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‘Tourist season starts at the end of June, yes? I suspect we’ll be turning customers away before July draws to a close.’
    ‘You do?’ she breathed, captivated by his confidence.
    He smiled the slow, close-lipped smile she already knew must be habitual. Again, he lowered his eyes. He smoothed the edge of the table just as she had, but the gesture was different when he did it — sensual, as if it weren’t a table he was touching. ‘I have a secret weapon.’
    ‘You do?’ she said again, then pinched her thigh for being such a ninny. She managed this place, for goodness sake. She had a business degree from a respected university. Her family counted on her to keep her head and make sensible decisions. ‘I mean, I’d need to know the secret weapon before I hired you.’
    ‘Have you eaten?’
    She shook her head. ‘I usually grab something after I’ve finished cleaning up.’
    ‘Well you won’t have to grab anything tonight.’ His eyes twinkled with devilment. ‘Tonight I will lay the secret in your hands.’
    *   *   *
    The delectable Abby Coates led him through the dining room and past the servers’ station. She tripped twice on the wide pine floorboards and stammered when she tried to speak. Her flusterment, obviously the result of a budding attraction, turned Storm’s cock to hot, pounding stone. She was enchanting, adorable, fresh as the first spring crocus. He could hardly wait to slide between her plump pink thighs and drive them both to completion.
    He would wait, though, of course. He liked to prolong the process of seduction as much as possible. No afters without starters was his motto, even if the afters were ready to leap on to your plate at the first crook of a finger.
    He nodded in approval at the spotless, well-appointed kitchen. Too many owners, tired at the end of a sixteen-hour day, left the mess until morning. He was glad to see this woman shared his passion for cleanliness.
    Clearly, she deserved a special reward.
    Without asking permission, he walked into the unlocked storeroom; that would have to change, too, he thought, and pawed through the materials on hand. When he found a bag of pine nuts, the decision was made.
    ‘Angel-hair pasta with fresh fennel pesto,’ he said.
    She responded with a squeak. He knew the cost of the ingredients alarmed her. He silenced her protest with a level stare, one that said: Don’t you think you deserve it? She backed down with a nervous smile.
    He made quick work of the sauce, pouring boiling water over the tomatoes and throwing the fennel, garlic and basil into the food processor. He’d been cooking professionally since the age of sixteen — twelve if you counted his apprenticeship with Mrs Kozlakis, their neighbour in Montreal. At this stage of his career, preparation was more art than mechanics. He didn’t measure. He didn’t fuss. He always knew precisely what he was doing, no matter how many pots he had going.
    The pasta he cooked al dente . He drained it with a flourishing toss better suited to a Teppanyaki chef. Show-off, he thought, but he couldn’t restrain himself.
    Abby had long since pulled a stool over to the workstation, where she watched his every move with wide-eyed awe. Her nipples had puckered like currants beneath her pink cashmere twin set. He knew some women thought watching a man cook was sexy. He was glad she was one of them, even if his trousers had grown uncomfortably tight.
    He pursed his lips in amusement as he tossed pasta and pesto together. Should he warn her precisely how many aphrodisiac ingredients this fragrant dish contained? The pine nuts, the basil and the olive oil were loaded with boron, vitamin E and zinc, libido boosters all. The fennel contained trace amounts of estragole, a mild hallucinogenic. Moreover, if Mrs Kozlakis could be trusted — and Storm thought she could — the merest whiff of raw garlic was guaranteed to get anyone’s blood pumping.
    But perhaps it would be more scientific not to