Page 23 of The Chef and the Countess

Celia’s heart soared. “Is that a fair wage? I have no way of knowing.”

“The wage I pay is better than you would find elsewhere. You will get a small cut of any tips the servers get.”

“Why?”

“You prepared the food they’re serving, so you will get a percentage. It’s only pennies, but it adds up over a week.”

“You are really going to hire me?” she whispered.

“Aye. You’re hired.”

Celia could not hold back her joy. She squealed, leaped to her feet, and threw her arms around Liam’s neck. The sudden motion caused him to shift, and Celia tripped over his leg and landed on his lap.

“Goodness. I nearly went head over ears,” she commented, still holding on to him for dear life. They stared at each other. Celia inhaled. Heavens, but this man was stunning. Those cheekbones! Liam’s enticing scent—it smelled as if he’d spent time in a forest--made no sense since he toiled in a kitchen. It must be his soap or cologne. However, there were faint aromas of inviting cooked food, like fried onions and bacon. She leaned in, nearly nestling in the strong column of his neck. She turned slightly, squirming in his lap.

“Don’t—do not move,” he rasped.

Liam was growing aroused. There was no mistaking that hardness, as she could feel it through her gown. A decided thrill tore through her. When had she ever experienced this with Carlton? Never. Sex had been perfunctory; she had never truly encountered this sort of fluttering before. It had to be desire.

Growling like an annoyed bear, he stood so suddenly that Celia almost fell to the floor.

Liam held her arm to keep her upright. “One rule you should know: I don’t get involved with the staff. We are employee and employer. Remember that.”

“Yes, Chef.”

He glared at her, probably to determine if she was mocking him. Celia wasn’t—well, maybe a slight teasing. Liam appeared rattled at their intimate proximity. Inwardly, she was pleased. A handsome man found her appealing? When had that ever happened? Never.

“Can we meet later tonight to discuss sandwiches and afternoon tea? I have many ideas I want to share with you,” she asked cheerily, giving him an eager smile.

“No. I have plans.”

The smile slipped away. Of course, he had plans; it was Saturday night. For all her silly daydreaming, she never imagined Liam had a personal life outside his restaurant. That punctured her burgeoning hopes and brought her back to earth. Just because a man became aroused at a woman’s nearness, that didn’t mean it meant anything it turned out. But it did show her how inexperienced she was around men of her own age.

“Of course. Tomorrow, then.”

Liam strode toward the door and gripped the handle. “You’re responsible for seeing to your meals. The staff is welcome to any leftovers at luncheon and supper.”

“Yes, Liam,” Celia whispered.

He departed, closing the door softly behind him.

Celia exhaled. So much for that.

* * *

Liam unlocked the door and entered his mistress’s parlor for their weekly tryst. Melanie McElhenny was a grocer’s widow who lived above the shop in Stepney. They had been intimately involved for over a year, meeting once a week at first. Lately, not so much. He told Celia that he had never been involved with the staff. His sporadic dalliances were always far from his business.

Celia was the first woman to threaten that self-imposed decree.

Melanie was nine years older than his thirty years and demanding in bed. Liam welcomed it as she became an outlet for his pent-up stress and passions. He matched her fiery desire and then some. But tonight, he’d come here to end it.

“We don’t have long,” Melanie whispered seductively as she glided toward him wearing a see-through pale blue peignoir. “My son will be home by ten tonight.” Bert, her twenty-year-old son and co-owner of the grocery, played in a darts league every Saturday night.

Liam took her hands and held them to prevent her from touching him. “I want to talk to you,” he said.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in question. “When do you ever talk? You hardly say anything.”

“Well, tonight is different. Sit.” He released her hands and pointed at the sofa.