the menu, apart from one heartening glimpse of the dessert list, it took her a few moments to read it.
By the time she’d made up her mind, Sebastian had finished ordering his, and his waiter had hurried away. He lounged back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in idle relaxation. Though his gaze only drifted her way intermittently, she could sense his full attention trained on her like a million-megawatt spotlight.
With her cheeks growing uncomfortably hot, in the effort to exclude him she kept her voice at a low murmur. ‘I might start with one or two chocolate truffles, and then the basil bruschetta.’
The woman looked surprised. ‘The chocolate truffles are a dessert, miss.’
‘Of course. I know that. Only one, then. And then could you cut me a really, really thin slice of that ricotta tart with the truffled peaches? Followed by the linguini…’
‘Which one, miss? The broccoli or the prawn?’
She hesitated, weighing it up, then mumbled so softly the waitress had to bend her head to hear, ‘Could I try a small taste of each? And I’ll have the flounder with the artichoke and caper sauce.’
‘That is a whole flounder,’ a deep voice interjected from the other side of the neighbouring table.
Ariadne felt a sharp stab of annoyance. The man must have had supersonic hearing. Not to mention an insufferable nerve. As if he hadn’t spoken, she kept her eyes firmly on the face ofthe waitress and murmured, ‘And a garden salad to go with that, please. And vegetables.’
‘Anything else, madam? Pommes Paris? Witlof gorgonzola salad with pancetta and Granny Smith apple?’
‘Yes, yes, everything.’ Ariadne leaned her head away from the direction of the Nikosto table and whispered, hoping the waitress would get the message and lower her voice as well. She smiled meaningfully at the young woman, wishing with all her heart that Sebastian Nikosto would implode and disappear. ‘One more thing,’ she said, barely moving her mouth.
The waitress tilted her head to catch her words. ‘Yes, miss?’
Ariadne beckoned until the woman leaned her ear closer. ‘I’m finding that the light is shining in my eyes here. Would you mind helping me to shift around to that side of the table?’
She could see it would be a squeeze, but it would have the advantage of her sitting with her back to Sebastian.
The woman eyed the space doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure your chair will fit on this side, miss. It might be an obstruction when we try to serve the gentleman.’
The deep smooth voice intruded again. ‘What if the young lady moves over here?’
Ariadne allowed herself a freezing glance at him.
He was indicating the space beside him, his dark eyes agleam, his smile exuding innocence and goodwill. ‘Then she’d be facing away from the light, and she’d be able to enjoy the view. Since we’re practically dinner partners already…’ His eyes dwelled on Ariadne’s face with a sensual, velvet intensity. ‘I’d love to have you join me, Miss Giorgias.’ His voice was awash with sincerity. ‘And you’d be rescued from that wet tablecloth.’
The waitress’s eyes warmed when she saw Sebastian. ‘Oh, do you know each other?’
‘God, yes,’ he said heartily. ‘Our families have known each other for ever, haven’t they, Ariadne?’
Turning to Ariadne, the waitress caught sight of her tableclothand her drooly expression changed to horror. ‘Miss,’ she exclaimed, ‘this cloth is soaked. ’ She tested the sodden patch. ‘Oh. You should have said. This table will have to be reset.’
She swivelled about, and had begun telegraphing across the room for reinforcements when Sebastian murmured something to her and pointed towards the lights.
Easily distracted if the distraction happened to be lean, darkeyed with stunning cheekbones and a sexy, mocking mouth, the waitress turned to Ariadne, her eyes alight with meaning. ‘What do you think, miss? Wouldn’t you like to move?’ With a lilt of her brows
By the time she’d made up her mind, Sebastian had finished ordering his, and his waiter had hurried away. He lounged back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in idle relaxation. Though his gaze only drifted her way intermittently, she could sense his full attention trained on her like a million-megawatt spotlight.
With her cheeks growing uncomfortably hot, in the effort to exclude him she kept her voice at a low murmur. ‘I might start with one or two chocolate truffles, and then the basil bruschetta.’
The woman looked surprised. ‘The chocolate truffles are a dessert, miss.’
‘Of course. I know that. Only one, then. And then could you cut me a really, really thin slice of that ricotta tart with the truffled peaches? Followed by the linguini…’
‘Which one, miss? The broccoli or the prawn?’
She hesitated, weighing it up, then mumbled so softly the waitress had to bend her head to hear, ‘Could I try a small taste of each? And I’ll have the flounder with the artichoke and caper sauce.’
‘That is a whole flounder,’ a deep voice interjected from the other side of the neighbouring table.
Ariadne felt a sharp stab of annoyance. The man must have had supersonic hearing. Not to mention an insufferable nerve. As if he hadn’t spoken, she kept her eyes firmly on the face ofthe waitress and murmured, ‘And a garden salad to go with that, please. And vegetables.’
‘Anything else, madam? Pommes Paris? Witlof gorgonzola salad with pancetta and Granny Smith apple?’
‘Yes, yes, everything.’ Ariadne leaned her head away from the direction of the Nikosto table and whispered, hoping the waitress would get the message and lower her voice as well. She smiled meaningfully at the young woman, wishing with all her heart that Sebastian Nikosto would implode and disappear. ‘One more thing,’ she said, barely moving her mouth.
The waitress tilted her head to catch her words. ‘Yes, miss?’
Ariadne beckoned until the woman leaned her ear closer. ‘I’m finding that the light is shining in my eyes here. Would you mind helping me to shift around to that side of the table?’
She could see it would be a squeeze, but it would have the advantage of her sitting with her back to Sebastian.
The woman eyed the space doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure your chair will fit on this side, miss. It might be an obstruction when we try to serve the gentleman.’
The deep smooth voice intruded again. ‘What if the young lady moves over here?’
Ariadne allowed herself a freezing glance at him.
He was indicating the space beside him, his dark eyes agleam, his smile exuding innocence and goodwill. ‘Then she’d be facing away from the light, and she’d be able to enjoy the view. Since we’re practically dinner partners already…’ His eyes dwelled on Ariadne’s face with a sensual, velvet intensity. ‘I’d love to have you join me, Miss Giorgias.’ His voice was awash with sincerity. ‘And you’d be rescued from that wet tablecloth.’
The waitress’s eyes warmed when she saw Sebastian. ‘Oh, do you know each other?’
‘God, yes,’ he said heartily. ‘Our families have known each other for ever, haven’t they, Ariadne?’
Turning to Ariadne, the waitress caught sight of her tableclothand her drooly expression changed to horror. ‘Miss,’ she exclaimed, ‘this cloth is soaked. ’ She tested the sodden patch. ‘Oh. You should have said. This table will have to be reset.’
She swivelled about, and had begun telegraphing across the room for reinforcements when Sebastian murmured something to her and pointed towards the lights.
Easily distracted if the distraction happened to be lean, darkeyed with stunning cheekbones and a sexy, mocking mouth, the waitress turned to Ariadne, her eyes alight with meaning. ‘What do you think, miss? Wouldn’t you like to move?’ With a lilt of her brows
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