Fortune's Just Desserts. Marie Ferrarella

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      Marcos stood off to the side, watching as her table of six finally left. There were just too many maybes for him to waste his time contemplating. After all, he had a restaurant to run—all of it, not just one particular employee.

      “Did he hurt you?” Marcos wanted to know when she came back to the register with the table’s signed credit statement.

      The question—and his supposed concern—took her by surprise. Wendy braced herself for a lecture. Whenever Marcos spoke to her, there was always a lecture in the offing.

      “He gripped my wrist a little harder than I’m accustomed to, but no, he didn’t hurt me. And I think he felt bad about it.” She reached into her apron pocket and displayed a rather thick wad of bills. Unlike the payment for the meal, the men at table eight had left the tip in cash. “He got his friends to leave me a real substantial tip.”

      Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have said anything. Money didn’t matter to her. She’d always had more than enough. But tips meant that the patrons liked you and she wanted to prove to her handsome, thickheaded boss that the people who frequented Red didn’t find her lacking, the way he did.

      Marcos frowned as he watched her tuck the money she’d flaunted back into her pocket. It was just as he’d always heard. The rich were greedy. And the richer they were, the greedier they were.

      “What do you plan to do with your ‘tips’?” he asked sarcastically.

      Given his frame of mind, he wasn’t prepared for her answer.

      “I thought I’d give them to Eva.” Her words drew a scowl from him—why, she had no idea—so she added, “She’s pregnant, you know.” Wendy realized that she’d miscalculated when she saw the look of complete surprise that came over his face. “I guess you didn’t.” She pressed her lips together. Why was it she never said anything right around this man? He made her fumble around like some self-conscious schoolgirl. Wendy sighed. “Did I just get her in trouble?”

      “No,” he answered curtly, “you didn’t.”

      With that, he turned on his heel and made his way straight to Eva.

       Chapter Three

      “Eva, can I have a word with you?” Marcos requested as he passed by the attractive, raven-haired waitress. Without breaking stride or slowing down, he added, “In my office.”

      The smile on the young woman’s lips faded away. Her sunny face paled slightly. Taking off her apron, she hurried to follow Marcos into his office.

      When she crossed the threshold, Marcos closed the door. The sounds coming from the kitchen were muted. Without saying a word, he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.

      Sitting down in the worn chair behind the scarred desk, Marcos leaned closer to the waitress before finally asking her, “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

      He heard Eva catch her breath, watched as she grew even paler. Was she afraid of him? Why? If anyone had asked him, he would have said that they had a good working relationship.

      Eva pressed her lips together and met his gaze nervously. “You know.”

      He could see that this wasn’t going to be easy. She was afraid of him, or at least afraid of something. That bothered him.

      “That would be obvious from my question. Why didn’t you tell me?” he repeated.

      Eva looked down at her hands, lacing her long, slender fingers tightly, as if that was all that was holding her together. “Because I was afraid,” she finally said.

      It was one thing to suspect that she was afraid of him, it was another to actually hear her say it. It stung more than he’d thought it would.

      “Afraid?” he echoed incredulously.

      Her head bobbed up and down. “That you’d fire me,” she explained. “I mean, who wants to see a pregnant waitress waddling over with their order, right?” But even as she asked, she was watching him hopefully.

      Eva had been the first person he’d hired when a vacancy had become available, about two months after he’d started at Red. He couldn’t deny that he had a soft spot for her in his heart.

      Which was why her response took him by such surprise. Did he come across as some kind of ogre to her and the others?

      He thought he’d done his best to be fair and evenhanded with all of them—except for perhaps the Fortune girl, but that was a different matter entirely. As for his real staff at Red, he’d tried to make himself available to all of them so that if there was some kind of problem, they’d tell him.

      Apparently he wasn’t as approachable as he’d thought.

      Still, in light of how things were these days, with everyone watching their back and afraid of losing their jobs—usually for reasons beyond their control—he could see where Eva might be afraid.

      But if she’d just come to him with this news, he would have set her straight.

      As he intended to now.

      “There’s only one reason to let someone go—and only one reason to fire them. The first happens when the business is losing money, which, happily, is definitely not the case here at Red. The second is if the employee is more interested in getting away with things than in getting the job done. We both know that doesn’t describe you. You’ve always been an exceptionally hard worker, Eva.”

      Mentally, Marcos made a notation to look into getting her a raise. With another mouth to feed, she was going to need one.

      In response to his words, Eva’s breathing grew a little more even and relaxed. Calmer, she looked up at him, still a little confused. “If you don’t want to fire me, then why are you angry that I didn’t tell you that I was pregnant?”

      “Because if I’d known, I would have seen to it that you were assigned to the smaller tables. Pregnant women shouldn’t have to struggle with overloaded trays,” he told her.

      She’d always been proud of the fact that she pulled her own weight. Now was no exception.

      “I don’t want any special treatment, Mr. Mendoza,” Eva protested.

      “It’s not special, it’s just common sense. If you wind up overdoing it, carrying trays that are too heavy for you, you might wind up hurting the baby—or worse. You could wind up in the hospital—and Red would be out one damn good waitress. So it’s settled,” he said with finality. “You take over waiting on the smaller tables, starting now.” Marcos looked at her pointedly. “Anything else I should know?”

      Eva allowed a little sigh of relief to escape her lips. “No, sir.”

      “You need any extra time?” he asked her. “Maybe some time off to go see your doctor?” When Eva flushed and hesitated before answering him, Marcos arrived at his own conclusion: she wasn’t going to a doctor. “You need to see a doctor on a regular basis, Eva. It’s important for your СКАЧАТЬ