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Donny’s interference in their relationship had caused a sufficient rift for Bill to give Trudy an ultimatum. She could either be with him at his restaurant, Boui-Boui, or she could be at Sweet Temptation, a company she was supposed to be running with Donny. Even when Trudy and Charlotte found a way to exclude Donny from Sweet Temptation and operate the company without him, Bill still took some persuading to let her pursue both career goals and have a relationship with him. But, eventually, they had negotiated a compromise.
They had called the whole compromise their new arrangement.
‘Our new arrangement is causing you a dilemma?’ she repeated.
Harvey grinned and shook his head. He was clearly oblivious to her thinly veiled fury. He fumbled through the pockets of his jacket and pulled out his mobile phone, a handful of business cards and a sleek, glossy tablet. He placed them on the table by the side of the muffin and then began to inspect the food.
Trudy barely noticed what he was doing.
She and Bill had worked out the details for the new arrangement in Boui-Boui, not two tables away from where she now sat. When she closed her eyes, Trudy could remember every detail of the night when they forged the agreement.
They had celebrated with a night of fine steaks, matured whisky and sharp, painful spanking. Bill had bent Trudy over his knee, exposed her buttocks, and pulled her panties down to the backs of her knees.
She didn’t protest.
The position meant she was thrilled by conflicting spasms of vulnerability and arousal. When he landed the first light slap upon her rear, those conflicting feelings had heightened to a dizzying, delicious degree.
‘We’ll have no more secrets, Ms McLaughlin,’ Bill told her.
He punctuated the comment with another firm slap to her rear. The second blow felt harsher. Trudy made no complaint.
‘No more secrets, Mr Hart,’ she agreed.
His hand landed again and again. Each blow felt firmer than its predecessor. Her cheeks had quickly grown warm and her arousal intense.
It had been an agreement as solemn as marriage vows.
There would be no more secrets, and a revised working schedule that accommodated the needs of both of them. The new arrangement had been settled with a night of wonderful, punishing passion and the memory always left her quivering with excitement.
On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, Trudy worked from nine to five with Charlotte at the Sweet Temptation kitchens. She spent those evenings as sous under Bill at Boui-Boui. When she collapsed into bed on those nights, she was usually so exhausted there was barely time to undress before sleep overwhelmed her.
On Thursday, Friday and Saturday, because Bill was away in the city working on his career as a celebrity chef, the new arrangement allowed Trudy to take over as chef de cuisine. This meant spending three torturous days away from him, busying herself with the management of the restaurant’s kitchens and savouring every Skyped or texted moment they could share.
Sundays were her favourite part of the new arrangement.
When Bill returned on Saturday night they finally got an opportunity to be together. Typically, Trudy spent Saturday nights in a bliss of delicious discomfort and Sundays in a euphoria of wonderful aches followed by more marvellous punishment.
But Trudy didn’t like that Harvey might know about this aspect of the new arrangement. It felt as though Bill had been discussing their private life behind her back. She saw Harvey fumbling with a muffin and asked stiffly, ‘Which specific aspect of our new arrangement is the main issue?’
He put the untouched muffin aside. It looked like he was sneering at the pastry.
She wondered if he had noticed the anger in her voice.
‘Travelling up here for half my week is one of the main problems.’
Trudy’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. This was not the reply she had expected. She wasn’t even sure why Harvey would be discussing such details of his business affairs with her. She frowned, aware the confusion was showing on her face.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Trudy. I’m spending two or more days a week in this part of the country with Billy because he’s now one of my most successful clients. I’m not complaining. It’s a pleasant part of the world. I like the company and the food. But I’d like to do something to make my visits up here more profitable.’
His words didn’t make sense. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I want to take you on as a client.’
Her mobile buzzed softly again. She ignored it.
‘You want to take me on as a client? What sort of client?’
Harvey had torn the muffin in two. He sniffed doubtfully at the contents. He was about to eat a piece when he paused and considered her. He raised a single eyebrow and asked, ‘Is there really pumpkin in this?’
‘Of course not.’
She struggled not to snap the response. Why did everyone seem to think there was pumpkin in pumpkin-pie spice? No one ever thought there was mud in a Mississippi Mud Pie. No one expected to find toads in toad-in-the-hole. Why were people only so literal when it came to pumpkin-pie spice?
‘It’s a coffee muffin seasoned with pumpkin-pie spice.’
She wanted to ask him again how she could possibly be one of his clients when he represented media celebrities. But more importantly, now he was responding to the muffin, she wanted to hear what he had to say about the dessert.
Warily, Harvey tasted a small piece.
The doubts didn’t vanish from his face but he nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
‘The coffee flavour’s subtle,’ he said. ‘And those spices are divine.’
‘Is the coffee flavour too subtle?’
She wondered if that was the aspect that her senses said were missing. She’d used Coffea Canephora beans to make the blend. They lacked the stronger and more complex flavours of Arabica beans. Was it possible she needed to make the coffee a stronger and more potent flavour?
‘Or do you think there’s too much ginger?’ she asked suddenly. That had been another of her worries when she’d been working on the muffins. ‘Ginger can be overpowering unless it’s used in just the right amount. Then again, the nutmeg needed balancing –’
He placed a hand on hers, cutting her off.
She stopped herself rambling. She could see the confusion on his face. It was an expression she was used to seeing when she started to discuss the mechanics of her profession with people who didn’t work in a kitchen.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Sometimes I get a little carried away.’
Harvey offered an apologetic grin and put the muffin down. ‘I know nothing about flavours,’ he apologised. ‘I know that this tastes very pleasant, but that’s as far as my expertise goes.’ He shrugged and added, ‘I used to smoke when I was younger and more foolish. Whatever discerning palate I did have got spoiled long, long ago.’
She flashed an understanding smile.
‘You, however,’ he went on, ‘have a talent in the kitchen. I think it’s a talent we could exploit. This is why I want to take you on as a client.’
‘As a client? Doing what?’
‘Doing what you love.’
For a brief instant she wondered if he was talking about the way she loved having Bill spank her backside. She shook her head before the idea could colour her cheeks with blushes. The thought was outrageous. Who the hell would want to hear her talking about something like that?
‘I don’t understand what you’re asking me.’
‘I’ve been contacted by a couple of magazines that are looking for a female columnist. There’s also a producer who’s asked me if I had someone like you on my books –’
‘A producer?’ Didn’t producers usually make films?
She didn’t give Harvey a chance to respond to her interruption. ‘Someone like me?’ What did that mean? Blonde? A size ten? Scorpio? ‘I don’t understand,’ she complained. ‘You’ll have to break this down into the simplest terms for me. I’m not that bright.’
Harvey shook his head. His smile was patient. ‘Billy said you were modest.’
‘I have a lot to be modest about,’ she said.
He laughed, but Trudy didn’t smile. She hadn’t been joking.
‘I didn’t think I was being modest,’ she admitted. ‘What are you asking of me, Harvey?’
This time his laughter was full and genuine. ‘You’re a successful entrepreneur,’ he explained. ‘Sweet Temptation is already a well-known national brand and it hasn’t finished its first year of trading. You’re also working in a prestigious Michelin restaurant. From what Billy tells me, three days of the week you’re here in the esteemed role of chef de cuisine.’
Trudy shrugged. It only sounded like a big deal when other people talked about her career. To her it felt like nothing more than the things she usually did through the day. Harvey was talking as though her working week was some sort of phenomenal achievement.
‘Who’d want to know about stuff like that?’
Harvey laughed and picked up the tablet he’d taken from his jacket pocket. He was from Bill’s era – a mature man twice her age. And yet he handled the sleek technology with the assured confidence of a teenage gamer. The glossy tablet did not look out of place in his large, masterful hands. It looked as though it belonged there.
He opened a screen and started to show her the text of an article written by one of Trudy’s favourite celebrity chefs. Before she had read halfway through the column – a piece of writing that sat somewhere between a diary and a recipe – Harvey had opened a second screen and was showing her a similar feature from another noted culinary expert.
Her first thought was: there are a lot of celebrity chefs out there. This was followed by a puzzled question. How many webpages had Harvey prepared in readiness for this casual conversation?
‘I have two national newspapers currently interested in hosting a weekly column from a female chef who knows what she’s talking about,’ Harvey told her. ‘I’d love to put your name forward for one of those positions.’
Trudy hesitated.
It sounded glamorous and exciting. If she wrote for a newspaper it would be an additional piece of income and it might be something Sweet Temptation could use to add prestige to their brand name. But would it be sensible to take on the extra responsibility?
She wondered if she should consult with Bill and then realised he probably had enough to worry about with his own career without having to tell her how she should reply to Harvey’s offer.
She also wondered if she could really claim to know what she was talking about when she couldn’t even identify the rogue ingredient that was spoiling her coffee and pumpkin-pie-spiced muffin. But she put that consideration aside. Part of the pleasure in finding the right flavour came from discounting the wrong flavours.
‘I suppose I could try,’ she said guardedly.
He chuckled. His grin seemed genuinely triumphant. ‘Get me five hundred words of copy for tomorrow evening. We’ll pitch to the tabloid first. Admittedly, the tabloid lacks the gravitas of the broadsheet but it pays better. I’ll get onto the radio producer this afternoon and we’ll organise a convenient date for you to visit the studio and chat about potential projects. Maybe they can see how you work behind the microphone on Tuesday or Wednesday? You might also want to think about a title for the cookbook you’re working on and the brand image that best promotes your style and values.’
Trudy blinked.
Had she just agreed to do all of that?
Harvey placed his business card in front of her and then touched a couple of buttons on the screen of the tablet. He handled the technology with a fluid ease that looked decidedly slick.
‘I’m sending you a contract,’ he told her. ‘I’ll also send you links to those articles we just glanced at so you can see the style that other writers have used.’
‘Am I going to regret this?’
He glanced up from the tablet and grinned. ‘You’re on my books, Trudy. What could you possibly regret?’
‘That was neither a yes nor a no,’ she pointed out.
He laughed and nodded in Bill’s direction. ‘A couple of months from now you’ll be as big a celebrity as Billy.’
Trudy blanched. She wasn’t sure that was something she wanted. She was about to say as much and find a way to tell Harvey that, perhaps, she might need to think about his offer, or maybe reflect on it before giving him a decision. Her mobile buzzed again to remind her she still had a waiting text message.
The distraction interrupted her train of thought.
Rolling her eyes and quietly apologising to Harvey, she finally decided to see who had sent her the message.
It was a text from Donny: I’ll make you pay, bitch.
Chapter 3 (#ulink_b4a0d5da-ff4a-5958-9846-3a73da1db345)
Aliceon, Bill’s ex-wife and Boui-Boui’s super-efficient maître d’, stepped to Trudy’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. Aliceon was tall, imposing and meticulous in her formal black business suit. Even though she wasn’t working today, and had only been summoned to Boui-Boui with everyone else to provide background for the photo shoot, she had still dressed like the restaurant’s most commanding official. Her narrow features, and the rarity of her thin-lipped smile, always made Trudy think she might be austere and unapproachable. In the six months Trudy had known her, Aliceon had done little to dispel that idea.
‘You asked me to let you know when the time was close to six o’clock.’
Trudy glanced at her wristwatch. The time wasn’t just close to six o’clock. It was six o’clock precisely. She blinked in amazement. Aliceon was also a master of punctuality.
‘It’s six o’clock already?’ Where the hell had the day gone? She flashed an apologetic smile at Harvey and said, ‘I need to make a start on something in the kitchen. It’s very important I get it done on time.’
He nodded. ‘Of course it is.’
He mumbled something about not having expected the photo shoot to go on for so long. Then he was picking up the business card he had handed her earlier and pushing it firmly into her fingers.
‘Take care of this. Please. If you have any questions you can call me anytime and we’ll talk. Anytime,’ he insisted.
It annoyed Trudy to see Aliceon pointedly observing the exchange. The maître d’ watched with unblinking eyes. Her inscrutable features didn’t show whether she approved, disapproved or even understood what she was watching. Without saying a word, Aliceon simply made it known that she was observing and not missing a single detail.
Trudy quashed her sense of indignation.
She took the card, thanked Harvey and started towards the kitchen. As she was moving away, weaving artfully between tables, acknowledging friends and acquaintances and avoiding waiters and waitresses, she half expected the photographer to call her back and tell her she must remain at her table until the set was complete. The further she walked, the more it surprised her that the man who was so meticulous about having a couple on each table in the background hadn’t noticed that she’d left Harvey alone.
Glancing back over her shoulder Trudy saw that Aliceon had taken the seat she’d vacated. The maître d’ was now sharing the table with Harvey, ensuring the photographer’s backgrounds remained balanced with a couple at every table.
Maddeningly, Aliceon and Harvey were chuckling together.
Trudy realised, given Aliceon’s longstanding relationship with Bill and his friends, the maître d’ and Harvey had probably known each other since before she was born. Aliceon had been married to Bill twice. She obviously knew his agent and the thought made Trudy feel stupidly young and pointedly inadequate.
Not for the first time, Trudy realised, Aliceon was quietly making her feel as though she had no business being in a relationship with someone as mature as Bill. Glumly, Trudy thought it probably wouldn’t be the last time the woman made her feel that way.
She entered the restaurant’s empty kitchens and breathed a sigh of relief.
It was good to be away from the bustle of front of house. Even though the restaurant hadn’t been serving the public this afternoon, and the only people out there had been co-workers, friends and the friends of friends, it had still been too busy for her liking.
