Beauty and the Feast (6 page)
“
Buenos días
, Luis.
Cómo está
?” she replied.
“
Bien. Y usted
?”
“
Muy bien
. What time do you expect Mr. Abbott?”
Luis shrugged. “Later. He called last night.”
“Oh? He called me too.”
Luis’ eyebrows lifted slightly. “This dinner must be important to him,” he commented.
Eva hesitated for a moment, then she asked, “Do you know who his guest is?”
“
Yo no se
. I have heard nothing.”
“Well,” Eva responded, “I hope what I’ve planned meets with his expectations.”
Luis gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
Eva found that she liked the older man very much. “Why don’t you come in and taste later? I plan to make more than enough. Please, come into the kitchen, maybe around
, and taste. I would love your opinion.”
“I don’t know that I have much of an opinion about food, but I will be honored to taste anything you make,” Luis said with a smile.
Eva laughed. Luis reminded her of a more serious version of her father. He didn’t have much of an opinion about food either, but he knew what he liked. Eva had used him to test recipes when she was a teenager.
Eva picked her herbs and returned to the kitchen. She completed each course in the same order it would be served, setting aside a small portion of everything for Luis. Between the music and her intense focus, time flew by. Hours later, Eva glanced up and she found Luis standing in the open kitchen door, literally hat in hand, staring at her with an amused expression on his face.
“Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed. “What time is it?”
“Three.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
Luis smiled. “I looked in an hour ago, but you didn’t notice me, so I went back to work weeding the garden.”
Eva laughed. “All right, I’m almost done. C’mon. I’ve got a tray prepared for you and you’re going to taste, right now, before I get distracted by anything else. I’ll meet you on the patio.”
Eva opened the refrigerator and grabbed the tray. She’d replicated the entire meal for Luis. This was the first time she’d been hired to act as private chef for someone with Gabriel Abbott’s reputation. She wanted everything to be perfect. Luis may not be a gourmand, but his reaction would be telling. Eva watched his face as he tasted the first course, her chilled melon soup. She’d pureed honeydew melon, a tiny bit of sea salt, a few splashes of a light German Riesling, a squeeze of lime, half a seeded Serrano chili, cilantro and a bit of palm sugar. The soup was garnished with a sprig of fresh mint from Gabriel’s herb garden. Luis closed his eyes and rolled the puree around in his mouth as if tasting a fine wine. Eva almost expected him to spit it out.
Finally he declared, “
Exquisita
,” and he finished the soup quickly.
Eva grinned as she handed him the next course.
Saturday turned out to be sunny with just a slight crisp feel in the air, perfect, especially for the Bay Area in the late spring. Gabe was very tempted to ride his Harley, but instead, he drove his SUV Hybrid. He doubted Stephanie would be up for a bad case of helmet hair. Gabe knew she expected to spend the night with him. He hadn’t asked her, but neither had he disabused her of the notion. By the time he pulled up in front of her building and parked his car, he had decided to play the evening by ear. He might as well, he thought. He couldn’t get out of it anyway. Maybe he would regain some of the initial interest he’d had in fucking her. When she opened her door wearing a low-cut pale peach sundress and high-heeled sandals, Gabe assessed the woman appreciatively. Not bad. Not too bad at all. Things might just work out between the two of them, at least for the night. He decided that all options were back on the table, so to speak.
Gabe kept up his end of the conversation on the drive to
Napa
, but as he usually did until he knew a woman well, he was careful not to disclose too much too soon. They chatted about business, family, plays she’d seen recently, clubs and restaurants she favored. Stephanie flirted, not shamelessly, but she made it clear she was interested. Gabe wondered how old she was. Thirty? He stole a sidelong glance at her face. Twenty-eight, maybe. It was hard to tell. She’d put on large sunglasses the minute they’d stepped outside her apartment building. He noticed that her dress had ridden up her thigh, exposing a great deal of skin. Gabe didn’t know if that had happened deliberately or by accident, but he suspected the former. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to adjust it.
Gabe found it odd that the closer they got to his
Damn
, he thought,
what the hell is my problem
?
“Oh my God, your place is gorgeous,” Stephanie said, stepping inside the front door. “Who did you hire to decorate for you?”
Gabe shrugged. “Most of the interior work had been completed when I bought it. I just added a few pieces and hired a gardener.”
As Stephanie wandered from room to room, Gabe glanced around, curious, wondering if Eva had left any hint of herself, a stray hair, perhaps, a whiff of fragrance if she wore any. Something he could gauge her by. He was eager to check out his bedroom to see what she had planned for him. He escorted Stephanie onto the patio and pulled out a chair for her. After assuring her he’d give her a tour of his gardens, he excused himself for a moment. He took the stairs leading to the loft two at a time.
She’d remade his bed. That was the first thing Gabe noticed. She’d plumped his pillows, turned down the quilts. He leaned over and inhaled… Gabe smiled. He caught her. She’d been there. She’d lain on his bed. His little chef had lain on the duvet. He could smell her. Curious, was she? Gabe inhaled again, running his palm across the soft cover. Amber. Cinnamon. Chilies. Mint. Chocolate. Coffee. Musk. Like a fine wine. God, Eva smelled fuckable. He looked around. She’d set up a table at his bedside. On it sat a galvanized tin bucket filled with ice and a bottle of what looked like French champagne. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and pulled it up to check out the label. She had good taste. It was of his favorites. He wondered how she knew. Sitting in the ice next to the bottle of champagne was a bowl of fresh strawberries. He popped one into his mouth. The sweet-tart flavor exploded on his tongue. Just picked from his garden. She’d probably left moments before they’d arrived.
Alongside the bucket, she’d placed a plate of delicate shortbread cookies. Beside the cookies were two candles. Suspended above each candle on a metal rack sat a ceramic bowl. Each bowl was filled with something that looked like ice cream topping. Gabe assumed she intended them to light the candles and dip the cookies into the bowls or maybe spread the warm stuff on… Gabe stuck his little finger into one of the bowls and brought it to his mouth. He tasted maple, caramel, maybe a little balsamic vinegar, and the barest hint of salt. The second bowl contained a deep, dark, delightfully bittersweet chocolate mixture. He recognized the flavor of his own Cabernet. Gabe took another taste of each. He felt himself grow very erect very quickly. He knew exactly who he wanted to spread the stuff on and it wasn’t Stephanie Lindstrom.
“Gabriel?” Stephanie called to him from the foot of the stairs. “Gabriel, are you up there?”
He heard her begin to ascend. He quickly adjusted his jeans and hurried downstairs to meet her.
“Sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes, “Just picking up a message.” He quickly steered her toward the kitchen. Gabe’s initial impulse was to distract her by suggesting that they select a wine together, but he realized that wouldn’t be fair. To her. Gabe wondered if he’d lost interest because he’d been so busy lately, but he dismissed the thought. Business had never before interfered with pleasure of this type. He’d lost interest because his interest lay elsewhere.
Gabe took Stephanie’s arm. He turned her toward him and he studied her face. She returned his gaze, confident, poised, eager. For a moment he faltered. She expected him to take her to bed.
Why on earth
, he asked himself,
can’t I do that? She’s beautiful, intelligent
,
successful
.
And it doesn’t have to mean all that much
.
“Stephanie,” Gabe said, “I’m taking you home.”
“Wha…what?” she stuttered.
“I’m sorry. I’m taking you back to the city.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t explain,” he said. “Look, I feel terrible about this, but tonight just isn’t going to work out.”
“Are you seeing someone else, Gabriel? That message you picked up… was it from a woman?”
“No,” replied Gabe quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“I don’t understand.” Gabe heard the anger and the hurt in Stephanie’s voice.
“Look, Stephanie, I can’t explain. Something’s come up. There’s something I have to take care of. I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it up to you.”
Who knows? Maybe I will
, he thought.
Just not tonight
.
They drove back to
San Francisco
in silence. Uncomfortable silence. He grabbed the small bag Stephanie had brought and escorted her to the door of her apartment. When he leaned over to kiss her cheek in apology, he caught the resentment in her eyes. He fully expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. She turned her mouth to his and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his. Gabe felt nothing but embarrassment as he gently disengaged himself. He wasn’t quite sure who he was more embarrassed for, Stephanie for kissing him so wantonly, or himself for his inability to respond to a beautiful woman. He wondered what in the hell was wrong with him. He squeezed her hand.
“Goodnight. I promise I will call you as soon as I get this figured out.”
Stephanie looked for an instant as if she’d tasted something nasty, but she quickly flashed him a smile. “I’ll look forward to it. I’m sorry things didn’t work out tonight, Gabriel.”
Gabe drove home and parked his car in the parking garage. He stopped in his apartment only long enough to grab his helmet, a leather jacket and the keys to his motorcycle. He headed back to
Napa
, driving his bike as fast as he dared.
Gabe sat in his kitchen, alone. He’d read Eva’s note several times, tracing the neat printing with his fingertips, as if her handwriting might give him some clue as to the kind of woman she was. Her note was brief and professional and left him entirely in the dark as to her character. Gabe followed the instructions to the letter, serving himself each course in the order she’d intended him to serve it to his guest. He started with the chilled melon soup in a martini glass, garnished with a sprig of his own spearmint. God, it was cold, fresh, not too sweet. The perfect opening course for a meal. He swore he could taste some Riesling in it, but it wasn’t a wine he recognized from his collection. Eva must have brought it. He searched through the fridge and he found most of a half-bottle of an expensive German wine. Gabe ignored the Chardonnay she’d selected, one of his own, and instead poured himself a glass of the Riesling and sipped appreciatively while he considered her next course. It was a salad course. Eva had artfully arranged her offerings on a narrow, lightweight bamboo plank.
On one end of the plank, she’d placed a small salad of tiny spring radishes. The radishes had been sliced paper-thin. They were almost transparent, and they’d been sprinkled with fresh chives, also from his herb garden and sea salt. At the other end was a tiny pile of bitter micro-greens, topped with a few snips of Italian parsley and cilantro. Eva must have toured his entire property. Gabe wondered if Luis showed her where to find everything or if she discovered them on her own. He was willing to bet she’d found them on her own, like the strawberries she’d left at his bedside.
In the center of the plank, she’d molded finely minced, bright red, wild salmon tartar. Nothing added. It glistened in the light from the candle he’d lit. On one side of the salmon sat a small pile of delicate pink flakes. Gabe dipped his finger into the pile, brought it to his mouth and licked it. Salt. Some kind of pink salt. On the other side, she’d mounded coarsely cracked black pepper. He picked up a tiny white ceramic pitcher and sniffed. Toasted black sesame oil, ginger, and rice wine vinegar. Gabe’s mouth watered. He wished he had someone to share this meal with, but he was glad he’d taken Stephanie home.
He picked up the small fork and took a taste of the salmon. The mouth feel was smooth, soft. Gabe savored it. The salmon tartar felt exactly like a woman, like he was tonguing a woman. The same sweet salt, the same tenderness. It seemed to him as if he was tasting Eva. He found himself growing erect and his swollen cock pressed uncomfortably against his zipper. Gabe stood up and stretched. He grabbed his glass of wine and stepped out onto the patio. The sun had set an hour before. The night was cool, as nights tended to be in the hills above the valley. He wanted to finish everything she’d prepared for him, but he didn’t know if he could stand it. One more bite and he might come in his pants. Gabe laughed out loud. He wanted to meet this mysterious Eva, but there were so many ‘ifs’, the biggest ‘if’ being, what if she was nothing at all like he imagined.