Bargaining With The Boss. CATHERINE GEORGE
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men by yourself, Pa!’ she said.
He laughed, and kissed her. ‘I’ll ask Luigi to look at the car in the morning.’
‘Come on, Mario,’ said Catrin. ‘We’re needed in the restaurant. Enjoy yourself, Eleri!’ She kissed her daughter’s smooth olive cheek. ‘You look gorgeous, love.’
Eleri waved them off, knowing she looked her best. The tiredness of the day had vanished after her leisurely bath. She’d left her hair loose to skim her shoulders, added a touch more emphasis to her eyes than usual and, best tonic of all, she was spending the evening with James Kincaid. She grinned at her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘You’ll do, Conti. Ring for a taxi.’
When Eleri arrived at the Mitre James was waiting for her in the courtyard, and had paid off her driver before she had time to ask the fare.
‘Eleri, hello,’ he said, smiling, as they went inside the inn. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘I said I would.’
‘I thought you might have had second thoughts.’
‘If I had I’d have rung to let you know,’ she assured him.
James managed to secure a small table in a corner of the crowded bar for a lengthy perusal of the menu over the drinks he ordered.
‘I’m told the restaurant here is rather good, but with you it’s a bit like taking coals to Newcastle. I hope it comes up to your standards,’ he said, raising an eyebrow at her.
‘As long as it’s not pasta in any shape or form I don’t mind,’ she assured him, smiling. ‘No one does pasta dishes like our chefs. Though my father’s the master,’ she added, ‘when he’s in the mood to cook.’
‘Does your mother cook, too?’
‘Brilliantly. But only at home. She cooks dinner about four times a week, and the other nights we fend for ourselves, or they send something over from the restaurant. Nico eats like a horse.’
‘Nico?’
Eleri smiled, her eyes soft. ‘He’s fifteen, clever, and pretty gorgeous, actually.’
‘And his big sister obviously dotes on him!’
She flushed. ‘I suppose I do. Nico dreams of playing soccer for Inter Milan—though he might just deign to sign for a top English club if begged, of course.’
‘Big of him!’ James grinned. ‘Though I can sympathise. I always wanted to play international rugby—wear the white shirt for England and all that.’
‘Then you’re the enemy! I cheer for the Welsh.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Really? Italy I could understand, but why Wales?’
‘Because my mother’s Welsh. Hence my name,’ she explained.
His eyes gleamed ruefully. ‘Is Eleri Welsh? I thought it was something obscurely Italian. I went on calling you Miss Conti at first because I wasn’t sure I was pronouncing it properly.’
‘I remember. You addressed all the other girls by their surnames, too!’
‘I had to,’ he confessed, ‘once I started it with you.’
Eleri chuckled. ‘How funny. We all thought you were too high and mighty to descend to first names with the hired help.’
‘Did you think that?’ he said, startled.
‘Of course I did.’
‘Your name was to blame.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I heard Bruce and the others using it, but I always thought they were wrong. It doesn’t sound the way it’s spelt.’
‘To rhyme with fairy—or contrary, according to my father. We lock horns sometimes.’
‘Would it be rude to ask why?’
‘Not in the least. My protective Italian father likes to keep his girls close under his eye. But my mother supported my determination to go to college, because she did. And because my father would do anything in the world for her he agreed.’ Eleri smiled into his intent face. ‘But surely you didn’t ask me here tonight to hear my life story?’
‘It’s fascinating. The combination of Celt and Latin sounds explosive!’
‘It is, on occasion. But any disagreements are short-lived. My parents’ relationship is a very special one.’
‘It’s the same with my parents. Both pairs are to be congratulated. Long-running successful marriages are thin on the ground these days.’ James looked up as a waiter appeared to take their orders. ‘Right then—Eleri. What would you like to eat?’
Realising that whatever the reason James Kincaid had for asking her here tonight she was unlikely to learn what it was until they’d eaten, she asked how things were at Northwold, a subject which lasted until they were called in to dinner in the adjoining restaurant.
‘Who took my place?’ she asked curiously, as she started on the warm goat’s cheese salad she’d chosen to begin.
‘Head office sent down a temporary replacement while I look round for a successor of your calibre,’ said James, and changed the subject, asking if she’d seen the play currently running at the repertory theatre.
‘No,’ she confessed. ‘My feet hurt so much I tend to loll about with a book or watch television in the evenings.’
James laid down his fork, and looked at her in the direct, searching way she knew so well. ‘No trips to London?’
‘None.’ She returned the look steadily.
‘Your relationship with Maynard is over?’
Eleri’s eyes flashed. ‘Very much so—though I doubt one could describe what we had as a relationship, exactly. I met Toby through my friend, Vicky Mantle—the one who still works in Renshaw’s. I go up to London for the weekend to stay with her fairly regularly, and she introduced me to Toby. He used to take me to the cinema, or clubbing now and again. But I always slept in Vicky’s spare bed afterwards,’ she added. And cursed herself silently for blurting out something so private.
James’s eyes narrowed in surprise for a moment, but he introduced another subject deftly, and Eleri began to wonder when, if ever, he intended giving her the reason for their meeting. They were drinking coffee in a corner of one of the quieter bars after dinner, when he turned towards her on the padded bench seat and smiled wryly.
‘You’ve been very patient, Eleri.’
‘I have,’ she agreed.
James nodded. ‘All right. I won’t beat about the bush. Head office has sent me a temporary assistant. Mrs Willis is a terrifying lady, about to retire, who is doing this as a great favour and never lets me forget the fact.’
‘Oh?’ Eleri eyed James warily. ‘Have you done any interviews yet?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
Eleri looked long and hard into the light eyes which returned her scrutiny steadily, giving no clue to the thought processes behind them.
‘Why not?’ she asked at last.
‘Because I’m determined to persuade you to come back to Northwold,’ he informed her.
‘I can’t do that,’ she said quietly, and refilled their cups with a steady hand.
‘You’re not even surprised I asked.’
‘What other reason would you have for asking me out to dinner?’
He frowned. ‘The same reason any man asks you out, I imagine—for the pleasure of your company.’
Eleri’s heart skipped a beat. ‘But in our case it’s rather different.’
‘Not really. You were a large