One Night: Promised by Jodi Ellen Malpas

Author:Jodi Ellen Malpas [Malpas, Jodi Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Erotica, General, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781455559312
Google: I6tbAwAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2014-07-15T16:00:00+00:00

‘You don’t look any better, Livy,’ Del says, giving me the once-over with concerned eyes. ‘Perhaps you should go home.’

‘No.’ I force a reassuring smile, but struggle terribly. Nan is at home, and I need to be distracted, not interrogated.

She was all smiles when I walked through the front door this morning, until she registered my face. Then the questions started, but I quickly escaped to my bedroom, leaving her pacing the landing outside my room, tossing the odd question through the door, all of which I brushed off. I shouldn’t feel annoyed with Nan; I should reserve it all for Miller, but if she hadn’t poked her old nose in and invited him to dinner, then last night wouldn’t have happened and I wouldn’t currently be in turmoil.

‘I feel much better, honestly.’ I escape the kitchen and dodge Sylvie at the till, who’s been trying to nail me down all morning. Luckily for me, we’re busy, so I can evade all interrogation for the meantime and busy myself clearing tables and serving coffee.

On my break, I accept the tuna mayo sandwich that’s handed to me by Paul, but choose to eat it on the go, knowing that taking a timeout will lure Sylvie over to press me for answers. It’s cunning, but my head aches with constant thoughts of him and talking will certainly spur tears. I refuse to cry over a man, especially a man who can be so cold.

‘Are you enjoying that?’ Paul asks on a smile, tossing some wet lettuce leaves in a colander.

‘Hmmm.’ I chew and swallow, then wipe my mouth of any stray mayonnaise. ‘It’s delicious,’ I say truthfully, looking over the other half that I’m yet to eat. ‘There’s something different about it.’

‘Yes, but don’t ask me what because I’ll never tell.’

‘Secret family recipe?’

‘You’ve got it. Del will never let me leave as long as the Tuna Crunch is his bestseller and I’m the only sucker who knows how to make it.’ He winks and scatters the lettuce between the prepared mixed seeded bread slices that have been coated with Paul’s secret recipe. ‘Here. These are for table four.’

‘Sure.’ I push my back through the swing doors of the kitchen, skulk past Sylvie and head for table four. ‘Two Tuna Crunch sandwiches on seeded,’ I say, sliding the plates onto the table. ‘Enjoy.’

Both businessmen express their gratitude with a thank you and I leave them to eat, meeting Sylvie in the kitchen when I push my way back through the swing door. She has her hands on her hips. It’s not a good sign.

‘You don’t look better, but you’re not ill,’ she snipes, moving slightly to let me pass. ‘What gives?’

‘Nothing.’ I sound way too defensive, and I immediately chastise myself for it. ‘I’m okay.’

‘He followed you out.’

‘What?’ My shoulders tense. I know full well what Sylvie is talking about, but it’s not an area of conversation that I want to indulge in. I feel raw, tender, and speaking of him will only enhance that.

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