Apart from having Isaac’s eyes following her around the whole time.
He might well have been just watching to make sure she was doing her job okay, but it felt strange. Intense. She felt scrutinised under his gaze and, every which way she thought about it, she came up wanting. Every sorry experience with him had shown her as an inadequate ingénue, even now after all these years. Had she really blurted out her stupid worries under the influence of way too many wines?
Still, at least the early rush was starting to die down and she could catch her breath. Shame, then, that it only ever seemed to stall when she was around Isaac. ‘Clever names. Who came up with them?’
He gave the cocktail-shaker thing a good shake, then poured a bright pink drink into a highball glass, leaned over the bar and popped it on Poppy’s tray along with a smaller, salt-rimmed lime-coloured drink. His shirt shifted over his body as he moved, straining across muscles that could not possibly have been honed just by making drinks in a bar. She knew he boxed with Matt and Alex when he was in town, other than that, she realised, she knew very little about his life. Apart from the colour of his boxer shorts. The width of his thighs. And the length … She nearly dropped the tray.
Lost for words, she dragged her eyes away and steadied herself. This was not like her and it was getting out of control.
He didn’t seem to notice. ‘The whole team had a brainstorming session and came up with the cocktail names. In a couple of weeks we’ll be running daily specials on the twelve cocktails of Christmas, so we needed twelve half-decent-sounding ones.’
‘That must have been fun. How refreshing to have a job where you can do fun stuff.’
‘You don’t have a laugh at work?’
‘Oh, yes, sometimes, of course. The clients are usually all gorgeous. But this is so … carefree. Making up names for drinks, choosing which music to play, picking out wall colours and decor.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Running an internationally successful business is carefree? Wow, I’d love to see what you mean by intense? Hectic? Challenging?’
‘You know what I mean. It’s not life and death—and that’s just great.’ She pigged her eyes at him and enjoyed watching him laugh. ‘I love how you’ve given the clients a couple of recipes to take away and try at home, too. They seem really pleased with that.’
‘It always pays to give them an extra something. It’s good business.’ He pointed at the glasses. ‘This is a Christmas Kiss for table two and a Merry Margarita for table six. When you’ve delivered them you can take a break. The night shift staff are arriving soon so we’ll be a little less busy.’
Thank goodness. Being a busy registrar at the hospital was hard enough on her feet, but, despite the fun, waitressing made her back and shoulders hurt, too. She’d have a lot more respect for waitresses in the future. She walked towards what she thought was table six. Had an uncharacteristic mind melt. Was it over in the right corner? Left?
Suddenly a hand clamped round her backside making her jump and nearly lose the glasses onto the floor. ‘Hey, little lady. Right in the perfect spot. You looking for someone, because I’m right here. Christmas kiss?’
}
What? She turned to find a short man with a nasty skin disease, which she’d definitely be looking up in a textbook later, and hair that needed a serious wash, violating her personal space. He reached out for the Merry Margarita and as she watched him she realised she’d been standing under a sprig of mistletoe. The groper grinned. ‘These for me? Keep ’em coming.’
‘Not unless you’re from table six and the last time I looked there were two women sitting there.’ She eased her bottom away from his hand. ‘Unless you’ve had a sudden sex change? Or would you like me to give you one? I’m a dab hand with a scalpel.’
He didn’t move, but his hand hovered perilously close. ‘I was just being friendly. It is the season to be merry.’
‘Jolly. It’s the season to be jolly. Now, walk away from my bottom.’ She found him her best sarcastic smile and looked down at his now empty hands. ‘Well done. Now, the bar’s to your left, the exit to your right. You choose. But any more groping and I’m choosing for you.’
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