The Gold Collection. Maggie Cox

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СКАЧАТЬ Dante was not smiling at her, but at his mistress, Alicia Benson.

      Flushing hotly at her mistake, she turned her back on him and forced a bright smile as she offered the tray of canapés she was holding to the group of guests standing close by. Idiot, she told herself, praying he had not noticed that she had been staring at him like a lovesick adolescent. In fact there was no reason why Dante Jarrell might not have been smiling at her. Over the past two months they had established a harmonious and friendly working relationship. But that relationship had never crossed the invisible boundary between an employer and a member of his staff.

      She was Dante’s chef; she cooked his meals and catered for the many dinner parties and social events he hosted. Rebekah was sure he regarded her as a functional object necessary to help his busy life run smoothly, like his computer or his mobile phone. She was embarrassed by her intense awareness of him and was always on her guard to hide how she felt about him, which was why she was so annoyed with herself for thinking that his sexy smile had been directed at her.

      Unlike the lovely Alicia, she hardly warranted the attention of a gorgeous multimillionaire playboy, she thought, with a rueful glance down at her uniform of black and white-checked trousers and pristine white jacket. Her clothes were practical but did not flatter her curvaceous figure; rather they seemed to emphasise the fact that she was not beanpole-thin as fashion dictated. Beneath her chef’s hat her hair was tightly braided and pinned on top of her head, and she knew that after spending hours in a hot kitchen her face was pink and shiny. If only she’d put on a bit of make-up. But it was still unlikely that Dante would have taken any notice of her, she reminded herself as she shot another glance across the garden and watched his beautiful mistress wrap her sinuous body around him.

      ‘I’ve already eaten far too much, but I can’t resist one of these pastries. What’s the filling made of?’

      The sound of a voice dragged Rebekah from her thoughts and she smiled at the man who had halted in front of her.

      ‘It’s smoked salmon with hollandaise sauce, cooked in a filo pastry case,’ she explained.

      ‘They’re absolutely delicious, as all the food you have provided today has been,’ the man said when he had finished his second canapé. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Rebekah. And, of course, I’m hugely grateful to Dante for allowing Susanna and I to hold the christening party for our son at his home. I was worried we would have to reschedule the whole thing, after the venue we’d booked cancelled at the last minute,’ James Portman admitted. ‘But Dante organised the marquee and the waiting staff, and assured me that he employed the best chef in London.’

      Rebekah could not suppress a flare of pleasure. ‘Did he really say that?’

      ‘He was full of praise for your wonderful cooking. Dante’s a great guy.’ James looked self-conscious as he continued, ‘When he took over from his father as head of Jarrell Legal, after Sir Clifford retired, the other lawyers, including myself, wondered what he would be like to work for. He has a reputation for being ruthless, but he’s proved to be an excellent boss, and I’d like to think a friend. He didn’t hesitate to offer his help with the christening party and he’s been very supportive these past few months while Susanna has been suffering from post-natal depression.’

      James glanced around the large garden of the beautiful Georgian townhouse which stood opposite Regent’s Park. ‘The day has been perfect,’ he murmured. ‘I really am indebted to Dante. Especially as I know the christening must have stirred painful memories for him.’

      Rebekah gave him a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’

      Once again James’s rather florid complexion turned pinker and he looked awkward. ‘Oh, nothing—at least, just something that happened years ago, when he lived in New York.’

      ‘I didn’t know Dante had lived in America.’ But there was no reason why she would know. Dante did not confide in her and Rebekah had only learned a few facts about him from the Internet after she had accepted his offer to work for him.

      On a page entitled ‘Britain’s Most Eligible Bachelor’ she had discovered that he was thirty-six, the only son of a High Court Judge, Sir Clifford Jarrell, and the famous Italian opera soprano, Isabella Lombardi. According to the article, the Jarrells were a hugely wealthy aristocratic family and in previous generations there had been two notable marriages with distant members of the Royal Family. But now Dante was the only heir and stood to inherit a historic manor house and vast estate in Norfolk. Aside from the huge fortune that would one day come to him, he was wealthy in his own right from his successful career as a divorce lawyer. He had gained a reputation as a tough, no-nonsense lawyer and had represented several A-list celebrities in their divorce cases.

      As for his private life—busy was the best way to describe it, Rebekah thought wryly. The list of women he had been associated with was a roll call of top models, beautiful actresses and sophisticated socialites with impeccable pedigrees. Evidently Dante preferred blondes. There had been several pictures of him with leggy, platinum-haired beauties hanging on his arm. But, tellingly, he never seemed to be photographed with the same woman twice.

      She was intrigued by the notion that her tough, cynical boss might have a softer side. Admittedly she had found him to be a fair and considerate employer, but she had heard a note of genuine admiration in James Portman’s voice.

      ‘So, how did you come to work for Dante?’ James interrupted her thoughts.

      ‘I used to work for a catering company, mainly providing business lunches in the City,’ she explained. ‘Dante attended one event and immediately after the meal offered me a job as his private chef.’ The salary and the fact that the job came with live-in accommodation had been too good to turn down, Rebekah mused. But, if she was honest, one reason why she had accepted Dante’s offer was because she had been blown away by his stunning looks and charisma so that for once in her life she had ignored the voice of caution inside her head and moved into the staff apartment at Hilldeane House.

      ‘Well, if you ever decide to change your job and would consider working for a busy professional couple and their baby son …’

      ‘Are you trying to steal my chef, James?’

      There was amusement in Dante’s voice but also a faint edge of steel that caused his junior lawyer to jerk guiltily away from Rebekah.

      ‘Not at all.’ James relaxed a little when his boss gave a lazy smile. ‘Although from the sound of it you poached her from her previous employer.’

      ‘I don’t deny it.’ Dante gave a shrug which drew Rebekah’s eyes to the formidable width of his shoulders. She had been unaware of his presence until he had spoken and she hoped he had not heard her swiftly indrawn breath when she had turned her head and discovered him standing beside her. Being this close to him she was conscious of his height and the raw sexual magnetism he exuded. His jacket was undone, and beneath his white silk shirt she glimpsed the shadow of dark hairs and the faint delineation of his abdominal muscles.

      For a shocking, heart-stopping moment she pictured him naked, imagined skimming her hands over his bare skin. Was his body as darkly tanned as his face? The way his trousers were drawn tight over his hips emphasised his powerful thigh muscles. A quiver of awareness shot through her and she could feel heat rise to her face. Terrified that he would realise the effect he had on her, she tried to edge away from him, but to her shock he placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

      ‘I know a good thing when I see it,’ he drawled, slanting an amused smile at her. ‘I recognized the minute I sampled her food that Rebekah is a talented chef, and I was determined to persuade СКАЧАТЬ