His Darling Valentine Page 5

  She was sure that Nigel Valentine had just been teasing his son; his next comment about grandchildren certainly seemed to imply that he had been.

  ‘Why haven’t you?’ Ross’s voice rose agitatedly as he spoke to his caller. ‘But you said—He is? Yes. No, I won’t be able to do that. Yes, I appreciate that it isn’t your fault, but—’ He sighed his impatience. ‘Okay. Thanks.’ He ended the call. ‘For nothing!’ he muttered as he rejoined Tazzy.

  She looked across at him enquiringly. ‘Trouble?’

  ‘You could say that,’ he said, his expression having taken on a slightly hunted look.

  ‘Anything I should know about?’ she pressed; after all, if it was to do with work—

  ‘Definitely not,’ Ross stated, sitting back slightly to allow the waiter to remove their used soup bowls, waiting until they were alone again before speaking. ‘Tazzy, I—’ He broke off, frowning at something over her shoulder.

  Tazzy turned to see what Ross was looking at, her eyes widening as she saw a tall, dark-haired man approaching their table in what looked like a very determined way, the man looking extremely handsome in a black dinner suit and snowy white shirt.

  He came to a halt next to their table. ‘Anastasia Darling?’ He smiled down at her warmly, totally ignoring Ross.

  Tazzy stared back at the man, feeling very much like a rabbit must do caught in the headlights of an oncoming car—because she had a feeling, a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that something was about to happen that she had no more control over than the poor rabbit did!

  Was this him? Was this the man who had been sending her Valentine gifts all morning?

  There was no doubting that he was good-looking; probably aged in his late twenties, dark-haired and blue-eyed, athletically fit in the fitted dinner suit.

  But the only problem was, Tazzy just knew that she had never set eyes on him before!

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘YOU are Miss Anastasia Darling?’ The man looked slightly uncertain now, leading Tazzy to the conclusion that he didn’t know her, either. Which meant he couldn’t be her mystery admirer. But if not, who was he? And what did he want with her?

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed warily.

  ‘Oh, good.’ The man grinned, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out a rolled-up piece of paper tied with a red ribbon.

  And suddenly Tazzy knew exactly who—what—he was! ‘Oh, please, not a kissogram!’ She groaned disbelievingly; she had thought she would be safe from her mystery admirer by going out of the office to lunch with Ross at a restaurant—she had obviously thought wrong!

  ‘Certainly not,’ the young man said with a smile. ‘I am under strict instruction not to kiss you,’ he assured her regretfully. ‘I am, however, going to serenade you with a love-o-gram.’ He untied the piece of red ribbon and unrolled the piece of parchment.

  Serenade her—? Before Tazzy could even begin to guess what he had meant by that remark the man had launched into song!

  ‘I love you, Anastasia, with hair of fire and gold, and lips so warm and tender—’

  Tazzy couldn’t bear it anymore; she buried her face in her arms as they rested on the tabletop, her shoulders moving emotionally.

  The man carried on singing. ‘Your legs are long and fine, your waist so curved and shapely, your breasts are so div—’

  ‘Stop right there! Enough!’ Ross interrupted loudly, effectively silencing the other man.

  Tazzy still didn’t look up. She couldn’t. And as the other diners in the restaurant began to applaud she knew that for the moment she didn’t want to, either!

  ‘More than enough,’ Ross stated firmly. ‘Thank you,’ he added belatedly. ‘Now kindly go away,’ he ordered.

  The applause increased for a few seconds, leading Tazzy to assume that the ‘love-o-gram,’ having delivered his message, was taking Ross’s advice and departing the restaurant.

  ‘Tazzy?’ Ross prompted gently. ‘Tazzy, are you okay? What a damned stupid thing—’ He broke off as Tazzy at last raised her head, frowning as he saw the expression on her face. ‘Are you—laughing?’ he said disbelievingly, the two of them once more alone at the table.

  Of course she was laughing, so much so that the tears were running down her cheeks!

  It might be the effects of the unaccustomed champagne, or the craziness of the day, but that—that love-o-gram had to be the funniest thing she had ever heard in her life.

  Ross looked astounded. ‘But I thought—I thought you were crying.’

  ‘What on earth for?’ She still chuckled, taking a tissue from her bag to mop up the tears of laughter. ‘Didn’t you think it was funny?’ She began to laugh again as she thought of the complete absurdity of what had just happened.

  ‘Not that funny, no,’ Ross muttered as she couldn’t seem to stop the laughter.

  ‘Oh, Ross!’ She grinned as she shook her head, once again mopping up the tears. ‘It was hilarious! The words were so—so ham, as to render them farcical!’

  He still scowled. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I just can’t see anything funny about it.’

  Obviously he couldn’t, leading Tazzy to the conclusion that she had better stop laughing too. Perhaps it was the champagne, after all. Whatever the reason, it had certainly changed her mind as to the significance of her mystery admirer; any man that could come up with the words to a song like the one she had just heard couldn’t possibly be taken seriously.

  ‘Sorry.’ She bit her bottom lip to stop herself smiling, aware that her response to the love-o-gram was just increasing Ross’s disapproval. ‘Still feel sympathetic to the man’s feelings?’ she teased lightly.

  He sat forward. ‘I—’

  ‘Well, zat was certainly different.’ Pierre/Peter chuckled as he came over to their table. ‘I was not aware that you were a poet, my friend.’ He slapped Ross playfully on the back.

  That was the reason Ross was so annoyed, Tazzy realized with a wince; he was frightened the other diners would think he, as her dining companion, had also composed that awful song to her! Why hadn’t that occurred to her earlier?

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t Ross,’ she hastened to correct the other man—and save Ross’s blushes!

  ‘It wasn’t?’ The other man was so startled by this disclosure that for a moment he forgot his assumed accent. ‘I mean, you allow ozer men to seduce your woman?’ He frowned at Ross.

  A Ross who was obviously squirming with embarrassment!

  ‘But I’m not,’ Tazzy said quickly. ‘I’m not Ross’s woman,’ she enlarged as the restaurateur raised dark brows. ‘I’m his Personal Assistant,’ she explained—and instantly wished she hadn’t as the speculation in Pierre/Peter’s eyes increased.

  Ross gave a low groan. ‘Stop while you’re not ahead, Tazzy,’ he advised. ‘As for you, Pierre—go away, will you?’ he told his friend irritably.

  Pierre/Peter grinned unabashedly as he bent down to speak softly in his old schoolfriend’s ear. ‘Just one more word of advice, old boy; I don’t have a licence for live music, so next time could you—? Okay, okay.’ He straightened, holding up his hands defensively, his eyes dancing with merriment at the outraged look on Ross’s face.

  ‘It wasn’t you,’ he drawled. ‘But it certainly livened the place up for a few minutes; no doubt the other diners will be talking about it for weeks!’ he added wickedly before moving on to the next table.

  Tazzy shot Ross a rueful look, wincing as she saw the stony expression on his face. It really hadn’t occurred to her until the last few minutes that anyone would assume he had sent her that love-o-gram. No wonder he was so annoyed!

  She leant across the table, lightly touching his hand with her own to attract his attention. ‘Don’t worry about it, Ross,’ she soothed. ‘We don’t actually know any of these people—apart from Pierre, of course,’ she said wryly, pretty sure the other man wouldn’t forget the incident in a hurry. Or let Ross forget it either, if she had read the other man correctly!
‘I know you didn’t write that song,’ she added consolingly.

  Ross focused on her with slightly dazed brown eyes. ‘That was, without a doubt, the most awful thing I’ve ever heard in my life!’ he declared disgustedly.

  Tazzy straightened, bristling slightly. ‘It wasn’t that bad! Obviously someone went to considerable trouble—’ She broke off, frowning. ‘How on earth did he know I would be here…?’

  Ross blinked, the same thought obviously occurring to him for the first time too.

  ‘Oh,’ Tazzy gasped, biting her lip uncomfortably. ‘I told Mrs Brown where we were having lunch,’ she explained guiltily at Ross’s questioning look.

  At least, she thought it was a questioning look; it was difficult to tell when Ross still seemed slightly dazed by the event of the love-o-gram!

  Which wasn’t so surprising. It really had been the most extraordinary thing she had ever witnessed in her own life, let alone in Ross’s. No doubt he was wishing he hadn’t invited her out to lunch in the first place!

  ‘That would explain it.’ Ross nodded curtly.

  Tazzy gave him a considering look. He really did look shaken by what had just happened, more so than she was, actually. ‘Would you like to leave, Ross?’ she asked. ‘I realize this has been—embarrassing, for you.’ She grimaced. ‘I really don’t mind, if you would like to go instead of finishing our meal.’

  He straightened, smiling as he obviously made a concerted effort to shake off the events of the last few minutes. ‘Don’t be silly, Tazzy. We haven’t even had our main course yet. Watching Pierre prepare our Steak Diane is an experience not to be missed!’ he assured her even as the other man arrived beside their table to do just that.

  Ross’s prediction proved correct as Tazzy watched in fascination as the other man cooked the ingredients for their meal right there beside their table. Not only did it look wonderful when Pierre placed their laden plates in front of them with a flourish a few minutes later, but it smelt delicious too.

  ‘He may not be French,’ Tazzy leant forward to murmur to Ross, ‘but he certainly knows how to cook!’

  Ross nodded, his good humour seeming to have been restored during the last few minutes. ‘Oh, he’s the genuine thing when it comes to cooking,’ he assured her. ‘He trained under a cordon bleu chef in Paris.’

  ‘It shows.’ Tazzy nodded before enjoying her first mouth-watering taste of the tender steak. ‘Mmm,’ she breathed, closing her eyes briefly in ecstasy. ‘This is gorgeous!’

  Ross watched her indulgently. ‘You know, Tazzy, your complete enjoyment of everything is—Well, you’re very nice to be around. That didn’t come over too well, did it?’ He frowned self-derisively.

  She laughed softly, shaking her head. ‘Don’t worry about it. I think I’ve had more than enough gushing compliments for one day!’

  ‘But—Never mind,’ he muttered, turning his attention to his own meal.

  Tazzy looked at him beneath lowered lashes. There was definitely something different about Ross today—and she didn’t just mean his embarrassment of earlier. Maybe the Valentine gifts, the obvious attentions of another man, really had made him see her as a woman at last; if they had, then even her own embarrassment at the love-o-gram was worth it!

  ‘Is everything all right for you both?’ Pierre appeared beside their table once again.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Tazzy looked up to glow warmly at him.

  Pierre looked at her with admiration. ‘Your Personal Assistant, I believe you said…’ he murmured to Ross without even looking at him.

  ‘I didn’t say at all,’ Ross denied. ‘Tazzy did.’

  ‘Tazzy…?’ Pierre repeated huskily, blue eyes frankly appraising as he continued to look at her. ‘How unusual.’

  ‘She’s an unusual woman,’ Ross bit out curtly. ‘Now for the third time today, Peter, will you go away?’ he snapped.

  His friend turned to give him an amused glance. ‘My, my, you are rattled today, aren’t you?’ he teased softly.

  ‘I’m not in the least rattled,’ Ross rasped, glaring up at the other man. ‘I’m just asking you to remove your charming presence somewhere else—preferably Outer Mongolia!’

  His friend laughed before turning his attention back to Tazzy—a Tazzy who was more than a little puzzled by the exchange between the two men. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said Ross was jealous of the other man’s marked attention towards her. Which was ridiculous.

  For one thing it was obvious that Pierre was charming to all his female customers. For another, for Ross to feel jealous of his friend would imply that he was interested in her himself. And she knew that certainly wasn’t true. If his reaction to her mystery admirer was anything to go by, he just didn’t want some other man coming along and stealing his Personal Assistant from under his nose!

  ‘It appears that Ross wishes to be selfish and keep you to himself,’ Pierre murmured as he lifted her hand to his lips once again. ‘I bow to the adage that the customer knows best,’ he added with a mischievous twinkle in his laughing blue eyes. ‘Might I suggest that the next time we meet it is without the presence of my jealous friend?’ he added, giving a mocking bow in Ross’s direction before once again taking his leave.

  It might all be part of the charming patter that Pierre/Peter indulged in with all his female customers, but even if it was he was certainly doing Tazzy’s morale a lot of good. Or maybe it was the champagne that was doing that; whatever, she had enjoyed having such a handsome man flirt with her!

  Ross didn’t agree, she discovered as she turned back to him, finding herself the focus of his dark scowl.

  ‘What?’ She frowned her puzzlement at his behaviour.

  ‘The man’s nothing but an accomplished charmer!’ he growled.

  Very firmly bringing Tazzy back down to earth! ‘You’re right, he is very accomplished,’ she snapped, the colour back in her cheeks.

  ‘But, then, some people might benefit from learning a little charm themselves!’ She glared across at him.

  Ross frowned. ‘Meaning me?’

  She shrugged. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  His mouth twisted scathingly. ‘You didn’t need to! You surely aren’t taking any of that rubbish seriously?’

  ‘Of course I’m not taking it seriously!’ she returned impatiently. ‘Honestly, Ross, what do you take me for?’ Her eyes glittered angrily at his obvious criticism; he surely wasn’t implying that she had actually encouraged Pierre?

  If Ross were seriously looking for someone to blame for the other man’s flirtatious behaviour, then he should look no further than himself; Pierre was simply responding to what he believed was his friend’s display of possession. Which might not be strictly accurate, but Ross was certainly displaying something!

  He gave a deep sigh, shaking his head in selfdisgust. ‘I’m sorry if you think I’m coming on a little heavy, I just—well, I wouldn’t want you to take Pierre too seriously, that’s all,’ he finished lamely.

  ‘I don’t think I’m the one that’s doing that,’ she returned stiffly, his apology, quickly followed by what seemed like yet another insult to her intelligence, doing little to mollify her ruffled feelings.

  Ross grimaced. ‘Probably not. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?’

  Tazzy looked at him wordlessly for several long seconds, and then she gave a slow nod of her head. ‘Fine,’ she said, turning her attention back to her half-eaten meal.

  But she was very aware as she struggled to regain some of her previous enjoyment of the food—and failed!—that something had subtly changed between Ross and herself during this lunch-time, that there was a strain between them that hadn’t previously been there.

  It was a strain she had always feared might happen if they should ever step over that line between employer/employee—and having lunch together in this way was certainly stepping over that line.

  She should never have agreed to come out to lunch with him, should never have accepted his invitation. Except…Ro
ss hadn’t really made it an invitation, more something that he’d considered was a good idea, and that she’d been expected to go along with.

  Well, it certainly hadn’t been a good idea—and she didn’t know where that left the two of them now!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THEIR departure from the restaurant half an hour later certainly wasn’t made any easier by Pierre’s parting comment. ‘Remember what I said about the live music licence, Ross!’ Or the fact that he deftly pulled a single red rose from the vase on the reception desk and handed it to Tazzy as she preceded Ross out the door.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t take it all so seriously, Ross,’ Tazzy finally sighed impatiently. The two of them had driven the two miles back to the house in complete silence, Ross scowling darkly at her side as he parked the car in the driveway.

  He turned to give her a rueful glance. ‘Lunch didn’t turn out quite the way I expected it to.’

  She shrugged, inwardly wondering exactly how he had expected it to turn out… ‘So let’s move on, hmm?’

  He gave an appreciative chuckle. ‘As easily as that?’

  She gave another shrug. ‘What’s the point of dwelling on something you obviously didn’t enjoy?’

  ‘I wasn’t the one who was supposed to enjoy it,’ Ross protested. ‘I wanted to take you out for a Valentine lunch. The love-o-gram, or whatever the man called it—’ he grimaced disgustedly ‘—was a bit of a shock, let’s say. And I had forgotten what an affected pain in the butt Peter can be!’

  ‘Don’t be mean!’ She laughed.

  He glanced disparagingly at the red rose she still held in her hand.

  ‘Another one to add to your collection.’

  Tazzy looked down at the single red rose, newly in bud, its deep red colour symbolic of the day. She had never received one red rose in her life before today, let alone dozens of them.

  ‘You have this one.’ She held it out to him.

  And just as quickly wished she hadn’t! What on earth was she doing? A single red rose, when given to the right person, was just as significant as the dozens of them she had received this morning. More so, in this case!