Just Breathe by Janette Paul Read Free Book Online

the client’s booze and risk being found out as a scullery maid with a bankrupt yoga business.
    Where was the up side?
    ‘Dee, take these,’ Jo said from behind her.
    She turned, her eyes widening in gastronomic delight. ‘Oh, yum!’ Jo had laid out three huge trays of little desserts – mini lemon meringues and cheesecakes and tiramisu and citrus tarts topped with cream.
    ‘But there are still a lot of dishes to be washed.’ Dee pointed at the sink.
    Jo wasn’t quite so angry as before but still had her catering-night harried face. ‘The dishes can wait.’
    There goes Option One, she thought.
    ‘I want them out on the balcony.’
    At last inspection, Ethan was on the balcony.
    ‘ Now , Dee,’ Jo said impatiently.
    Dee winced. Option Two was not looking good.
    Dee pushed her way through the heavy glass door that opened onto the deck and anchored it open in case of an emergency exit. Ethan was at the far end and as there was still quite a crowd, she figured if she kept to one end, she might go unnoticed.
    It was wishful thinking. She was on her second pass around the safe section, platter held low, when Ethan saw her. He spoke to the man beside him and now both were heading her way.
    She was stranded mid-balcony with a half-full platter. Retreat was the best option. She turned, went for the door and saw it was shut.
    She tried to reposition the platter at her hip but it was so big and heavy and awkwardlyshaped she couldn’t hold it with one hand and haul the weighted door open with the other. She put both arms under the tray, pulled at the handle, slid a foot round the edge and tried inserting herself into the space without losing her desserts. As she pressed against the framed glass, it flew open and she stumbled backwards.
    The tarts and cakes slid about like dodgem cars. She manoeuvred the tray around like a miner panning for gold, coaxing them to stay on board. When they finally came to a standstill, she looked up to see Ethan, and Option Three was at hand.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, both puzzled and amused.
    ‘Well, I, um, just thought I’d, ah …’
    ‘They’ve got caterers to do that, you know.’
    ‘Really? Well, it’s just they look so nice and …’ She was pressed against the glass wondering which way to go – inside or out, truth or lie, big idiot or bigger idiot?
    The elegant blonde joined them, along with an older woman, who helped herself to a citrus tart from her platter.
    ‘Mmm. Delicious. Honey, have you tried one?’ she said to Ethan’s companion, who Dee now presumed was Leonard the Client.
    He took a mini lemon meringue. ‘You’re doing a good job there, dear. The food’s very tasty. I’ll have to get one of your cards before we leave.’
    Would that be my wait-staff card or my yoga card or my Big Desperate Loser card? Dee thought, smiling lamely.
    Ethan narrowed his eyes, less amused. ‘Leonard, this is Dee, the yoga teacher. Not the caterer. She’s the one I’ve been trying to introduce you to all night.’ He glanced at her tray. ‘I guess she likes the dessert, too.’
    The elegant blonde draped herself over his shoulder again. ‘She might teach yoga, Ethan, but she’s just a waitress. She’s been serving food all night. I’ll have another glass of champagne, thanks.’ Aiming condescending eyes at Dee, she put an empty flute on the platter between the desserts.
    Ethan frowned, not amused or puzzled now – more like ticked off. ‘Dee?’
    ‘Well, actually, sorry, yes, I am one of the wait-staff tonight. Sorry about that. I really am a yoga teacher too, but I’m doing food tonight.’ Geez. ‘And so, if nobody wants anything more to eat, I’ll just get these back to the kitchen.’
    She stepped forward, unaware the chunky knob on the big glass door had become hooked on the belt loop of her trousers. As she thrust forward with the force of her immense desire to get the hell out of there, she was hauled in reverse with an equal and opposite force. In