MacAllister's Baby (6 page)

Elisabeth looked at the knife. It looked like the one in that shower scene in
Psycho.
‘I don’t need to learn,’ she protested.

‘I’m surprised.’ His voice was a low, intimate, throaty sound that made the hairs on the back of Elisabeth’s neck stand up. ‘I thought a good teacher would never pass up an opportunity to learn something new.’

After that, she had no choice. The man was a master manipulator of people as well as cookware. Elisabeth took the knife.

Angus produced a bag of vegetables from one of the fridges and before she knew it Elisabeth found herself julienning a carrot and admiring his teaching style.

She put the enormous knife down to watch him instructing Danny and Jennifer. Their concentration was complete as he praised them and gave them tips. He was gentle with Jennifer, and casual and jokey with Danny. They were learning.

And so was she.

People didn’t just like Angus MacAllister because he was a famous, good-looking chef. They liked him because he was a consummate charmer. He went out of his way to pay attention to others. He figured out what would appeal to them. And he had a gift of appearing totally, transparently sincere, as if he actually cared about what he was doing and whom he was talking to.

It must’ve been a useful skill for him to have in those hours he was sweating and working his way to the top. It was probably useful to him with all those women he was supposed to be seeing, too.

At least she could relax about one thing. Angus MacAllister wasn’t flirting with her because he was interested in her. He was doing it because he acted that way with everybody. It was second nature to him.

She picked up the knife and started on another carrot. She could stop worrying about the kids, for now; whatever Angus’s motivations were for the future of this project, today he was teaching them.

She let her body settle into her chopping rhythm. Up and down, stack the carrot slices, slice into matchsticks and push into a neat pile. Usually she didn’t bother about what her food looked like or how it was cut, but this had a certain satisfaction.

‘It’ll be easier if you let the knife do the work instead of your arm.’ Angus’s voice was soft in her ear. She started, nearly dropping the knife.

‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people who are holding knives.’ She glanced back over her shoulder at him; he was only inches away. The knife handle became slick in her suddenly perspiring hands.

‘Just trying to help. Here, let me show you.’ He stood closer to her and put his arms around her from behind, his hands over her own. His breath tickled her ear and sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Just lift your wrist. Let the knife point stay on the board. Like this.’

He guided her hands, his grip firm, gentle, and utterly compelling. Up and down on the board, rocking the knife.

His arms embraced her. His body behind her was hot, tall, controlled strength. She could smell him: lemony aftershave, the onion on his hands, and the sensual smell of himself.

‘We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier,’ he murmured to her. ‘How about we go for another coffee after this? The skim milk’s on me.’

She couldn’t see his face; she could only see his corded wrists, his ravaged, competent hands. They covered hers completely and controlled her movements.

She checked on the children; Danny was searching through a refrigerator, and Jennifer was working on an apple, watching it closely as she produced a long unbroken spiral of red peel. Thank God.

‘No, thank you,’ she said.

‘See, this is exactly what we need to talk about. You keep on acting the dignified schoolteacher with me. I know there’s more to you underneath.’

‘And what makes you think that?’ she asked, keeping her voice steady.

His breath feathered on her neck before he answered, and sent a thrill down her spine that tightened her breasts, made her nipples harden underneath her thin shirt.

‘Because of the way you make me feel,’ he said.

Oh-h-h, damn him again.

She knew it was a line. She knew he flattered and flirted. She knew it meant precisely nothing.

But her heart leapt, her breath caught, and her insides melted, because he sounded as if he were telling the truth.

‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

‘And I want to change that. Come for coffee, dinner, whatever you like. I want to get to know you.’

She watched his hands and hers on the knife. They made a rhythm together. Up, down, up, down, sensual and hypnotic. Slicing the carrot to ribbons.

‘Mr MacAllister, there are children in the room, and I don’t think this is appropriate.’ She twisted her shoulders as if she wanted to shake him off.

He took his hands off hers and stepped back. The desired effect, and yet Elisabeth wanted his arms around her again.

‘I agree,’ he said quietly. ‘So let’s go somewhere else together, after we’ve finished here. If you say no, I’m going to keep on asking until you say yes, so you might as well save us both some time.’

Elisabeth looked around the room again to check if Danny and Jennifer were watching. They were both absorbed in their knife-work. Even if they’d seen, they probably wouldn’t think anything of it; Angus’s actions would appear like a bit of harmless flirtation to an outside observer. They wouldn’t be able to see the full sexual meltdown she’d been going through.

Angus could, though. She could see it when she looked at him; his smile, the invitation in his eyes. Her cheeks felt flushed, her joints loose, and when she glanced down she saw that her hard nipples were visible through her bra and thin top.

Why hadn’t she put on a sweater this morning? Or full-body chain mail?

‘Don’t you want to?’ Angus asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Wanting has nothing to do with it. I’m not going to. Thank you for inviting me.’

His smile was slow and self-assured. ‘Wanting has everything to do with it, Elisabeth.’

Cocky so-and-so. Elisabeth reached for another carrot. She lay it down carefully on the chopping board. Then she caught his gaze and held it.

‘No, Chef,’ she said. And brought her huge knife down onto the carrot, hard, thwacking it in half.

Angus winced.

‘I get it,’ he said.
‘“There is no following her in this fierce vein.”’

Shakespeare. He was quoting
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Elisabeth blinked.

‘You’ll say yes eventually,’ Angus said, and grinned at her, and went back to helping the kids.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘E
SSENTIALLY
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
is about problems with love.’

Elisabeth sat on top of her desk and surveyed her year seven class, most of whom were encountering untranslated Shakespeare for the first time in their lives.

‘The characters are in this magical forest where anything can happen. Helena was in love with Demetrius and he didn’t love her back. So now, when suddenly he’s acting as if he’s in love with her, because he’s had a spell cast on him by the fairies, she doesn’t trust him. She thinks he’s making fun of her.’

Jimmy Peto raised his hand and, as usual, started speaking at the same time without waiting for Elisabeth to call on him. ‘If Candy Coleman suddenly fell in love with me I wouldn’t care, miss. I’d just get with her.’

The class erupted into sniggers. Elisabeth smiled, and quieted the twelve-year-olds with a movement of her hand.

‘Well, that’s understandable, Jimmy, but think about what happens in the rest of the play, what happens when somebody falls in love with the wrong person. They either make fools of themselves, or they get hurt.’

‘Yeah,’ said Jimmy. He furrowed his little forehead. ‘Love pretty much stinks. It’s better to stick with football.’

This time, Elisabeth didn’t even try to silence the class. She let them chatter and laugh while they gave in their copies of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
and packed away their things. Best to let the class end on a positive note, and she could do with the two minutes of time before the bell rang for the end of the day. Today was Friday, the day of Angus’s sixth lesson with Jennifer and Danny.

Lessons two through five had gone pretty much like lesson one. Angus had turned up, flirted, helped Jennifer and Danny with their cooking, and made Elisabeth cook too. She’d learned how to make Béarnaise, hollandaise, and mayonnaise. She could bake a cake; she could roll a spring roll. Not as well as the kids could; they had natural flair and instincts and seemed to know what flavours would go together without even tasting them first. But she could do it, more or less.

And every lesson, Angus had asked her out.

She’d thought that habit would make her less susceptible to Angus. Surely she couldn’t feel such a thrill every time she saw him. She’d get used to him.

Not a chance.

It was like an electric shock to see him, the air was charged and exciting when he was in the room. When she got home on Wednesday and Friday nights, her muscles were tense from controlling her actions and her head throbbed from controlling her thoughts. It was as if the past three weeks had been one long, torturous session of foreplay.

Foreplay that would never be consummated, because Elisabeth did not intend to say yes to Angus.

The bell rang, and the class filed out, eager to start their weekend. Elisabeth knew she should head straight down to the food technology room; Jennifer and Danny were always quick to get there, and now that Angus knew his way around the school he was often setting up the equipment and ingredients they needed before anyone else arrived.

Elisabeth, on the other hand, lingered for as long as she could possibly do in good conscience. She was reluctant to be in the room alone with him without the students around.

He might touch her again. Put his hands on her, draw her close to his body. And she wanted that to happen far too much to be able to risk it.

The door opened and Joanna popped her head in. ‘Got a minute, or do you have to run to the gorgeous chef?’

‘I’ve got a minute.’

Jo came in, flopped into a student chair, and pulled a chocolate bar from her pocket. ‘I have some news. Danny hasn’t been in detention for three and a half weeks. Ever since starting the cooking lessons.’

Elisabeth sat down hard in her own chair. ‘Wow.’

‘Uh huh. It’s working, isn’t it?’ Jo knocked on a desk, decided it wasn’t wood, and knocked on her head instead. ‘You and Angus are doing a great job.’

Angus was doing the great job. He called every shot in that kitchen. And apparently had had an effect on the students outside it, too. She shook her head, marvelling.

‘Amazing,’ she said.

Jo nodded and changed the subject. ‘Okay, so I know this guy who is dying to go out with you. He’s Welsh. I think he’s got the cutest accent. And, listen, he’s a champion ballroom dancer. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? He could teach you how to tango.’ She put her chocolate bar between her teeth like a rose, held out her arms in a tango position and hummed a few bars of Latin-sounding music.

‘A Welsh tango-dancer. Tempting, but no.’ Elisabeth tidied up her desk, stacking her marking on one side.

Jo gave up on her fake dancing and unwrapped her chocolate instead. ‘Okay, so if you’re saying no to all my suggestions I certainly hope you’re getting some good ogling time with Angus MacAllister. Has he offered to cook for you yet? Privately?’

‘Yes.’

‘Great! When are you getting together?’

‘We’re not. I said no.’

Joanna stopped, mid-bite of her chocolate, and put it down on a desk. ‘Sunflower Elisabeth Read.’

Elisabeth jumped forward and clapped her hand over Jo’s mouth. ‘Don’t you dare say my whole name out loud in school. I’d never hear the end of it if the students found out.’

Jo shook her head and Elisabeth uncovered her mouth.

‘You said no to him?’ Jo said. ‘Are you insane? The man has two Michelin stars. And he’s completely beautiful. If it were me I’d say yes in a split second and then make sure we worked up a good appetite together first.’

‘Well, I said no.’ Elisabeth couldn’t help giggling at Jo’s shocked expression. ‘I have seen his big chopper though.’

‘Tell me you’re not talking about a knife.’

Elisabeth shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

‘What else have you said no to?’

She counted off on her fingers. ‘Coffee. A drink. A launch party. A weekend in the country. A movie première.
Hamlet
in Stratford.’

Jo whistled. ‘All that? None of it appealed?’

‘I’m not saying it didn’t appeal. It’s not what I want, that’s all.’

‘Liz, the man’s rich and famous and sexy and single and he helps children. He wants to take you out and show you a great time, and you deserve it. Go out with him. Let him flatter you and feed you and make you have fun.’

‘I don’t want fun. I want security. I want somebody who’ll always be there for me. I want children.’

At the word her eyes suddenly burned.

Oh, no. She’d decided to stop feeling bad about this.

Jo sat forward on her desk. ‘Elisabeth, is this about the bab—?’

‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ Elisabeth said firmly. ‘It’s finished. What matters now is that I’m looking for somebody permanent, not somebody who wants to show me a good time.’

‘You mean you want to get married,’ Jo said. ‘You grew up with crazy hippy parents in Canada and you want a normal middle-class life.’

She felt safer now; the lump in her throat had almost gone. ‘You make it sound like it’s boring. But my parents never got married. There was nothing keeping them together.’

‘But they did stay together. They’re together still, aren’t they? On that commune or wherever?’

‘Yes. But I never felt safe. I never had any rules, anything to make me feel secure. I don’t want—’ She stopped before she said the words
my children.
‘I don’t want to live like that.’

Jo was watching her carefully. ‘It doesn’t do you any good to keep everything inside, Elisabeth. You had a bad experience not long ago. It’s okay to feel sad sometimes, and to tell your friends about it. I’m trying to make you happier.’