The Bridal Bargain

He swung aside from his grandmother, gesturing towards Hannah, a dazzling smile accompanying the question, “And this is…?”

“Miss Hannah O’Neill,” his grandmother supplied. “Your third applicant for the job of chef onboard Duchess.”

“Hannah…” He stepped forward, offering his hand, grey eyes with intriguing bits of hazel in them meeting hers with the impact of an atom bomb, blowing apart the long-held shield around Hannah’s heart. “…I’m Tony King.”

Tony, Tony, Tony…, some wild voice in her head sang as she stood up to greet him properly.

Hannah O’Neill sure had a body, Tony thought, noting her eye-catching curves as she rose from her chair. Didn’t mind showing it off, either, the clingy midriff top outlining breasts that would very sweetly cushion a man’s head, hipster slacks laying bare a highly feminine waist and a peek-a-boo navel with…was that a butterfly tattoo around it?

No time for a closer examination, though Tony found himself fancying precisely that. Satin-smooth skin, honey-tan, a nice soft roundness to her flesh, no bones sticking out, definitely the kind of feminine physique that appealed to him.

Her choice of clothes had probably turned his grandmother off, but they were a turn-on for guys. No question. A clever piece of calculation for this interview? Misfiring in these circumstances. A black mark against her would have been instantly notched in his grandmother’s mind.

She lifted her hand to meet his and he automatically grasped it, actually feeling a little jolt of pleasure at the touch of her—a slender hand, long fingers, warm and soft. She smiled and he was momentarily fascinated by the dimples that appeared in her cheeks. Very cute effect.

Her eyes were green, like the green of forest pools. Thick fair hair waved from a centre parting and was pulled back in a plait, although she hadn’t been able to trap it all. Fuzzy little tendrils gave her face a rather endearing frame that went with the little girl dimples.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr King.”

Nice voice, sort of musical.

“Tony,” he corrected, without pausing to think if giving her his first name was appropriate.

“Tony,” she repeated in a soft sensual lilt that put a tingle in his groin.

And those green eyes were dynamite, projecting a pleasure in him that could scramble his brains if he wasn’t careful. Already he was thinking he’d like to taste the mouth that had spoken his name like that. He was still holding her hand. He clamped down on the urge to hold more of her—not the right time or place—though he had a strong desire to pursue this woman once the job issue was out of the way.

Good thing he could blame his grandmother for selecting someone else for the position of chef. Which he had no doubt she would do. It neatly separated business from pleasure. And he could probably wangle some other job in town for Hannah O’Neill if she wanted to stick around.

“Miss O’Neill is your new chef for Duchess.”

“What?” The word spilled out before Tony could catch it back. He instantly released Hannah’s hand and spun around to face his grandmother, frowning over her shock announcement. “You’ve chosen already?”

She smiled serenely at him. “You did leave the decision in my hands, Antonio. Miss O’Neill and I had been chatting for some time before your arrival. There is no question in my mind she will suit you very well.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs King!” Hannah flew past him and grabbed his grandmother’s hands, pressing them effusively. “I promise I won’t let you down. And any time you’d like me to cook a barramundi for you, just say the word and…”

Cook? Tony stared at the thick plait falling down to the delectable curve of her spine, which led to her even more delectable bottom, and couldn’t see Hannah O’Neill in a galley at all. He could only see her in a bed…with him!

Yet, here she was, dressed in positively provocative clothes, somehow getting on like a house on fire with his grandmother who was smiling at her as though she was the apple of her eye, not minding at all being pounced upon and gabbled at by a woman showing her naked navel with a butterfly tattooed around it!

Tony was still trying to get his scrambled mind around this incredible state of affairs when Hannah turned back to him and grabbed his hand again, squeezing it in both of hers.

“I’ll be the best chef you’ve ever had on Duchess,” she gushed, her eyes lit up like Christmas trees, lots of electricity sparking at him and pumping up his heartbeat. “I’ll learn everything that needs to be done double-quick. I promise you won’t be disappointed in me, Tony.”

Tony… She was doing it again, making his name sound like something she savoured on her tongue. It was almost a French kiss. And he sure as hell was going to be disappointed if she was working for him. Mixing it with an employee would only lead to trouble. Right now, with her hands clasping his, he had a mental image of her body clasping another part of his anatomy which was already giving him trouble.

“I think we should sit down and talk about this,” he said quickly, deciding that putting a table between them was fast becoming mandatory. Not only would it hide his physical discomfort but it would give him enough distance to view Hannah O’Neill in a business-like light. If that was possible.

“Oh, yes!” She released his hand to clap her own. “I need to know when you want me to start and…”

“All in good time,” he instructed, waving her to the other side of the table.

She virtually skipped around to the chair he’d indicated, her exuberant spirits totally irrepressible and almost mesmerising. Tony had to wrench his gaze away from her to get himself settled on a chair and his mind properly organised to deal with this problem.

He shot a glance at his grandmother who had resumed her seat. Her complacent air niggled him. She should have taken more time over this, should have consulted with him first before handing the job to Hannah. That bemused little smile on her lips…had she been mesmerised into an impulsive decision? His steely-willed grandmother?

“Ah! Here is Rosita with afternoon tea!” she announced with warm satisfaction, obviously happy now to turn this into a social situation.

Tony gave up. Hannah O’Neill had somehow wormed her way into his grandmother’s good books and she was now being given the ultimate seal of approval—afternoon tea with Isabella Valeri King in the loggia. He was going to have to run with this ball, whether he liked it or not.

His grandmother proceeded to play grand hostess, aided and abetted by Rosita who fussed around, making sure everything was to their liking. She even produced the carrot cake with the cream cheese and walnut topping—a sure sign the company rated five stars. He was definitely down the mine here without a tin hat to protect him.

Having accepted the inevitable, Tony pulled over the manila folder that contained Hannah O’Neill’s particulars, and focused his mind on getting down to business. Pleasure was now out. Regardless of how strong the temptation, it was utter madness to get sexually involved with an employee. He had to keep Hannah O’Neil at arm’s length. Though even the width of the table didn’t feel far enough.

“I see we addressed our reply to your application, care of Mason’s Shop at Cape Tribulation,” he started off, needing to establish a properly serious vein to this meeting.

“Mmm…”

He looked up to find her licking cream from her lips, and his stomach instantly contracted, hit by a bolt of desire so hard his mind was out for the count.

“I was picking up my mail there,” she explained, once she had her sexy mouth composed for speech. “I spent a couple of weeks exploring the Daintree. Such an amazing rainforest. Being in the midst of it was like being plunged back in time to when…”

“Yes,” he snapped, cutting off her disturbingly lyrical voice. He picked up a pen and jabbed it at the form she’d filled out. “So where are you staying at Port Douglas?”

She took a deep breath.

Her breasts rose distractingly.

“I haven’t found a place yet. I only came down from Cape Tribulation this morning. For the interview. But I’ll find somewhere before tonight. I’ve noticed there are loads of accommodation places here.”

Tony was gaining the fast impression Hannah O’Neill operated on a wing and a prayer. She wasn’t prepared for taking on this job.

“Tourist accommodation,” he pointed out. “If you intend to stay the whole season…”

“Absolutely,” she assured him. “I’ll look for something appropriate.”

“Where have you left your luggage?”

“I put it in a locker at the marina.” She leaned forward, smiling an eager appeal for understanding. “You see, it did rather depend on whether or not I got this job what I did next, so…”

Definitely a wing and a prayer, Tony thought sternly, battling not to drown in her eyes.

“You will need an apartment with a well-equipped kitchen,” his grandmother inserted authoritatively. “Antonio, until Miss O’Neill gets her bearings here, I think it best you put her in one of the guest apartments Alessandro keeps in the Coral King block.”

“A guest apartment?” Tony eyed his grandmother, wondering if she’d gone stark raving mad. Hannah O’Neill was not family or friend. She was an employee, and hardly a highly valued one at this juncture! She hadn’t even been on trial yet.

“I’m sure there’ll be one that’s not being currently used,” came the unshaken reply. “It will give Hannah the chance to settle into her new job and time to look around for suitable accommodation.”

So, it was Hannah now!

“This is very kind of you, Mrs King,” the fair-haired witch chimed in, her dangerous green eyes obviously casting spells in all directions.

“A simple resolution to immediate problems,” his grandmother declared.

“Right!” Tony agreed, knowing he was outgunned before he’d fired a bullet. Feeling constrained to fire other bullets before they could be diverted, he fixed a steady gaze on Hannah O’Neill and stated, “Please understand you start this job on a trial basis. The people who pay for a trip out to the reef on Duchess are promised the best of everything. Any failure to deliver it, in any area of service on that boat, cannot be tolerated.”

“You mean…no second chances?” A touch of anxiety.

“That depends on how large the blunder is. The odd mistake can be glossed over. Anything that spoils a day out…”

“Would be terrible!” she exclaimed, looking appalled at the thought. Like quicksilver her expression changed, her eyes filling with eloquent earnestness. “Any little problem I might cause, I swear I’ll make up for it a hundredfold. I’ve never had any complaints lodged against me, Tony.”

He could believe it. She could probably get anyone to forgive her anything. In fact, before they knew it, they’d probably be helping her out of whatever fix she got herself in. Here was his grandmother, giving her prime accommodation, and every time she called him by his name, his heart did this weird curl which took his mind off what he should be concentrating on.

Was she going to be a hazard for the male members of his crew? What if the dive team lost concentration? She’d better stay in the galley where she belonged. No straying out on deck. At least his current chef on Duchess was gay, so she shouldn’t disturb him while he familiarised her with the job she’d be taking over.

“Chris, the chef you’ll be replacing, wants to leave at the end of the week, so it would be good if you could start tomorrow, learning everything you can from him before he takes off. He’s been a top chef for us and I’m sorry to be losing him.”

“Why is he going?”

“Personal problems.” He sighed, giving vent to some of his frustration. Then with an ironic grimace, he added, “His partner is yearning for the more sophisticated scene in Sydney. Paradise has its limitations.”

“I’m sure I’ll be very happy here.”

She twinkled so much happiness at him Tony’s chest tightened against the barrage. He forced his gaze down to the papers in front of him. He couldn’t even hope she might start yearning for city lights and fly out of his life. It was clear from her résumé she’d been working in tropical climates for some time— Broome, Darwin, even a six-month stint at King’s Eden in the Kimberley. Port Douglas probably was a paradise to her.

“So what time am I to be at the marina tomorrow?” she asked eagerly.

“Eight o’clock. Duchess leaves at eight-thirty and returns at four-thirty. You’ll be provided with a uniform which is to be worn onboard at all times.” Which should cover up her most distracting assets. He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now, I can introduce you to the crew when they disembark this afternoon.”

She immediately leapt up from her chair.

The butterfly pulsed at him.

Tony closed his eyes for one tight moment and rose to his feet, turning to his grandmother and lining up his vision on her.

“Always in a rush, Antonio,” she sighed. “You didn’t eat anything.”

“Sorry, Nonna. Had a big lunch,” he excused, stepping over to kiss her cheek. “Thanks again for doing the interviews.”

“Perhaps Hannah will tempt you with her cooking.”

Her culinary expertise was very low on the list of temptations where Hannah O’Neill was concerned. “As long as she tempts our trippers, I’ll be happy,” he said, hiding his dark thoughts.

“Mrs King, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kind consideration and the chance to do my best for Duchess,” came the fervent flow from the seductive voice, working some more magic on his grandmother who bestowed her most benevolent smile.

“I hope everything works out well, my dear. You must have afternoon tea with me again one day. I did enjoy our chat together.”

“I’d like that, too, Mrs King.”

Oh, great! Tony thought in high exasperation. Next thing you know she’d be invited to family functions and she’d be in his face all over the place. Apart from which, he now had to contend with Alex’s and Matt’s reactions to her being put into one of the Coral King apartments, free of charge. His employee!

Nonna had boxed him into a very uncomfortable corner. Somehow he had to work his way out of it without upsetting her and without getting himself into big trouble with Hannah O’Neill.

CHAPTER THREE

“COME this way. We’ll take the jeep down to the marina,” Tony instructed, setting a brisk pace along a path that led around to the other side of the castle.

Always in a rush, his grandmother had said, and Hannah could see what she meant. Her legs were working overtime keeping up with him. Her heart was racing, too. She hoped she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with this job. Living up to Tony King’s standard of excellence was a scary prospect. She was going to have to learn fast, even faster than he walked.

The jeep was parked next to the helipad. Hannah was used to the small bubble helicopters that transported guests at King’s Eden Wilderness Resort. The one Tony King flew was a very sleek machine in comparison. Big money. Big money everywhere she looked. Could a million-dollar-man fall in love with a cook?

Her mind fuzzed with the thought of happy miracles. She shot him her best smile as he opened the passenger door of the jeep for her. Unhappily he didn’t see it. His gaze seemed to be trained on watching her legs swing in before shutting the door again, and he frowned all the way around to the driver’s side.

Business worries? she wondered. It was probably a bit forward to ask, so she held her tongue as they rode down to the marina. He maintained a grim-faced silence until they reached the Kingtripper office where he handed her over to the receptionist with an efficiency that left Hannah feeling somewhat deflated.

“Sally, this is Hannah O’Neill,” he said with almost curt haste. “She will be our new chef on Duchess.”

“Hey! That’s great! Congratulations!”

Hannah didn’t even get time to reply.

“Supply her with a uniform, give her all the information about our cruises, and let me know when the crew comes in. I need to catch up on the latest figures.”

“Will do,” Sally more or less said to his back as he headed towards a door that opened to a private office. His abrupt manner hadn’t dimmed her brightness. She had a pretty, vivacious face, a very short bob of dark brown hair, and blue eyes that danced lively curiosity at Hannah as she aimed a grin at her. “Welcome onboard the Kingtripper line.”

“Thanks.” Hannah grinned back, then nodded to the now closed door, whispering, “Does he always move this fast?”

“Well, the chef situation is getting fairly urgent with Chris all upset about Johnny leaving,” Sally confided.

“Who’s Johnny?”

“His partner. Who threw an ultimatum at him last week and took off to Sydney. Follow him or else.” A roll of the eyes. “Chris would be better off without Johnny, if you ask me, but I guess gay relationships are just as demanding as any other.” She grimaced. “I took this job as therapy after divorcing my over-bearing husband. What about you?”

“Me?” Hannah’s mind was still buzzing through all these new bits of information.

“Well, you’re obviously a stranger in town since you didn’t know about King’s Castle. Are you escaping from something?”

“More looking around,” Hannah said blithely, realising Sally was a gossipy person and it paid to be wary of giving out too much before she knew the lay of the land. Besides which, the ex-love of her life had receded into the far distance since she had met Tony King. She could almost wish Jodie well of Flynn. Almost.

She pasted a smile over the niggling sense of betrayal and elaborated on her carefree theme. “I wanted to get work here and stay awhile. It’s a beautiful part of Australia.”

“Sure is,” came the ready agreement. “And the perfect base for bouncing off to other great places. Have you got accommodation?”

“Yes. All fixed up.” A strong sense of discretion told her to keep quiet on that front, too, so she rushed on, “What I need now is all the info on Duchess and…”

“A set of uniforms,” Sally said obligingly. “Come on. I’ll fit you out and feed you facts.”

They only had ten minutes before Duchess glided in to dock at the marina. They watched it from the double glass doors that opened out to the promenade deck. Even to Hannah who’d seen many expensive boats in Fremantle, it looked fabulous; a sleek, stylish, black and white catamaran that exuded power and luxury.

“By far the best,” Sally said proudly. “Only launched last year. Air-conditioned saloon and bridge, the most up-to-date entertainment systems, walk-in easy water access for diving or snorkelling, and for you, a fully equipped galley, including an espresso coffee machine and a dishwasher.” She gave Hannah a droll look. “No plastic plates on Duchess. It’s all top class.”

Hannah nodded, observing the stream of day-trippers emerging onto the wharf—the clothes they wore, the bags they carried, all classy casual gear. These were moneyed people who paid for the best and expected it as their right. They looked happy and satisfied, which meant the five-star service had not fallen short today.

She took a deep breath, refiring her determination to ensure her service didn’t fall short of the standard Tony King wanted maintained. The strong need to please him—more, to delight him—went far beyond what she should feel for her employer, but there was no point in trying to deny he’d put a new zing in her life. She got an electric charge just bringing his image to mind.

“Does…uh…Mr King ever go out on Duchess?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“Oh, yes! He skippers it most Saturdays and Sundays. And also when it’s chartered by a special party. We’ve had a few celebrities with their entourage wanting Duchess to themselves for a day. Tony likes to take personal care of VIPs. He’s a terrific host, and of course, they spread the word to their friends. Best publicity we can get.”

Tony… Sally spoke the name so familiarly, Hannah reasoned it must be okay to use it in front of the staff. It was silly to suddenly feel awkward about it. It had felt right when they’d been at the castle. He just seemed to have distanced himself from her since they’d left his grandmother. But she was probably being over-sensitive where he was concerned, not wanting to put any foot wrong.

Today was Wednesday. She had two days to learn all the ropes, practise her cooking and have everything down pat before he came on board. Tomorrow she would bring a notebook with her and jot down everything Chris did, everything she had to know about the galley and how it worked. Once the overall routine was fixed in her mind, she could add her own special touches, show Tony he’d really got a prize in his new chef. Then he’d give her that heart-buzzing smile and…

“Crew’s coming off now,” Sally announced, jolting Hannah back to the immediate situation. “Eric and Tracy and Jai do the diving. They’re the first three. Next comes Chris and his assistant, Megan, then the skipper, David, and the first mate, Keith.”

Five men, two women, all of them young and looking very fit and full of vigour. Soon to be four men and three women, Hannah thought. She saw Chris—hair very peroxide blonde—hurrying past the others, an urgent intensity driving him as he headed for the office.

“I’d better get Tony,” Sally muttered, and made a dash for his door.

He emerged just as Chris bounded in, clearly pumped up with his personal problems, his frown lifting as he saw Tony. “Did you get someone?” he burst out, so intent on his own needs he didn’t even give Hannah a cursory glance.

“Calm down, Chris.” The strong, authoritative voice warned the chef he was out of line. “You have just walked past the person I’ve hired as your replacement.”

“Sorry, sorry…” He spun to face Hannah, relief breaking a smile through his anxiety. “Hi!”

“Hi!” she returned with smile inviting fellowship.

“This is Hannah O’Neill,” Tony introduced. “Chris Walton, who’ll show you precisely what’s expected of the chef on Duchess over the next two days.”

Which jerked Chris’s head back to Tony. “Do I have to? Can’t Hannah…?”

“No.” Very firm. “You stay till the end of the week. As agreed, Chris.”

“But Megan could show her everything.”

“It’s your responsibility.” The grey eyes were very steely as he added. “Don’t let me down, Chris.”

Me, too, Hannah thought on a panicky note, her nerves instantly protesting the prospect of being thrown in at the deep end without a life raft.

“You now have a cut-off day,” Tony went on. “You can book a flight to Sydney on Friday evening. You’ll forfeit your pay and a reference if you leave before then. Understand me?”

Chris crumpled. “Yeah, yeah. I just thought…”

“I want a smooth changeover, Chris.”

“Okay!” He sighed and turned back to Hannah. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great job. I just need to be elsewhere.”

She nodded sympathetically. “I will appreciate your staying on to show me how to handle everything, Chris.”

“No sweat,” he muttered, but it obviously was. The absent Johnny definitely had the screws on him.

The others streamed into the office and having settled the departure issue with Chris, Tony proceeded to introduce her to the rest of the crew. They seemed a cheerful bunch and Hannah felt only good vibrations coming her way, no reservations about her fitting the role she’d taken on.

She was very conscious of Tony watching, and hoped he was pleased with the quick and easy connections made and the positive mood engendered by them. In any tourist business, it was important to promote an air of friendly approachability. Keeping a happy face was second nature to Hannah and today it was very easy for her to exude happiness.

A lovely new place to explore.

A new job to keep her going.

A new man who might just be Mr Right…if her heart was telling her true!

“Hey! Great dimples!” David Hampson, the skipper remarked. He was the last one to be introduced, the senior man on the crew, and very good-looking with bright brown eyes and a charming grin which he swung from her to Tony. “I think you’ve picked us up an asset here.”