Jonathan Carter was no stranger to decadent pleasures. He’d spent a good deal of the past ten years indulging his whims, physical and otherwise. There had been a point in the early years of the new century when he’d experimented with quite a few things, including drugs and alcohol. He knew now, as he’d known then but hadn’t wanted to admit, that he was indulging himself to blot out the guilt of having an affair with Tara, his brother’s first wife, and for being such a disappointment to the family. It had taken a long time for him to reconcile himself with what he’d done; the type of man he was, and an even longer time to become the man he wanted to be.
This self-knowledge had come at a cost; he was afraid to become emotionally involved with anyone again, afraid of hurting them and of being hurt himself. It hadn’t escaped him that in this he shared much in common with his brother. The act of betrayal that had torn the two brothers apart ultimately had the same effect on their emotions and made them both afraid to take a leap and trust someone else. Matthew had shied away from relationships to concentrate on raising his daughter and developing the family business, and Jonathan had taken woman after woman to his bed but never his heart. But since he’d returned to Little Somerby, he felt as though something was changing. And, as he’d started spending more and more time with Caroline Hemingway, he realised that he was changing. There was something about the way she challenged him on everything that he found irresistible and their animated discussions about everything from cutlery to critics electrified him. Could it be that he was finally allowing someone into his heart?
This was all very well he thought, as he walked over to The Cider Kitchen late one evening, a few days after he’d seen Caroline babysitting Ellie and the day after one of their regular weekly meetings, but he still didn’t have the faintest clue what to do about it. Caroline had been clear that business was all she had in mind. He’d even said the same thing when they started working together. The trouble was, Jonathan was starting to think he wanted more.
As he approached the front door he couldn’t see anyone else in the restaurant. The front door, though, was still open, so he mooched in. Caroline must still be around, totalling up the night’s takings. No matter. He’d amuse himself until she came back through. He toyed with the idea of helping himself to a scotch from the optic behind the bar but settled instead for a glass of water and some leftover lemon. As he sipped his drink he contemplated the baby grand piano. It had been at least twenty years since he’d played; longer than that since he’d taken lessons, but suddenly his fingers itched. He picked up the glass from where he’d put it on the bar and ambled over to the piano.
For a split second when he sat down on the piano stool, he wondered if he dared play it. Should he? The restaurant was so quiet, the last customers having left as he’d approached, that it seemed sacrilegious to break the silence of the night. Somehow Ragtime didn’t quite seem appropriate. But he knew what did.
Drawing a deep breath, allowing the muscle memory to take over, Jonathan put his hands to the keys. As the melody came back to him and his left hand embraced the steady regularity of the bass, Jonathan realised that the piano, whilst a touch out of tune, was in remarkably good shape. The rhythm took over, his fingers moved with more certainty, picking up on the beauty of the melody until it all came back to him.
At some point during the piece, Jonathan became aware of a figure entering from the kitchen. Undeterred, he continued to play. The key to this piece was keeping the bass regular and though his left hand hadn’t kept time for years, he found it was coming back to him. Just as he was coming to the final cadences, Caroline drew closer. He felt her breath in his ear, blowing gently, and distracted, he missed his fingering in the melody, resulting in a flurry of wrong notes. Righting them resolutely, he finished the piece.
‘And how many women have you seduced with your rendition of the Moonlight Sonata?’ Caroline asked wryly.
‘You’d be surprised how well it works,’ Jonathan replied.
‘I bet.’ Caroline pulled out a chair from the table nearest the piano. ‘Frankly, if you’ve been expecting me to do a Michelle Pfeiffer and slither all over that piano, you’d better think again.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Jonathan replied, although the thought was more than a little erotic. ‘So,’ he said, turning round on the piano stool. ‘If I was to seduce you with a piece of music, what would it be?’
‘Do you really expect me to answer that?’ Caroline stretched back in the chair, raising slender arms above her head. ‘Besides, all I’ve done this evening is look at figures. I can’t think in musical terms after all that.’
‘Music is very mathematical,’ Jonathan said. ‘You might be surprised.’
‘I doubt it.’ Caroline put her arms down again. ‘Was there something you wanted?’
‘Just checking in,’ Jonathan said. ‘I don’t like to see you burning the candle at both ends.’
‘I don’t really have a choice at the moment,’ Caroline sighed. ‘If I don’t work every hour god sends, the balance sheets aren’t going to look very good at the quarterly meeting with your accountant.’
‘Then let me help,’ Jonathan said. ‘Carter’s can always advance you some more cash.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘No. We’ve talked about this before. If I don’t keep within the budget we set for this place it’ll feel like I’m failing.’
‘You know it’s not like that,’ Jonathan said.
Caroline sighed. ‘I know. But there’s nothing you can do, unless you want to do a few shifts waiting tables tomorrow night.’
‘I think I might just cramp your style,’ Jonathan replied. He looked thoughtful. ‘But perhaps there is a solution.’
‘What, get myself a magic wand or nick Hermione Granger’s Time Turner?’
‘Hermione who?’ Jonathan asked.
‘You really don’t read anything except women’s phone numbers, do you?’ Caroline teased, although her heart wasn’t in it. ‘Never mind. The point is, I don’t have time or money to think any further than the end of the month at the moment. If you advance me more cash to cover the day to day costs, then we’ll eat into our profit margin.’
‘OK, OK,’ Jonathan held up his hands. ‘But I can tell you’re knackered and you haven’t had much time off since this place opened.’ He paused. ‘Although perhaps there is an answer.’
‘What?’
‘What about Emma? You said at our meeting that she handled herself brilliantly the other night when you babysat Ellie and she could do with a fulltime job.’
‘We don’t have the budget to pay her full time. One night a week is one thing, but taking her on for more hours is quite another.’
‘Yes, I know that,’ Jonathan said. ‘But what if you offered her a fifty-fifty sous chef and front of house apprenticeship? You’d save a few quid on her salary and she’d get the chance to train for both jobs. You know she wants to do both and it would give you a night or two off a week. She knows this place really well, so you wouldn’t have to spend too much time training her up. What do you reckon?’
Jonathan had that flash in his clear blue eyes that immediately told Caroline it would be useless to argue. Besides, she admitted grudgingly, he did actually have a point. ‘OK,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ll raise the idea with her when she comes in tomorrow. So long as she realises we can’t pay her much.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be more than happy,’ Jonathan said gently. ‘She loves this place and she and Gino are a good team. If we ever decide to open up another restaurant, we could put her in as head chef eventually.’
‘Another one?’ Caroline snorted. ‘Don’t you have enough on your plate overseeing this one? You seem to spend enough time here!’
‘It’s because I love spending time with you, darling,’ he said lightly. ‘I’m not fussed about this place really.’
‘I’m sure,’ Caroline smiled despite herself. A pause descended between them. With a jolt, Caroline realised that, without much of a combative discussion, she and Jonathan had agreed on a possible solution. Subject to Emma’s agreement, of course. ‘Thank you,’ she said in surprise. ‘I think we might have sorted it.’ Suddenly, a yawn overtook her. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered.
‘You need to get to bed,’ Jonathan stood up. ‘Can I walk you to your door?’
Caroline grinned in spite of her tiredness. ‘Kind of you, but I think I can make it upstairs by myself. I’ll see you soon.’
Jonathan walked to the front door of the restaurant and gave her a last smile. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Carter,’ Caroline said. And with that, Jonathan headed home.