No wonder his dad had adored her.
His dad usually had been working all hours of the day and night at one or another of the hotels, but if he was home when they got back, carrying their bags of assorted ‘treasures’, he’d used to laugh like a train and go through every single one and pretend to love it.
Happy days.
Happier days.
Sean inhaled a couple of sharp breaths.
It had been years since he had been to a street market and even longer since he had thought about coming here with his mother as a boy. Most of the time he would much rather have been playing football with his mates from school. But now? Now they were treasured memories.
Long years filled with good times and bad. Hard, physical work had helped to block out the bad. Long years when he’d usually been so exhausted that he collapsed into bed at night without the luxury of dreams.
Not much had changed there. He was still working so hard that sometimes the days just melted together into one huge blur.
When was the last time he had walked anywhere? He always caught a black cab or had a limo waiting to take him to some airport. There was no down time. There couldn’t be. His work demanded his full attention and he didn’t know how to give anything else but his best.
He had paid the price for the hugely successful company expansion.
Only, at moments like this, he wondered if maybe the cost was too high.
Sasha had been the last of a long line of short-term relationships. His friends had stopped calling because there was always some excellent reason why he couldn’t make their dinner or meet up for drinks.
All he had left was his family.
Sean stood in silence, overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of the street market, and allowed all of those happy memories to come flooding back.
The sun broke through the clouds and filled the space with light and a little warmth. The birds were singing in the London plane trees which lined the street and, for the first time in months, he felt a sense of contentment well up inside him.
Shockingly new. Depressingly rare.
But for once he did not over-analyze how he felt or push it away.
He simply gave in to the sensation and enjoyed the moment. Each breath of the heady air seemed to invigorate him. The long-standing stiffness in his neck and shoulders simply drifted away. Gone.
He felt engaged and buoyant at the same time.
He shook his head and sighed. Maybe there was something to be said for leaving the hotel now and again.
And he knew precisely who to blame.
The girl who was strolling down between the market stalls, oblivious to the world, a grin on her face and a skip in her steps. Living in the moment and loving it.
Gorgeous, astonishing and totally pushing all of his buttons.
Dee Flynn was turning out to be the best thing that had happened to him in quite a while.
Forget the rules. Forget over-analyzing his schedule and responding to every email that came in. Time to take some of that personal time he was due and had never taken. And he knew who he wanted to share it with.
* * *
Dee dropped her head back and felt the sun on her face.
Oh, that felt so good.
Okay, it was a pale imitation of the sun she had grown up with, but right now she would take whatever sun she could get.
‘Sunbathing already? Does this mean that you plan to strip off any time soon? Because if you do I can sell tickets and talk up the tea festival at the same time.’
Dee chuckled from deep in her chest.
Sean. His voice was deep, slow and as smooth as fine chocolate. Unmistakable.
She couldn’t be angry with this man. Not when the sun was shining and she had a new venue which was ten times more impressive that the Richmond Square hotel—not that she would tell him that, of course.
She lifted her head and turned to face him. And blinked.
Sean was smiling at her with his hands behind his back and a look on his face that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Tiny alarm bells started to sound inside her head, and as he stepped closer she fought the sudden urge to buy something from the haberdashery stall. Buttons. Ribbons. Anything.
He had something on his mind and she knew before he opened his mouth that it would involve her stepping outside her comfort zone in a serious way.
This must be how antelopes felt before the lion pounced.
‘Sorry I spent so long on the phone. Rob had come up with a few ideas about how to make the best use of your advice,’ Sean said and then paused.
One more step and he had closed the distance between them, but before she could respond his hand whipped out from behind his back. He was holding the most enormous bunch of tulips that she had ever seen. And he was holding them out towards her.
No—make that bunches. Lipstick-red tulips that called out to be sniffed; yellow tulips still in bud; and her favourite tulip: stripy parrot blossoms in glorious shades of white and red with splashes of orange and flame. All set off by swords of dark-green leaves with pristine, clean-cut edges.
Without a moment’s hesitation she clutched the flowers from his fingers and gathered them into her arms and up to her face.
It was spring in a bouquet.
It was heaven.
‘I thought that you might like them,’ Sean said with a smile in his voice.
She blinked up into his face, and was totally embarrassed to find that she could hardly speak through the closed sore throat that came with the tears that ran down her cheek.
‘Hey,’ he said in a voice so warm and gentle that it only made her cry more. ‘It’s okay. If you don’t like them, the flower stall has a great selection of daffodils.’
He ran his hand up and down her arm and bent lower to look into her face. His blue eyes showed such concern that she sniffed away her stupid tears and blinked a couple of times.
‘I love them. Thank you. It’s just that...’
‘Yes. Go on,’ he replied, his gaze never leaving her face.
‘This is the first time anyone has bought me flowers. Ever. And it is a bit overwhelming.’
Sean looked at her with an expression of complete bewilderment. ‘Please tell me that you are joking. Never? Not one boyfriend? Impossible.’
‘Never.’ She nodded, reached into her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose in a most unladylike fashion.
‘Well, that is totally unacceptable,’ Sean said and stood back up to his full height. ‘You’ve clearly been treated most shamefully and, as one of the many single men who would love to buy you flowers on a regular basis, I apologize for the oversight.’
Then he smiled with a smile that could have melted ice at fifty paces and which reached his eyes before he opened his mouth.
‘Perhaps we can help you to feel more appreciated. Are you doing anything this Friday evening?’
Dee reared back a little and tried to reconnect her brain. ‘No. I don’t think so. Why?’
‘Prakash and the other management graduates are meeting the hotel managers at a company dinner on Friday. Rob is flying in from New York and would love to meet you and talk tea.’
Then Sean lifted her hand that was not busy with the flowers, turned it over and ran his lips across the inside of her wrist, sending all chance of sensible thought from her brain.
‘And I...’ he kissed her wrist again, his hot breath tingling on the tiny hairs on the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving her face ‘...would love you to be my date for the evening.’
He folded her fingers into her palm but held her hand tight against his coat, forcing her to look into those blue eyes.
And she fell in and drowned.
‘Say yes, Dee. You know that you want to. It�
�s going to be a very special night.’
Words were impossible. But somehow she managed a quick nod.
That was all it took, because the next thing she knew she was walking down past the market stall in the afternoon sunshine with one arm full of tulips. And Sean Beresford was holding her hand.
It was turning out to be quite a day.
SEVEN
Tea, glorious tea. A celebration of teas from around the world.
Visualize a hot summer afternoon. Birds are singing and there is a warm breeze on your face. Scones and jam (no wasps allowed) and refreshing, delicious green tea in a floral-pattern china cup. Bliss.
From Flynn’s Phantasmagoria of Tea
Thursday
‘I don’t understand the panic. So you’re going on a date. With a multi-millionaire. To a management dinner, where all the Beresford hotel bosses will be lined up to kiss Sean’s father’s feet.’ Lottie nodded slowly. ‘That makes perfect sense to me. There was bound to be some intelligent man out there who could recognize a goddess when he saw one.’
Lottie waggled the plastic spatula she was holding over the bowl of blueberry-muffin batter in front of Dee’s floral-print slimline trousers and canary-yellow long-sleeved top. ‘Goddess. Obviously.’
Then she went back to folding in the vanilla and almond extracts and extra fresh blueberries for a few seconds before lifting her head and adding, in a dreamy, faraway voice, ‘Why, yes, I did know Miss Flynn before she became the tea consultant to the international hotel chains around the world. But we both knew even then that she was destined for greatness. She had that spark, you see. Special. And she still sends me a Christmas card every year from her Caribbean tax haven. Just for old times’ sake.’
Dee gave Lottie a squinty look as she packed napkins into the dispensers on the tables. ‘Very funny. Laugh all you like. I’m having a screaming panic attack here. See these bags under my eyes? Haven’t slept a wink.’
‘I’m not laughing, I’m celebrating,’ Lottie retorted as she spooned the batter into paper cases in the muffin tin. ‘Sean obviously likes a girl who knows what she wants and can stand up for herself. I know these management types from my old job. They are always looking for something or someone to give them a buzz. You will be fine.’
‘A buzz?’ Dee groaned. ‘I am not trained to give anyone a buzz. Ever. All I know about is tea!’
‘Well, for a start that’s not totally not true,’ Lottie replied as she sprinkled cinnamon and crystallized brown sugar mixed with chopped pecans over the tops of the muffins. ‘Who was the star of the celebration-cake contest? And your eggs Benedict are the best. I can only dream of making a hollandaise sauce that good. Remember what I told you when I called you at the tea warehouse and asked if I could buy you lunch? Universities do not award first-class degrees just for turning up. If I am going to set up a business with someone, I only work with the best.’
‘True. Three first-class degrees in a class of forty-two.’
‘Damn right,’ Lottie said as she popped the muffin trays into the oven and set the timer. ‘You, me and Luca Calavardi.’ She stood up and pressed a sugary hand to her chest. ‘Oh, my. Now you’ve done it. Reminded me about the lovely Luca.’
‘Oh, stop. He was fifty-six, happily married with children and grandchildren, and only came on the course because he was fed up with being a sous chef all his life. That man had forty years of catering experience under his belt and we had four months.’
‘All the more reason to feel proud of what we achieved. Right? Sean is a lucky man, and you are going to knock their socks off. You wait and see. And in the meantime...’ Lottie grinned and looked over Dee’s shoulder as the doorbell chimed. ‘We have our first customer of the morning. They will probably want tea and plenty of it. Go to it, girl. Show them what you can do.’
Dee popped the last napkin holder onto the tray with a snort and walked out of the kitchen and into the tea rooms. But, instead of her usual customers, a short man in a biker’s jacket with a motorcycle helmet over one arm was standing at the counter.
‘Delivery for—’ he glanced at the screen of a palm top computer ‘—Miss D Flynn. Have I got the right address?’
‘That’s me. You have come to the right place.’ Dee smiled and leant on the counter with both elbows. ‘What delights do you have in your bag today?’
The courier flashed Dee a withering glance, then dived into his rucksack and pulled out a small package the size of a book which he passed onto the counter. Dee barely had time to scratch her name with the stylus onto the computer screen before he was out of the door.
‘And thank you and goodbye to you too,’ Dee said as she turned the box from side to side. Too small for tea samples or festival flyers. Too large for a personal letter.
Intriguing.
A small, sharp knife and a whole bag of foam curls later, Dee stood in silence, peering at an oblong box. It was covered in fluorescent-pink gift paper with a dark-blue ribbon tied in an elaborate bow on the top. There was a small pink envelope tucked into the ribbon and she hesitated for a moment before opening it up and reading the note.
With thanks for a lovely morning. Operating instructions are included and my personal number is number one on the list.
Prakash is next.
Have fun.
Sean.
Dee had a suspicion she knew exactly what was inside the gift box but she tugged away the ribbon and peeked inside anyway.
Staring back at her from a whole pack of scary accessories and manuals was a very shiny, very elegant version of the smart phone that Sean had been using yesterday. But with pastel-coloured flowers in shades of pink and cream printed onto the silver cover.
‘Oh my,’ Lottie whispered over her shoulder. ‘Please excuse my drool. Your boy has very good taste in toys. Am I allowed to be jealous?’
Dee shook her head. ‘I know. And it would be churlish to send it back. But...I’m not sure how I feel about Sean sending me personal gifts. I’ve only known him two days.’
‘Think of it this way—it gives him pleasure to send you a phone, and you need one to keep in touch with the hotel if you are out and about doing your organizing thing. It’s a winner. Go on, have a play.’
Lottie finished drying her hands and pointed to the shiny silver button. ‘That’s the power button.’ Then she stood back and smiled before giving Dee a quick one-armed hug. ‘There you are. He took your photo yesterday when you hit the streets. You look so sweet carrying those tulips.’
Then Lottie gave a quick chuckle. ‘Might have guessed. Dee, darling, I hate to state the obvious but that boy is smitten with you. Totally, totally smitten. And, the sooner you get used to the idea that you are being wooed, the better!’
‘Wooed! Have you been sniffing the brandy bottles again? I haven’t got the time be wooed by a Beresford. I have a tea festival to organize.’
‘Wooed. Whether you like it or not. And, actually, I kind of like it. Sean and Dee. Dee and Sean. Oh yes. And that’s my oven timer. Have fun with your phone.’
Dee watched Lottie jog back into the kitchen and waited until her back was turned before picking up Sean’s note and reading through it again with a silly grin on her face. He had written it himself, using a pen on paper. That must have been a change for him. The man seemed to live for his technology.
Her foolish and very well hidden girly heart leapt a few beats as she scanned down to the photo he had taken when she’d stopped at one of the market stalls to look at the antique silver teapots.
The girl smiling back at her with her arms full of tulips looked happy and pretty.
Was that how Sean saw her? Or as a girl who had a problem with enclosed spaces who could deck him any time of the day or night?
Her finger hovered over the menu button. She was so tempted so call him right there an
d then and spend five minutes of easy, relaxed chatter like they had enjoyed the day before. Talking about their lives and how much he missed London sometimes, just as she missed warm weather and the mountains.
Two normal people enjoying a sunny winter’s morning. Getting to know one another.
How had that happened?
Dee licked her lips and was just about to ring when a group of women swooped in and headed straight towards her. Customers!
Perhaps Lottie was right. Perhaps she was being wooed. Strange how much she rather liked that idea.
* * *
Sean looked out over the London skyline from the penthouse apartment at the Beresford hotel Richmond Square and watched the planted arrangements of ferns and grasses thrash about in the winds that buffeted his high-rise balcony.
No spring flowers or tulips here. Not on a cold evening three storeys above the street level where he had strolled with Dee the previous day.
But she was still with him, and not only in a photo on his phone.
No matter where he went in the Beresford Riverside he could almost hear the sound of laughter and easy chatter. Even Madge had smiled as he’d passed her office.
But it was more than that. Sean felt as though he had been infected with the Dee virus which coloured everything he did and made him see it in a new light.
He had spent the day getting to know the new hotel management trainees. They were a great group of young and not so young graduates: bright, keen and eager to learn. The future lifeblood of Beresford hotels.
It had been a pleasure to take them through some of the Beresford training materials, materials written and tested by experts in the hospitality industry and used in the hotels around the world. And yet, the more time he’d spent standing at the front of the minimalist meeting room at Beresford City, working through the elegant presentation materials while the graduates had scribbled away taking notes, the more his brain had reworked what she had said to him.
Trouble on Her Doorstep Page 9