His Darling Valentine Read online

  Surely he didn’t want her to look like some over-made-up underdressed vamp when people came to his office, or they went away on business together? If he did, he would have to continue to live with that particular disappointment!

  ‘See you later, Shadow,’ Ross murmured as they went out the door.

  Tazzy wondered exactly when ‘later’ he thought he was going to see the kitten again. This was the first time Ross had ever been to her home, and, after his recent comments, she thought it would probably be his last!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PIERRE’S was exactly what it sounded like—a very exclusive French restaurant in the most fashionable part of the city. And the proprietor greeted Ross as if he were an old family friend.

  As, indeed, it turned out he was!

  ‘Your parents are both well?’ Pierre beamed down at Ross once he had personally seen them seated at a table near the window that overlooked the river.

  ‘Very well,’ Ross confirmed warmly. ‘They’re away on a Caribbean cruise at the moment,’ he added enviously. ‘Can I introduce you to my friend Anastasia?’ he continued, at the same time giving her a reassuring smile. ‘Anastasia, Pierre.’

  To Tazzy’s embarrassment she found her hand being taken in the dashing Pierre’s before he raised it to brush his lips lightly against her skin.

  ‘Enchanté, mademoiselle,’ he murmured admiringly.

  Tazzy resisted the temptation to pull her hand sharply away as the handsome Frenchman continued to hold it in his grasp long after etiquette dictated he should have released it. Instead she settled for looking around the busy restaurant. ‘You’re very busy today.’ She smiled.

  ‘But of course.’ Pierre finally released her hand as he straightened. ‘It is the day for love, is it not?’ he added huskily, dark brows raised suggestively over sleepy come-to-bed blue eyes.

  Tazzy shifted uncomfortably, feeling slightly flustered by such open flirtation. Really! She wondered how this man ever found the time to run a restaurant at all when he possessed such a lethal brand of Gallic charm.

  ‘Not for you it isn’t, Pierre.’ Ross laughed. ‘Get back to your kitchen and give me some space to charm my own girl!’

  The Frenchman gave a throaty chuckle of enjoyment. ‘As long as you do that, my friend.’ He nodded. ‘Ozerwise…’

  “‘Ozerwise,” nothing!’ Ross continued to smile. ‘First things first—could you bring us a bottle of your very best pink champagne?’

  Tazzy’s eyes widened at the request; she had never drunk champagne in her life, let alone the very best!

  ‘This young lady, she is worth the very best, no?’ Pierre said approvingly.

  ‘Yes.’ Ross nodded, shooting Tazzy a mischievous grin.

  He was enjoying himself! She had found the last five minutes embarrassing, to say the least, the request for champagne completely surprising her, and Ross was enjoying himself!

  ‘You needn’t have bothered with a good champagne on my account,’ she told him awkwardly once they were alone, the flamboyant Pierre having gone off in search of his very best champagne. ‘I wouldn’t know the best from the mediocre!’ she admitted ruefully.

  ‘Then it’s time you did,’ Ross told her.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Tazzy, you’ve had a very unsettling morning, the least I can do is buy you a decent lunch,’ Ross cut in firmly.

  In truth, she had briefly completely forgotten the events of that morning; being out to lunch with Ross, the owner of the restaurant having obviously assumed she was his lady-love, was much more unsettling than anything else that had happened to her already today!

  * * *

  ‘Very well,’ she conceded. ‘But, really, any old champagne will do,’ she added quickly, having taken a glance at the menu by now, nearly falling off her chair as she saw the prices quoted next to the champagnes.

  Ross began to chuckle, shaking his head as Tazzy looked at him reproachfully. ‘Pierre doesn’t stock “any old champagne,”’ he teased.

  ‘Oh.’ She grimaced, once again turning her attention to the menu.

  Obviously it was primarily written in French, with English translations underneath—translations that didn’t make much more sense to Tazzy than the original! What on earth was—?

  ‘I can recommend the onion soup and the Steak Diane,’ Ross told her softly.

  Tazzy glanced up at him beneath lowered lashes; had it been so obvious how nonplussed she was by the menu?

  Ross grinned at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. ‘If it makes you feel any better, his name is really Peter Garstang.’

  ‘Sorry?’ She frowned her puzzlement.

  Ross leant slightly across the table, lowering his voice even more. ‘Pierre,’ he enlightened her. ‘His name is actually Peter Garstang, and he was born in the east end of London.’

  Tazzy turned to look at the owner of the restaurant as he continued to move effortlessly around the room, charming the patrons as he went, that roguish look in his eyes every time he spoke to the women seated at the tables.

  She turned back to Ross. ‘He isn’t French?’

  ‘Not in the least.’ He smiled. ‘He and I were at school together, that’s how I know of his real origins. But what the hell, if it’s good for business?’

  Indeed. Except… ‘That’s rather deceitful, though, isn’t it?’ she said slowly.

  Ross gave her a considering look. ‘You’re very hot on appropriate behaviour, aren’t you, Tazzy?’

  Was he criticizing her, or complimenting her? She couldn’t tell. ‘My aunt was,’ she answered quietly.

  ‘That will be the aunt that brought you up?’ Ross nodded to the wine waiter as he arrived with the champagne.

  ‘Mmm,’ Tazzy replied distractedly, her attention on the wine waiter as he deftly dealt with the removal of the cork from the champagne bottle without spilling a drop, pouring a small amount into Ross’s glass before standing back.

  Ross sipped the pink bubbly wine before signalling his approval, the waiter then filling Tazzy’s glass before topping up the first one and then moving discreetly away.

  The whole process had only taken a minute or so, and yet Tazzy found herself enchanted by the whole ritual. It certainly beat the carafe of house red that she and Anne usually ordered!

  ‘Aren’t you going to try it?’ Ross tempted when the two of them had given their order for food, and Tazzy still hadn’t attempted to drink any of the sparkling wine.

  She picked up the fluted glass, tipping it up so that she could drink some of the light pink wine, instantly starting to sneeze as something tickled her nose.

  ‘Sorry—I think it was the bubbles!’ She gasped, her eyes watering slightly.

  Ross smiled affectionately. ‘Try again,’ he encouraged indulgently.

  She did—finding the champagne delicious: light and bubbly, with a wonderful flavour. ‘Mmm,’ she told Ross appreciatively. ‘Why pink champagne, though?’

  He eyed her teasingly. ‘I could say it was out of deference to the day!’

  ‘You could,’ Tazzy agreed dryly—after the morning she had just had she was well aware of what day it was!

  ‘But that wouldn’t be the real reason?’ He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head at her astuteness. ‘Tazzy, I may work with machines all day, but I do have some romance in my soul, you know,’ he rebuked gently.

  Her cheeks felt warm, whether from what seemed to be his light flirtation, or the effects of the champagne, she wasn’t sure. And at this moment, in these exclusive surroundings, with the attentive but unobtrusive service, seated opposite Ross at the dining table, bathed in the glow of his undistracted attention, she didn’t particularly care!

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ she said warmly.

  ‘The pink champagnes tend to be a little sweeter than the white, too,’ he explained. ‘I thought if you hadn’t tried it before you might prefer that to the drier white champagnes.’

  But she hadn’t told him she had never drunk champagne before
until after he had ordered the pink!

  Not that it would be too difficult for him to guess that she hadn’t; after all, she made no secret of the fact that her social life usually consisted of a trip to the cinema or a meal in a bistro…

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she assured him.

  ‘Good.’ He nodded. ‘You were telling me about the aunt who brought you up…?’ he prompted softly.

  ‘I was?’ She frowned across at him, her brow clearing as she remembered their previous conversation. ‘So I was.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, she was a lovely lady, and I’m very grateful to her for taking me in the way she did—she certainly didn’t have to take the responsibility of a five-year-old into her life! But she was already in her fifties when I went to live with her, with rather set ideas about acceptable behaviour. I suppose—well, I suppose some of those ideas were passed on to me,’ she accepted heavily.

  ‘Hey, I wasn’t criticizing you or your aunt.’ Ross reached across the table to rest his hand briefly on hers. ‘I find your—code of behaviour, I suppose you would call it…’ he smiled ‘…well, I find it very refreshing.’

  ‘How can such an old-fashioned viewpoint possibly be refreshing?’ Tazzy protested, sure that Ross was just being nice to her.

  ‘Oh, believe me, it can,’ he assured her with feeling. ‘You—’ He broke off as their soup arrived. ‘Try it,’ he tempted as Tazzy looked down at the cheeseencrusted bowl. ‘But take care, it will be very hot, and I wouldn’t like you to burn your mouth!’

  Tazzy suddenly found herself unable to break her gaze away from Ross as his own gaze rested on the softness of her lips, sure this time that she wasn’t mistaken, that Ross was flirting with her.

  Because it was Valentine’s Day?

  Because Pierre/Peter had seemed to expect it?

  Or could it possibly be because of the obvious attentions of another man, namely her mystery admirer? If it was, if it had finally prompted Ross into seeing her as a woman rather than just his assistant, then maybe all these strange gifts weren’t such a bad thing, after all…

  There was absolutely no elegant way, Tazzy quickly discovered, to eat the French onion soup; the cheese seemed to have a mind of its own, the onions behaving likewise, and while she was busy trying to tackle the two of them all the liquid ran off her spoon! If it weren’t for the fact that the combination of the three was absolutely delicious, she would have given up even trying to eat it after the first few mouthfuls.

  ‘Good fun, isn’t it?’ Ross chuckled sympathetically as she twirled the melted cheese around her spoon, obviously having the same problem, but completely unconcerned by it.

  It was fun, she acknowledged privately. In fact, today was the most fun she had ever had in her life. Made more so, she knew, because she was spending it exclusively with Ross.

  ‘Are your parents enjoying their cruise?’ she asked interestedly.

  ‘As I haven’t heard a word from either of them since they left ten days ago, I have no idea,’ he said. ‘But as this month’s cruise is by way of being a second honeymoon—to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary—perhaps that’s understandable. After all, I wasn’t even around for their first honeymoon! They were very disappointed you didn’t make it to their party, by the way,’ he added softly.

  The Valentines had celebrated their wedding anniversary two weeks ago by throwing a large party, inviting all their family and friends. And Tazzy.

  She had been very touched by her inclusion in their guest list, but at the same time, there had been no way she’d been going to attend. She worked for their son, as a paid employee, and therefore did not belong in their social circle of family and friends. The only person she would really have known, apart from the Valentines themselves, had been Ross, and she certainly couldn’t expect him to dance attendance on her when there would be so many other people present that he knew. Or, even worse than that, Ross might have taken his own partner and she would have been forced to watch them together all evening…

  She drew in a deep breath. ‘It was very kind of them both to invite me—’

  ‘But?’ Ross prompted.

  She shook her head, not quite able to meet his gaze. ‘I did write and tell them that I wouldn’t be able to attend because I was busy that evening,’ she evaded, knowing that doing her weekly wash, before drying and ironing it, wasn’t really a viable excuse.

  ‘Pity.’ He shrugged. ‘My mother seems convinced it was just an excuse, that the real reason you didn’t come was because I’m unkind to you.’

  ‘What?’ Tazzy was shocked that Sylvia should ever think such a thing. Especially if the other woman could see just how ‘unkind’ Ross was being to her right now!

  ‘You don’t think I’m unkind to you?’ Ross queried huskily.

  ‘Of course not.’ She frowned at the very thought.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘My mother says I treat you like part of the furniture.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Tazzy gasped her consternation.

  ‘I thought so too—until I sat and thought about what she had said.’ Ross spoke consideringly. ‘You run my business life so efficiently, Tazzy, that I often forget how disorganized things were before you came to work with me eighteen months ago.’ He shook his head. ‘Given time, I can fix any problem a computer or its software chooses to throw at me, but my records were in such a mess I often didn’t know where I was supposed to go in order to fix the problem. That certainly doesn’t happen anymore, now that you put everything on disk and back it up with hard copy.’

  ‘I should hope not.’ Tazzy sounded scandalized at the thought.

  He looked amused at her indignation. ‘My home life wasn’t much better,’ he admitted with a grimace. ‘In fact, I very often had trouble finding a pair of shoes to go out in that matched!’

  Ah. Now that was something different…

  Tazzy had been absolutely horrified by Ross’s complete disorganization when she’d first gone to work for him, but had determinedly concentrated on putting his office in order rather than interfering into his equally chaotic home life. After all, it wasn’t in her job description to interfere in the way he ran his personal life.

  But the day Ross had been unable to find a pair of socks that had been clean enough for him to go away in had been the day she’d known all that had had to change; it simply didn’t give the right impression, computer whiz or not, for Ross to go away on business looking as if he had taken his clothes out of the laundry bag—before they had been washed!

  Her first suggestion had been that he get himself a live-in cook/housekeeper; at least then his laundry would be dealt with, and he would be fed on a regular basis—something else he didn’t bother with if he was busy.

  Unfortunately, when it had finally come to the day of interviewing the three women who had applied for the job, Ross had been called away to deal with a problem that had needed his urgent attention, leaving Tazzy to see the three women instead. Or…perhaps not so unfortunately.

  The first woman had been a widow of thirty, with two young children she would have wanted to bring with her. The second had been even younger than the first, single, a tall beautiful blonde, who had been basically looking for somewhere to live in London, and hadn’t minded doing ‘a little light work’ to secure that privilege. Thankfully, the third applicant had been Elvira Brown, a widow of sixty, with excellent references from her last post. Tazzy hadn’t hesitated in offering the job to the older lady.

  The fact that the first two women had both been young and attractive had had nothing to do with her decision, Tazzy had told herself!

  ‘In fact,’ Ross continued, ‘Dad seems to be of the opinion that I have all the comforts of a married man without actually being married.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ Tazzy almost choked on her mouthful of champagne.

  Ross looked a little bewildered for several seconds, and then his brow cleared, a grin spreading across his face. ‘Anastasia Darling!’ he reproved teas
ingly. ‘I’m sure my father didn’t mean it in that way at all!’

  The warm colour in her cheeks seemed to have become a permanent fixture—although that didn’t stop her blushing all over again. Well, in her defence, it had certainly sounded that way to her!

  ‘Sorry,’ she finally managed gruffly.

  ‘No need. Perhaps I could have put that all a little more—delicately,’ he conceded. ‘Dad was really having a go at me because I haven’t provided the two of them with any grandchildren that he can “bounce on his knee,” was the way he put it, I believe. He seemed to be of the opinion that by the time I get round to it his knees will be too arthritic to support him, let alone any grandchildren!’

  Considering that any grandchildren of Sylvia and Nigel Valentine would have to be provided by Ross, their only child, Tazzy found she wasn’t too eager for the event herself. If—when, Ross married, she was very much afraid she would no longer be able to work for him; she just couldn’t bear to see him with another woman day after day…

  ‘I—’ She broke off as a mobile phone began to ring, quickly turning to search through her bag in case it was hers, very doubtful that the charming Pierre/Peter would welcome this noisy interruption to the calm of his elegant restaurant.

  ‘I think that’s me,’ Ross said as he took his phone out of his jacket pocket, the ringing immediately becoming louder before he hastily pressed the button to take the call. ‘Yes, it is. Yes. Just hold on a minute, will you?’ he instructed the caller abruptly, putting his hand over the mouthpiece to speak to Tazzy. ‘I’ll just go over there and take this call.’ He nodded in the direction of a little alcove near the rest rooms. ‘I won’t be a minute,’ he promised as he stood up and moved quickly away.

  As far as Tazzy was concerned, he could take his time; she was still recovering from the comment he had just made about him supposedly having all the comforts of a married man. Not all the comforts—there was certainly one ‘comfort’ of a married man that was missing from their particular relationship!