Her two bodyguards today were the oldest and most remote pair, but she was grateful for that today – she didn’t want to talk, just go through every step of her preparation for the dish – of course, there may not be any orders for it, but she hoped…
Stanley was already at the restaurant when she walked in and with a smile, she saw he had done a great deal of prep for her. ‘Don’t get used to it,’ he told her, smirking,’ this is a one-time deal even if your meal does make it onto the main menu.’
Harpa hugged him. ‘Stan…god, thank you. Man, I’m so nervous.’
‘Don’t be,’ he threw her apron at her, ‘just do what you do, step by step, don’t panic, and you’ll be fine.’
And she was, following his advice, she soon switched into chef mode, slicing and peeling, making the spice paste for the base, prepping the chicken breasts, making heavenly scented jasmine rice.
By the time service started, she had everything organized and was waiting to see if anyone ordered her dish. Stan and some of her other colleagues teased her every time she jumped to see what orders had come in. Finally, Stan waved a piece of paper. ‘Seven orders, chicken dhansak, tables three and seven.’
Harpa swung into gear, and less than a quarter hour later, she called ‘Service, please’ as the steaming curry dishes were placed on the pass. She didn’t have time to mull over what the reaction would be as Stan called out for more orders and she leaped into action.
Over thirty orders for her dish came in over the lunchtime service, and Harpa was running on pure adrenaline. She was clearing her station when Wendy, one of the waitresses came in.
‘It smells like heaven in the restaurant,’ she told them, ‘As soon as we took one of Harpa’s currys out, the patrons made like meerkats and asked what that gorgeous smell was. You killed it, Harp.’ She grinned at a stunned and red-faced Harpa. Harpa looked at Stan who nodded, his pride obvious.
‘You did good, kid. They’re asking for you out front.’
Harpa blinked at him, not understanding, and laughing, he pushed her out into the restaurant. ‘Ladies, Gents, thank you for your comments…and as requested, your chef for today, Harpa Bedi.’
The patrons applauded her, and although she was touched, she still could have disappeared through the floor. Instead, she walked to each table and accepted their praise and thanked them. She could see Stan nodding approvingly out of the corner of her eye. At the last table sat a middle-aged, well-fed man with spectacles on the end of his nose. He reminded Harpa of a younger, chubbier Dumbledore. His dining companion was a striking black man with such a beautiful face Harpa thought she might get lost in his smile. His older companion gave her praise and a couple of pointers on style.
‘But on the whole, a very welcome addition to this place,’ he smiled benevolently at her, and Harpa suddenly realized who he was. The restaurant critic. She shook his hand.
‘Thank you, Mr. Sheridan; it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Yes, I imagine it would be,’ the man said with a self-deprecating laugh. Harpa liked him immediately. ‘Miss Bedi, my companion here was even more impressed than I – may I introduce Mikah Ray?’
His companion stood – God, he was tall – and shook Harpa’s hand, his dark eyes merry and flirtatious. ‘That dish was incredible, my congratulations.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Ray…are you a food critic too?’
Both men laughed. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m just a lowly art dealer.’
Sheridan Farr made a scoffing noise in his throat. ‘Yes, very lowly. How much did you bring in last year?’
Mikah Ray was still gazing at Harpa, who couldn’t look away. All sorts of strange butterfly feelings were whirling around inside her as she took in the smooth skin of his handsome face, half covered with a beard, the faint crinkling at the corners of his eyes. A pulse started beating between her thighs, and she had to look away from that gorgeous face that perfectly shaped mouth…
She missed what Mikah Ray had answered to his friend so when they laughed, she smiled uneasily. ‘Okay, well, thank you both again, and I’m glad you enjoyed the dish. Hope to see you again.’
Sheridan smiled at her. ‘Thank you, dear.’
Mikah took her hand and kissed the back of it. ‘Oh, you will see me again, I promise.’
She escaped back to the kitchen, her heart beating wildly, and joined her friends and colleagues in clearing the kitchen. Harpa was working like an automaton, though, torn between thinking about her success and Mikah Ray’s smile, the feel of his lips against her skin.
‘Hey, doofus, you’ve just cleaned that bit six times,’ Wendy was nudging her. Harpa grinned at her. Of all the staff, and with the exception of Stan, Wendy was the person she had bonded with most; a fun-loving blonde in her mid-thirties, Wendy flirted with everyone and was the best at what she did, but when she went home at night, she was the single mother of three gorgeous kids. She was happy about her status quo, telling Harpa, ‘I’ve never felt the need to be married or coupled-up. The kid’s fathers are all friends, all show up for them whenever they want. I count myself pretty lucky.’
Now, she passed Harpa a folded napkin, grinning. ‘Go get yours,’ she whispered then walked off, cackling to herself. Harpa knew before she even opened the napkin who it was from. Her face warmed, and that pulse between her legs began again, more frantically.
Drinks tonight? The Cupola House, 8 pm. If yes, call or text me, if no, peace be with you. Mikah Ray
Underneath he’d scrawled his number. Harpa ran her finger over the number and then, before she could talk herself out of it, she texted him.
Yes. Looking forward to it. Harpa Bedi.
She debated putting a smiley face then decided against it. Too kiddish. Something told her that although he looked a lot of fun, there was nothing but pure adult virile male about Mikah Ray.
She was looking forward to finding out.
Cosima had skipped out of work early to go to the Crescent City farmer’s market to get some fresh produce for their meal that evening. She had decided their meal would be a mix of Indian and American to honor both of their loved ones so when she spotted a vendor selling traditional Creole food she couldn’t resist. Walking slowly through the market, she got lost in the fresh produce and didn’t notice when the man started to follow her.
She stopped at a seafood stall and ordered some shrimp and lobster for the curry. As she was paying for it, there was a commotion behind her and as she turned she saw Arlo’s security guards barreling towards her shouting, their faces angry and panicked. Then she saw him. Her heart stopped. He was running toward her, his eyes fixed on and in his hand, she saw a flash of silver. In a flash, she raised her arm as he bore down on her and in the second it took her bodyguards to tackle the man, she felt a searing pain across the flesh of her forearm. She dropped her bags, clutching at the wounds, blood pouring from her arm. She panted for breath, from the pain, the shock of the attack as one of her guards pinned her attacker to her ground, and the other, Steve, came to help her. He put a steadying arm around her and then checked her wound and winced. In a flash, she was back in the car and being driven to the hospital. Her head whirled, not from the blood – she wasn’t squeamish – but just from the speed of it all. Steve had wrapped his jacket around her arm, but she eased it off now to check. It was a nasty cut, deep into the skin below her elbow and now the adrenaline was leaving her, it was starting to hurt. She wrapped it up again as they raced across the city and now she could hear Steve talking to someone – Arlo? – on the telephone.
‘Yeah…yeah, she’s fine, just a small cut but I’m taking her to the E.R. now to get stitched up. Okay. Okay. See you there.’
‘Was that Arlo?’
‘Yes, ma’am. He’s going to meet us there.’
Cosima leaned back in the seat, feeling dizzy. Her clothes were spattered with blood, and she felt lightheaded and woozy. She saw Steve looking in the rearview mirror at her.
‘Stay awake if you can, ma’am. Keep pres
sure on the wound.’
In no time, she was being led into the emergency room and into a cubicle. The doctor came and looked at her wound. ‘Pretty clean but deep, that’s why you’ve lost some blood. How do you feel?’
Cosima nodded just as a worried looking Arlo arrived. ‘I feel okay, just a bit sore.’ Arlo came and put his arm around her, kissed her forehead. He looked pale and scared.
‘Sweetheart…what happened?’
She told him, and he looked angry. He rounded on Steve, who looked like he was expecting that reaction, firing questions at the man.
‘Arlo…Steve and Roger saved my life,’ Cosima couldn’t bear any more harsh words or violence. ‘They did their jobs exactly the way we wanted them to. No-one could have seen that coming.’ Cosima winced as the doctor injected anesthetic into her injured arm.
‘Lay back, Miss Bedi, we’ll get this fixed up. I would recommend you stay overnight…well, it’s up to you,’ he added when she shook her head vehemently.
‘No, doctor, I’d rather not. I don’t want any of our lives disrupted by this…foolishness.’
The doctor looked unhappy. ‘Well, okay, but I beg you, don’t overexert yourself.’
‘I promise.’
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes to sew you up.’
After he’d gone, Steve cleared his throat. ‘I’ll be outside.’
Cosima called out after him. ‘Thank you, Steve. I mean it, thank you.’
Steve smiled and nodded. ‘Anytime, ma’am.’ Arlo, still stony-faced, hesitated then held his hand out to him.
‘Thank you, Steve. I mean it, sorry about before.’
Steve smiled. ‘No problem, Mr. Forrester. Feel better soon, ma’am.’
‘Thank you.’
Arlo waited until he’d left then put his arms around Cosima. He buried his face in her neck, and she realized he was trembling. She put her good arm around him and held him tightly. When he looked up, she was shocked to see he had tears in his eyes. He studied her for a long time as if drinking in every one of her features.
‘When my brother died,’ he began, his voice low and rough, ‘I had to go identify his body. Because of a mix-up at the coroner’s office, he hadn’t been prepared or cleaned since the murder. He’d been stabbed in the chest, neck and face. He didn’t look like my brother anymore. When I heard you’d been attacked, that he had a knife...God, Cos, I could have screamed. Thank God you’re okay.’
She kissed away his tears. ‘I am, I really am.’
The doctor came back and attended to her arm. Afterward, Cosima got up from the bed, and Arlo walked her back to his car. She saw Steve and Roger parked behind them and waved. They both signaled back.
Inside the car, Arlo looked at her. ‘Where to? Shall we go back to my place for tonight, order room service? We can do our thing tomorrow night if you like?’
She nodded, suddenly exhausted. ‘Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we stop at my place for a change of clothes?’
In the end, they stayed at her apartment and ordered pizza, eating at the little table that he dragged over to the window. Arlo had some champagne delivered to and during dinner they raised a glass to Arjun and Mason.
Cosima put down her glass. ‘I need a soak in the tub, I feel gross. Wanna join me?’
In the tub, she lay back against his chest, her whole body relaxing. ‘That was a bit of a day,’ she said softly. Arlo was tracing soap bubble patterns on her belly.
‘You could say that. Cos…I don’t want to overstep the mark here, but I’m worried. About you being here alone, about your safety.’
Cosima had known this was coming and was ready. ‘I knew you would be but Arlo, I don’t want to feel caged.’
He was silent for a moment. ‘Are you saying moving in with me would make you feel claustrophobic?’
She sat up and turned around, cupping his face in her palm. ‘Absolutely not. But I want us to live together because we want to live together, not because circumstances force us to. I hate being regulated; I don’t think you realize just how much my life is organized by other people.’
‘Okay.’
She sighed. ‘Speaking of which, I don’t want to tell Jack about today. We don’t know if it was something to do with my father’s enemies or just a random mugger.’
‘Random muggers don’t attack in broad daylight in the middle of crowded markets.’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know then. But, Arlo, if we tell Jack, he’ll make me leave New Orleans. He’ll make me leave you.’
Arlo shook his head. ‘He can’t do that. You’re not a prisoner, for chrissakes.’
‘But the FBI could revoke our protection, and I won’t risk Harpa’s safety for my own happiness. As much as I love you, Arlo, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.’
She felt tears threatening and Arlo, seeing this, kissed her tenderly. ‘I know, I know. Okay, we won’t tell the pretty boy.’
Cosima laughed. ‘That’s so mean. Why don’t you like him?’
‘I like him fine. It’s his roving eye I’m not so keen on.’ But he grinned at her, and she flicked him with water.
‘I think you and Harpa are crazy. He’s just a friendly guy.’
Arlo pulled her to him. ‘To be fair to Jack, I can’t say I blame him. Look at you,’ he trailed his fingertips down her spine then moved around to cup her breasts. ‘Your chest should be a national monument.’
Cosima giggled. ‘You loon.’ But soon they forgot about the horrors of the day and made love for the rest of the night.
Harpa picked up Jack’s call as she was driven into the city. ‘Hey, dude…just checking in on me?’
Jack laughed. ‘Well now, I just called to tell you Mikah Ray has a clean bill of health security wise.’
Harpa chuckled. ‘It’s so weird, you’re like my dad checking out my dates.’
‘If only I could check for douchiness, I could have saved you from Deacon.’
‘Deacon who?’
‘That’s my girl. Have a great time tonight.’
Harpa said goodbye and shoved her phone back in her bag. She had showered and changed into a lilac dress which she knew set off her dark skin and hazel eyes, and sweeping her hair over one shoulder, fastened a simple gold chain which Cosima had given her before she left New Orleans, around her neck. Now, her palms felt sweaty, and she surreptitiously wiped them on the seat of the car. Sean was driving today with Tony in the jump seat.
‘Tony…um…what happens if I want to….um…’
Tony grinned around at her. ‘Relax. We’ll be a discreet distance, but you’ll have your privacy.’
‘Okay, cool.’ She was blushing furiously. Steve grinned at her in the rearview mirror.
‘We will mock you mercilessly, however.’
Harpa scowled at him. ‘I’m sure that’s not in your job description.’ But she giggled, her nerves easing somewhat. When they pulled up to the bar, she got out, sticking her head back in. ‘Enjoy your Peeping Tom assignment.’
‘Ha ha. Go have a good date, princess.’
She saw him as soon as she walked into the bar, his tall frame leaning against the bar talking to the bartenders. He stood, smiling, as he caught sight of her and kissed her cheek. God, just the feel of his lips made her cheeks flame and her senses reel.
‘Hi,’ she said, breathlessly.
‘Hello…thanks for coming out tonight. What are you drinking?’
After they had their drinks, they found a table and sat down. Mikah studied her, his eyes taking in her every feature. Harpa felt tongue-tied, desperate to say something but kept getting lost in his dark eyes. Mikah leaned over and touched her face.
‘So, pretty girl, tell me about yourself? All I know so far is your name and that you’re an incredible cook. I take it that’s your passion?’
She nodded, grateful to him for breaking the ice. ‘It is – and thank you. I was so nervous about putting up that dish, especially as it’s so different from the usual menu but Stan’s been an
incredible mentor.’
Mikah smiled. ‘He’s a good guy. How long have you been working there?’
‘Just over a month.’
That made Mikah’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘A month? And he’s letting you take a lead? Wow.’ He looked impressed, and Harpa relaxed a little.
‘It was a one-off but yes, so generous, but that’s Stan. Have you been going to his restaurant long?’
Mikah smiled. ‘Years. Stan and I grew up together in Tacoma, we’re practically family. I actually own half the restaurant.’
‘So you’re my boss too?’
He laughed. ‘Technically yes, but not really. I stay out of the running of the place.’
‘And you’re an art dealer?’
He nodded. ‘That’s always been my passion. I got started young, I was lucky enough to be mentored by Randall Mallory so I understand what you’re going through now. All work, all the time.’
Harpa grinned. ‘You got that right – I’m at catering college too, so sixteen hour days is the norm.’
‘Only sixteen? Lightweight,’ he teased, and she giggled. God, his voice, so low and mellifluous, was sending her heart fluttering, his smile, so wide and warm was intoxicating.
‘You’re really beautiful,’ she blurted out and then stopped in horror as Mikah smiled. ‘Oh god, I’m sorry, that just came out.’
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