an air of quiet desperation. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought.

‘Anyway—I can tell you’ve worked here,’ she said brightly.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

‘Of course I can! Somebody’s obviously been slogging their guts out on the place—and you always were a brilliant craftsman! This hotel always had the potential to be beautiful, but it needed lots of tender loving care spent on it. Now there has been, and it shows. Why, I expect they could almost employ you here full-time, couldn’t they, Drew?’

He seemed to be struggling between controlling his temper and controlling his laughter. ‘Have you any idea,’ he asked eventually, ‘just how patronising you sound?’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘Patronising?’ she echoed. ‘How on earth would that be patronising?’

He gave a small shake of his head. ‘Doesn’t matter. Here comes the waiter. What do you want to eat?’

Slightly bemused by the tone of his voice, Shelley glanced down at the menu. She noticed that she had been given a copy without any prices. Very slick. ‘It all looks good,’ she commented approvingly. ‘Small and simple.’

‘What were you expecting after Milan? A list of out-of-season food which was obviously destined for the microwave before it reached us?’ he enquired cynically.

‘You’re being very defensive, Drew!’

‘I wonder why?’ he mocked, then smiled at the waiter. ‘I’ll have the soup followed by the roast cod and chips, please. Shelley?’

‘Chef’s salad and a plain grilled sole, please,’ she answered automatically.

‘Scrub that. She’ll have the same as me,’ he told the waiter. ‘You know how women fuss so much about their weight! So unnecessary—particularly in your case, kitten.’ And he winked at her expansively across the table.

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