A Moment on the Lips - By Kate Hardy Page 0,27

years—and we’ve always used organic produce.

Only the best. We’ve used the same suppliers for years and years and years,’ Carenza said. ‘Nonno says if you don’t use the best, you can’t produce the best.’

‘Years and years and years, hmm? That sounds like a rut to me. You always need to audit your suppliers every so often and check that they’re still giving you the best value for money,’ Dante said. ‘Just because they’ve been the best in the past, it doesn’t mean they’re the best now. New people come along with new ideas and new technologies, and things change.’

‘So I sack my suppliers, even though we go way back?’ She bit her lip. ‘That feels a bit—well, ruthless.’

‘I’m not saying you have to replace them. I’m saying you need to audit them and find out if they can do you a better deal than they’re offering now. It’s standard business practice. The way your figures are going,’ he said softly, ‘you’ll be out of business within a year. And that means you’ll have to let all your staff go.’

‘But surely it’s just the recession, and everything will be OK once the economy’s back to normal?’

‘You’re in the same market as I am. Not a competitor, because you’re in a different segment,’ he reminded her, ‘but my restaurants aren’t facing the same problems you are, so it’s not just the recession. Look at your costs, Princess. Are there other organic suppliers that can give you better deals?’

‘So I just ring them up and say, hi, I’m Carenza Tonielli, give me a quote?’

‘Yup.’ He looked at her. ‘Tell me who you use now. I’ll ask them for a quote—and then you can compare that to what they offer you. That and the competitor quotes will help you drive their price down to a more reasonable level, if you want to keep using them.’

‘But they have to make money, too.’

‘Agreed—but, right now, my guess is they’re making a little too much out of you. Time to get some balance back.’

‘Thank you, Dante. I really do appreciate your help.’

He shrugged. ‘Prego, Princess.’

She was sure he called her that purely to annoy her. Though in a strange kind of way it was becoming an endearment. There wasn’t an edge to his voice any more when he called her ‘Princess’. There was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define, but something she hoped might just grow.

For pudding, she’d organised something special.

‘Is this another of your experiments?’ he asked as she delved in the freezer.

She laughed. ‘Yes. But you’ll like this one. I promise it’s not parmesan. Though I bet that parmesan ice cream would do well in a trendy London restaurant.’

‘Where they care more about the presentation than the taste?’ He grimaced. ‘This is Naples, Princess. That means substance over style.’

She fished a spoon out of the drawer, and unclipped the lid from the plastic tub.

‘Chocolate,’ he said as soon as he saw the ice cream.

‘Better-than-sex chocolate,’ she corrected, feeding him a spoonful.

‘Nope. It’s good, but it’s not that good.’ He gave her a speculative look. ‘Or maybe we should take this to bed, so I can compare them side by side …’

‘You are not getting gianduja ice cream all over my sheets,’ she said. ‘I’ll never get the marks out.’

He laughed. ‘You’re such a princess. Do you even do your own laundry?’

Her answer was to drop a spoonful of ice cream down the neck of his shirt.

‘Oh, now that was a severely bad move, Princess.’

It took him thirty seconds to get them both naked on her kitchen floor.

Ten more to smear her with ice cream.

And rather a lot longer to lick it off. By the time he’d finished, Carenza was sated and smiling.

‘I think we’ve established that the ice cream—good as it is—is still second best. You can’t bill it as “better than sex” ice cream on your menu,’ he teased.

‘Uh. Let me get some brain cells back before I have to answer you,’ she groaned. ‘And I’m still sticky.’

‘You started it,’ he pointed out.

And she’d enjoyed every second of it. She loved it when Dante stopped being serious and became her teasing, exuberant lover. And she wanted more of this. Much more. ‘I need a shower.’ She licked a smear of ice cream from his abdomen. ‘So do you.’

‘Is that an offer?’

‘Might be.’ She gave him her sexiest pout. ‘Interested?’

His answer was to pick her up and carry her to the shower. She’d run out of hot water by the time they’d finished, but