by Robyn Grady
“Lots of couples do.”
He peered off into the distance and smiled absently. “I liked what Liam said about marrying her being his greatest achievement.”
She smiled, remembering too. “I think they’ll be very happy.”
They watched the lights twinkle for several moments, content to sip champagne and listen to the night birds’ calls.
“Thanks for not blowing the whistle on me when I helped that poor waitress tonight,” Nina finally said. She’d wanted to say it all night, but now seemed appropriate, away from prying eyes and ears.
“I felt sorry for her, poor kid.”
“Mr Dorset wouldn’t have.”
His chin came up. “To be fair, he has a responsibility to keep the level of service high.”
“And the best way to do that is by putting the fear of God into the staff?”
He drew her near and she, a little stiffly, rested her cheek on his broad shoulder again. He didn’t want to discuss business tonight. Neither did she. She’d much rather drink in the lake of lights flickering below and enjoy the quiet. Enjoy this time alone.
Maybe if things had been different, if they’d met again under different circumstances, where she’d felt more herself…
But she was forgetting. While she might be trying to overcome and make sense of some personal hurdles at the moment, Gabriel was comfortable with who he was, what he wanted, which was to enjoy this “fling in paradise” while it lasted. As much as she might want to dream, her destiny didn’t lie with him.
When some time later he poured the last of the wine, she took the empty bottle to examine it.
“If we put a message in this bottle and threw it out to sea, I wonder where it would end up? I wonder who would read it?”
“What would your message say?” he asked, but before she could answer, he piped up, “I know. We could date it, include a phone number, and tell the recipient to ring and pass on the relevant details.”
She laughed. “That’s the most logical, geekish thing I’ve ever heard.”
He gave in to a smile. “If I ever need to send a message, I promise to give it more thought.”
She set the bottle down. “Gabriel, can I ask you to give something else some more thought?”
“Anything.”
“I’d like my job back.” His brows knitted. “We’ve discussed that.”
“You’re not still angry with me for not finding the right moment to tell you about my situation here, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“I can’t pretend I want to be a waitress the rest of my life,” she went on. “Simple truth is I needed the money to make ends meet. I was desperate when my friend gave me the heads-up, but from the moment I landed I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake. I made myself ill wondering if, rather than helping, accepting that job had thrown me further off course.” She rested her hand on his. “I don’t expect you to understand—it’s so hard to explain—but I need to finish this, Gabe. Particularly after tonight. I need to find out who I am at the end of this road before I can travel down the next.”
He searched her eyes for a long moment, then exhaled and nodded deeply. “If that’s what you truly want…if that’s what you need…consider yourself reinstated.”
She sat straighter. She’d convinced him? “You mean it?”
He smiled. “I’ll call Dorset tomorrow. See how soon you can get back on the roster.”
She flung her arms around him and squeezed. She’d never dreamed being a waitress again would make her so happy.
“This means so much—and I promise,” she said, drawing back and crossing her heart, “I won’t let you down.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LATE the next morning, Gabriel strode into Ziggies, Diamond Shore’s most popular café by the beach. The ocean air was fresh and salty, but with a hint of coconut oil wafting in from the nearest pool. Riots of colourful flowers glistened with beads from the automatic sprinklers’ earlier run. He was alone, bleary-eyed and testy. He needed his second cup of coffee.
But his irritation had less to do with caffeine deprivation and more to do with the phone call he’d made earlier that morning. Last night Nina had asked for her job back. She’d spoken about mistakes and roads travelled, and she’d seemed so anguished and sincere by the end of it he couldn’t refuse. If it was that important to her, he would make it happen.
Dorset’s response on the phone this morning hadn’t been what Gabriel had expected. The older man had jumped in and announced that Nina could go back to work right away. Gabriel suspected Nina’s actions in helping that waitress at the wedding might have had something to do with Dorset’s change of heart. He, too, had approved of Nina’s courage and willingness to pitch in, even while wearing an evening gown. She certainly wasn’t the Nina that Gabe Turner had once known. She wasn’t even the woman he’d met a week ago. Every day she seemed to grow.
Now, as he strode into the café grounds, his mind wound back to the previous night, when they’d returned to the bungalow after the wedding. He’d peeled that delicious dress from her shoulders and taken her to his bed. Their every touch had seemed heightened. The scent of her hair, the powder silk of her skin, the words she’d whispered against the distant roar of waves as he’d brought her closer to each climax.
He wished he could promise Nina more—particularly after April’s wedding yesterday. The day had stirred feelings inside him he hadn’t known existed…and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to acknowledge. The truest part of him didn’t want a heavy relationship—moving in, plans for the future, worrying about whether that future would pan out. If putting so much into hauling this island out of the red was a risk, to his mind getting serious with a woman was like putting a blowtorch to a gas leak. “Serious” led to “marriage,” which led to children—and kids deserved the best from both parents. He wasn’t ready to think about that yet—wasn’t ready to take that risk even with someone as special as Nina.
He walked into the café’s alfresco area and indicated to the maître-d’ that he’d seat himself. Halfway to a vacant table near the railing, he recognised a woman in a floral shift.
Mrs Emily Flounders, from Sydney’s North Shore, beckoned him over. “Why, Mr Steele, is that you? We met at the children’s charity dinner last month.”
Gabe smiled, nodded. “Mrs Flounders.” Mr Flounders lowered his paper and Gabe leaned across to shake his hand. “Sir.”
Mrs Flounders laced glittering fingers under her double chin. “Things going well, I hope?”
“Very. Thank you.”
“We brought Linley along. You remember Linley?” She tipped forward. “Our daughter? You spoke with her at the dinner.”
He didn’t remember—which said a lot. “Of course. Please give Linley my regards.”
A moment later he drew in his chair and spotted Nina, breezing out from the café’s interior. He hadn’t noticed so much on the other staff, but that uniform could do with a brush-up in design—not shorter, nor sexier, nor even more stylish. Just…more colour, more shape, more oomph.
Nina screeched to a stop when she spotted him. After sending him a curious what are you up to? look, she crossed to the Flounders’ table.
Gabriel absently perused the menu, glancing across every few seconds, strangely nervous for her, but proud of her too. She could have taken the easy way out, accepted his help in finding her a suitable job back in Sydney that she’d enjoy. Instead she was here, travelling that road of hers to its natural conclusion—wherever that might be.
Nina was taking the Flounders’ order, but it didn’t seem to be going well. Mrs Flounders’ cheeks were ruddy, and Nina kept crossing out what she’d written. Concerned, Gabriel set his menu aside at the same time as Nina hurried off to the kitchen to place the order. Mrs Flounders waved over the maître-d’.
Gabriel couldn’t hear the exchange, but it was clear the older woman was complaining about Nina. Mrs Flounders was a pretentious show pony who loved attention
. Maybe Nina had had trouble deciphering the doyenne’s demands, but that hardly deserved a complaint.
When the maître-d’ strode away, Gabriel scraped back his chair and followed. Through the round window in the swinging door that led to the kitchen he saw him ripping verbal shreds off Nina. His arms were waving. Gabriel made out a few words…stupid…incompetent…but more obvious was the man’s scathing tone.
Nina, however, didn’t flinch. She merely looked her boss in the eye and shrugged her shoulders back. Gabriel imagined her topaz eyes glistening, her thumping heart jammed in her throat.
Not on his shift.
Gabriel crashed through the door. He was ready to tell the maître-d’ to take a hike, but pulled back when he heard Nina’s level voice.
“I will not apologise,” she was saying. “I did nothing wrong. If anyone should say I’m sorry, that woman should say it to me. And she could throw in a dozen more apologies to the other staff she’s put through her wringer since she sat down an hour ago.”
The maître-d’ was clearly shocked. “You are not here to argue—”
“I’m not arguing. I’m simply stating that there’s a big difference between making sure the guests are happy and insisting that your staff smile while they lick their boots three times a day.”
A general positive murmur went up around the interested kitchen staff. The head chef nodded to his assistant. A waitress had stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with disbelief and admiration.
The maître-d’ glowered in their general direction, then redirected his spite towards Nina. “You will go back out there and apologise to the Flounders, then you will attempt to take their order and do it correctly this time!”
“I took it correctly the first time, the second time and the third,” Nina insisted. “That woman is nothing but a contrary snob who thinks it’s her God-given right to demean people she considers beneath her.”
With a condescending air, the maître-d’ crossed his arms. “You foolish girl. You know nothing of how the other half live.”
Her chin kicked higher. “I know more than you’d ever believe.”
Gabriel remembered how a younger Nina had once treated him—as if he should lick her boots. She’d come a long way. All these years and finally he really thought she got it.
But it was time to bring this show to an end. The other staff were beyond agitated. He didn’t want a rebellion on his hands, but he couldn’t dismiss Nina—although he would have to talk soundly with her later. While the man she slept with applauded her guts, the businessman standing here needed to repair any damage.
He moved forward. Nina’s jaw dropped when she saw him.
“You’re having the rest of the day off,” he told the maître-d’, who reddened more.
“B-but the guests?” he jabbered.
Gabriel relieved him of the menus he held. “I’ll look after the guests.”
Indignant, the maître-d’ stood on his toes. “Forgive me, sir, but you have no experience in this field.”
“Guess I’d better learn.”
As the kitchen staff raised their brows and murmured more, Gabriel nodded towards the door. The maître-d’ huffed and strode out.
Nina was tugging at his sleeve. “Gabriel, I need to talk to you.”
“We’ll talk after this shift,” he said, dying to snatch a kiss. He loved her when she was determined. Loved it when she spoke her mind.
And rather than comply she headed for a door—a backroom where a store of food was kept. She hooked a finger for him to follow, and Gabriel’s pulse-rate ramped up.
Okay. If she was that insistent they be alone, he guessed he could spare a moment…or two.
He put the menus aside and followed her. The murmurs outside increased before he shut the door. Not needing an invitation now they were alone, he brought her snug against him, felt a surge of desire flare and build. Now he had her pressed close it was going to prove beyond difficult to let her go.
He brushed his lips over hers and, closing his eyes, groaned with unbridled pleasure. “You were sensational out there.”
“Gabriel—”
He pulled marginally back. “But I can’t have you dressing down superiors in front of the staff. It doesn’t look right.”
“Gabe, listen to me. I’ve found another job.”
His thoughts screeched to a stop. Dumbfounded, he examined her open gaze. “You what?”
“A lady I worked with at Shimmer told me about a new magazine starting up. I e-mailed my résumé a couple of days ago and this morning the editor e-mailed back. We talked on the phone and…” Her shoulders came down. “She wants me to start next week. I’ll be features editor and second in charge.”
He butted his shoulder against the wall as his mind clicked over.
Right. Okay. He should be happy for her. Should be smiling.
“That’s…great. Wonderful.” He exhaled, struck a hand through his hair. “Next week, huh?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
His mind and body gridlocked. “As soon as that?” He’d decided he was going to stay on for a while. He hadn’t decided how long exactly. He’d planned on telling Nina after her shift. He’d imagined she’d be happy.
“When she told me I had the job,” Nina went on, “can you believe I was actually torn? I had something to finish here—I wasn’t entirely sure what—so I said I’d call back if my answer was yes.” She shook her head as she sighed. “Now, after that scene—when I know I’d only done my job well…That’s it for me. I’m done. I don’t want to be subjected to this kind of pompous elitism ever again.”
Gabriel’s mind caught up with his emotions and delayed relief trickled through him. She might be leaving the island, but…“We can hook up again in Sydney.”
“That sounds wonderful, except…”
He frowned. “Except what?”
Searching his eyes, she eased out a long breath. “I was feeling so lost and alone…it was what I’d been dreaming of before you came along—lapping up luxury for just a day or two. This time with you has brought back so many memories. Safe memories from when I was young and my family were all together.” She rested her palm against his chest. “But that time’s over. That’s not me any more. I’ve changed. I don’t want to try and fit back into that world. The world of pretentious Mrs Flounders. I’d feel more of a fake than I did being a waitress.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “You’ve made so much of yourself. You deserve all this. But that’s you, not me. Not any more.”
He held her hand against his chest and scoffed. She was making this bigger than it needed to be.
“Nina, we’re not doing anything drastic.” Like making things permanent. “We’re just seeing each other.” Sleeping together. “You can still have your life and carry on doing that.”
Her throat bobbed on a big swallow and her eyes began to fill. “No matter what life throws my way, I know now I’ll adapt. I’ll survive. I’ll grow. But that doesn’t mean I want to intentionally put myself in harm’s way. I care about you, Gabriel. I care so much it frightens me.” Her face softened. “I’ve never been in love before.”
His heart stopped beating. He swallowed involuntarily, then, totally taken aback, coughed out a laugh. “We’ve known each other a week.”
“This time.” Her eyes glistened. “If I agree to see you when we get back you’ll end up hurting me, and it’ll be my fault for not pulling back now while I still can.”
Suddenly the room felt smaller. Where it had been cosy when they’d first entered, now the space felt squashed. The scent of spices and sauces made him want to wheeze. Made him want to clear his throat.
He blindly found the doorknob at his back. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“Will that change anything?”
He’d be frank.
“If you’re talking about long-term, about marriage…no, it won’t. And you know enough about me not to ask why.” With marriage came expectations, came children. He’d rather not
be a father at all than risk being a bad or an absent one. Boys needed their father—one hundred percent and every day.
She cupped his cheek with a caring hand. “You’re so committed to this project. You have so much riding on its success. You don’t need me getting in the way. You don’t need nagging when you’re too busy for personal.”
His hand tightened on her shoulder before it slid down her arm. He leant back against the door. He felt as if he’d been knocked out in the final round. He hated to admit it, but everything she said made sense. The scenario she’d just given had pretty much been the way most of his so-called relationships had turned out in the past. He’d thought Nina was different, but maybe her added allure was because she’d been so proud and so darn hard to keep.
He might not love her, but he did respect her, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt her.
He closed his eyes, saw the only logical answer and forced himself to accept it.
Exhaling, he opened his eyes and nodded. “You’re right. If you were my sister, I’d be telling you to run.”
She frowned. “This isn’t about Anthony.”
“No, this is about you being you and me being me.”
She was moving on and he wasn’t ready to make that move with her. He didn’t know that he ever would be.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LATER that day, after Gabriel had walked a few miles down the beach, he strode back to the bungalow and immersed himself in figures. Piles of columns and statistics and any other numbers that might help to obliterate that God-awful scene in the café with Nina Petrelle.
There’d been a note on the counter. Nina was staying with her mate back at the staff quarters tonight.
He scrunched up the paper, flicked it into the trash. When night fell, he cracked open a beer and reclined in a deckchair out on the balcony. With the Mikano restaurant’s piano tinkling in over the warm air, he watched the waves roll endlessly in, then roll just as endlessly out. He slept not a wink. When a peaceful dawn broke, sienna-gold on the quiet horizon, his eyes were gritty and his throat ached.