John smiled at her. “If you want dashing adventure in a high-risk environment… I could offer you the post of playing the piano at my future tea room.”
“A piano in a tea room! That sounds lovely. But I must decline your kind offer. I have had enough employment to last a lifetime and am very much looking forward to not having a schedule to mind, or responsibilities to adhere to outside of my own.”
“Perfectly understandable. By opening a tea room, I will be exchanging the security and drudgery of attending to other people’s problems for the excitement and uncertainty of managing my own. Yet I cannot wait to try.”
“You won’t merely try. You’ll succeed. The great Captain Hamish L’Amour has never faced any opposition he could not conquer. The great and talented John will be just as successful.”
He paused in his tracks to turn to look at her. They were standing in a narrow, empty passage between large buildings. Behind them were all the bustling shops. Before them, a glimpse of the sea. But his eyes were only on Allegra.
“You truly think that my future tea room will come to pass?”
“Why shouldn’t it? I’ve not yet sampled your cooking, but if you are half as competent in the kitchen as you are on a dance floor, it will be a rousing success.”
His eyes held hers. “I could kiss you. No one but me has ever taken my dream seriously, much less encouraged me to pursue it.”
“Well, if that’s all it takes for you to finally kiss me…”
Before she could even close her eyes, John’s lips touched hers.
His mouth was hot and hungry. She wasted no time wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him back with the same fervor.
It was as though they had both forgotten that this was not a real courtship. Or perhaps, they both remembered, which made the kiss all the more forbidden and rash. Yet Allegra could no more pull away from this passionate embrace than she could control the moon.
His lips were soft and his arms strong, wrapping around her protectively. She clung to him like a barnacle to a ship, as though if she attached herself firmly enough, not even the raging ocean could separate them.
When his mouth coaxed hers open, she gasped in wonder at the sensation of his tongue tasting hers. Not pillaging and plundering, but dancing, teasing, tempting her to do the same. Her heart beat so fast, she was certain he could feel it thundering between them. Or perhaps that was both of their hearts, pressed so tightly together, kiss after exquisite kiss.
This was not part of the ruse. This was real. Wonderfully, terribly real.
No, she scolded herself desperately. You’re overwhelmed simply because it’s your first kiss. Never forget—it is only a kiss. This is all just a game. A meaningless adventure. It won’t hurt when he leaves. You won’t miss him at all.
But that was a fiction even Allegra could not make ring true.
Chapter 12
John sat at the sturdy oak desk before a sunny, second-story window and tried in vain to concentrate on the documents before him. He could not read more than a word at a time without becoming hopelessly distracted. Not by the sweeping view of sea and sky and pretty Brighton buildings, but by the memory of Allegra in his arms.
How he wished to impress her, and how impossible it seemed! She was the one impressing him at every turn. Her incredible skill at the pianoforte, the close bond she shared with her cousins…
Not only was Allegra not in the market for a husband, the sort of man who impressed her was John’s polar opposite. She had said “the great and talented John” would be as successful as Captain L’Amour, but nothing in the real world indicated the prediction was anything more than Allegra being kind.
Captain L’Amour was dashing, aristocratic, adventurous, accomplished, creative, romantic, swashbuckling, exotic. And John was… John. Not a buccaneer. Not a lord. Not even an esquire. No flashy court appearances here, but boring contract law. The only people who knew his name were colleagues and clients.
Well, and the owner of a certain singed pâtisserie.
He hadn’t come to Siren’s Retreat for romance, he reminded himself firmly. His last attempt at courtship had gone down in flames just like the pâtisserie. If a humble chef hadn’t been enough for Vivian, what hope did he have with a woman who thought a passionate love affair with a marauding pirate seemed a reasonable expectation?
With resolve, he forced his gaze back to his correspondence. After Allegra’s comments about the trust her grandmother had founded, John had thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea for a practiced eye to glance over the precise terms.
After uncovering the name of the lawyer who had created the trust, John had written at once to request a copy of the document be sent to him via his old law firm. Mr. Rathbone, a prior colleague, had agreed to forward any response to Brighton.
The letter in his hand was a denial for his request. The original lawyer had passed away some years ago, and the remaining partners would only discuss matters with the current executor, Mr. Townsend.
A dead end.
The second letter in his hand also originated from John’s old law firm, and was penned in the founder’s unmistakable hand.
“Stop this silliness and return to work at once,” he read aloud. “Clients are begging for your return. Present yourself within a fortnight, and there’ll be a tidy bonus waiting for you as well as a raise in salary.”
Silliness.
Most people believed his dream of becoming a chef was silly.
Staring at letters like this one made even John have his doubts. What if he spent every penny of his savings on a tea room and then burnt it down? What if it stayed standing—but no one visited it, because his skill in the kitchen did not match his skill at contract law? What if a higher salary as a solicitor made him a more tempting suitor to Allegra?
“You’re not courting her,” he muttered under his breath. “She doesn’t want to be courted, and you won’t be ready to try until you’ve answered your own question about whether your dream has any hope of coming true.”
He shoved both letters into a desk drawer and gathered up the recipe books he was keen to exchange at the lending library. The only way to know if his tea room were viable was to try. And the best way to do that, was to be one hundred percent prepared for any eventuality. Research, analyze, plan, execute. That’s how cases were won in a court of law, and it was how John would become a successful chef.
But before he reached the ground floor, familiar voices met his ears from the reception area.
Allegra and her cousins were chatting with Mrs. Cartwright. It was after ten. Her time in the music room was over.
Quickly, John transferred his books to one arm in order to smooth his lapel and fluff his hair with his other hand. With a deep breath, he stepped forward to meet them.
“Captain L’Amour!” cried Portia with delight. “Is it a beautiful day for some light pillaging?”
“Can’t you see he has books?” Dorcas said.
“They’re books on pillaging,” John said with a straight face, and tilted the spines out of view. “How are you ladies doing this fine morning?”
The question was to all of them, but his hungry gaze was only for Allegra.
She looked utterly kissable. Ravishable, even. Embraceable, caressable, delectable. If there weren’t three pairs of eyes watching them…