British Bachelors: Fabulous and Famous. Kate Hardy
paused, then glanced up at the woman who had looked after his interests since he was seventeen. ‘Come on, Sally. You know this was never about the money. Every penny I have earned on the TV shows and personal appearances has gone into my mum’s account.’
‘And last time I checked, the investment plan we worked on was doing very nicely and bringing in a respectable income to cover her not-so-little spending sprees. But how long is that going to last? You are top news at the moment. But once you move back into your kitchen the focus will shift onto the next hot new chef and Rob Beresford will not be the man of the moment any longer. And you can stop glaring at me. Because I’m not the only person who has got their head about that fact. So far I have had three enquiries from documentary film companies. Every one of them wants the exclusive rights to a behind-the-scenes exposé of the real Rob Beresford. And if you don’t take part they will make them anyway. That’s the way it goes.’
There were a few seconds of silence before Rob responded in a low voice. ‘Are you telling me that someone else is planning to write my life story without even asking me?’
‘Absolutely. That’s why you should think about it. Because you know what would happen if they did. They are bound to focus on the one thing we’ve worked hard to keep in the background.’
Rob pushed himself shakily to his feet and walked stiffly over to the window, his shoulders rigid with stress. ‘My mother would not survive. It took her months to pull back from the last bout of depression and I can’t force her to take the medication while she is painting. It has to be her choice. That was what we agreed.’
‘Then tell the story the way you want to before somebody else does.’
‘Tell my story? You think the readers would want to know about all of the gruelling years I spent in hotel kitchens? There is nothing exciting and glamorous about that way of life.’
Rob rolled back his shoulders and winced. ‘Speaking of which, I have an appointment with a baker and something tells me that I had better not be late.’
Sally coughed low in her throat and looked at him over the top of her spectacles. ‘A baker? Today? I thought you would be spending time at the gallery with Adele.’
‘I’ll explain later, Sally...if I survive.’
* * *
It was mid-morning before Rob pushed open the door to Lottie’s Cake Shop and Tea Rooms and stepped inside.
And almost whirled around on one heel and went straight back out again.
Because he had just walked into what looked like a children’s tea party, complete with ear-damaging levels of laughing, calling out and crying, some sort of jangling music, and a group of toddlers swaying their bodies from side to side and waving their hands in the air just in front of the serving counter while the girl he now knew to be Lottie Rosemount was conducting the dancing with a large wooden spoon.
She was wearing wide-leg navy trousers and a floral T-shirt covered with a large navy apron with a picture of a cupcake on it. Her blonde hair was tied back in a high ponytail and a pretty navy-and-white headband drew attention to an oval face that even without a trace of make-up still managed to be stunningly pretty.
This was the place that Sean’s girlfriend, Dee, loved so much?
He had survived restaurant opening nights that were quieter and more in control than this!
After a ninety-hour week and several international flights the last thing he wanted to do was join in a school party. His job was to earn the money so that his mother never had to worry about having nothing in the bank ever again.
But when could he ever refuse her anything?
She was the one and only woman on the planet who he had promised to take care of for as long as she needed him.
And he kept his promises. Even if that meant turning up to a small high-street bakery on a weekday morning.
‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ Lottie called out. ‘That was simply amazing. Disco dancing and sporting stars of the future. No doubt about it. And don’t forget, the Yummy Mummy club meets at the same time next week. So if you are ready to say the word about the one thing we all love best in the whole world...wait for it, Helena, and please stop doing that, Adam...three...two...one. Let’s have a great big...cake!’
Rob winced and half closed one eye as the wannabe dance troupe screamed out the word and then they all burst into a barrage of yelling and screaming and calling and jumping up and down.
All he could do was stand to one side as the actually very yummy mummies wrestled their little darlings into submission and baby buggies and in some cases reins and shuffled past him towards the entrance and the busy London street outside on the pavement.
Holding the door open for them seemed like a good idea. The first time.
Except that the second each lovely mummy spotted him smiling politely at them the forward movement onto the pavement slowed down to the point where a very rowdy and disorderly queue had formed in the cake shop.
‘Hello, handsome. Has anyone ever told you that you look a bit like that horrible rude chef that shouts a lot on the telly?’ The second girl shrugged. ‘Only not as good-looking. Sort off.’ Then she covered her hand with her mouth and laughed before shuffling off.
‘I get that a lot. No problem,’ Rob called after her with a quick wave before helping a very attractive brunette with her buggy. His reward was a beaming smile and a small business card popped into his shirt pocket with a cheeky wink while the little girl in the buggy amused herself by painting the jam from her donut onto the leg of his trousers.
Charming.
Five minutes later he had to physically unwrap the fingers of one charming cherub from his jacket and slide backwards into the cake shop. In an instant he closed the door tight behind him, his back flat against the glass, and exhaled slowly.
‘It must be nice to be so popular.’ A familiar female voice chuckled and Rob opened his eyes to see Lottie staring at him from behind the counter. ‘Are you available next Thursday morning? I’m thinking of doing Zumba for the under-fives. You would be a great hit for the lovely mums.’
‘Sorry. Previous booking. And please tell me that it’s not always like that.’
‘Oh, no,’ Lottie tutted. ‘Sometimes it can be quite rowdy.’ Then she smiled. ‘But brilliant fun for the kids. They have the best time and the mums have a chance to meet their pals. I love it.’ Then she pressed her lips together. ‘Do you drink tea?’
‘Don’t tell Dee but I would love a coffee,’ Rob replied and stepped forwards to the counter.
Lottie pushed her lips out. ‘Let me guess. Double-shot Americano. The breakfast of champions.’
Just for one split second Rob thought about calling her bluff but just the thought of that coffee was making his mouth water.
‘Damn. I hate to be predictable. Hit me.’
‘With pleasure,’ she whispered and then shook her head, rolled her eyes skywards and turned back to face him with a small shoulder shrug. ‘House rule. If you are a guest you have to eat something baked on the premises with your beverage. The donuts lasted thirty seconds but I have grown-up cakes galore.’
Then she turned away and continued talking but he couldn’t hear a word above the hiss and explosive steam from the coffee machine.
‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that,’ Rob said and strolled casually around the counter and stepped up to Lottie as she tapped out the coffee grounds.
In front of him was a kitchen about the same size as the one in his London penthouse apartment, except this kitchen was jam-packed with stainless-steel appliances and what looked like two commercial-size ovens. The air was filled with the most delicious aroma of baked goods. Spices and vanilla combined with the unique tang of caramel and buttery pastry and fresh-baked bread. Rob took a