Free Mastering Maeve by Tara Finnegan Page B

see she was no longer waiting tables but getting on with what she should be doing—checking customers were happy, resolving difficulties, managing the place basically. Even her attire had changed; she wore a suit rather than a skirt and blouse. She looked the part. He smiled with a certain amount of self-satisfaction; it was partly his funding that effected the transformation in her and that made him feel good.
    He noticed she was cautious when she approached him. Cautious but not shut off. Her smile was nervous.
    “Good evening, Larry. Would you like to sit by a window?” she asked in a professional voice. But the very brief touch of her hand made him realise it was another charade, this time a professional one. She wanted to keep business and personal separate. Smart lady, he conceded mentally. He would play by her rules, but might just have a little fun in doing so.
    “I’d like to recommend the chef’s dish of the day, pan-fried sea trout with garden vegetables,” she rattled on as she led him to his table.
    “I’d prefer something meatier, a rump steak perhaps?” he replied, enjoying her blushes. “I do like a little rump.”
    “A waitress will be along with a menu momentarily,” she replied, refusing to look him in the eye. He was so tempted to touch her rump for effect but knew that would be going too far.
    “Maeve…” he stalled her as she was about to leave the table, “…it’s real good to be back again.”
    “It’s really good to have you back, Larry.” Her brief but sincere smile dazzled him. Hell, she was a beautiful woman when she smiled.
    Of course he selected the trout, and the earlier activities had given him quite an appetite. He ate alone, hoping that soon he would have the pleasure of her company all to himself once more. He wasn’t normally a jealous-minded person, but when he saw her bestow her smiles on other guests, he envied them. He wanted all of her attention. He noticed that while she personally avoided him while he ate, she had ensured that the waiting staff was one hundred per cent attentive. It was only when he finished his dessert that she returned.
    “Everything was to your satisfaction, I hope, sir ?” she asked. He knew she was teasing him, but the word ‘sir’ from her lips was so erotic, so subservient. He wanted her there and then.
    “Reasonably so,” he replied coolly.
    “Oh, what weren’t you happy with?” she asked with concern.
    “I’d have preferred a more personal service,” he said in a low voice. He was rewarded by a devilish twinkle in her eye.
    “Maybe later if you’re not too tired after the journey,” she whispered.
    “I won’t be,” he promised.
    He left the dining room feeling every inch of his six-foot-three height. The relief he felt knowing it wasn’t just a once-off for her was immeasurable. In a way he was annoyed at himself; at the age of thirty-three, he should know better than to have his head turned by a woman, but he couldn’t help his elation. He was like a silly, spotty, teenage boy again.
    When she joined him in the bar later she was still in her work clothes, which really pleased him; that prim, business-like look did something to him. The images it put in his head were unnatural. He wanted to fuck her over a desk with that lovely crisp skirt rolled up over her hips, panties at her knees. And in his mind’s eye her bottom wasn’t her natural milky white colour; it was a deep red. He tried to get his thoughts under control. They had so much to work out and yet he was racing ahead of himself.
    “I’m finished in an hour if you can wait up,” she promised with a wink after checking there were no watchful eyes.
    He wanted to say something encouraging, but what spilled out of his mouth was so crude he was disgusted at himself: “I’m up already.”
    He tried to backtrack, but the more he said, the more she laughed at him. He didn’t know what possessed him; he was normally so reserved. The little minx had turned him