Snowkissed. Jessica Gilmore

action. Hugh’s first gambit was to apologise. It was cringeworthy. Next up, ironically enough, he offered to pay me to play the role of his fiancée. When I refused, it all got a bit ugly.’

      Ethan halted, his jaw and hands clenched. ‘You want me to go and find him? Drag him here and make him grovel?’

      ‘No!’

      But his words had loosed a thrill into her veins—there was no doubt in her mind that he would do exactly that. For a second she lingered on the satisfying image of a kowtowing Hugh Farlane and she gave a sudden gurgle of laughter.

      ‘I appreciate it, but no—thank you. The point is he said he’d never bother to pull a publicity stunt like this again. So I don’t need to make a stand for the greater good. To be honest, I just want it to blow over; I want the threats and the hatred to stop.’

      Ethan drummed his fingers on the counter and her flesh goosebumped at his proximity, at the level of anger that buzzed off him. It was an anger with a depth that filled her with the urge to try to soothe him. Instinct told her this went deeper than outrage on her behalf, and her hand rose to reach out and touch him. Rested on his forearm.

      His muscles tensed and his blue-grey gaze contemplated her touch for a stretch. Then he covered her hand with his own and the sheer warmth made her sway.

      ‘I’m sorry you went through that, Ruby. I’d like to make the bastard pay.’

      ‘It’s okay.’ Ruby shook her head. ‘I’m good. Thanks to you. You gave me a chance, believed in me, and that means the world.’

       Lighten the mood. Before you do something nuts like lean over and kiss him on the cheek. Or just inhale his woodsy aroma.

      ‘If it weren’t for you I’d still be under my duvet, ice cream in hand. Instead I’m here. Helping renovate a castle. So I’m really good, and I want to move forward with my life.’

      ‘Then let’s do exactly that.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Let’s go to dinner.’

      ‘Huh?’ Confusion flicked her, along with a thread of apprehension at the glint in his eye. ‘Now? You’ve had dinner, remember?’

      ‘Tomorrow. Pugliano’s. In the next town along.’

      ‘Pugliano’s? You’re kidding? We’d never get in at such short notice.’

      ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll get a table.’

      ‘But why do you want us to go out for dinner?’ For a scant nanosecond her heart speeded up, made giddy by the idea that it was a date.

      ‘To celebrate making your appointment official. You’re off trial.’

      ‘I am?’ A momentary emotion she refused to acknowledge as disappointment that it was not a date twanged. To be succeeded by suspicion. ‘Why?’

       Shut up, shut up, shut up.

      This was good news, right? The type that should have her cartwheeling around the room. But...

      ‘I don’t want this job out of pity.’

      ‘Look at me.’ He met her gaze. ‘Do I look like a man who would appoint someone to an important business role out of pity?’

      ‘Fair point. No, you don’t. But I think your timing is suspect.’

      ‘Nope. You’ve proved yourself this past week. You’ve matched my work drive without complaint and with enthusiasm. Tonight you went beyond the call of duty with Rafael and now you’ve told me the truth. No pity involved. So... Dinner?’

      ‘Dinner.’

      Try as she might the idea sizzled—right alongside his touch. His hand still covered hers and she wanted more.

      As if realisation hit him at the same instant he released his grip and stepped backwards. ‘It will be good for you as well. To see how Pugliano’s works.’

      ‘Good...how?’ Hurt flickered across her chest. ‘I’ve researched all your places. I’ve talked to your restaurant managers in Spain and France and New York. Plus I know how a top-notch restaurant works already.’

      ‘Sure—but as a manager, not as a guest.’ He raised a hand. ‘I know your engagement to Hugh was filled with social occasions in glitzy places, but you said it yourself you didn’t enjoy them and now I get why. I want you to see it from the point of view of a guest. Experience it from that side of the table.’

      Despite all her endeavour, the bit of her that persisted in believing the date scenario pointed out that she would positively revel in the experience alongside Ethan.

      The thought unleashed a flutter of apprehension.

       Chill, Ruby. And think this through.

      This was not a date, and actually... ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea. What if it reactivates the media hype? What if people think that I’m moving in on you, shovel in hand, kitted out in my gold-prospecting ensemble?’

      His broad shoulders shrugged with an indifference she could only envy. ‘Does it matter what people think?’

      ‘It does if it starts up a media storm.’

      ‘We can weather the storm. This is a business dinner, not a date, and I don’t have a problem going public with that.’

      ‘Well, I do. I can picture it—sitting there being stared at, whispered about...the salacious glances...’

      ‘But once they see two people clearly in the process of having a business dinner they will lose interest and stop gawping.’

      ‘What about the negative publicity viewpoint?’

      ‘You are my restaurant manager. You do your job and I will deal with any negative publicity. I stand by my employees. Look, I get that it will be hard, but if you want to move on you need to face it. I’ll be right there by your side.’

       ‘I get that it will be hard... You need to face it... I’ll be right there by your side.’

      The phrases echoed along the passage of a decade—the self-same words that the younger Ethan Caversham had uttered.

      Those grey-blue eyes had held her mesmerised and his voice, his sheer presence, had held her panic attacks at bay. It had been Ethan who had made her leave the hostel, who had built her confidence so she could walk the streets again, only this time with more assurance, with a poise engendered by the self-defence classes he’d enrolled her in.

      Yes—for weeks he’d been by her side. Then he’d gone. One overstep on her part, one outburst on his, and he’d gone. Left her. Moved out and away, leaving no forwarding address.

      Ruby met his gaze, hooded now, and wondered if he had travelled the same memory route. She reminded herself that now it was different—she was different. No way would she open herself to that hurt again—that particular door was permanently closed and armour-plated.

      So Ethan was right—to move forward she needed to put herself out there.

      ‘Let’s do this.’

       CHAPTER FIVE

      ETHAN RESISTED THE urge to loosen his collar as he waited in front of the limo outside the castle’s grand entrance. This strange fizz of anticipation in his gut was not acceptable—not something he’d experienced before, and not something he wanted to experience again.

      Fact One: this was not a date. A whoosh of irritation escaped his lips that he needed a reminder of the obvious. The word date was not in Ethan Caversham’s dictionary.

      Fact Two: Ruby was an employee and this was a business dinner, to give her a guest’s viewpoint and to show her—an employee—his