Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,128

under The Statue and glanced around at the crowds of people arriving from their destinations or setting out on their holidays armed with cases and bags. Her stomach churned with excitement and nerves but for the first time in weeks they were happy nervous fluttering’s and looking at her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, she looked up to see him striding down the concourse towards her.

She caught her breath at the sight of him. It wasn’t just the fact she hadn’t seen him for two weeks it was more because he looked so incredibly sexy. Ooh, la, la, she murmured as her heart began to race and the blood seemed to pump through her veins at a rate of knots. He was tanned; his hair was cut much shorter than usual and he wore a grey T shirt tucked into slim black jeans. He even seemed to be walking differently with his shoulders pulled back and his head held high while swinging his leather holdall. A couple of young girls noticed his jaunty swagger and turned to check him out which made her glow with pride and pleasure. Hands off girls, she thought, he’s all mine.

Much like his father, he’d never been a demonstrative person and would normally have greeted her in public with a reserved kiss on the cheek but this was, he decided, time to ring-in the changes and as soon as he got close enough to her he picked her up in a bear hug and swung her up into the air much to the obvious delight of passers-by.

“Put me down!” she squealed giggling and he saw the happiness shining from her lovely eyes.

He looked her up and down drinking her in. “Jeez, Kate, you look sensational”.

Feeling flustered but laughing, she smoothed her dress down carefully while he held her at arm’s length.

She beamed at him. “And you’ve scrubbed up pretty well yourself.”

“What a home-coming. It’s fantastic to be back and especially to have you waiting for me,” he said, draping a protective arm around her shoulders while they strolled into the St Pancras Grand Champagne Bar.

It was the first time she’d been into the bar and was awestruck by the grand décor of high, gold leaf-clad ceilings, plush leather seating, elegant lighting and cleverly positioned mirrors. She slithered elegantly up onto a stool at the bar and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm herself because she felt giddy with happiness and excitement.

He sat on the stool opposite her and rubbed his hands together in anticipation while he read through the menu. “It says the Champagne Bar is hoping to combine the romance of travel from a bygone era and is fabulously British.”

“Well, I think they’ve managed that,” she said looking around. “It looks absolutely lovely.”

“Champagne?” he asked, “And maybe oysters?”

“I’ll leave that to you,” she said provocatively and gazed longingly into his eyes.

He ordered half a dozen oysters from Mersea Island in Essex, and a bottle of Lanson Black Label NV champagne, then took her right hand in between both of his.

“It seems strange,” she said. “It’s almost as if we’re on a first date and yet, I know you as well as I know myself?”

He squeezed her hand tightly. “Well, that’s good isn’t it?” he asked. “It means we can have all the thrill of a first date but know from experience what fun we’re going to have later.”

“Hmm,” she uttered and then gasped when she saw the blatant sexual hunger in his eyes.

She pulled him gently towards her and whispered in his ear. “You know it was rumoured that Casanova ate over fifty raw oysters a day to boost his libido. And allegedly, they are at their most potent when eaten raw!”

While the waiter poured out glasses of champagne Tim let go of her hand and sat back on the stool looking at her with smouldering, passion driven eyes. Idly, he traced a finger down the side of her arm which made the small hairs stand to attention and a longing in the pit of her stomach.

“And the Romans claimed that women were reckless after they ate giant oysters,” she said sipping the champagne.

Her mind was racing; he was here, it was happening, and she was back with her Tim. The feeling of euphoria made her feel reckless and totally carefree - she squirmed on the stool and re-crossed her legs knowing the split in her wrap-over dress had fallen to the side

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