Thanks, Abby.
Wishing she’d had something beige and nondescript in her wardrobe, she cast a single look over his shoulder.
“Is the coast clear?” Luca was watching her with laughter in his eyes and she felt bad.
He had the kind of face most women would happily gaze at all day.
And she was looking over his shoulder.
“Sorry. It’s a reflex. I can’t help it. If I suddenly dive under the table don’t take it personally.”
“You don’t think that would draw attention?”
“I don’t know, and if I’m under the table I won’t be able to see it.” The glass doors were open and she could smell the sea. “This place is brilliant. Have you been here before?”
“It’s my first time. You?”
“My first time, too. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. Not that I’m saying this is a date,” she said hastily, “obviously I’m here because I need your grandmother’s recipe for chicken. And you’re probably here because I’m the only single woman under the age of thirty-five in the village.”
“That’s not why I’m here. And my grandmother’s recipe for chicken is a closely guarded secret.” His gaze lingered on hers for a moment and then he glanced at the menu. “Shall we go for their set menu?”
“You mean so you can sample as many dishes as possible and work out which ones you’re going to modify and use at The Alexandra? Go for it. I’m up for the challenge.”
They ordered and Evie forced herself to relax and keep her eyes on him and not on the door of the restaurant. It was such a long time since she’d been on a date she’d forgotten how to do small talk. Was she supposed to flirt? Entertain him with her witty conversation?
She didn’t usually find herself short of words, but it had been a while since she’d been on her own with a man as attractive as Luca. After Martin she’d felt too raw and vulnerable to even consider dating again. She’d focused on herself, throwing herself into her hobbies, her work, her friendships. In the five years since that relationship had crashed and burned, no one had given her a reason to rethink that approach. Until now.
“Do you miss London?”
“What a question to ask when we’re sitting in front of a view like this.” He glanced at the ocean, lapping at the sand below the restaurant. “No, I don’t miss it. It was the right thing to do at the time, and great experience, but it was never my long-term goal. I wanted more control. I wanted to create my own menus, have a chance to implement my own ideas. Experiment. And I want to attract real foodies.”
“You couldn’t do that in London?”
“To an extent, but it’s hard to stand out in London and often the people who eat there aren’t even noticing the food. They choose a place because they read a review online, or a celebrity has been spotted there and suddenly it’s the place to be seen, and then they pick at their food and send most of it back to the kitchen. You could argue that as long as they’ve paid, it doesn’t matter. But it matters to me.”
“Of course it matters. When you care passionately about something, it matters. I can’t imagine anyone sending back food you’ve made. Clearly they need major help. I’m more likely to be thrown out for licking my plate clean.”
He laughed. “Have you ever thought of being a food critic?I licked the plate cleanis probably the dream review for most chefs.”
“It’s a bit basic though, isn’t it?” She felt herself start to relax. “Aren’t you supposed to rabbit on about a fusion of flavours and textures?”
“Probably. But in the end the only thing that matters is that the diner leaves feeling they’ve eaten the best meal of their life. I want them to be so focused on the food they don’t notice the celebrity at the next table.”
The way he was smiling at her made her insides flutter.
“The Alexandra is lucky to have you.”
“Maybe. Time will tell.” He shrugged. “They’re certainly lucky to have you.”
“Me? I’m not sure about that.” His comment flustered her. “I’m different from Gerald.”
“I never met Gerald, but unless he has blond hair and looks good in hot pink, I can imagine youaredifferent.”
She laughed. “He’s late fifties and he doesn’t have much hair at all. But I meant in management style. And experience. I don’t have a lot of experience, but I do have tons of enthusiasm. I’m not sure if that counts for much.”
“It counts for a lot.” He put his glass down. “It’s an appealing trait.”
“It is? Usually it annoys people. Mandy says it’s like having an out-of-control labrador puppy in the room. And the problem is that I have ideas, but experienced people kill them all the time.We tried that back in 1998 and it didn’t work. Or, more often,Gerald always did it this way.”She hadn’t intended to confide, but he seemed to understand in the same way that Abby did. He saw the bigger picture. He sawher.
