A Maverick's Christmas Homecoming. Teresa Southwick

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      Bonnie Reid pushed through the swinging doors separating the kitchen areas from the dining room. Her friend did break the silence.

      “Wow, it’s busy in there tonight, G.”

      “Tell me about it.”

      Gianna rested her hip against the stainless-steel worktable. She’d become good friends with the other waitress, a petite brunette with a pixie haircut and big brown eyes. They’d both been hired at about the same time and bonded over the good, the bad and the awe of their celebrity boss. The other night she’d thought he actually was awesome, but now? Not so much.

      “I’m very glad you’re over your cold and back to work.” Gianna dragged her gaze away from Shane and looked at her friend.

      There was sympathy in those brown eyes. “If I hadn’t been too sick to crawl out of bed, I’d have been here. It must have been awful by yourself, serving that big party of Swiss businessmen.”

      “I managed.” And now she heard Shane’s voice in her head, telling her she always did. The words still made her glow, but she was doing her best to get over it.

      “I hated leaving you shorthanded. You must have run your legs off.”

      Gianna looked down. “Nope. Still there. Cellulite, the extra two and a half pounds on each thigh and all.”

      “Yeah. Right.” Bonnie grinned. “You’re fit and fine, my friend.”

      “Not that anyone would notice.” She glanced at Shane who still had his back to her.

      “Did something happen while I was out sick?” Bonnie’s tone was sharp with curiosity, but fortunately their boss was too far away to hear in the noisy kitchen. “What did I miss?”

      “Nothing.” That was the very sad truth, Gianna thought.

      “I’m getting a vibe, G.” Her friend glanced at Shane, then back. “Did Roarke the magnificent do something? Say something?”

      “Said something, did absolutely nothing.” Darn him. Gianna picked up the silver basket in which she’d artfully arranged a variety of herb-covered rolls and cheese cracker bread, then started to walk back to the dining room.

      “Uh-uh. Not so fast.” Bonnie shook her head. “You can’t drop a cryptic comment like that and not elaborate. It violates every rule of friendship and is just wrong on so many levels.”

      “Really, nothing happened. I guess I just got the signals wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

      “You’re trying to deflect me. Even if this is about all the time you wasted on too many men who have an allergy to commitment, it’s not going to work. Did Roarke make a move on you?” Bonnie’s eyes filled with indignant anger and she looked a little dangerous.

      “Nothing like that.” Gianna pulled her farther around the corner to make sure they couldn’t be overheard even with the sizzle of cooking and banging of utensils. “We had a moment.”

      “What kind of moment?”

      “When you called in sick I missed the staff dinner then did double duty and was starved at the end of my shift. I thought everyone had left and came in here to grab something to eat. Shane wasn’t gone.”

      “You were alone with him? Did he try something?”

      If only … “No. He made me food and gave me wine.”

      “To lower your resistance? I’ll take him apart—”

      “Stand down.” Gianna couldn’t help smiling at the thought of her tiny friend taking on tall, muscular, masculine Shane Roarke. “He asked me to dinner on Monday, at his place.”

      “How was it? His place, I mean. I’ve got more questions, but first things first.”

      “All I can say is rich people really are different.”

      “That good, huh?”

      “The artwork. Furniture. Spacious floor plan and high ceilings. The lighting.” She sighed at the memory. “And don’t even get me started on the view.”

      “So he caught you in his web, or lair, or whatever, then pounced?” The fierce look was back.

      “That’s just it. He took me out on the balcony to show me the view of the mountains, the valley getting ready for Christmas. There was a moon and stars and lights stretching across said valley.”

      “Romantic with a capital R.”

      “Romantic with every letter capitalized and the whole word italicized.” She sighed. “I was sure he was leaning in for a kiss and then—”

      “What?”

      “Nothing. He all but told me to go home, except he did it in his Roarke-like way. ‘I’ll see you to your car,’“ she quoted.

      “Bastard.” Bonnie shook her head. “Gentleman bastard.”

      “I know.” Gianna peeked at him again, busily sautéing something. “That was Monday night and he hasn’t acknowledged me here at work since. I’m not sure which is worse. The let’s-just-be-friends speech I’m used to or this cold shoulder.”

      Bonnie’s frown went from fierce to puzzled. “I prefer the speech. At least you know where you stand.”

      Maybe that was her chronic problem, Gianna thought. If the relationship status wasn’t spelled out, she went straight to hope. That meant she’d made no progress in breaking her bad habit of being a hopelessly romantic fool who wasted time on the wrong men.

      “Anyway, that’s the scoop.” She angled her head toward the swinging doors. “I have to get back to work.”

      “Me, too.” Bonnie gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve got your back.”

      “Thanks.”

      Gianna put her shoulder to one of the kitchen’s swinging doors, then opened it and walked into the quiet and elegant world where special service was the key to success. A beautiful setting during any season, The Gallatin Room was even more so, decorated for Christmas. A ten-foot tree with white lights, red, green and gold ornaments and shiny garland stood in the corner. All the tables had red poinsettias in the center on white linen tablecloths.

      Now that Gianna had seen the view from Roarke’s penthouse apartment, she knew this restaurant wasn’t the most romantic place in Thunder Canyon, but she’d put it very high on the list. This was a weeknight but the place was nearly full, and that happened when you served the best food in town. That’s what the two women at her table were after. Gianna had chatted them up while delivering menus and found out they were having a girls’ long ski weekend.

      She put the breadbasket on the table, then looked at the beautiful blonde and equally pretty brunette, both in their late twenties. “Have you decided or do you need another few minutes to look over the menu?”

      “Too many tempting choices,” the blonde СКАЧАТЬ