Georgia Hill - Millie Vanilla’s Cupcake Café

They were past. It was okay. ‘I’m fine.’ She forced herself to relax and to focus on more pleasant things. On the here and now. On the fact that Jed had called her gorgeous. Well, sort of. ‘So, if you’re not treating me to an evening of dubious gastronomic delight at the Lord, where are we going tonight?’

‘You’ll see.’ With a smile, Jed flicked on some music and they didn’t speak again.

It turned out to be a country-house hotel on the edge of Dorchester. As Jed swung the car into the car park, he asked, ‘French. Is that alright with you? It’s one of my favourite countries and I love the food. This place was recommended to me, so I hope it lives up to its reputation.’

They parked between a Bentley and a Porsche. Millie looked around in dismay. She should have guessed it would be an expensive sort of place. She was going to be completely under-dressed in leggings and flowery mini-dress.

Jed read her panic. ‘You look beautiful. You always do. Don’t worry and try to relax. I want this to be a real treat for you. Thought it might make a change for you not to cook. I only hope the food comes up to your standards.’

Millie felt his appreciative gaze on her and blushed. She added ‘beautiful’ to his list of compliments and the glow inside her spread.

The passenger door was opened by a liveried car-park attendant who murmured a reverent, ‘Good evening, madam.’ Millie tried not to giggle and looked up at the hotel’s subtly lit Georgian facade. She wondered just what she’d got herself into.

Her recollection of the evening was of soft music, good wine, fantastically complicated food and impeccable service. From the moment she stepped from the car she wasn’t aware of having to lift a finger or even open a door. All evening her needs were not only met but anticipated. Once in the lounge, a soft-footed waiter presented her with a glass of champagne and another brought a tiny canapé of salmon gravlax. Seated at a table, covered in a snowy white cloth, an amuse bouche of different-coloured beetroots and creamy goat’s cheese arrived, followed by brill with citrus couscous. The service was attentive and discreet. She didn’t have to wait a second for her water or wine glass to be topped up. It was divine and a world away from her little café in Berecombe. Jed, she noticed, had a glass of champagne and then drank sparkling water all night. He seemed not only to be at home in his surroundings but was almost casually contemptuous of it.

Sighing over delicious chocolatey petits fours she said, ‘I’d love to travel as you obviously have.’

Jed shrugged. ‘If I’m honest, it can get pretty boring. And mostly all I see is the inside of airports and hotels. I’ve done some cool stuff, dining with a Bedouin tribe under the desert stars is a stand-out, but it’s not much fun without someone to share it with.’ He flicked a glance at Millie. ‘Just lately I’ve developed a real hunger to settle down somewhere. Put some roots down. With that special person.’

‘Ha!’ Millie blurted, aware she’d had quite a bit to drink. ‘Gotta find her first.’

Jed gave her a slow smile. ‘That’s very true.’

Millie licked melted chocolate off her finger and frowned. ‘So you mean you’d like marriage, a family, the whole commitment?’

‘Yeah. I think it’s the right time for me. I’ve rattled around the world on my own for too long. It would be nice to be in one place, be part of a community, like you are.’

Millie’s face burned. It could be the alcohol or it could be the picture that was forming of Jed rocking a baby in his arms. A baby that had his dark eyes and a mop of her unruly hair. Whoa, Millie, she admonished herself. Too much too soon. She gazed at Jed. There was no mistaking the heat in his expression. She finished her coffee in one gulp. ‘Still, as I’ve said, you’ve got to find that special someone first.’

He smiled enigmatically and then called a waiter over. ‘More coffee, please. And Millie, would you like a brandy with yours?’

She nodded. She was bursting with questions to ask him but was too self-conscious – and quite possibly too tipsy. Instead, she tried for nonchalance when spotting a well-known actor and two presenters from the local news. And then, as the alcohol really kicked in, she surrendered herself to the happy feeling of being completely and utterly cosseted.

‘Don’t know about you,’ Jed said, in the car on the way home. ‘But I didn’t think that wild garlic consommé was a patch on your butternut squash soup.’

Millie giggled sleepily, replete with good food and luxury. She could get used to this. ‘It was a lovely evening,’ she said, snuggling down into her coat. ‘Thank you. You were right, it has been a real treat.’ She rested her head back and enjoyed the scent of the leather upholstery.

‘Good. I get the feeling you haven’t had many treats. I was delighted to indulge you.’ As he manoeuvred the car out of the car park, he began to explain that the hotel was trying to emulate Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons, but he still preferred the original. Millie didn’t reply; she was fast asleep.

Jed woke her by tweaking her nose gently.

Millie came to, flustered and embarrassed. ‘We’re back in Berecombe? I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I slept all the way!’ She looked around. They were parked up on the promenade outside her café.

He rested an arm along her headrest. ‘You know, I think you work too hard.’

Millie gazed into his dark eyes, their expression impenetrable, even in the glow from the lights strung up along the prom. He was very close and nerves made her breathy. ‘Do I? I’ve normally got bags of energy. It’s just that –’

She was silenced by his kiss. His hand cupped her cheekbone and she found the touch of his long fingers immeasurably exciting. His lips were cool and expert and Millie gave in. Time for a bit of fun, she decided. I don’t really know who you are or how long you’ll be around, but at this precise moment I don’t care. Then his kiss deepened and she stopped thinking altogether.

It seemed only seconds later that he was pulling back.

‘Don’t stop.’

‘Millie, my love, it’s late. I’m assuming you have to get up at some unearthly hour in the morning and I have to fly to Paris tomorrow.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ll be back. It’s just for a meeting.’

Millie took a deep breath. ‘You could come in, you know.’

He dropped his hand from its hold on her face. ‘God, I’d love to Millie, you don’t know how much. But it’s just not the right time.’ He looked down, a frown knitting his brows. ‘There are some things I have to sort out first.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘No, you don’t.’ He raked a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. ‘You don’t see at all.’ He gathered her hands in his. Kissing her fingers, he added, ‘And why should you?’

The script wasn’t going according to plan. Yes, okay, when she should have been indulging in light banter and pre-coital flirting, she’d fallen asleep in the car and may well have snored. It wouldn’t have been pretty. But weren’t men supposed to be permanently gagging for sex? And here was the man of her dreams turning down her offer. Maybe she’d had too much garlic soup at dinner? Or she wasn’t his usual brand of sleek blonde? Lust shrivelled in her loins. Bugger.

Jed’s hand returned to her cheek. He trailed a finger down her face. ‘Do you – can you trust me, Millie? Before this goes any further, there’s something I have to do.’

Millie found herself nodding. ‘I trust you.’ She did. She didn’t have a clue why, but she did.

Jed exhaled, as if her answer had mattered a great deal to him. ‘Good.’