Page 5 of The First Deal

“Starved.”

He glanced down at me, his bright green eyes shining with something that seemed a hell of a lot like an agreement, but with an inappropriate undertone.

I liked the way he looked at me, the way I could almost see the little path his inner thoughts were taking, until he blinked, smiled, and guided me into the restaurant, greeting the hostess loudly and pulling her into a one-armed hug, my arm still entwined with his, before introducing me to her.

“Hannah, Diane. Diane, Hannah,” he said cheerfully.

“You have the table at the back tonight, Mr Hudson,” Diane said, smoothing down her black skirt and straightening her collar before smiling at me and gesturing to the back of the restaurant. “Just this way, Miss…”

“Hannah is fine,” I said.

“As is Shane,” my companion chimed in with a laugh and a look that made me think that this wasn’t the first time he had insisted the woman call him by his name.

Diane rolled her eyes at Shane then led the way. We followed behind her and he leaned in closer to whisper. “You can call me whatever you want.”

I bit my lip at the idea, wondering what creative name I could throw his way, but settled on replying with, “I sure hope you like being insulted then, Mr Hudson, because you’ve just left yourself wide open.”

“Insults, coming from your pretty lips, how could I ever be unhappy with that?” His left brow quirked, just a fraction, and then he was guiding me along to the table where Diane was waiting. She had pulled a chair out for me, but Shane took over, acting like the perfect gentleman.

Diane took our drinks order, and when she disappeared Shane began the routine that he no doubt had used with hundreds of girls before me. He complimented me, nothing specific, just generic words. Yet, they still had my heart fluttering and thighs clenching.

We scanned the menu, placed our orders, and then fell into easy conversation about our days. Shane asked questions, wanting to know more about my life and how I had come to work at Kim’s.

I sipped my wine as I told him all about my reckless teenage years, the ones that had ended with me leaving college with no degree and no prospects—not that I had ever expected much. After school I had taken a few years to travel, then when I came home, I had decided to enrol in an art course—the kind of course that was easy for someone as creative as me, but hard to take further, especially when I realised that I wasn’t that special, not compared to my classmates.

I could paint a pretty picture if I so chose to, but my skills were limited in other areas. Plus, I had no style, nothing that defined my work as my own, not like the others.

Between classes and partying, I had bagged myself a job in a coffee shop, serving little old ladies their tea and cake, and focused creative writers their fancy-pants coffee. It was nice, but it wasn’t paying well.

I needed more. And on a classic pub crawl with the girls in my class, I stumbled across Kim’s. I had known the place back when it had been a restaurant, owned by this lovely couple who had died in a tragic car accident a few years back.

It had been passed down to one of their daughters—Juno. She had turned it into a bar, and the moment I walked in I had felt like I was home. Sure, the place was a mess, nothing like the dream she had in her mind, but it had this heart to it that spoke to me.

Then I met Juno, and three drinks later, I was all but begging her to hire me. Desperate for money and a place to belong.

“She said no,” I explained. “Until she rang that last order bell and every person in that bar got to their feet and bombarded her with orders. I took my chance, I had no idea how to pull a pint, but I was going to damn well try. Much to her surprise, I jumped behind the bar and started to take orders, pouring what she later told me were the worst drinks she had ever witnessed being served. Thank god her customers weren’t fussy and were pretty damn intoxicated. Apparently, I served multiple beers that were fifty percent head.”

Shane laughed. God, that laugh was something else. Loud, free, filled with so much life. I wanted to hear it again, but my story was about to get depressing. So instead of going on, explaining to him about the death of my boss at the coffee shop, the moment that set off a domino effect of bad luck, I smiled and asked him how he had come to own a record label.

Shane leaned back in his chair, his thumb brushing back and forth over his lower lip. “That is a very long, very boring story, Cariño.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed after I had rambled on about my life for god knew how long. But he shook his head, clearly not wanting to share his story with me. So I changed the subject.

“Are you Spanish?” He could’ve been, with his complexion, that beautiful natural tan, and the wayCariñohad rolled off of his tongue so naturally.

“No, Cariño. But I have spent a very large portion of my life in Spain. It’s one of my favourite places to be.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke. “The food, the people, the sea. Oh, I’m a sucker for the sea—sandy beaches and fresh air.”

“Yet you live in London.”

Shane laughed again, reaching for his glass of wine. “That I do. But I can travel whenever I want to. For me, the sea is only a credit card swipe away.”

“And for me, it’s on my doorstep.” Well, down a hill, but that was just semantics.

Our food was placed down in front of us. I thanked Diane just as Shane’s phone started to ring. He checked the caller ID, then apologised to us both as he stood up and stepped away from the table, disappearing out of sight.

I sat awkwardly for some time, wondering if I should just start without him. When the cheese on my pizza had stopped glistening, cooled off enough to eat without worrying about burning the roof of my mouth, I picked up my knife and fork and began to eat.

Half of my pizza was gone by the time Shane returned, apologising profusely. “I am so sorry, Cariño. Someone very important to me needed me. I would never usually have disappeared like that. You deserve better, please, let me make it up to you.”

---