The sticky toffee pudding and the Guinness cake are on blue and white china.The apple cake and the Eton mess are on rose china, and the bread and butter pudding and the trifle are on the gold and white bone china.
“Well, let’s figure this out,” Richard says.“Break my tie for me.”
“Come on,” I say.“You already have a favorite, surely.”
“I do.”He smiles.“She’s looking right at me.I’m hoping she’ll come over for dinner quite often, but I need a chef she likes to entice her.She’s playing very hard to get.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s cute.I can’t lie to myself about that—he’s really, really cute.The apple cake’s really good, but not quite as good as the one we fell in love with on our first trip out.The Eton mess is amazing, because they got great berries, but the sticky toffee pudding and the Guinness cake are theclearwinners.
“I think these have it.”I slide the blue and white china forward.
Richard smiles.“I agree.”
I frown.“Do you really?”
He shrugs.“Does it matter?”Before I can object, he waves the footman guy over and whispers in his ear.
The man asks him something in such a low tone I can’t hear it.
“Sure, if they want to.”Richard’s smiling.
“If they want to what?”I ask as the footman guy leaves.
“Gottfried asks whether you’d be willing to meet my new chef, if the winner asks to come out and introduce themselves.”
“Oh,” I say.“Well, I’d better head home before then.”
Richard stands.“I’ll take you.”
I wave.“It’s fine.”
“You can’t call an uber,” he says.“I kidnapped you, remember?”
I drop a hand on my hip.“I’m planning on stealing Big Red as payback.”
“Big Red?”His brow furrows.
I clear my throat.“Sorry, that was my name for Honeypot.”
“Honeypo—” He grins.“You mean What a Honey?”
I nod.“He told me a secret on our way in—he likes me more than he likes you, and he wants to come home with me.”
Richard’s laughing as he walks behind his chair, shoving it back under the table.The edge of his chair catches my elbow, and thanks to the heels I rarely wear, I wobble.I very nearly fall forward on my face, but Richard catches me, deftly swinging me around and preventing a collision between my face and the contents of the table.
“Oh.”I’m staring up at him dumbly.“Whoa.”
He smiles, and then without saying a word, his powerful arms pull me up, up, up, until his mouth comes down over mine.
A thrill races up my spine, and my hands tighten on his arms, just barely feeling the outline of a surprisingly powerful bicep.And then, just as fast, he releases me, straightening me and stepping back.“I’ll take you home, then?”
Someone behind us clears their voice.
When we turn, a very short man bows.“I’m Brendan Dufaigh.”His smile transforms his face.It’s really, really bad, but between his attire—he’s wearing suspenders—and his big grin, he reminds me of a leprechaun.“I’m delighted to hear that you found my food to yer liking.”
“It was exquisite,” I say.“I could eat that sticky toffee pudding every day.”
“Could you really?”Richard pulls me close, drawing my arm through the crook of his elbow.
