The Winemaker's Dinner: Dessert (The Winemaker's Feast) (20 page)

She’d been almost completely at a loss when she reached out to Geoff. Thank God for him. They’d scheduled a meeting to plan the movie dinner, but Jaden soon found herself at Bianca in most of her spare moments. She met with staff in and out of the kitchen to prep for the event, but she also just observed. Watching Geoff manage the restaurant with such passion and precision inspired her. She’d forgotten what it was like to be part of a small, well-trained, professional environment where everybody has your back and everybody has pride in the “family.” Her time back there, back in a more natural orbit, made it easier for her to filter the now and focus on the future. She’d come to love networking with the non-celebrity chefs on the food and wine events circuit, and she was beginning to see where she might want to end up once again.

However, at the moment, her now and her future had ganged up on her in a furious assault of nerves. She’d been running around her apartment in various stages of dressed and undressed for the last half hour, but now she stood in nothing but her panties staring into her closet. An anxious rush blazed up from her stomach—a physical manifestation of her impending, highly publicized return to Bianca. Her brain was busy processing and reviewing the complicated Menu of Seduction she’d created, which kept her from being able to focus properly on what to wear…

If anyone thought
One Hot Kitchen
maven Jaden Thorne had lost her creative edge when she went Hollywood, they were sorely mistaken. She could still carve out one hot, sexy menu. Appetizers would include lobster, avocado, and mango salad, tomato basil soup, burrata bruschetta with grilled figs, and chargrilled oysters with Roquefort cheese and red-wine vinaigrette. For the entrée, guests would have a choice of honey-roasted hens with pomegranates, grilled tuna (of course), or grilled asparagus with lemon and honey-ginger carrots. And for dessert, nutmeg donuts, strawberry-rhubarb ice cream with honey-hazelnut biscotti, and dark chocolate chili truffles. She’d approved a signature pomegranate martini and left it to the sommelier to sort out the wine pairings. It was a feast of sex on a plate, in a bowl, or swimming in a crystal glass for a full five courses. If these diners didn’t get lucky tonight, well, that just wasn’t her fault.

She’d felt a little bad when she sprang the sexy, aphrodisiac-specific menu on her one-night-only extra sous chefs and line cooks, but she knew Bianca’s executive staff well enough to be sure they could handle it. She gave them her best pep talk to help them rise to the challenge. This was her night. If she pulled this off, she’d prove she was still a rock star in the kitchen, not just on TV.

Jaden carried a dress over to the mirror for consideration. She smiled and then growled fiercely at her reflection before dissolving into giggles. Despite the relentless intrusion of her L.A. life, her time in Miami Beach had energized her. She knew in her heart she still loved Ivan, but because of that love, she was willing to let him go, as he wanted her to. At least most of the time she was. The odd flare of frustration or sadness could overtake her at any moment, but she was getting better and better at working through them. Her only path was forward, and the wound on her heart would heal in time.

However, what her time away had not managed to do was cultivate much enthusiasm for her return to
One Hot Kitchen
. She couldn’t decide whether the whole experience was tainted for her now, or if it had never been what she dreamed it would be in the first place. Either way, she was a little sad that her time here was coming to an end. Tasha and Micky had taken a trip to the Keys, so she’d already told them goodbye, and after this final hurrah at Bianca, it was time to go back to her commitments in L.A.
One Hot Kitchen
had to be her priority, but after that and in every spare second she could carve out, she was going to build a new life she could enjoy and be proud of.

“Shit!” she gasped out loud as she realized her go-to Miami Beach stylist was now in Key West. She agonized for a moment, but then laughed at herself. A simple ponytail would totally work because after all, she was going to be sweating her ass off in the kitchen. There was
real
work on the docket tonight.

She returned to her closet for more staring. She sifted past a pink dress, a yellow skirt, a black business suit, and more colorful, flowy gowns than one girl should own. None of them seemed quite right. She needed to turn a head or two, but not look like she was trying too hard…and then there was the chef’s jacket she’d have on over it for most of the evening.
Ugh
. But then she saw it: a girl’s best friend. Not diamonds, but the little black dress. Put on a pair of pumps and she was ready.

She pulled out the dress and returned to the mirror for a final check.
Ivan loved short dresses
, her brain announced, and images of what had happened when she wore such dresses in Miami Beach bubbled up in her thoughts. She closed her eyes for a moment, and with a sigh and a shake of her head refocused her thoughts. Not now. Not tonight. Move forward. Yes, this dress would be perfect. She could rock high heels, get her legs out there, and still maintain professionalism with the white jacket on top.

She slipped into the slim little dress and collapsed on the bed. Exhaling she watched the fan turn lazy circles against the ceiling for a moment. Her mind turned similar circles as she wondered for the zillionth time who would be attending her dinner. She was hours away from yet another major transition and life decision, and she did everything she could to temper the excitement and anxiety. Potential investors? Maybe. A possible partner? Maybe. New loyal palates who would frequent the restaurant she dreamed about opening? Maybe. She laughed at the absurdity of it all. Investors? Partners? A new business? She sounded just like Ivan.
Ivan…

Breathing in and out, in and out, she found her center and rose for the next challenge. She headed for the bathroom, snagged her makeup and brush, and went to work. “Why the hell did I tell them I didn’t need a glam squad for this?” she wondered aloud.

She ran the brush through her long, black hair and pulled it into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, leaving a few strands loose around her face. She brushed on a neutral but shimmery eye shadow, but then drew a dark, dramatic liner along the top of her lashes, followed by mascara, paying special attention to the outer lashes. She finished with a soft blush on the apples of her cheeks, a swipe of color on her lips, and some pineapple gloss.

“Thank you, Kat,” she said as she nodded in approval at her reflection. She hadn’t been just napping or gossiping during all those hours in hair and makeup. She’d actually learned some tricks! She was a lot more capable than she knew. It was time she remembered that.

She packed up her makeup bag and the rest of the little beauty bottles she always accumulated when she traveled, then carried them over to where her bags stood open. Her packing was already underway.

She took a final look in the mirror and felt satisfied. She then sifted through her jewelry, and her eyes and heart came to rest on a turtle bracelet. An inconvenient flashback to their room at Chateau Marmont floated across her memory, but she managed to smile. She slipped on the bracelet, enjoying the weight of it and the cool metal against her skin.
Why not?
Jaden pulled out her black patent high heel Louboutins, slipped them on, and turned off the lights. She gathered a garment bag with her chef’s jacket and a bag of her hard core kitchen gear just inside the front door, and after one last check in the mirror, set out for the night.

The menu still dominated her thoughts, but as she rode the elevator down she began to feel another rush of excitement about the guest list. She smiled at her much-improved confidence and schmoozing ability—something else that would always remind her of Ivan. He’d taught her so much when she was new on this scene. Maybe she could do this friend thing with him. After all, they’d had so many stupid, fun times together, and he was a valuable resource and advisor. Maybe things could eventually be mostly the same, just minus the sex.
Oy, the sex
. God, what she wouldn’t give for one more doctor’s appointment and a little green pill. But they’d been more than that, so it could work, right?

As the elevator opened she decided to treat herself to a cab. She didn’t need any extra distractions tonight. Outside, the breeze carried a whisper of jasmine, just as it had that night in Sarasota, and a shiver passed through her. Perhaps tonight might be another she would remember forever. Her yellow chariot pulled up, and she opened the door, pausing to revel in the possibilities ahead before she slid into the backseat.

“Bianca, please.”

Chapter 26

“Bad Moon Rising”

A
FTER
A L
ONG
B
UT
F
UN
A
ND
S
URPRISINGLY
R
ELAXING
(despite its intense beginning) weekend with his parents, Ivan had delivered them to the airport with plenty of time to check their bags and make it to the gate. His mother was busy looking for their itinerary when his father pulled him away from the car parked at the curb. With Dad, you never knew if it was going to be a corny, dirty joke or a pearl of real wisdom, and either way, you didn’t want to miss it. Ivan leaned in toward his father and waited.

“Ivan, the only advice I can give you about love is this: When you find that one little thing about someone you can’t find in anyone else—no matter how small it is—that thing that completely shuts down whatever else you’re doing? She’s the one. Find that, and you’ve found her. That one little thing for me was your mother’s laugh. Okay?” Then he’d grabbed him in a hug so tight, he could still feel his arms across his back. “Think about that.”

Still eyeing him, his father had stepped back, and Ivan scarcely remembered what his mother had said as she hugged him goodbye. Hours later his father’s words continued to bounce around the back of his mind, and he still couldn’t say for sure whether he’d ever experienced that with anyone before.

“Ass,” he mumbled to himself, smiling and shaking his head. His dad had an uncanny ability to stir things up and make him think. Defining that one little thing was probably easy in hindsight, after you’d found her. But back to the task at hand, he told himself.

“What to wear to dinner with a girl who broke your heart…” He stood, naked and stumped, inside his closet, finding no inspiration among the pants on the left or the shirts and sport coats on the right. He ran his hands over their fabrics, guessing and then second-guessing himself.

“She said casual dinner and low key…” So he settled on a pair of dark blue Triachy jeans, sent to him by the designer, and a white button-down shirt. Then he hesitated, remembering that her definition of low key usually involved a red carpet. He grabbed a brown sport coat just to be safe. Exhausted by the process, he tossed his selections on the bed and trotted out to grab a bottle of water. He surveyed his apartment as he passed and was proud of the job he’d done cleaning up the place. Okay, proud of the adjustments he’d made after the housekeeper had done the heavy work.

Why was it that cleaning could be both a pain in the ass and a joy, depending on the situation? The times he’d cleaned Irena’s apartment while she was at work were some of his happiest memories of their time together. His tidying always ended with her coming home, dropping her bad mood, smiling her smile, and squealing “Papi” as she ran to him and jumped into his arms. Now he’d relegated cleaning to a lovely woman he paid to come once a week because he didn’t have the time or inclination to do it for himself. “Relativity,” he quipped, offering his water bottle in toast to the air around him.

The real question was why he was so intent on having a clean apartment in the first place. Was he planning on bringing someone home tonight? The thought paralyzed him for a second, but he kept moving. It had been just long enough for him to realize the magnitude of what a clean apartment meant, but not long enough to contemplate whether he meant to use it.

Back in his room, he pulled on his briefs and pants and checked his phone.

See you at 830, Papi.

A shiver ran down his spine, but he could not discern whether it was good or bad. Papi? She’d jumped right back into his pet name so soon? Interesting. Sure, she was Mami on his phone contact list, but he wasn’t
calling
her that. Still, they’d had some wonderful times together. What if she did want to come back? Was that a line he’d be willing to cross?

No. Don’t get carried away, man, he told himself. This is just a friendly bite to eat—innocent and platonic, right? Friends eat dinner together all the time. That’s what they agreed on. The “date” label she threw in at the end was a joke, right? Yes, it had to have been.
Fuck it!
his mind screamed, silencing the mental jerk-off session. He’d cleaned his apartment, for Christ’s sake.
Fuck it. It’s a date, and that’s it.
He threw his shirt on and buttoned it up.
Let’s see where tonight takes us.

He rummaged through the drawer for a pair of cufflinks and pondered a variety of options: turquoise, tiger’s eye, or sea turtles. The first two were a toss-up, but for some reason the third pair called to him. They’d been a surprise gift from Jaden on one of her weekends in Miami. Now, looking down at them in the drawer, Ivan wished for a moment this “date” was with her.
Ugh
. He shook the feeling off.
Stand your ground!
He had to stick to the commitment he’d made himself. They were just cuff links, and besides that, they were more casual than the other pairs. Jesus Christ, was he really this indecisive about a fucking pair of cuff links? No. Not anymore. Sea turtles would do just fine.