As soon as Mary had vanished back into the kitchen, Eamonn leaned across the table and looked into Nell’s eyes, his blue eyes intense and darkening with desire. “Because I’m flirting with you, lovely. Because I’m trying to get into your pants. Because there’s no denying I’ve done some pretty dirty things in my life, but just talking to you in the dark last night was sexy as fuck, and there’s no way I’d go hump some random chick when I might have even half a chance of getting somewhere with you.”
“Okay, then,” said Nell, nonplussed, crossing her arms across her chest and feeling defensive. “Not sure quite where to go with that, but okay.”
He relaxed, laughing softly at her discomfiture. “If you tell me it’s never going to happen, I’ll leave you alone. Promise. Otherwise… I’ll keep trying.”
Nell gave him a narrow look. I ought to be able to tell him it’s never going to happen, but… She couldn’t do it, couldn’t shut him down and close the door on that tantalizing possibility she could barely even admit to being curious about. “We’re co-workers. I’m your supervisor. It’s against the rules, and it could get awkward.”
“I’m not going to be at Wildforest forever,” he said. “Uncle Tommy thought it’d be good for me to have something to do with my days, and I was bored enough to go along with it, but I don’t have to stay. So I’ll make you a deal — if things get awkward, I’ll leave. I won’t mess up your job.”
“I’m not agreeing to anything,” said Nell, “I just… I don’t know.”
He grinned, his face lighting up. “You don’t have to know anything. Oh, Nell, if you give me a chance, I’ll blow your mind.”
“You’re not cocky at all, are you?” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from grinning back at him.
Mary brought Nell’s grapefruit juice in a glass with a sugar-frosted rim. “Ready to order?” she asked. Eamonn, looking as though he’d forgotten they were in a restaurant, grabbed one of the menus. “Or do you need more time?”
“It’s okay. I’ll be ready by the time Nell has ordered hers.”
“Sure thing. Nell?” Mary turned to her with a peppy smile.
“The mushroom omelet, please.”
“With breakfast potatoes or fruit salad?”
“Fruit salad would be great, thanks.”
Mary looked over at Eamonn with an inquiring expression, and he nodded. “I’m going with a Benny and potatoes.” At Nell’s sharp look, he added, “Please. And a dash more coffee when you have a minute, sweetheart?”
Mary glowed. “Of course. I’ll be right over with it; just let me get your food order in to François.” She does seem to like being called sweetheart, Nell thought uncomfortably. But weren’t pet names for women diminishing and disrespectful?
More hot water for Nell’s tea arrived along with Eamonn’s fresh coffee.
The French doors swung open, letting in a gust of wind. A middle-aged couple dripped their way in and deposited their wet umbrellas into the brass umbrella stand. They settled themselves at a table near the fireplace, and as Mary went to greet them and take their beverage order, the door opened again and a young couple in Bride and Groom t-shirts drifted in, holding hands and not seeming to mind how windy and wet it was. The honeymooners, as they obviously were, called a greeting to Mary and the older couple, then settled themselves at what was presumably their regular table.
Nell leaned closer to Eamonn to talk quietly. “I’m guessing the older woman is the one I talked to on the phone: Mrs. Prince, here with her husband, arrived yesterday. So the bride and groom are probably Pauline Morton and Jason Butcher, because Krug is one of the two ‘bridal suite’ cottages — you know, heart-shaped bathtubs, that kind of stuff. They’ve been here since Sunday, so they will have been checked in by Jessalyn, and I’m hoping they can give us some clue what happened to her.”
Mary brought their breakfasts. The eggs were cooked to perfection — her omelet fluffy and fork-tender, his Benny poached just right. The hollandaise sauce was a taste of heaven; the unseen François clearly knew his way around a kitchen. Nell licked some sugar from the rim of her juice glass and felt a happy glow of contentment.
The door banged open again, and a tall, thin man in a long leather coat stepped in, carrying a suitcase. “Mary?” he called, and she popped out from the kitchen with a wave and smile.
“Hi, Mr. Leith. Where’s Mr. Halliday? Isn’t he having breakfast this morning?”
“He’s getting the car. We’ve decided to head home a day early, my dear. He doesn’t like to admit it, but his lungs aren’t strong, and all this rain isn’t helping.”
Mary tsked regretfully, her usual smile dissolving into a moue of disappointment. “Aww, that’s a shame. Tell him to come in and have breakfast before you go, or at least a coffee.”
“We want to get an early start. We were thinking of stopping to eat somewhere on the road,” Mr. Leith said. “I was hoping you could open the office and do our checkout.”
“I can’t leave the dining room right now, Mr. Leith.” Mary fluttered her hands apologetically. “Maybe if you and Mr. Halliday have your coffee here, Nell from head office will be able to do your checkout after she’s finished her breakfast.” Mary gestured toward Nell and Eamonn’s table.
Nell waved acknowledgment and called out, “I won’t be long, nearly done here, then I’ll be happy to take you over to the office to do your checkout.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” the man said graciously. “Perhaps I may have a cup of coffee after all, Mary, and one of François’s delectable chocolate croissants, if he’s made any this morning. After all,