The thought of that conversation had Harry grinning, his smile broadening when Penny breezed into the kitchen, dumping a pile of dirty crockery beside the rinsing sink.
‘I was just thinking about you,’ he said.
‘You’re chopping onions with what looks like an extremely sharp blade … Should I be worried?’ She quirked an eyebrow, then grinned.
‘No – I was thinking about sailing around the Med on a yacht, actually.’
‘With me?’
He nodded, immediately regretting his words. He shouldn’t have said anything, it would give her the wrong idea of where hishead was. Penny hadn’t made any secret of her hopes for their friendship to become far more, and there was no point denying how much he was drawn to her, too. But he had far more on the line than the fallout from a summer fling. Plus, he was becoming convinced he didn’t want his relationship with Penny to be something so disposable.Conflicteddidn’t come close to how he currently felt.
‘Did I tell you I look amazing in a bikini?’ Penny rounded the workstation, bringing herself within touching distance.
Harry set the knife down, heat spiking up his neck. ‘I’m doing my best not to lose a finger here,’ he said, gesturing to the knife, trying his best to keep the conversation away from the undeniable curves of Penny’s body.
‘If you can’t stand the heat,’ she said.
He completed the well-worn phrase. ‘Get out of the kitchen?’
Penny winked. ‘Your wish is my command. See you later?’
‘I will see you later,’ he said, equal parts relieved and frustrated when she spun on her heels and left.
Harry sighed, doing his best to refocus on the pile of white onions demanding his attention. But there was no hiding from the fact that before long he was going to have to make some decisions, in part as a direct result of having met Penny. He couldn’t hide from them for much longer, and these were decisions which could end up altering the entire course of his life.
As he entered the dining room, Johnny could see the others already at the table. A bottle of something chilling in a shiny copper-plated wine cooler. He paused on his way across to ask a member of staff if Fran was working this evening. A physical description had been required to help aid the guy’s recognition, but eventually he’d nodded, defined her as the new girl and saidshe was working extra shifts as a couple of the regular local waitressing staff were unwell.
Hopefully that meant he would be able to catch a word with her, tell her what he’d found. Or rather, what he hadn’t found. No sign of the ginger cat anywhere, even though Johnny had taken his time to saunter through some of the chateau’s beautiful gardens. Regardless of the groundskeeper’s earlier complaints, he was clearly doing an excellent job of battling against the driest summer for a decade as the grounds were alive with the colour and scent of lavenders and roses.
It had struck Johnny as he’d been mooching around, that cats were by nature a nocturnal species. So perhaps looking for the ginger tom during daylight hours wasn’t the best approach. Perhaps they needed to go covert, maybe have a look around by the light of the moon.
Yeah, because asking a woman he barely knew to head out alone into the darkness with him sounded legit, didn’t it …
Noel, Ricky and Ed were already halfway through the bottle of Sancerre when he took his seat, but Johnny hoped that the fact they were at the same table as they’d been given the night before meant they would get the same member of staff, too. It seemed Noel was ahead of him with this thought. He looked as though he’d taken extra care with his appearance this evening and confirmed Johnny’s suspicions by referring to Fran as ‘that foxy little lady’ as Johnny drew in his seat.
‘She’s on again tonight,’ Noel said, a grin enveloping his face. ‘Happy days.’
Pouring himself a glass of the Sancerre, Johnny didn’t join in with any of the accompanying comments about Fran, or women in general. Instead, he couldn’t help noticing the back note of acidity in his brother’s voice when he did his best to close down Ricky’s unbidden comments about the fate of Noel’s latest –and apparently secret – girlfriend back home. Johnny had lost track of his brother’s conquests, and while there had been a time when the two had shared such information, Noel’s bedpost tally had always far outstripped Johnny’s. It had been a relief when, once he’d met Natalie, those conversations had faded away almost entirely.
Instead of chatting, Johnny went through his ritual whenever he tried a new wine, and this one made him wrinkle his nose. Even for a Sancerre it was too sharp and acidic to drink on an empty stomach, in his opinion.
‘This needs some help,’ he said, tilting the glass to clarify. ‘Did you order some olives, or ciabatta and dipping oils? It could do with something to take the sharpness down a notch.’
‘I thought it was refreshing,’ Noel said, taking another large mouthful.
‘It’s certainly that,’ Johnny said, noticing too late the scrunch between Noel’s eyes, the darkening of his expression.
‘Order an alternative, then,’ Noel muttered.
Johnny called over the sommelier and asked for his recommendations, choosing a bottle of Picpoul de Pinet from the selection. Still renowned for its acidity, with its grape known as the ‘lip stinger’, but an amazing wine if the producer had got it right.
As the sommelier moved away, Johnny caught sight of Noel’s expression. It had darkened further. Then, as if he was flicking a switch, the expression evaporated, Noel elbowed Ricky and grinned.
‘I’ve always found talking loud and slow works just as well as anything. No need for all this speaking foreign, if you ask me. If they want our trade, they need to learn our lingo, end of.’
Originally from Madrid but having moved to Surrey when he was a kid, Ricky shifted in his seat, flicking a glance at Ed, thenJohnny. It would seem Noel’s joke – although it was a thinly disguised dig aimed at Johnny – hadn’t landed all that well.
‘Are you gentlemen ready to order?’
