The Forbidden Prince

‘We’re going to need more water glasses soon. And don’t forget the lemon slices and sprigs of mint in the carafes.’

‘Okay.’ Rafe had a huge apron on and a dish brush in his hand. He started to push a pile of plates further towards the sinks so that Mika had room to put hers down.

‘Careful...’ Without thinking, Mika caught his hand. ‘Margaret’s left cutlery between the plates. That whole pile could topple and smash on the floor.’ She could feel the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Had it been soaking in hot water for too long to feel as if it was burning her? Hastily, she pulled her hand away and scooped up the knives and forks on her top plate to put them into the big, sudsy bucket on the floor. Pierre, the last dish-washer, had trained her not to drop them too fast and splash his legs.

‘Thanks.’ Rafe cast an eye over his shoulder and lowered his voice. ‘I don’t want to annoy him again. He had to show me how to run the dishwasher twice.’

Mika smiled. ‘Gianni’s bark is worse than his bite. He’s a pretty good chef.’

‘Service... Table eight.’

‘Oh, that’s me...’ Mika turned swiftly, uncomfortably aware that she’d been distracted. ‘Behind,’ she called in warning on her way to the pass, as one of the other waitresses backed through the swing door with another tray of dirty dishes. Would she have room to dump them on the bench? Rafe was going to have to work faster if he wanted to get this job. He might not even get a break, at the rate he was going.

There were plenty of water glasses on the shelf the next time she settled new customers and every carafe was decorated with mint and lemon. This was good. Rafe hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d promised Marco that he was a fast learner. Mika delivered another tray of coffees to the table where her boss was sitting—as usual—with a couple of his mates, right on the footpath, so he could greet anyone else he knew and keep an eye on how the whole café was functioning. If things got really crazy, he would pitch in to help, or sometimes he would just wander around to check that everybody was enjoying their time in Positano’s best café. He had the best job, which was fair enough, given that he was the owner of the establishment.

Poor Rafe had the worst job but he seemed to be managing. Mika stopped worrying about him as the day sped on. It wasn’t her problem if he didn’t like the work or didn’t get offered a paid job, was it? She’d repaid her debt by giving him dinner and a place to stay last night. Finding him work was just a bonus.

Except...

She liked him. And she liked having him around. Instead of grumpy Pierre, whom she had to be careful not to splash, she could look forward to a smile every time she carried dirty dishes out the back.

It was growing on her, that smile.

The other waitresses must be getting smiled at too, she decided. There was a faint undercurrent of something different amongst her colleagues today. They seemed to be putting more effort into being charming with the customers. Was it her imagination or was Margaret, the English girl who was here to improve her Italian, making more frequent trips to the kitchen than usual? She’d spotted Bianca reapplying her lipstick more than once and Alain, the gay barista, had even gone to collect clean coffee cups himself instead of calling for one of the waitresses to do it.

No surprises there. Hospitality workers were usually young, travelling and eager for any fun that came their way. Rafe was new.

And gorgeous...

It was his eyes even more than that smile. The warmth in them. And that wicked gleam of humour. Would she ever forget the way he’d looked at her over that slice of pizza that she’d already taken the huge bite out of? It had been a silly joke but he’d bought right into it and for a heartbeat, as she’d been caught in his gaze, she’d felt like she’d known him for ever.

Like he was her best friend. Or the brother she’d never had.

‘Sorry?’ Mika had to scrabble to retrieve her pad from the pocket of her apron. She pulled her pencil from behind her ear. ‘Was that one seafood risotto?’

‘Two.’ The customer glared at her. ‘And the linguine with lobster. And side salads. And we need some more water.’

‘No problem. Coming right up.’

Mika stepped over a sleeping poodle, dodged a small child and turned sideways to give Margaret room to carry a tray past her.

‘Thanks, hon.’

Margaret had a nice smile, too. And long blonde hair. And legs that went on for ever under that short skirt.