Chapter 7 #2
“I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, it’s just you seem very rooted in the South,” she explained. “It’s a surprise that’s all.”
“Well taste it and tell me if it’s a good surprise or not,” he said.
She shook off the mantle of the past and instead concentrated on the now.
Remy hadn’t proven himself to be anything other than a white-hot lover, first-class chef and a really nice guy who liked her.
She set her wine glass down on the tabletop Remy had made with the cooler lid and took the heavy silver fork he’d passed to her.
Carefully she arranged a bite of the meat, which was breaded and had a sauce on it, the creamy risotto and lifted it to her mouth.
It smelled incredible and her mouth was already watering.
When she opened her lips she noticed that Remy stared at her mouth.
She let her tongue dart out to taste the food before taking the first bite.
His eyes narrowed and suddenly she was lost in the food as the feeling of New York City was on her palate.
The food had that warm comfort that Staci had always gotten from her mother, but also the edge that she’d felt when in New York.
She closed her eyes and forgot about everything and admitted that if he cooked like this next week then she and the other contestants were out of the running.
“It’s good,” she said at last, well aware that her words were faint-praise for the dish she’d just sampled.
He nodded. “Thanks. I won’t let all the effusive praise go to my head.”
“Like you need me to tell you that you’re good,” she said. “The dish is New York, but my experience there. How did you do that?”
He leaned over and touched the side of her face. As if she could ever not pay attention to Remy Stephens.
“I listened to you,” he said. “Everything that you said this afternoon about food memory made me realize I was missing a powerful spice in my chef’s kit. And it was the personal experience.”
“Memo to self—stop giving Remy advice if you want to win this competition,” she said with a rue grin.
He laughed as she’d hoped he would but it didn’t lessen the tension inside of her.
Somehow she knew it was the mere mention of her lover in Paris that cast a damper over her spirits.
She’d thought that almost six years would be long enough to dull not only his memory but his hold over her but she was realizing it wasn’t.
She guessed there were some wounds that cut too deep. But she also knew that there were so many elements in this very situation with Remy that were similar to how she’d fallen for Jean-Luc. The food, the passion for cooking...that very Gallic outlook on life that they both shared.
“I think you’ll do just fine. You have some of the best cooking instincts I’ve ever seen. My grandfather would have loved to have you apprentice in his kitchen.”
“Who is your grandfather?”
Remy bit his lip and looked away from her and down at his plate for a minute. “No one really, just an old chef who said to me that cooking comes from the soul but until I heard you talk about it I never got what he meant.”
“So you’re saying I remind you of your grandpa?” she asked.
“Not in the slightest. But you do have the same gut instincts he does. I think he’d be very impressed by you,” Remy said.
“Are you impressed?” she asked. She wanted to groan after she said it but she also really wanted him to like her.
To see all of her talents and none of her flaws.
Dammit, she thought. She was already starting to hope that he could be the man she saw tonight.
A man who had the same goals, the same soul as she did.
It was something that she really needed to work on if she was going to have any chance of protecting herself from falling for Remy.
“Chère, you’ve done nothing but wow me since the moment you fell into my arms,” he said.
They both finished up their dinner and then Remy stowed the dishes back into the cooler. She noticed that he kept everything as neat and tidy as he did his mis en place when they were cooking. “You are very neat.”
“That’s a good thing in a chef,” he said.
“Yes, but even away from the kitchen. Why is that?” she asked. It might be nothing but then again it could be the key to figuring out Remy.
“My father said a man who lacks the discipline to keep himself tidy lacks the discipline to run a kitchen.”
“And that was your goal?” she asked.
“It was my heritage,” he said.
There was gravitas in his voice and she wondered what kind of expectations his family must have put on him. The disappointment they’d feel that he was out of work now. He needed this win, she thought, almost as much as she did.
“From your Creole family?”
“Most definitely,” he replied.
She took his hand in hers. “You’re a great chef, Remy. No one can take that from you and no matter if you are the head chef in New Orleans most famous restaurant or the purveyor of street food in New York you’re still honoring your talent.”
REMY WAS FLATTERED BY what she said and it was a sentiment his grandmother would have echoed but his father, his grandfather and his uncles they had a different plan for Remy and his future.
They wanted him to take up the mantle of Chef Patron and continue the tradition of the kitchen that had won three Michelin stars.
And for the first time, Remy understood that he might not want that path.
He’d come here with seemingly one goal, one objective, yet from the second he’d met Staci all of that had changed.
It didn’t matter what he’d told himself in the past, there was something in this moment that felt like truth.
It felt like his life was changing and he hadn’t experienced that outside of the kitchen before.
He moved around on the blanket until he was positioned behind Staci and drew her into his arms so that her back was pressed to his chest. She sat stiffly at first. So all the seducing he’d done with his food hadn’t made her relax with him.
Sex, he thought, might have created more barriers between them than he’d thought.
For all her tough-girl attitude there was a soft inner core to Staci that she protected like a fierce warrior.
His intuition told him it was because she’d been hurt before.
..disappointed by people in general. But more than that.
He remembered what she’d said about no man in her life having stayed. No father or grandfather. No boyfriend.
And though he knew his intentions were honorable there was a part of him that knew he had to be very careful.
He had no idea if this attraction was just the excitement of being in a new place and meeting a type of woman he’d never encountered before.
He was old enough at thirty to know himself and what he wanted but he had no idea if he could tame Staci and convince her he was a staying kind of man.
Or if he wanted to. The fact was he was lying to her by not telling her his real name and background.
And a part of him knew he should say something to let her know but he couldn’t risk anyone else knowing who he was.
And the secret was his burden. If at some point his true heritage in cooking became known he didn’t want her to have to pay the price for not coming forward sooner.
His reasons all sounded good to him but another part of him knew that as long as he kept his secret this life, this idyllic time with Staci could continue.
He didn’t have to try to figure out the logistics of falling for a woman who lived on the West coast. He didn’t have to face the fact that his life was always going to be in New Orleans and she was as deeply entrenched here.
He kind of enjoyed the freedom of being Remy Stephens instead of Remy Cruzel. Remy Stephens could stay.
“Do you see that constellation?” he asked.
“Yes. Orion, right?”
“Yes, the hunter. It’s the most visible of all the constellations, you can see it anywhere in the world.
When I was young, my father had to travel for a few years and every night he’d tell me to look up at this constellation and know that he was doing the same.
That we were together even though we were miles apart. ”
She relaxed against him as he told her more about the night sky. He didn’t know much but he’d already figured out that with Staci sharing parts of himself was the key to getting past her barriers.
“My mother and I did that with the moon. She’d send me a kiss to the moon and I’d retrieve it when I went to bed...” she said, her voice wobbled a little. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me,” he said.
She shifted around to look at him. “I want to believe that but the past has taught me that a secret is only safe if you keep it.”
He had just thought the very same thing and he knew that a man who was busy trying to cover up something had no ground to stand on.
He leaned down to kiss her because it seemed a better thing to do than to make promises he knew he couldn’t keep.
He wanted to tell her he’d never lie to her but since he already was. ..
Angry at himself for not being able to be the man he wanted to be with her, he slipped his tongue deep into her mouth.
Trying to show her the truth the only way he could at this moment.
He wanted her but more than that he liked her, he respected her, he was in awe of her.
He wanted her to be the woman in his life despite the fact that they were both competitors and going after the same prize.
While he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel and concede victory to her he knew that if she won, he wouldn’t be as disappointed as he might have been a mere week ago. He’d already learned more about himself in the last few days then he had in the last four years of doing the same thing every day.
He put his hands on her waist and hugged her close to him as he lifted his head. Her lips were swollen and her eyes closed. “That nearly got out of hand.”
“Did it? I thought that might have been your plan for the evening,” she said.
“No. I want to get to know the real Staci Rowland so the next time, when I take you to my bed...and it will be my bed and I can have the time to explore your body, we both understand it’s more than just attraction.”
She turned in his arms and put her hands on his shoulders leaning down close to him. “You keep saying the right things...”
“Is that a problem?” he asked, keeping his hands on her waist even though he wanted to slide them around to her ass and draw her in closer to him. He wanted to feel her straddling him and claim another kiss to stir the passion that was between them.
“No. But I’ve heard it all before. The lies, the lines. And a part of me wants to believe you are different, Remy, but you’re a guy.”
“Yes, chère, I am. And one you’ve never known before.”
She shook her head. “You’ve got a point but in my experience every man is hiding something and my gut says you’re the same.”
He swallowed hard and knew that if he told this lie it would hurt him later but he decided he could make up for it. Staci needed him to be a man she could believe in. She needed a man to prove to her that there was more to a relationship than sizzle and he was determined to be that man.
She turned back around and he held her in his arms but this time as she settled back against him he didn’t feel the peace of the night or the need to share past memories. Instead his mind was active with the thought that sooner or later he was going to have to tell her who he really was. But when?