Princes Waitress Wife

‘You’re not a member of my staff.’ Casper glanced round the homely kitchen. ‘And there is a formal dining-room upstairs for your use.’

‘It’s as big as a barn, and I don’t want to eat on my own. Where’s the fun in that?’ Her expression made it clear that she thought it should have been obvious that eating alone was a stupid idea. ‘Sorry, but sitting alone at one end of a vast table is a bit sad. I prefer the company of real people, not paintings.’

‘So you’ve been distracting Emilio.’

‘Actually, yes. I’ve been trying to take his mind off his worries.’ Her shoulders stiffened defensively. ‘Did you know that his little boy has been taken into hospital? And he’s been stuck here with me, fretting himself to death while—’

The anger drained from Casper. ‘His son is ill?’

‘Yes, and he—’

‘What is wrong with the child?’

‘Well, it started with a very high temperature. I don’t think his wife was too worried at that point, so she gave him the usual stuff but nothing seemed to bring his temperature down. Then she was putting him to bed when—’

‘What is wrong with the child?’ Impatient for the facts, Casper sliced through her chatter, and she gave him a hurt look.

‘I’m trying to tell you! You’re the one who keeps interrupting.’

Attempting to control his temper, Casper inhaled deeply. ‘Summarise.’

‘I was summarising.’ Affronted, she glared at him. ‘So, his temperature went up and up and then he had a fit, which apparently can be normal for a toddler because they’re hopeless at controlling their temperature, and so they took him in and did some tests and—’

‘That isn’t a summary, it’s a three-act play!’ Exasperated, Casper strode across to her and placed a finger over her mouth. ‘Stop talking for one minute and answer my question in no more than three words—what is wrong with Emilio’s son?’

Her lips were soft against his finger and he felt the warmth of her breath as she parted her lips to respond.

‘Virus,’ she muttered, and Casper withdrew his hand as if he’d been scalded, taken aback by the rush of sexual heat that engulfed him. The urge to take possession of her luscious mouth was so strong that he took a step backwards.

‘And is his condition improving?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘That’s all I need to know.’ Needing space, Casper turned and strode purposefully towards the door, but she hurtled after him and caught his arm.

‘No! No, it isn’t all you need to know! “Virus” and “improving” doesn’t give you a clue about what it’s been like for poor Emilio! Those are just facts, but it’s the feelings that matter.’ She waved an arm. ‘He was stuck here with me while they were doing all these tests, and he was worried sick and—’ She broke off, clearly unsettled by his silence. ‘Don’t you care? You’re so cold! Y-you just stand there looking at me, not saying anything. What do you think it’s been like for Emilio being stuck here with me while his little boy is ill?’

Casper scanned her flushed cheeks and lifted an eyebrow in sardonic mockery. ‘Noisy?’

Her hand fell from his arm. ‘I’m only talking too much because you make me nervous.’

Only both of them knew that there was more than nerves shimmering between them.

It was there in her eyes—awareness, excitement, longing.

Distancing himself, Casper yanked open the door. ‘Then I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself.’ He left the room, issued a set of instructions to a waiting security-guard, and then returned to the kitchen to find Holly pacing the room in agitation.

She threw him a reproachful look. ‘All right, maybe I do talk a lot, but that’s just the way I am, and nobody’s perfect. And you’re the one who left me here without even telling me when you’d be back!’ Her chin lifted. ‘Did you think I’d sit in silence for two weeks?’

Casper strode over to the large table and poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table. ‘It was fairly obvious to me from our last meeting that you and silence have never been intimately acquainted.’

‘Well, I don’t expect you to understand, because you’re obviously the strong silent type who uses words like each one costs a fortune, but I like people. I like talking to them.’

And they liked talking to her, if the buzz of conversation around the kitchen table had been anythi

ng to go by.

And she knew about Emilio’s son.