He gave an exaggerated shudder and made a show of untying his tie and stuffing it into a pocket. “It’ll be nice to have a change from the penguin suit anyway.”
Scarlet smiled. If she wasn’t entirely convinced, she was at least mollified. “Thank you, Breck. This could have been a very unpleasant situation, and I appreciate how accommodating you’ve been.”
Breck went to help plate food, thinking privately that she had no idea how unpleasant the situation actually was.
Chapter 13
The next morning, Darla rose before the sun. She had tossed and turned all night, completely unable to find any rest in the perfect bed.
She’d barely been able to eat the night before, and her stomach grumbled. If she went to the kitchen before the restaurant opened, she should be able to find something to eat before Breck got there and hopefully avoid him the rest of the morning at least.
She dressed quickly, cursing every creak of the wooden floor, and crept out her back door with her sandals held in her hands. She tiptoed back across the tiny lush lawn behind their house and skirted the noisy gravel until she was sure she wouldn’t wake anyone else.
The resort before dawn was hushed and full of fragrant anticipation. The drone of the night insects seemed less than it had been when darkness fell, but Darla decided that she was probably just used to it. In daylight, all the white tile was almost overpowering, but at night, everything seemed to have a moon-like glow.
She found her way easily up to the restaurant. The buffet was empty; her mother had negotiated limited hours on it, deciding that they didn’t need overnight service.
There was a light behind the swinging kitchen door, and the sound of rattling cutlery, so Darla pushed it open and tentatively went in. “Hello,” she called quietly, not wanting to startle the cook.
Then her breath left her.
At the far end of the kitchen, Breck had just turned from the sink. He was holding a sponge in one hand, and a spatula in the other, his sleeves rolled up. The sharp waiter’s vest was gone, and the sheer white shirt was damp with dishwater splashes, leaving little to the imagination.
For a moment, they were silent, staring across the empty kitchen at each other as the door swung back and forth behind her and finally stilled.
Finally, he spoke. “Can I help you?” he asked gently.
He could, she thought. He could lay her down on the floor and help her in all the ways her snow leopard was telling her he should.
She bit her lip. If he could be professional, she could, too. “I was looking for a quick breakfast,” she said, as steadily as she could. “I didn’t mean to disturb…”
“Oh, I am very disturbed,” he said frankly, when she trailed off. He put the sponge and spatula into the dishwater and reached for a towel. “But I am delighted to make you some food.”
Darla had drifted several steps into the kitchen without meaning to. “Thank you,” she said faintly, as he dried his hands and opened the giant refrigerator door.
“It’s the least I can do,” he said gently, with his back to her.
Darla took some courage from the fact that he wasn’t looking at her. “I guess you know,” she said boldly. “And, I’m... sorry.”
Breck leaned his head briefly against the door to the refrigerator. “I am, too,” he said so quietly that Darla automatically took a few steps forward to hear better. Then he straightened and drew out a plastic-draped plate.
When he turned back to her, he was smiling gently. “But we make the best of what we get. Now, what are you doing up so early?”
There was a stool next to the counter, and he gestured her to sit. Darla walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and did so, gingerly. He was being careful to keep distance between them, and she was grateful for that. Even this close, she was mesmerized by the way he moved, the breadth of his strong shoulders.
“I… wanted to avoid the waitstaff, actually,” Darla admitted. “I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”
“I wouldn’t, usually,” Breck said, sounding almost cheerful. “But your charming mother requested that I not serve in the restaurant for a spell, so I’ve moved to behind closed doors. Chef is having me bake bread this morning.” He was bustling around, getting more things out of the fridge, cutting things, putting things back. “Chef’s got a mate of his own, and he rarely gets a chance to sleep in, so I’m happy to give him the opportunity.”
“I’m sorry about my mother,” Darla said. “I could talk to her…?”
“I think it’s best this way,” Breck said swiftly. “This way, we don’t have to…” he trailed off, but Darla knew what he meant.
“You’re probably right,” she agreed. “It would be easier if we didn’t…”
He put a glass of orange juice down in front of her. “So, tell me about something else. What do you do for a living?”
Darla waited for his hand to be safely away before she reached for the juice. “I’m an heiress. I don’t do anything.” It came out more bitterly than she intended. “I wanted to go to college, or maybe even trade school, but it was always more important that I attend parties and practice deportment and meet all the right people.”