Chapter 10
The afternoon in the kitchen garden passed quickly. Léo could tell that Juliet was worried about these shots as she was less confident and, if it were possible, brisker than ever. But he admired the way she worked: the care she took but also the drive to create a beautiful, pleasing end product. It was deeply important to her, he could see that, and it reminded him of himself as he strived in the kitchen. He did not just want to make something edible, that filled you up, but something in which the flavours sang on your tongue, making you want to linger over it and laugh with joy at the pleasure it brought. The portraits, which he sat for back in the kitchen, were quicker and more easy-going, and Juliet relaxed, moving the lights and reflector around confidently and gaining her shots with ease.
‘Right, I think that’s it,’ she finally said, squinting at the little screen on the back of her camera. ‘Thanks, you’ve been really helpful. Sorry it’s been such a long day. I’d better get out of your way now.’
She started gathering her things together, but Léo stopped her.
‘Hey, you can’t leave without trying what you’ve watched me cook. All that chopping this morning wasn’t wasted. Please, sit down, I’m in no hurry.’
He took the camera out of her hand and put it to the side. He was a little surprised that Juliet acceded so willingly, but she looked worn out and he suspected that the thought of letting someone else do the work for a while was too tempting, even for someone as determined as she seemed to be to accept no succour.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out; I’ve kept you all day.’
‘Absolutely. I can call up to the house and tell them we’re still working and will eat here, that way we will have peace and not have to share.’
She nodded.
‘Okay, thank you. It does smell good – what is it?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ He took a bottle of wine from the fridge and started removing the cork.
‘Well, you chopped a lot of onions and made pastry…some sort of onion pie?’
‘Exactement! Onion tart, with the thyme we picked in the garden, cream and Gruyère. And to go with it, this pinot gris from Alsace.’
‘Did you just knock that all up while I was upstairs changing the batteries over?’
‘Yes! The finished product is impressive, but so easy. Maybe one day I will show you how to do it?’
She gave him no answer other than a flicker of the eyebrows, and he decided not to push it. After all, however attractive he found this woman, hadn’t he promised himself nothing but friendship, however much he wanted more?
‘Here, try this wine.’
She sipped it, sniffed it, then sipped again. Then she wrinkled her nose.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s not for me at all. Too sweet.’
‘Ah! I thought you might say that. But let’s see what happens when you try it with the food.’
With a flourish, he pulled the tart from the oven and placed it in front of her. It was perfect. Crumbly, golden pastry, glistening onions which had caramelised and sunk gently into the creamy cheese filling. Léo watched Juliet’s face and was thrilled to see how delighted she looked. For all that she presented herself as austere and spartan, he knew in that moment there beat a passionate, sensual heart beneath the stern exterior.
He cut into the tart and slid a generous piece onto a plate for her. She went to pick up her fork, but he stopped her.
‘Allow me, indulge me, just one moment.’
She looked up at him, her hand hovering in mid-air.
‘Why? Don’t tell me I have to leave it to cool for half an hour?’
‘Non, you can eat, but you must savour it, taste a little bit, sip some wine, allow the flavours to reveal themselves to you slowly. We have no rush. It is, maybe, just a simple onion tart, but it is complex and, I hope, delicious.’
Her eyes gleamed and he felt strongly drawn to her, wishing he could push aside the food and kiss her, then apply his slowly, slowly philosophy to peeling off her shirt, revealing that pearly skin…
‘Léo?’
He jumped.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Ah, yes, yes, sorry, I was just thinking about…’
‘Yes?’
‘Salad! You mustn’t forget the salad.’
‘Right.’
He sensed he was losing his audience.
‘Bon, time to eat, come on.’
They both took a fork, and he was pleased to see that she paid attention to what he had said to her, taking her time over the first mouthful, then letting the wine complement it, in silence. He tried some himself and was happy with what he had made. It was soft and sweet but still tangy, and worked so beautifully with the delicate wine. Heaven. He looked at Juliet again, finding it hard to read her face. But then a glorious smile spread across it, one he wished he could see or, even better, bring about more often.
‘Oh, Léo.’
Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat.
‘Léo, that is unbelievably good. I was humouring you, really, with the bite thing but…wow. How on earth do you get so many flavours just from some pastry and a few onions?’
He didn’t want to point out, while things were going so well, that there were a few more ingredients, and twenty-five years’ experience behind the onions and pastry.
‘I’m glad you like it. Very glad. And the wine?’
‘Amazing. I’ve never really believed it could make that much of a difference. I mean, I’m usually happy to swig down whatever I’m given, but these flavours work together. Even an amateur like me can tell that.’
Léo gave an exaggerated shudder.
‘Mon dieu! Philistine.’
To his relief, she laughed.
‘I know, bad, isn’t it? But you’re going to spoil me; now I’m going to have to learn about more delicious food and wine pairings.’
She flicked him the briefest of glances from behind her lowered lashes, and he felt a jolt in his stomach. Was the ice queen flirting with him? He kept watching her, but it was as if he had imagined it, as she carried on eating and changed the subject to start talking about the photographs she had taken that day. Maybe he had imagined it? Maybe it was better to believe that he had. His good resolutions to avoid Juliet – and all women, particularly ones he wanted to rescue – were fast dissolving, and he knew that would do nobody any good at all.