Liz Fielding - The Valentine Bride

‘You were quite prepared to throw a fully loaded vase at my head,’ he reminded her.

‘That was a long time ago, Max. And I didn’t actually hit you.’

‘Only because your aim was so lousy. As it was you wrecked the table behind me. Dinner and dry-cleaning bills on the house, for eight.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t deduct the cost from my wages when you fired me.’

‘My mistake. Dad took the damage out of mine.’

She shook her head, biting on her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He wanted to tell her to stop, pull her lip free, kiss it, bite it…

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Believe me, it was worth every penny to get you out of my hair.’

‘Careful, Max…’

‘You were a terrible maître d’, Louise. Be honest. I did you a favour.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose you did.’ Then, ‘I can’t even remember what you said that made me so mad.’

‘Everything I said made you mad.’

‘True.’ Suddenly sobered, she said, ‘So why are you so anxious to have me come and work for you?’

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