'"Binky and the Swedish sailor, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I -- ow, get off, it's true anyway, it's true!'" Andy rubbed vigorously at where Binky had made a sincere attempt at dead-legging him, but didn't seem to hold much of a grudge. Not judging by the way he followed Binky to the serving station, ignoring the pan-fried turbot he'd been judging to a fine point only seconds before.
"He has a name, you idiot," Binky said calmly. "Check the bookings. And there's been no kissing going on. I think I would have noticed." She scooped up four plates and turned her back to head out to the tables. But Andy positively sang his response, dangerously loud. Might that be audible out front? Pete, the head chef, would flip if they got noise complaints again.
"Only because he hasn't made his mo-o-ovve..." Andy trilled sweetly. "And that's only because you're not giving him enough encouragement. Spill something on him and offer to wipe him down in the back, why don't you? It'll be thirty seconds before he has you down on the tiles and he's grappling to get your panties off. The rest of us need some vicarious kicks! I haven't got a sniff or a feel for two months!"
YOU ARE READING
Gold Digger Label
RomanceBinky Huckstable has a number of problems. A ridiculous name, for one. Her genius I.Q. (Not always a blessing.) An arid, meaningless lovelife. Being the CPO - Chief Product Officer - of her family's billion-dollar company. Oh, and the upcoming...
