Melting Ms Frost

Chapter One

ONE

‘Let’s get to work then,’ the redhead in the razor-cut skirt suit snapped, pivoting on her heel to bring an end to the pre-dinner staff meeting. Without so much as a glance to the left or right, she marched off towards the kitchens and the office space beyond, leaving the click of her strides to cut through the silence blanketing the restaurant dining room in her wake.

From where he leant back against the glossy expanse of the lacquered cherry wood bar, arms folded over his chest and one ankle crossed in front of the other, Aidan Flynn kept his features schooled and gave her retreating form an appraising once-over. Starting at the tightly rolled twist of her hair, he ran his gaze past the rigid set of her shoulders to the purposeful swing of her hips – then followed the long line of her legs all the way down to the soles of her spiked black stilettos before releasing a slow whistle under his breath.

So. That was the woman he’d been hearing so much about. Café Cluny’s general manager, Ms Annabel Frost. His immediate boss.

Beginning the visual ascent back up over her tailored curves, he had to admit that as far as first impressions went, she made a hell of an impact. Not least because she actually seemed to live up to every word of warning he’d received from his colleagues during the week he’d been on the job. There’d been so many horror stories, so gleefully imparted, that he’d taken a lot of what he’d heard with a good-humoured pinch of salt, suspecting the truth had been embellished as part of some joke to wind up the new boy.

But having just seen the alleged villain of those tales in action for himself, he had to assume that most of the gossip was, in fact, true. Despite having never met him before, she’d treated him with the same cool indifference she had the rest of the staff, singling him out only when he’d spoken up to make a point of introducing himself – and only for the shortest and sharpest of exchanges. Even fresh back from a week’s leave, the only chilled vibe Ms Frost was giving off was an eyebrow-icing arctic blast.

She was stunning too, no question. That striking ruby-red dye job and matching lipstick lent her a vibrant air severely at odds with the glacial personality that characterised her name to a T. It had been a good thing she’d demanded the room’s undivided attention when she’d swept in a short time earlier, as he doubted he’d have been able to drag his fascinated gaze away from her even if he’d wanted to. From what he’d been admiring of her alabaster complexion and green eyes, he’d bet his boots there was a natural redhead lurking beneath all that cosmetically manufactured armour – because armour was exactly what that polished and prickly exterior represented, he had no doubt. There was more to Annabel Frost than met the casual eye, and just what it was she was trying to hide behind that tough outer shell had him intrigued.

It wasn’t until the kitchen door swung closed behind her, the sight prompting a collective sigh of relief to hiss around him like so many punctured tyres, that his attention was pulled from its internal reverie and back into the midst of the loosely gathered group of his colleagues.

‘The Bitch is back,’ one of the commis chefs muttered as the starched white huddle of kitchen staff broke away and started towards their shiny steel domain without any of the irreverent banter Aidan had grown accustomed to hearing from them over the past week.

The rest of the staff began dispersing to complete their interrupted preparations for a busy service. Amid the subdued, grumbling shuffle, Tim, the fair-haired head waiter who’d taken a far more amiable approach to the role of acting manager in Annabel Frost’s absence, stopped by the bar and clapped a palm on Aidan’s shoulder. ‘Sorry to have to say I told you so, mate,’ he commiserated privately in his chummy, Australian twang.

Before Aidan had a chance to answer, sweet-natured Donna was there as well, using the guise of friendly concern to lay a hand on his forearm just below the turn-up of his white shirt sleeves, the touch to his bare flesh as suggestive as it was shy. ‘She had no right to treat you that way, Aidan.’ She gazed up at him prettily, eyes shining with empathy and open infatuation. ‘You mustn’t let her get you down.’