Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
REMY KEPT HIS DISTANCE from Staci as they both returned to the house. He did some shopping in the pantry and started cooking. The contest seemed a little more real to everyone when faced with the fact that tomorrow one of them would be leaving.
That knowledge that any one of them could leave in a moment made Remy determined to make the most of his time with Staci.
So he cooked for her remembering what she’d said about her mother and New York City.
While he’d never been to Los Angeles before, New York and he went way back.
One of his uncles owned an exclusive cooking school there and Remy had spent three weeks every summer in the meatpacking district honing his chef skills.
There were others with him working in the kitchen now but none of the jovial talking of the night before.
The competition had gotten serious today.
Christian, one of the chefs in the bottom three, was tirelessly going over the same sauce he’d made earlier in the day.
The sauce that had netted him horrible reviews.
Christian had a carefully trimmed beard and dark brown eyes that seemed to view the world wearily.
He was tall but not as tall as Remy’s six-foot-three frame and a little bit stocky.
He moved almost awkwardly when he wasn’t at his station.
But once he had a knife in his hands his skills came to the fore.
“Have you figured it out yet?” Remy asked, when he noticed the chef had stopped scribbling in his notebook.
“Just about. I have no idea what they are going to throw at me tomorrow but sauces have long been my weak point. I can muster a beurre blanc but that’s about it. I should have known better than to try one today.”
“You did what you had to in order to win.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, you have to push yourself. That’s what I realized today.
I can’t just do what I’ve always done,” Remy said.
It was nothing less than the truth and he wished he’d figured that out earlier.
More than likely that was part of the reason for his reluctance to take over as Chef Patron of Gastrophile.
He had tried to introduce new dishes but today he’d realized he’d done that in the wrong way.
There was a way to put his stamp on the restaurant without eviscerating what had gone before. And that was the key.
“True enough. I’m in the same boat. Cooking was always easy for me when nothing else was. This is the first time I’ve flat-out failed. I don’t like it.”
Remy laughed. “I don’t either. I’m too used to winning.”
Christian smiled over at him. “I’d take third over bottom three.”
“I bet you would. Next time we’ll both be in the top three.”
“Next time, I’ll be number one,” Christian said. “I’ll leave you to your cooking.”
Remy finished his dish and then put everything in plastic containers and packed it in a cooler he found in the pantry.
He left it sitting on the counter and went to find Staci.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her notebook open reading over her notes.
He stood there for a long minute just staring at her.
Though it had only been a few days his impression of her had changed radically from that first moment they’d met and she’d spilled tea all over the both of them.
Yet one thing hadn’t changed. He still wanted her and would continue to want her he suspected no matter how many times he had her. There was something almost elusive about the woman. Something that he just couldn’t shake no matter how many times he tried.
He noticed the way her jet black hair was tucked behind her small ear and the long curve of her neck. The t-shirt she wore hugged her breasts and then her tiny waist. Her legs were curled under her in a position that he doubted he’d be able to make if he tried for hours.
“Like what you see?” she asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
“You know I do, chère,” he said, taking his time and letting his gaze slide back up her body. She shifted on the bed, uncurling those shapely legs and standing up.
“Your dinner is ready,” he said, bowing slightly.
“Great. I’m interested to see what our field trip this afternoon has inspired in you.”
It wasn’t the food that was inspiring him and he knew that now.
If he’d had this new knowledge and his wits about him during the UCLA challenge he wagered he’d have won today.
But he hadn’t. He could only use it to make sure he kept himself in the top three and moving forward with each week of competition.
“I hope you will be surprised,” he said.
“I’m sure I will be. It’s rare that I’ve had a man cook for me,” she said, following him down the hall to the kitchen.
Given the little he knew of her personal history that wasn’t a real surprise. “The men you’ve known haven’t been chefs.”
“One of them was,” she said almost beneath her breath.
He lifted the cooler and led the way through the open living room to the back patio. “We can eat here...or down on the beach where we will have more privacy.”
“I vote for the beach,” she said. “I don’t want everyone to know that we are dining together.”
“Why not?”
“People will talk,” she said. “It doesn’t matter that there are no rules against fraternizing, I know how unkind gossip can be. I think we’d both fare better if we keep this private.”
He nodded. He thought so, too. Besides he didn’t want to share Staci with anyone else.
There was something intense about his attraction to her.
He wanted to know more about her and it occurred to him as they walked down the beach to find the perfect spot for their picnic away from the other beach goers that he had created a dinner tonight to seduce her. He should have guessed.
Food was one of the most sensual experiences for him. He spread out the blanket he’d taken from the linen closet and watched as Staci sat down in the center of it. He set the cooler next to her before sitting down.
He opened the cooler to take out the bottle of wine that he’d wrapped in a chilled towel and had positioned on the cool side of the cooler. He deftly opened it and then took out the two stemmed glasses and poured them each a glass.
Staci took one from him. “I’ll say this for you, you picked the perfect place for dinner. Light breeze, setting sun...I’m almost seduced just sitting here.”
“Almost is the key word, by the time this meal is over you will be totally seduced.”
“I’m not too sure about that, but I like your confidence.”
“I like yours as well,” he said. If there was one quality that always shone through in Staci it was her belief in herself. He admired her for it. He knew she’d worked hard for that, unlike himself, who’d had it assumed of him that he’d be good just because of his DNA.
“A toast to confidence and ego and hoping there’s room enough in the kitchen for both of ours.”
He smiled and lifted his glass toward hers. “To confidence.”
He noticed that she kept eye contact when she took her first sip of the wine. It was something that his father said only people with great gumption did. The wine was dry and cold just the way he liked it.
“Ready to be impressed.”
“Always,” she said.
He pulled out the dishes he’d packed and the containers. “While I’m getting our dinner ready why don’t you tell me something about the other chef you mentioned.”
Her hand shook as she was taking a sip of her wine and a drop of it spilled onto her lip. She stared over at him and he wondered what he’d said that upset her. “I assume it was just another man who didn’t cherish you.”
THE LAST THING THAT STACI wanted to talk about was the past but today Jean-Luc Renard seemed to be everywhere. But she knew she had to at least say something. Remy had gone to more effort with this meal side-bet they’d had than she’d expected.
Her hand trembled again. Was she seriously thinking they might be a couple?
She thought of how she handled her relationship with Alysse and they had a business contract as a safety net to ensure that Alysse lived up to her side of the bargain.
Though now that she knew Alysse she understood the other woman would never leave her hanging.
But she hadn’t known that at first. And weary of being hurt again she’d done everything she could to protect herself. She’d come away from Sweet Dreams Bakery with the belief that she could trust women but not men. Now she was looking at Remy and wondering if she could trust him.
She wanted to.
“Are you going to take the plate or simply keep staring at it?” he asked, his voice quiet as if he sensed she was dwelling on deep thoughts.
She wanted to scream at frustration with herself.
Any other woman would just enjoy the night and the romance of it but she was weighing his every move against her tender heart and trying carefully to get to know him while protecting herself.
It was harder than it should be because she felt as if she could believe him.
She wanted Remy Stephens to be just what he appeared to be—an out-of-work chef who could cook like nobody’s business and charm her socks off.
“Yes, I’m going to take it. The food smells delicious,” she said.
“I hoped you’d like it. Why don’t you save your story of past loves for another night?” he suggested. “I don’t want you thinking about another man while savoring my dishes.”
She nodded. She didn’t want to think about Jean-Luc either. And one thing that made it easier to ignore her past lover was the fact that three-star Michelin chef that he was, he’d never cooked for her. That should have been her first clue that what they had wasn’t real...
“What have you prepared?”
“New York City,” he answered with that rogue’s grin of his. “You said your happiest memories were associated with your mother and that city.”
“You know New York?” she asked. “How does someone from New Orleans become familiar with a big city like that?”
“I do get out of the bayou occasionally,” he said wryly.