She gave a small shudder as the waiter brought over their drinks.
‘Cheers,’ she said, lifting her glass and taking a large glug of cold white wine. ‘Ooh, that’s delicious.’ As the chilled New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc slid down her throat, she felt some of her equilibrium start to return.
Ross stared glumly at his glass of fizzy water.
‘You could have one,’ she said, looking at the bubbles springing their way to the surface.
‘Best not. I checked the forecast and though they predicted light snow this morning, it’s now changed to heavy snow.’
They both looked out of the window where snowflakes now danced like tiny ballerinas pirouetting through the sky. ‘It’s not so bad here but I think on higher ground we’ll be in for quite a dump. I’m going to need my wits about me. I’d rather not risk it.’
She nodded. ‘Good job you’ve got a big car.’
‘That’s a bonus.’
He gave her a self-deprecating smile. ‘I never dreamed I’d be so successful. That’s part of the reason I don’t publish under my real name. When I finally got a publishing deal – there are several books in the bottom drawer that will never see the light of day – I kept very quiet about it. The last thing I wanted was to brag that I got that elusive publishing deal and then have the book sink without a trace. Academics are always very competitive about their published work, so I wanted to keep it quiet.
‘When the first one did so well, it was difficult to casually drop in the conversation, “Oh, by the way, Ross Adair? That’s me.”’
Izzy nodded. ‘I guess so. And then you get people fangirling all over you.’
‘Not everyone is a reader.’
Izzy clutched her throat in horror and he laughed before glancing quickly out of the window.
‘We’d better order. The sooner we get on the road, the better, I suspect.’
Izzy picked up the menu and gave a little moan of approval. ‘Oh my, I’m spoiled for choice. It all sounds delicious and suddenly I’m starving.’
A few minutes later, having studied the menu in great detail, she said, ‘I can’t decide between the crab Scotch egg, which sounds divine, or the prawn and lobster toast with yuzu pearls and black sesame. Or there’s the monkfish satay or the Scotch Bonnet salmon.’ Izzy caught her lip between her teeth with anxiety over the choices.
‘Or you could have oysters.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know they’re supposed to be some wonderful delicacy but,’ she lowered her voice, ‘I’ve never tried them. I can’t bring myself to.’
Ross leaned forward and lowered his voice too. ‘Me neither. They look disgusting and I always got the impression it was a slurp of slimy sea water. I’ve always thought of them as the Emperor’s New Clothes of the sea. A handy by-product after you’ve nicked the pearls.’
Izzy laughed. ‘Let’s not have oysters then. I think we have to have the toast and the Scotch egg. Actually, I ought to make traditional Scotch eggs for the Carter-Joneses.’ She pulled out her notebook and quickly scribbled a note to herself.
‘Do you take that everywhere with you?’
‘At the moment, yes. It’s my master plan for Christmas. There’s so much to do. I’ve got lists of lists of lists.’ She opened the book and showed him one of the pages, covered in writing in different coloured pens. The notebook was full of turned-down corners to remind her where things still needed finalising, arrows and crossed-out bits and yellow Post-it notes stuck to the pages.
‘Are you really worried about Christmas?’
Izzy swallowed. ‘Only the food side of things. The other night I dreamed the Carter-Joneses all came down to dinner except it wasn’t the dining room, it was like the workhouse from Oliver Twist and they were being served gruel with holly leaves and when they pulled the crackers, huge rats jumped out.’
‘Well, the only way is up,’ teased Ross.
When the delicate prawn and lobster toast arrived, Izzy took a healthy bite and lifted her eyes heavenward as the flavours of rich seafood, tinted with the burst of citrus and balanced by the nutty bitterness of the black sesame, melted with a gentle explosion in her mouth. ‘Bliss.’ She took a deep breath of pure satisfaction. ‘You have to try this.’ With ruthless enthusiasm and an uncoordinated lurch, she shoved the square of toast at his mouth as if he were a baby bird that needed feeding. Startled, Ross opened his mouth and took a bite, his lips grazing her fingers. The laugh in both their eyes stilled as they stared at each other for one of those ridiculously long, awkward seconds as Izzy realised that feeding someone like this was perhaps a little up close and personal.
‘I need to take a picture,’ she said hurriedly, snatching her hand away and grabbing her mobile. ‘For my WhatsApp group. My friends from the cookery school. They’re all real foodies and they’ll love this.’ She could feel her freckled cheeks burning even as the last vestiges of tingles ran their course on her skin.Don’t look at his lips, she told herself.Don’t look. You’ve a bit of a crush on him because he’s kind, nice and good looking.She stifled a snort.Puh-lease. Good looking? He’s a superstar bestseller hottie and it’s messing with your hormones. He’s way out of your league.
There was no denying her hormones had it right, she could feel the low simmer of attraction but she’d been down this road before. Unrequited feelings sucked, especially when you convinced yourself that the feelings were reciprocated.
She took a couple of photos and then put her phone back down. Luckily Ross was either oblivious to her inner turmoil or ignoring it. She prayed it was the former.
Mindful of the weather closing in, they didn’t dally over dinner, although Izzy insisted on taking a doggy bag with them when she couldn’t finish everything.
