Chapter 2

Richard joins me in the kitchen, peering over my work surface and hob, where onions and mince sizzle with the spices. “What are we having?”

“Chilli con Carne.”

“Sounds good. Want some help?”

“No, I’m fine. I enjoy cooking.”

“I’ll rephrase that. Do you mind if I join you? It’s getting a little heated in there.”

“Join me by all means.” I nod across to the bottle. “Help yourself to a drink. Problem?”

Richard examines the label, Hmmms, then pours himself a glass of wine. “Um, not a problem exactly. But I think when Michael accepted my investment in his spa hotel, he thought I’d be a sleeping partner.”

“And…?”

“If you recall, I had the investment made in Elizabeth’s name, and she definitely wants to have an input.”

I pause from chopping chillies as the humour creeps over me.

Of course, he’s used to running everything himself….

When I invested in Michael’s business, I was a silent partner….

But Beth wants to be involved….

I chuckle, rubbing at the side of my nose, then immediately regret it….

Ahhh… Shit!

Chillies….

Quickly I wash hands, then pour a little oil on a paper towel. Eyes watering, I dab at my face, trying to rub away the chilli oil as Richard watches in silent amusement.

Then, “Sure you don’t want any help?”

“Yes, sure. I’m all but done.”

Tipping beans and chillies into the pan with the meat and onions, I glug in tomato puree and the rest of the wine, then clap the lid on tight. “That’ll be ready in a couple of hours.”

I grin. “Let’s see how Michael’s bearing up under the strain, shall we?”

*****

Michael’s eyes are glazing. Doubt in his voice, sitting over a table-top of rosters and timetables, “We’ve never done anything like that before, Beth.”

“And that’s a reason for not doing it now?” The normally placid Beth sounds almost strident.

So, she’s a sub, is she?

Michael turns for support. “What do you think, Charlotte?”

The support isn’t forthcoming. “Sounds like a great idea to me.” Charlotte’s eyes sparkle. “The boxing I used to do gives you a really good workout. And at the end of it, you know a bit about how to look after yourself.”

“But… Self-defence?” Michael rakes through his hair. “It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing your friends would want to do, Beth.”

Beth shrugs, unimpressed. “You might be surprised. Most women would like to be able to at least have a shot at protecting themselves. But somehow, it’s not always seen as something they should work at.”

Outrage surges over Michael’s face. “That’s because it’s our job,” he protests. “That’s what men are here for. To protect the women they care about.”

“And if you’re not around?” Beth’s look is pointed. “At the risk of stating the obvious, it was a woman who got me out of trouble last time.” She rolls eyes to Charlotte.

Michael holds up outspread hands. “Okay, you win. Self-defence classes go on the roster. But I’ll have to find some extra staff first. I’ve no one trained in anything like that….”

Next to me, Richard stirs. “Why not use Charlotte?” His face is suspiciously straight. “You’d be willing to help, Charlotte, wouldn’t you?”

Michael gives him a hard stare, but our mermaid returns one of her jade-eyed smiles. “Of course I would. What are we talking about? A couple of hours a week to get it off the ground? And take it from there?”

“Sounds about right,” agrees Beth. “That’s settled then.” She turns back to Michael. “So, if we fit it in here in the morning….” With one long, immaculately painted nail, she taps at a spot on the timetables. “…That would leave the later parts of the day for the clientele to lunch first, then have sauna and spa, massage and all the rest of it. And we’d get them in for the whole day instead of just half a day. All else being equal, that should bring in twice the money.”

Michael chews a lip, nodding slowly. “You’ve thought this through, I can see.”

Richard claps a hand on his shoulder. “You might remember that Elizabeth’s original role in my company was as a trainee in Business Studies.”

Not just a pretty face….

Memo to self: never underestimate a woman just because she’s attractive.

*****