British Bachelors: Fabulous and Famous. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
didn’t you just tell me that earlier and save yourself some grief? And Valencia never said a word. Not once in three years. She made me slave for that training post.’
‘I asked her not to tell you that I had called,’ Rob replied, and then dropped his shoulders back. ‘You know how chefs talk. It makes it feel a lot sweeter if you had to fight for what you want and get it on your own merit, instead of who you know in the business. You had to work, and work hard. What you achieved was down to you, not me.’
Then he flicked one hand in the air. ‘You know Valencia would never have taken you on unless she was convinced that you had talent. She is way tougher with her training than I am.’
‘You fired me, and then set up my replacement training position. Why? Why did you do that?’ Lottie asked, her voice trembling with emotion. ‘I would really like to know because right now my head is spinning.’
‘Because I knew Debra was never going to be a mentor to anyone with talent. You deserved a chance to show what you could do and Debra was not going to let another chef steal her star. Valencia needed someone who could step up. Okay?’
Lottie stared at Rob in stunned silence, her hands planted one on each hip, her gaze locked on to his eyes.
‘Has anyone ever told you,’ she breathed in a low voice ‘that you are the most infuriating man alive?’
‘Frequently.’ He grinned. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are the prettiest and most persistent woman alive? Perhaps that is why I find you so intriguing.’
He glanced from side to side and then pushed out his elbow. ‘We’re done here. Might as well hit the road in style! How about it?’
Lottie glared at Rob’s elbow, then at his face and then back to his elbow, before sighing out loud and hooking her arm through his.
‘This has already been one crazy evening. Why not go the whole way? Because I really don’t know what to think about you any longer. First I think you are a complete...and then the whole image gets flipped over. It is so beyond annoying it’s not funny and it’s giving me a headache just thinking about it. I really don’t have a single clue who you are, Rob Beresford.’
‘Want to find out?’
‘Is this legal?’
‘Behave. I need to clear my head and the main entrance is too far away. Fancy a walk?’
Lottie stared at the wooden sign that read in large letters: ‘Keep Off the Grass’, inhaled sharply, pulled her arm tight towards Rob and stepped over the low wooden white fence that separated the London pavement from the grass in the public park.
It only took a minute to skip across the grass and onto the path but her heart was beating a little harder when they were back on tarmac.
‘You don’t like breaking the rules. Do you?’ Rob smirked.
He was observant, too. ‘Not something I do very often. But I suppose it is a lovely evening and my headache needs an airing. Why don’t we take a tour of the park? I haven’t been in there for years.’
And it was a lovely evening, and Rob Beresford looked hotter than fresh bread just out of the oven. He smelt just as good, too.
Her treacherous heart had not completely got used to the fact that she was strolling along the pavement arm in arm with this dazzling man as he casually chatted to her as though they were old friends out for the evening.
Occasionally Lottie had to fire a hot glance in Rob’s direction to make sure that she was not in fact hallucinating and this was the same man who breathed dragon fire at trainees and made grown men cry on TV.
The arrogance and attitude were gone and in their place was this astonishing man who she now knew was responsible for kicking off her career with the finest award-winning patisserie chef in London.
And the transformation knocked the feet out from under her.
‘Ian was telling me about your idea for a birthday cake book. I like it. Could be fun.’
‘I think so. My cake shop is right in the middle of the high street and these days a lot of mums and dads simply don’t have the time or, to be honest, the skill, to come up with that perfect birthday cake. So I get a lot of orders. And you would be surprised at how many are for old-style family cakes for grandparents and even great-grandparents.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ Rob asked with a lilt in his voice.
‘Nope. That’s one of the reasons why I started the Bake and Banter club. To teach adults how to bake a cake they can make at home which the family will love.’
She shifted closer to Rob to avoid a group of tourists who had their heads down, totally engrossed in their tablet computers and oblivious to other people on the walkway.
‘You really get a buzz out of the baking, don’t you?’
‘More than I ever expected,’ Lottie replied with a smile. ‘So far I have made eight versions of that cartoon–racing car cake you saw this morning for little boys aged four to eighty-four and they all love it. Everyone is so different. Take next week, for example. The baking club want me to demonstrate how to make a chocolate birthday cake for one of our regular customers. Ninety years young. She wants loads of soft gooey chocolate icing. And three layers of chocolate sponge in the middle. Eat with a spoon. Whipped cream on the side. Delish.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember what it was like to have my hands in sticky icing sugar and chocolate all day. Don’t miss it a bit. But let me tell you—’ he tilted his head closer to hers and half whispered ‘—for a working baker, you look fabulous.’
‘Thank you, kind sir. My pleasure. You clean up nicely yourself.’
Rob exaggeratedly tugged with one hand at the lapel of the same dinner jacket he had worn for the gallery opening, while dodging the other pedestrians on the busy west London pavements. ‘Oh, this old suit? Thought I had better make an effort as the star pupil.’
Lottie gave his arm an extra squeeze before snorting out loud. ‘Shameless! Make that one of the many star pupils! How is your mum’s cold?’
‘She’s feeling a lot better today and went to the gallery this afternoon before heading off to tea with her pals,’ Rob replied as he negotiated around some dog walkers. ‘So I am officially off duty for a couple of hours and, unless you are desperate to get home, I think this calls for a small delay! Look across the street. What do you see?’
He slipped his dinner jacket around her shoulders and held her within it for a few seconds, bringing up the collar so that he could flip the ultra-soft fabric around her smooth neck.
She pretended not to notice as his fingertips gently moved against her skin to flick the ends of her hair back over the collar.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled back in reply, conscious that the hard cheekbones of Rob’s face were highlighted too sharply by the streetlight outside the swish, glossy shopfronts. He was too lean, but she knew that he had eaten something from every tray of the buffet at the hotel.
Maybe she could do something about that, if he stayed around long enough.
He smiled and surprised her by sliding around behind her, so that his arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against him. She felt the pressure of his head against the side of her face as he dropped his chin onto her shoulder, lifted his left arm, and pointed.
Lottie tore her eyes away from Rob, and stared across to a very familiar sunlit stone building. Then laughed out loud.
‘It’s the old grand entrance to the catering college. We’ve come around in a circle.’
Rob nodded and looked up into the high carved stone entrance to what had been a 1930s art deco school of architecture before it was taken over