Thoughts scrambled round her brain. Truth be told, she would feel safer here. Because of Ethan. The thought sneaked in and she dismissed it instantly. This was zip to do with Ethan—sheer logic dictated she should stay in the castle. Nothing to do with his aura, or the slow burn of the atmosphere.
‘Thank you, Ethan. If you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure. Let’s find you a bedroom.’
‘Um… Okay.’ Freaking great—here came a tidal wave blush adolescent-style at the word. How ridiculous. As preposterous as the thud of her heart as she followed him up the sweep of the magnificent staircase to the second floor, where he pushed open a door marked ‘Elizabethan Suite’ and stood back to let her enter.
‘Whoa!’ The room was stunning, a panorama of resplendence, and yet despite its space, despite the splendour of the brocade curtains and the gorgeous wall-hangings that depicted scenes of verdure, her eyes were drawn with mesmerising force to the bed. Four-poster, awash with luxurious draperies—but right now all she could concentrate on was the fact that it was a bed.
For a crazy moment her mind raced to create an age-old formula; her body brazenly—foolishly—wanted to act on an instinct older than time. And for one ephemeral heartbeat his pupils darkened to slate-grey and she believed that insanity must be contagious…believed that he would close the gap between them.
Then Ethan stepped back and the instant dissolved, leaving a sizzle in the air. A swivel of the heel and he’d turned to the door.
‘I’ll meet you in the morning to finish showing you around. If you’re hungry there’s some basic food stuff in the kitchen.’
‘Okay.’ Though her appetite had deserted her—pushed aside by the spin of emotions Ethan had unleashed.
‘If you need anything you’ve got my mobile number. My suite is on the next floor. No one knows you’re here, so you can sleep easy.’
For the first time in the two horrendous weeks since she’d walked in on Hugh and a woman who had turned out to be a hooker she felt…safe…
‘Thank you. And, Ethan…?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you for today. For…well, for coming to my rescue again.’
A long moment and then he nodded, his expression unreadable. ‘No problem.’
‘Ethan?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
Wariness crossed his face and left behind a guarded expression. ‘You can ask…’
‘Why did you call me to an interview?’
Silence yawned and Ruby’s breath caught. Foolish hope that he had wanted to make amends for the past unfurled.
‘Everyone is entitled to a chance,’ he said finally. ‘And everyone deserves a second one.’
The words were a deep rumble, and fraught with a connotation she couldn’t grasp.
‘Sleep well, Ruby. We’ve got a lot of work ahead.’
The door clicked shut behind him and Ruby sank down onto the bed.
Enough. Don’t analyse. Don’t think. Don’t be attracted to him. In other words, don’t repeat the mistakes of the past.
Ethan Caversham had offered her a chance and she wouldn’t let the jerk of attraction mess that up. Wouldn’t kid herself that it was more than that—more like a bond between them. Ruby shook her head—this was an aftermath…an echo of her ancient crush on the man. Because he’d rescued her again.
Only this time it had to play out differently. Instead of allowing the development of pointless feelings and imaginary emotional connections she would concentrate on the job at hand. Get through the trial period, secure the job as a permanent post and then she would be back on track. Heading towards her goal of a family.
One week later
Ethan gave a perfunctory knock and pushed the door open. Ruby looked up from her paper-strewn makeshift desk in the box room where she’d set up office. His conscience panged at her pale face and the dark smudges under her eyes. She’d worked her guts out these past days and he’d let her. More than that—he’d encouraged it.
Get a grip, Ethan.
That was what he paid her to do—to work and work hard. He had high expectations of all his employees and made no bones about it. Ruby was no different.
Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Ethan. Say it enough times and maybe it will become true.
‘Earth to Ethan. I was about to call you with an update. I’ve got delivery dates for the furniture for the banqueting hall and I’ve found a mural painter. I’ve mocked up some possible uniforms—black and red as a theme—and…’
‘That’s all sounds great, but that’s not why I’m here. There’s something else I need you to do.’
‘Okay. No problem. Shoot.’
‘Rafael Martinez is coming for dinner and I need you to rustle us up a meal.’
Her dark eyebrows rose. ‘Rafael Martinez—billionaire wine guru, owner of the vineyard of all vineyards—is coming for dinner? Why on earth didn’t you mention it before?’
‘Because I didn’t know. I’d scheduled to meet him later this month, but he called to say he’s in the UK and that tonight would suit him. I realise it’s not ideal. But Rafael and I are…’
Old friends? Nope. Acquaintances? More than that. Old schoolmates? The idea was almost laughable—he and Rafael had bunked off more school than they had attended.
‘We go back a while.’
‘Maybe you should take him out somewhere?’
‘I’d rather discuss business in private. But if it’s too much for you…?’
He made no attempt to disguise the challenge in his tone, and she made no attempt to pretend she didn’t hear it, angling her chin somewhere between determination and defiance.
‘Leave it with me.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Look on this as a test of your ability to handle a restaurant crisis.’
‘Yippee. An opportunity!’
A snort of laughter escaped his lips. ‘That’s the attitude. I’ll leave you to it.’
Whilst he figured out the best way to approach Rafael with his proposition… Rafael Martinez was known more for his playboy tendencies and utterly ruthless business tactics than his philanthropic traits. But Ethan had been upfront in his preliminary approach—had intimated that his agenda was a business deal with a charitable bent—and Rafael had agreed to meet. Somehow it seemed unlikely that he’d done so to reminisce over the bad old days of their more than misguided youth.
He’d reached the doorway when he heard Ruby’s voice. ‘Actually… I’ve had an idea…’
Ethan turned. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Okay. So it’s best if you eat in the bar—it’s a pretty impressive room, and I think we should make it a little bit Christmassy.’
‘Christmassy?’ Somehow the idea of Christmas and Rafael didn’t exactly gel. ‘I don’t think so, Ruby. My guess is that Rafael is even less enamoured with the schmaltz of Christmas