As she stepped out of the lift, her gaze flew impatiently to his. Yup, darn it, the same sizzling attraction simmered. He was on his mobile, ankle of one leg atop knee of the other, and his arm stretched along the back of the chair. He nodded to her and gestured at the chairs in front of him, carrying on talking.
Pippa folded herself into the chair, crossing her ankles neatly and casting her gaze around for something to look at, rather than him.
Hurry up, I want this over with.
He wrapped up the call, dropping the phone on the low coffee table in front of them.
“I’ve ordered some sandwiches and a pot of tea.” He gave her a half smile. “You do drink tea, I assume, being English?”
Pippa smiled to herself, briefly flirting with the thought of saying no to what sounded like an accusation, but the desire for a nice cup of tea won out. “I do. Lovely, thanks.”
“Good.” He looked at her as if seeing her properly for the first time. Pippa’s toes curled, and she distracted herself by trying to read his illegible notes on the table. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her?
Jonathon leafed through his papers until he came to the one he wanted, and holding it up, frowned at her. “Mr. Mulberry has left no interview details and no notes except when and where he was due to meet you. All I have are your references. Do you have a copy of your CV?”
Pippa handed over her manila folder, thanking her lucky stars she had thought to bring it. “I attended Catering College in England and came top of my class with a First. One of my friends there, a girl called Elizabeth Rankin, worked for Mr. Mulberry and suggested I get in touch about the position of head chef. She said she would recommend me, and Mr. Mulberry seemed delighted he didn’t have to advertise.”
He took her CV, throwing it on the table without even glancing at it. Pippa could’ve sworn his lip curled as he did so. “So where did you interview?”
“He was in London, passing through, and I met him there.”
“I see.” Jonathon drew the word out, and Pippa understood how a mouse might feel faced with a fierce cat closing in on it. There was a pause, and she struggled not to fidget and to meet his direct gaze. What was his problem?
He broke the awkwardness. “Tell me about your previous position.”
“I worked as sous chef for Marcus Longbottom for four years, and have worked in each of his double Michelin starred-restaurants around London.” As Pippa spoke, she drew herself up in her chair, and her voice lost its shake. It had been hard work, but she had risen to the challenge and had made quite a name for herself as an up and coming young chef.
“He’s got a first-class reputation; you must be good at what you do.” Jonathon’s tawny eyes sharpened on her face as he said this.
To her chagrin, her cheeks heated and she looked at her shoes. A few people she worked with had been jealous of her success. As a result, rumours were rife, saying she had risen to the top so quickly by sleeping with the boss. She felt, rather than saw, the keen look Jonathon gave her. She was being put through the wringer here.
“Why did you leave?” he asked.
“It was time to move on.” Pippa ignored her flush and raised her chin determinedly. She was a good chef, whether this guy believed it or not.
“To a ship cruising New Zealand? Hardly the place for a young rising star such as yourself.”
The caustic note in his voice set Pippa’s teeth on edge, but she gritted them and kept quiet. He looked at her for a long moment, then shot a wrist out to look at his watch and frowned.
“Down to business. Jean-Pierre, the current head chef, is not available. Also, I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”
Pippa’s eyes flew to his. He was going to tell her she no longer had a job. She should have known better than to trust Mulberry, who told her not to worry about details and he would sort it all out. She frowned. Her flight had cleared out her meagre savings; she didn’t even have the money to get home.
“You are the last employee hired. We are a bed short, so you have no staff accommodation.” Pippa felt a small measure of relief — at least she had a job with a salary. She would sleep in a lifeboat for all it mattered to her.
“I will be on board, doing some corporate entertaining and residing in the company suite. When I say suite, it has two bedrooms, a large double and a smaller version. Both fortunately en-suite. There is a dining room, a sitting room with a sleeper couch, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. So if you want this job … ” He stopped and looked questioningly at her. Throat suddenly dry, she nodded reluctantly. “You have no choice but to share with me. Oh good, here are the sandwiches.”
Oh dear God, I don’t believe it.
Wave after wave of horror washed over her as she realised what the next couple of weeks were going to mean to her. A new, stressful job and sharing a suite with her obnoxious — if highly attractive — boss. Her image of a new life was starting to crumble around her before she had a chance to place even one brick there herself.
“Share with you? Is there nowhere else I can stay?” She held her hands out imploringly.
“Obviously, Ms. Renshaw, I wouldn’t give up my privacy unless it was absolutely required. Don’t worry, at least you’ll have your own bed.” He cocked an eyebrow as he raised his tea to his lips, a knowing look in his eyes.
Shock slammed into her. Had he heard about her and Marcus? Despite the rumours, they had been extremely discreet, and only a handful of other people knew the truth about them. Had Elizabeth known? Pippa doubted, but even if she had, Elizabeth had left after recommending her.
She narrowed her eyes, her good intentions of keeping calm unravelling. “Mr. Eagleton, if I had the money, I assure you, I’d be on the next flight out of here. I don’t like the idea of sharing anything with you anymore than you do. But you need a head chef, and I need a job. That’s the bottom line. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some fresh air.” Her voice wobbled on the last word. She had to get away from him — tears weren’t far away. Drat this impossible man.
Pippa rose from the sofa, part of her registering him standing as she stood. Hah, a bit late to show some manners. She headed out through the main entrance and turned sharply to the right as though she knew where she was going. Following the path, she ended up at the marina and stood in front of all the pretty yachts, breathing deeply.
The wind blew gently through the harbour, causing the rigging of the boats to rattle against the masts in an eerie clanking noise. Go home, go home, they whispered. Pippa sank onto a bench and watched the yachts.
Could she cope with sharing a cabin with him? No, far better she phoned her mum and asked her to transfer enough funds to see her home. And what? a small voice asked. Go back to Marcus? Find a job in London and see Marcus all over the gossip magazines with his latest girlfriend?
Given the choices, staying would be the least painful.
Chapter Two
Jonathon took a bite from his sandwich. She must be a good liar. Her face had been guileless, honest, and open — one, present circumstances removed, Jonathon liked.
However, the facts were stark. Mulberry was a well-known sleaze, and Pippa’s friend must have made her aware of that fact. Had she already slept with him or was she planning on doing so? Maybe it was a condition of hire. Jonathon certainly hadn’t had the opportunity to ask when he’d had the bad fortune to bump into him.
A cold snap went through him at the thought of his only meeting with Mulberry. With the thought of customer entertainment on his mind, he had gone out to the Coral Princess, docked in the bay, to check out his suite, The Doubtful. He thought he had heard something as he put the key in the lock. He had been right. Mulberry, in flagrante with a woman who transpired to be a new housekeeper, showed no shame. All very galling.
Jonathon shook himself mentally and tried to avoid the image of Pippa
in the housekeeper’s place. She certainly knew how to stand up for herself, but guilt shone from her expressive face. She was hiding something. He sighed. Typical. He’d met a woman who could turn out to be intriguing — not that he would find out — and she was a woman without scruples. Not the kind of woman Jonathon liked.
On the plus side, her references were excellent; in fact, looking at the one from Marcus Longbottom, he hadn’t ever read such a glowing recommendation. And a First from the Winchester Hotel and Catering College, a world-renowned catering school. He knew a professor there; he must drop him an email and see what he made of Pippa Renshaw.
Of course, Pippa still had the job — there was no time to re-interview and find someone else capable of running Corals Restaurant before they set sail.
He called a waiter over and quickly scribbled a note. “Deliver this to Ms. Renshaw’s room please, along with the tea and sandwiches.” He shut his laptop lid with a click and stood to go to his next meeting with the Stevenson family. They were world-renowned hoteliers, a three thousand strong chain of five star hotels to their name, and looking into the possibility of branching out with a cruise partner. They wanted to be able to promise the same Stevenson luxury whether travelling abroad or over the seas.
Since they were joining the cruise, Jonathon had no choice but to go along as well to do some serious schmoozing. He could ill afford the time, there being so much to sort out at board level, but then again, the deal on the table would considerably help the ailing finances of Queen Cruises should he close it. The Stevensons were in talks with several cruise companies — not just his — and Jonathon wanted to nail this deal.
• • •
Pippa panicked when she heard the knock on her door. Her eyes were red, her face blotchy, and her senses quailed at the thought of further onslaught. When she looked through the spy hole, sweet relief swam through her when nothing scarier than a waiter stood there, holding a tray on which sandwiches were laid out alongside a fresh pot of tea. But a note nestled in between the salt and pepper rang alarm bells.
Oh God, was he firing her for being so belligerent? Who could blame him? Now that her emotions were a bit calmer, she could see her reaction had not been in the interest of diplomatic job relations. Plus, not having her on board would save him having to share his suite. She slowly opened the door, as though to delay the inevitable, and accepted the tray, muttering her thanks through tight lips.
Tea wasn’t what she needed anymore — a shot of brandy would do the trick much better. She scanned the note with one eye scrunched up, then both flew open in shock. She still had the job. But the ship departed Auckland tomorrow at ten A.M.
Surely there was some mistake. She had been under the impression that the Princess Coral left a week from tomorrow. Mr. Mulberry certainly wasn’t too hot on details. A new nervous knot joined the one already in her stomach. Mr. Eagleton expected her to report to the ship at six A.M.
She sat with a thump on the bed. Could her day get any worse? Sharing a suite with him as of tomorrow? How would she cope? She knew nothing about her new kitchen, since she’d assumed she had a week to get to know the ins and outs before they set sail.
Heedless of how she looked, she raced downstairs. Two other people now sat at the coffee table. She strode into the bar — no sign of him there either. Going back to reception, she rang the bell impatiently.
“Yes, madam?” The same receptionist who had witnessed Pippa’s first meeting with her new CEO looked at her, sympathy in her brown eyes.
“I’m looking for Mr. Eagleton, do you know where he is?”Pippa drummed her fingers on the highly polished top.
“I think he’s in one of the conference rooms, in a meeting.”
Pippa stared at the receptionist and shook her head slightly, rolling her eyes.
“Well, if he gets out soon, will you please give him this?” She wrote a note asking him to call her room, trying not to break the pen as she did so, and caught the lift back up to her room to wait.
Yet she couldn’t sit still. Her mind raced, unanswered questions feeding the frenzied flock of butterflies in her stomach. The hotel brochure caught her attention and she flicked through it until she came to the leisure facilities. Great, she needed a good run. Either that or pace the small room until the carpet wore down.
She changed quickly and jumped two-at-a-time down the hotel stairs to the gym in the basement. There were several top-of-the-range treadmills and she chose one, slowly working her stride.
But her mind refused to let up. Why had she come out here to New Zealand? She should have stayed in London, working for Marcus. Okay, maybe she would have moved to a different restaurant, but even then she would have been surrounded by the familiar, not the unknown — and the downright scary. Now she was a prisoner of her own design: new country — heck, new continent — new job, new boss, no friends, and not even any space to call her own.
Pippa heaved a sigh, then took lots of little breaths to make up for her hard working lungs. Oh, who knows, maybe she had done the right thing. How could she have stayed in London after what Marcus had done? An up and coming celebrity chef, she had supported him all the way. Until his publicist had said to him, “Lose the sous chef; she’s too ordinary a look for you. You need an it girl on your arm, so all the paparazzi will be snapping you for the celebrity magazines.”
“Look, Pippa,” Marcus had pleaded. “Just give me a couple of years to get to the top of my career and then we can be together properly. We can still be together, but just keep our relationship under cover.”
Pippa had wanted to cry, but instead picked up her bag and walked out of the flat she had never quite moved into.
She had been right to leave. But whether she had been right to leave so drastically, swapping everything she had ever known for the unknown, was very questionable.
Her heart pounded rapidly and she pressed the treadmill button to lower the speed, concentrating on breathing deeply to slow her heart rate down. A light cough from the treadmill beside her nearly threw her off her treadmill in surprise.
Her new roomie.
In an attempt not to let the machine sweep her off, she pumped her legs and finally caught back up with the pace. Great. Glances at the monitor, proudly proclaiming a heart rate of 190, made her want to curl up and die. Mr. Eagleton, on the other hand, appeared very relaxed and loose limbed beside her as he lengthened into his pace, despite a faint sheen of sweat — clearly he had been in the gym for a while.
Breathe.
“Are you okay?” He didn’t look at her as he asked, he just kept running.
Okay? Sure, if you call just having learnt I have to share a suite with you, starting from tomorrow, okay.
She breathed deeply, trying to use mind over body to slow her heart. God forbid, he may look over, see the state of her, and think it was his effect on her. Or she was desperately unfit. Which would her pride prefer?
“Fine. You?” Being economical with her words was a necessity.
“Yup.”
Pippa’s head felt bogged down in quicksand and her heart stubbornly refused to go below 190.
“Did you get my note?” His tone was curt.
She nodded and then, feeling she let herself down, hit the speed to bring the treadmill down to a fast walking pace. Having a conversation whilst running proved impossible.
“I did, yeah. Did you get mine?” Picking up her bottle of water, she took a big glug, welcoming the coolness.
“No.” She could feel him looking at her through the mirrors in front of them.
“I thought we weren’t leaving until this day next week.” She met his gaze. Her tummy decided to get in on the fitness malarkey and started doing somersaults. He looked very fit with an easy lope to his running Pippa envied, carrying his six foot plus frame easily.
“Well, sorry.” There was no s
hortage of breath despite running at — quick glance at his monitor — 10k an hour.
“I have so many questions. I thought we were berthed for another week, plenty of time for me to get to know the ship and Coral’s kitchen.” She could hear her voice becoming thinner, and stopped.
He glanced sideways at her, a slight smile on his face, making it quite clear he was enjoying his game of cat and mouse. “I assumed you knew the departure date of the Coral Princess.”
Pippa walked at a slow pace now, breathing deeply, up through her diaphragm and out through her nose, but it didn’t help. Her heart rate remained at 150.
“Well, you said so yourself, Mr. Mulberry made a lot of mistakes. One of them was telling me the wrong departure date. I don’t know anything about Coral’s kitchen, and so I’d appreciate hearing everything you can tell me about it.”
Jonathon’s answer to her was to increase his speed. “You’ll find out all you need to know tomorrow. In the meantime I suggest you catch up on some sleep and I’ll see you on board in the morning.”
Blast the man. He wasn’t going to give her any respite from worrying.
One last try.
“Perhaps then we could share a taxi to the port so you can enlighten me on the way?”
Jonathon flicked out his iPod headphones from the carrier on his wrist and started unwinding them, loping beside her. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you? People may get the wrong impression.”
He fixed the headphones into his ears, nodded to her, and increased his pace yet again.
Conversation clearly closed.
Pippa hit the red stop button, not caring about cooling down. Towelling her neck and forehead, she stalked — as much as her tired legs would allow her — into the changing room to swap her gym gear for her swimsuit. The man was so annoying. How would she share his suite without giving him a piece of her mind?
The pool had looked inviting when she glanced in before her run. Small, but spot lit from below the water level, which cast a lovely warm glow throughout the turquoise water. The lights around the pool were placed strategically behind the palm plants and piano music played over the tannoy. Nobody else swimming.
Heart to Heart Page 164