longtime chef, was glowering at her over the chopping block while Mick, the manager, danced around muttering that she was late-even though Miranda knew she’d walked in the door at five minutes to midday.
The final straw came when Mick cornered her later to say that her commitment was lacking. She’d left early last week, and now she was late and she was to take this as a warning. In these tough times, he expected more.
Gianni gave her a sly grin as she passed him, confirming where the heart of the problem lay. She wished she could reassure him, tell him that she had no ambitions to take over his job. But she knew that would only make him rush to tell Mick about her lack of commitment.
She was screwed.
By the time she got home late that night, Miranda was ill-prepared for the sight of an ostentatious bunch of long-stemmed pink roses that must’ve cost some joker a fortune.
And she suspected she knew who the joker might be.
“An admirer from last night?” Flo arched a finely penciled eyebrow. “I thought you said it was work.”
“Must be a thank-you,” Miranda bit out, ripping off the still-sealed envelope and pocketing it to get it out of her mother’s line of sight.
“So considerate.” Flo touched the blooms with reverent fingers. “They’re beautiful. I watered them. Why don’t you put them in your bedroom?”
And be stuck looking at a reminder of last night’s calamity? No, thanks! Stalking away, Miranda wished she hadn’t said they were a thank-you; now she couldn’t even throw the wretched flowers away.
“Someone rang for you earlier.”
Miranda froze in the doorway, but didn’t turn around. “Who?”
“A man. He had a rough voice. It was strangely familiar,” said Flo slowly.
Miranda stifled an anxious groan. “Did he leave a name?” She prayed not. Her mother didn’t need to know she’d been fraternizing with the Ironstones.
“No. He said he’d catch you on your cell phone.”
Her cell phone had been off while she worked. “Thanks, Mum.”
After setting down the unopened white envelope on the dressing table in her room, Miranda made for the bathroom the three of them shared. After she’d showered the odors of The Golden Goose away, she changed into a flannel nightie and brushed her teeth.
Climbing into bed, she finally picked up her cell phone and switched it on. The message light flashed. She stared at it for long seconds.
No. She had no intention of giving in to curiosity and checking to see if Callum had left her a message. The man had dominated her thoughts far too much already. And she was not about to let him cause her another sleepless night.
Setting the phone on the bed stand, she turned the lamp off, refusing to let herself dwell on the reason why she’d slept so little last night…
Four
Miranda was wakened the following morning by banging on her bedroom door. She’d barely opened her eyes before Adrian barged in.
“Phone.” He held out the handset. “Callum.”
Her heart sank. She wished fervently she hadn’t been too cowardly to check her cell phone the night before. Now she was at a decided disadvantage. “Thanks.”
Adrian hovered in the doorway, clearly curious. But an older-sister scowl caused him to roll his eyes and depart. When his footfalls finally faded, she lifted the handset to her ear. “Yes?”
“What happened to good morning?” Callum sounded delighted.
She squinted at her bedside clock. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Although now that I think about it, you didn’t greet me yesterday, either. Maybe you’re not a morning person.”
He had that right. But nor did she want any reminder about waking in his bed yesterday morning. “What do you want?”
“Now there’s a leading question.” He’d lowered his voice to a husky drawl and at once a rush of heat filled Miranda. Oh, heavens! She couldn’t let herself respond to Callum with such unfettered sensual delight.
She tamped it down. “Oh, please, it’s too early in the morning for sexual innuendo.”
He laughed. “Definitely not a morning person. I apologize for calling so early.” That must be a first. “I’m flying out to New York this afternoon,” Callum continued more briskly, “and my schedule this morning is hellish.”
Miranda suppressed the urge to cheer at the thought of Callum over three thousand miles away-it would give her time to recover from the turmoil that sleeping with him had caused her.
He was still talking rapidly. “I’ve got tickets for
“You called me to invite me on a
The silence stretched. Then he said, “I suppose you could call it that.”
What else did one call a show and dinner followed by whatever else he had in mind? Shivers prickled as vivid images of what he might be planning assailed her.
The last thing she needed was an affair with Callum Ironstone. She already despised herself enough for allowing him to seduce her-although to be fair she’d been more than willing. If she hadn’t had those glasses of red wine…if he hadn’t been so damn tempting…if he hadn’t kissed her and turned her legs to jelly.
Oh, God, she couldn’t believe she was letting herself relive it all. Callum had taken her to bed the same night he’d proposed to another woman. Because of him her father was dead. How could she have let him touch her? Seeing him again would be a betrayal of her very soul.
“No, I can’t come.”
“Another evening then?”
“No.” She hung up.
The phone rang again. She glared at it. Then picked it up before Adrian-or Flo-could.
“Did you get the message I left on your cell phone last night?”
“No,” she said guardedly, eyeing the phone that winked a message on the bedside table. “But whatever you said wouldn’t have changed my answer.”
“You believe I only slept with you because Petra rejected me.”
That was only the tip of the iceberg. She was furious with herself for sleeping with him at all. Furious with him for making it so easy. “Yes? So what?”
“I never asked Petra to marry me,” he said.
“You didn’t?”
“That’s the message I left for you yesterday.”
“Oh.” She fell silent. Why had he told her this? She wouldn’t allow it to be important. Yet her pulse quickened. Miranda drew a steadying breath, aware that she had to tread carefully.
“It doesn’t make any difference, Callum.” She couldn’t afford to alienate him. He’d given Adrian a vacation job, which might lead to a permanent placement next year. If she annoyed Callum, he might fire Adrian. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to date you.”
She heard him whisper “Liar” just as she hurriedly severed the connection.
This time he didn’t ring back. But before she could set foot out of bed, Adrian slipped into her room.
“What did Callum want?”
She wasn’t telling him that his boss, her nemesis, had asked her on a date. “Nothing to do with you.”
Adrian looked sick. “Sis, please be nice to him.”
Adrian’s anxiety reinforced her own worry that if she annoyed Callum he’d take it out on her brother. But there was a limit to how far she’d go-and Adrian had to know that.
