Anything but Vanilla(48)

‘Too late,’ she said. ‘For the next two hours you are all mine.’ And she concentrated on the exquisite tiled pattern of the conservatory floor so that he shouldn’t see just how happy that made her.

‘I imagine this is an equal opportunities company?’

‘Of course it is,’ she replied, then, realising that she’d missed something, she looked up. For a split second their eyes connected and the effect was like an electrical surge shorting her circuits. For a moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak...

‘Two hours of your time... I’ll tell you when,’ he said, and this time his smile was definitely one of ‘those’ smiles.

Her hand flew to her heart to stop it hammering. ‘I...um... Small quantities and speed of delivery is the answer, which is why I need so many waiters,’ she managed to get out in a breathless rush. ‘The students have all done this before so you shouldn’t have any problems.’

‘Why aren’t they at class?’ he asked.

Breathe... Air... ‘I have a work-experience arrangement with the local college.’ Better. Ordinary conversation would edge them out of the danger zone. Keep her focused on the job in hand. ‘It’s good for students doing catering and hotel management courses to have some hands-on experience to put on their CVs.’

‘The money must come in handy, too.’

‘Well, yes, and quite a few of them have found full-time jobs through me.’ Yet another reason why it was so important that Scoop! didn’t fail. ‘I’ve organised a couple of them to help out in the ice-cream parlour, by the way. Basil is fit enough, but Gran can’t work all day. Just in case you call in and wonder who they are.’

‘Right... So where will you be?’

‘I’ll be in Wales. First stop Myddfai,’ she said, and this time earned a grin for her pronunciation. ‘Unless you can offer an alternative?’

‘That will do as a starting point, but I was actually asking where you are going to be while I’m keeping the drips off the designer clothes?’

‘Oh...’ Stupid... ‘Now that you’re here, I can supervise the service. Did you know that you’ve got your badge on upside down.’

‘Have I?’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Everyone, this is Alexander,’ she said, unhooking his badge and turning it around, fumbling a little as her fingers came into contact with the hard wall of his chest, the thump of his heart a slow counterpoint to her own racing pulse.

‘Breathe slowly, Sorrel,’ he murmured, putting his arm around her waist to steady her. As if that helped...

‘Alexander...’ she protested. He smelled so good. Nothing out of a bottle to obliterate the scent of fresh linen, warm skin... ‘He’s standing in for Basil today so if you have any problems he’s your man.’

‘I’ve got a problem,’ one of the girls said, provoking a round of giggles.

‘Raspberry ripple,’ Sorrel muttered, under her breath, focusing on the badge. ‘A bit of a handful.’

‘That’s what I thought about you.’

‘That I was raspberry ripple? Or a bit of a handful?’ He didn’t answer and she looked up. ‘Which?’ she demanded.

‘Both. But I was wrong. You’re not raspberry.’

And remembering exactly when he’d last said ‘not raspberry’, she blushed again.

* * *

Alexander had no trouble keeping the flow of ices moving. The sorbet, mouth-wateringly pretty in chilled miniature cocktail glasses, didn’t have time to melt before it was seized upon, while the mouth-sized bites of strawberry shortcake, little cups of Earl Grey granita, cucumber ‘sandwiches’ and all the other little teatime treats disappeared as fast as Sorrel and her team could dish them out.

Despite his teasing, he was seriously impressed and picked up some of her business cards to pass on to guests who asked him who was providing the ices.

* * *

Sorrel caught sight of Alexander from time to time, talking to guests, answering their questions, making sure that everyone was being served, keeping the flow of ices moving, just as Basil would have done. Making everyone feel special. With that smile, he was a natural.

He paused, occasionally, to exchange a word with guests, pass on one of the cards she’d left on the counter of the ice-cream bar.

‘I was wrong about the cucumber,’ he admitted, at one point in the afternoon, when he brought back a few glasses that hadn’t been returned to a tray.