Million Love Songs(5)
‘Thanks for the warning.’ A lecherous boss. Lovely. Just when it was all going so well.
Chapter Five
I make sure that everything’s spick and span in the restaurant. I smile brightly at the customers as I greet them at the desk and bustle about all evening being generally efficient and bright. Before I get a chance to turn around, it’s eleven o’clock and the last of the stragglers are leaving as I’m wiping down the tables. It’s at that point when Mason Soames finally rocks up.
He needs no introduction. Instantly, I can tell it’s him. A throaty engine and a shower of gravel in the car park announces his arrival. I glance out of the window and there’s some slick silver beast in one of the reserved parking spots. A moment later the door swings open and a vision in a light grey suit strides in. Charlie’s right – he does, indeed, favour Tom Hiddleston. He’s tall, over six feet, lean and more handsome than is good for a man. As Charlie pointed out, he is, no doubt, a smoothie but she hadn’t managed to convey quite how good-looking he is. His fair hair, with just a hint of curl, is swept back but he runs his fingers through it as he comes through the door nevertheless. His features are fine, almost delicate, his skin lightly tanned. Mason Soames carries himself with the air of a man who never has to try too hard. He’s certainly quite classy – even given some of the posh stuff we get in the restaurant. I bet he’d look fabulous in a tuxedo.
I’m standing with a pile of menus in my hand and become aware that I’m staring. Our eyes meet and he smiles widely at me. I try to recover my composure as I give him a professional smile back.
‘Hi. I’m Mason.’ His gaze is steady, searching when he extends a hand to shake mine. ‘You must be … er …’
‘Ruby,’ I supply. ‘Ruby Brown. Your new waitress. Well, new-ish.’ I might not have met the boss yet, but I already feel like part of the furniture.
‘Ah. Right. Yes. Of course.’
‘I’ve been here for two months now.’
‘Right. And I haven’t.’ He’s still beaming at me and his smile is quite disarming. ‘I’ve been skiing for the season.’
‘Why wouldn’t you?’ I say.
‘But now I’m back.’ He claps his hands together. ‘Is Jay around?’
‘No. Night off. I’m in charge.’
‘Fine. You’re the very person I need then. Why don’t we shut up shop together and you can tell me what’s been going on here while I’ve been away?’
I don’t point out to Mason that it’s nearly my home time and maybe he should have come in a bit earlier for this chat. Still, there are just two tables left to leave and one party is getting their coats on already, so I won’t be long. The couple in the corner are so wrapped up in each other that they might get down and dirty on the table and I don’t want to be wiping up after that. I think I’ll take their bill over to them.
‘Give me another ten minutes to finish up here and then I’m all yours.’
Mason raises an eyebrow.
That came out wrong.
Flustered, I tap in the bill for the happy couple and hurry it over, interrupting their footsie. They take the hint, pay up and leave. I lock the door behind them, clear their table and turn off the lights in the restaurant. When I go through to the bar, Mason has dimmed the lights in there and is standing behind the counter. He’s taken off his suit jacket and has rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, showing off tanned arms with a down of blond hair.
‘What’s your poison?’ he says, leaning on the bar and fixing me with eyes that are the colour of summer sky – now that I come to look. They glint at me even in the low light. Always beware of a man with twinkly eyes. Charlie has told me as much.
‘Diet Coke, please. I’m driving.’
‘Ha. Me too. I’m making myself an espresso,’ he says. ‘I’ve a party to go to later and need something to put some life into my bones.’
‘Later?’ I laugh. ‘I like your style. It’s a long time since I went to a party that started after half past seven.’
‘Join me? The more the merrier. It’s just a small gathering.’
‘I’d better not.’ What on earth would I have in common with Mason Soames and his posh friends?
‘A coffee, then? I’m a wizard with this machine.’ He certainly moves around it like he knows what he’s doing.
‘Just the cola, thanks. If I have coffee, I’ll be buzzing until dawn.’
‘That’s exactly why I want it.’
I laugh at that. ‘Good luck to you.’ I have enough trouble sleeping as it is as my mind goes into overdrive the minute my head hits the pillow and, anyway, it feels ridiculous to have decaf espresso. Isn’t the very point of an espresso to make you wired?
He pours out half of a diet Coke and pushes it across the bar to me. I get a straw and try, unsuccessfully, to look cool while I sip it. Mason rattles about with the cups and coffee machine, pulling levers, pushing buttons, until it spits out a double espresso. I hate the blasted thing and try to avoid it as much as possible.
‘Sit?’ He nods to one of the tables. ‘You’re not in a rush to get away?’
‘No.’ I wonder if he’s checking out whether I’ve got a husband or a family waiting for me and then I think I’m maybe a bit too jaundiced by Charlie’s opinion of him. I’d say that Mason Soames is no more than thirty-two or thirty-three at most, so I’m a good few years his senior. He looks like the type of man who likes his women younger and preferably of supermodel status. And why not? In his enviable situation, I’d probably be exactly the same.