Out of Hours...His Feisty Assistant. Heidi Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ did work for Pat today. I’m working here tonight.’

      A muscle in his jaw clenched. ‘I see,’ he said, still in that controlled, indifferent monotone. ‘You know, I don’t think I want you hanging around my hotel.’

      Heat seared Kate’s cheeks at the callous words, the assessing, dismissive once-over he gave her.

      ‘In fact, I’m sure of it,’ he said, slinging his arm casually across the back of the booth.

      He looked confident and in control. Probably because he was. The rat.

      Kate slung the tray under her arm. Her fingers fisted on the hard plastic. She’d like nothing better than to pick up his fancy bottle of beer right now and pour it over his head. ‘You’re the boss,’ she said, annoyed beyond belief by the quiver in her voice. ‘I’ll leave.’

      She turned to go, but he snagged her wrist.

      ‘Not so fast,’ he said, his fingers clamped tight. ‘We need some more pretzels first.’

      Kate tugged her arm loose and glared at him. She wanted to tell him where he could shove his pretzels so badly she could taste the words.

      She savoured the image for a moment, then let it go. Bonedeep weariness and despair rushed up to replace it. She nodded. ‘I’ll go get them,’ she said.

      ‘Eh-hum.’ Monty cleared his throat loudly. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what the bleeding heck that was all about? Who is that girl?’

      ‘No one.’ Zack ignored his friend, still staring after Kate as she made her way back to the wait-station. Something wasn’t right.

      The idea had been to goad her, get her to rise to the bait and then slap her down. It was still bugging him that she’d dumped him this morning to do drudge work. But he didn’t feel the satisfaction he’d expected. In fact, he felt like a jerk. Her face had been cast into shadow by the overhead light, but she’d sounded resigned, weary even. It wasn’t like her to take an insult lying down. He ought to know.

      ‘All right, why don’t you pull the other one?’

      Zack looked at his friend. ‘What?’

      ‘If there’s nothing going on between you two, I’m Bugs Bunny. And you know carrots make me hurl.’ Monty sipped his beer and skewered Zack with a look.

      Zack sighed. He knew that look. It was Monty’s only-dynamite-will-make-me-drop-this-now look.

      ‘We slept together last night, okay?’ Zack said at last. He took a long swig of his beer, hoping it would ease the dryness in his throat. ‘Although there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on.’ He put the bottle on the table, his throat still dry as a bone. ‘Then she decides this morning she’d rather scrub johns than date me. End of story.’

      Monty studied Kate’s retreating figure, then turned back to Zack. ‘She dumped you?’ He gave an astonished chuckle. ‘You’ve got to be joking?’

      ‘I’m real glad you find that amusing.’

      ‘Not amusing, mate, more like miraculous.’ Monty laughed again, his eyes darting back to the bar. ‘Oh, fab, she’s coming back. Maybe I’ll get to see her give you the kiss-off again.’

      Zack jerked his gaze up, not finding Monty’s teasing at all funny. As he watched Kate approach the familiar tightening in his crotch only aggravated him more.

      Kate concentrated on staying upright and channelling Mahatma Gandhi as she approached Zack’s table, the mini-pretzels balanced precariously on her tray. Somehow she had to get him to let her stay till the end of her shift. She hated being a pushover, but she didn’t have the energy to fight and she needed her share of tonight’s bar tips. If she left an hour early, she might not get them.

      ‘Your pretzels,’ she said, putting the small bowl on the table and keeping her eyes down. Maybe if he didn’t mention her leaving again she could just carry on.

      ‘Thanks,’ Zack said, sounding surly. What did he have to sulk about?

      She picked the empty bowl up from the table, intending to make a quick exit, when the man sitting across from him spoke. ‘Don’t run off, love,’ he said, his broad cockney accent surprising Kate. ‘It’s Kate, right?’

      His smile was charming and somehow cheeky at the same time. She hadn’t even noticed him when she’d been at the table earlier, but then she’d been wasting her attention on Zack. She took his hand, feeling her anxiety ebb as his grin widened.

      ‘Yes, that’s right, Kate Denton,’ she said.

      ‘Lovely to meet you, Kate,’ he replied chummily. ‘I’m Monty Robertson.’ He let go of her hand, settled back into his seat. ‘Do I detect a touch of the old country in your accent?’

      She nodded.

      ‘Londoner, right?’ he asked, the warmth in his soft ebony eyes putting her at her ease.

      ‘Chelsea, actually,’ she replied, feeling ludicrously grateful to be talking to one of her fellow countrymen.

      ‘Very la-de-dah. I’m honoured,’ he said, then his face fell comically. ‘You’re not a bloody Chelsea supporter, are you?’

      Kate laughed. ‘Of course I am—best team in London. You’re not one of those saddos who—’ The thump of a bottle hitting the table made her head whip round.

      Zack was staring at them. ‘I need another beer,’ he said, his voice deadly calm.

      Tension knotted at the base of Kate’s neck. A snide retort came to the tip of her tongue, but the sudden wave of exhaustion caught her unawares. She stepped back, trying to counterbalance the wobble in her legs and stumbled.

      ‘Hey, love, are you okay?’ She could barely hear Monty’s urgent question over the buzz saw in her head.

      The tray clattered onto the floor. She tried to grab the table, scared of falling, but then Zack was towering over her. His fingers grasped her upper arms, holding her upright.

      ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he asked.

      She frowned, confused by the temper in his voice. What had she done now?

      The familiar scent of him assailed her, she tried to pull away, but he held firm. He turned her body and the neon light from the bar shone on her face, making her squint.

      He cursed. ‘You look like hell.’ His voice came from miles away. ‘When’s the last time you slept?’

      She tried to lift her hands to shake him off, but someone had tethered ten ton weights to her wrists. ‘I’m fine,’ she said feebly, but she couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

      ‘The hell you are,’ he said, still sounding angry with her.

      She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to tell him to get lost, but all that came out of her mouth was a pathetic whimper.

      The world tilted and suddenly she was floating for real, her cheek rubbing the soft cotton of his T-shirt, her limbs СКАЧАТЬ