“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I say.
He sighs. “Good. Glad you made it.” Dick looks around me, scowling. “What’s this about?”
I turn and see the detective and two uniformed officers marching down the hallway. Derek is leading them.
“They’re here to arrest someone,” I say.
Derek and the police approach Dad and me. Derek hasn’t stopped grimacing since learning the identity of the person who tampered with Mariah’s and my brakes.
Molina glares at my dad. “I heard my suspect is a bridesmaid. Where is she?”
Dad hesitates and squares his shoulders. It’s as if the lawyer is rising to the surface.
I touch his arm. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s a legit arrest.”
My dad rips his eyes off me and sets them on Detective Molina. “State Room B.” He still looks as if he’s seething about what’s going on here.
Derek, Molina, and the officers head straight down the hallway. I stay behind with Dad to explain everything.
“Barbara Lipton—do you know her?” I ask.
My dad grimaces. “Yes, she’s Alice’s friend.”
“Well, we think she’s the one who sabotaged Derek’s wife’s car and caused the accident that killed her. Then she sabotaged my car and tried to do the same thing to me. That’s what caused our accident today. Ryan, the neighbor kid—Derek’s neighbor—had a video of her tampering with the cars.” There, I said it all in thirty seconds or less.
My dad, however, still looks sour.
We’re both distracted when Barbara is dragged, kicking and screaming, down the hallway by the two uniformed officers.
“No! Help me, Derek! I love you!” Then she sees me. “You! He’s supposed to be with me! He’s mine!” She tries to spit on me as she walks by, but her saliva splats on the wall behind me. “Bitch!”
Alice steps out of her ready room, following the sound of chaos. “What in Sam Hill is going on out here?”
Derek tells her exactly what I told my dad. Her face puckers as if she just sucked on a dozen sour lemons.
“So she killed Mariah?” Alice says.
“Yes, we think she did,” Derek says.
Her jaw drops and she looks completely stunned by this news. “I’m so sorry.”
The four of us stand silently for a second, trying to make sense of everything.
“Hey,” a mousy voice comes from down the hall. It’s Courtney, the wedding planner. “You’re not supposed to let the groom see you in your wedding dress.”
Alice flings her hand nonchalantly. “Oh, that’s just some silly superstition.”
Courtney taps her watch. “Regardless, we’re running late, and I’m missing a bridesmaid.” She looks over her shoulder, steaming. “Where is she?”
We all look at each other. We’re at a loss for words.
The excitement dies down, and the ceremony goes on as planned. Except of course for one missing bridesmaid.
The ceremony is beautiful. It’s attended by many of my dad’s friends and associates, as well as Alice’s daughter from her first marriage. She flew in today from Toronto.
The atmosphere is filled with so much happiness. I don’t understand why I can’t stop crying. Derek takes my hand to soothe me, and Alice’s daughter, who’s sitting on the other side of me, hands me a tissue.
“Thanks,” I say.
What’s happening here is that I’m imagining the day my dad and my mom had their wedding. I wasn’t born, but I bet it felt the same. For the first time I get to see my dad vow to share his life with a woman, and it’s overwhelming. He’s going to be happy from this day forth. Knowing that is a relief and joy.
After Alice and Dick are introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Sutters, all of us walk to the ballroom for the reception. The beautifully lit hall is lined with gorgeous floral arrangements and an assortment of tables draped in gold lamé tablecloths. There is a dance floor on the side of the room, and my dad has hired his favorite jazz quartet. They play softly as we file into the room.
The meal is deliciously prepared roast duck, beef Wellington, and pan-seared salmon served with fluffy rum rice, perfectly roasted vegetables, and a fantastic crème caramel brulée for dessert. Derek and I enjoy one another’s company and the many champagne toasts we partake in throughout the course of dinner.
The first woman who dances with my dad is Alice, but I get the second dance. As we prance across the dance floor, I remember when I was a little girl, before Mom died. He would play old records and place my feet on his, then take my hands and dance with me around the room. It was so much fun, and I have tears in my eyes as I remember those times.
“I love you so much, and I’m so proud of you, Dad,” I say.
“I love you too, and I’m proud of you just the same.” He twirls me around, and when we come to a stop, he places his hand securely on my back. “I want you to know that if you ever want it, there’ll be a place for you at the firm.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “You never give up, do you?”
“Where do you think you get it from?”
We laugh and continue dancing the night away.
27
Six months later…
I walk in, and the bells on the door ring. I look back at them. They’re the same bells that hung on the door of Calypso, the café where Gina used to work. There are a gang of people here this evening. Tables are set up along the wall. Some of them have food dishes on them, and two of them hold Gina’s birthday presents.
She sees me. I hold up a bottle of apple cider in one hand and her birthday present in the other. This is her birthday-slash-launch party for her new restaurant. Lo and behold, she’s going into business with Randy.
“Nom!” she sings, walking toward me with her arms outstretched. We hug, and I feel her protruding belly against my stomach. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t forsake you for anything in the world,” I say. Gina has never been a sour individual, but I’ve never seen her so happy. She’s practically glowing. I point my chin at Randy, who’s on the other side of the room and dancing with a very pretty girl. “So stop me if I say something wrong. You and Randy are going into business together. On top of that, you’re pregnant with his kid. On top of that, he has a girlfriend. And on top of that, I haven’t seen the bickering between the two of you cease.”
She takes the bottle of apple cider out of my hand. “Let me have this. I’m thirsty as hell, and I don’t want water, soda, or cranberry juice. But regarding Randy, you’re right on all three accounts.” She lifts a finger. “However, he’s a magnificent cook, and so am I.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I still haven’t ever tasted any of her food. She’s never cooked a meal for me, or anyone else for that matter.
“It didn’t work,” Gina says.
I frown, confused.
“You rolled your eyes.”
I scrunch one side of my face. “Sorry.” I put on a deliberate smile. “No criticism—only support.”
She studies me intently. “I know you have a private jet to catch in a little while, but come with me.”
Gina takes my hand and walks me to the tables with chafing dishes lined up on top of them. She turns to look behind her then snaps her fingers. “Carrie, sweetie!”
A girl who looks to be about eighteen or nineteen trots over, all wide eyed and ready to be commanded. “Yeah?”
“Let me have that, Nom,” Gina says, gesturing to the gift I’m holding.
“Oh.” I hand it to her.
She hands it to Carrie. “Could you please put this on the gift table?”
“Sure!” Carrie says and skips away.
Gina shrugs her eyebrows. “One of my new staff. Now—I want you to try this.” She spoons food from the chafing dish onto a white porcelain plate and hands it to me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“My cheese soufflé.”
I take a fork off the table as Gina watches
me expectantly. I put the soufflé in my mouth and chew. An array of lovely flavors satiates my taste buds. I close my eyes to relish them.
“Oh, my gosh.” I open my eyes and point at my plate. “You made this?”
She tilts her head. “So I can cook, can’t I?”
I shovel another bite into my mouth. “Yes. You surely can.”
We talk for another fifteen minutes or so about her menu plans. I’m excited for her. Then she asks about me. I’ve passed the bar, and now I work at Sutters, Bell, and Ashton. I’m a first-year associate, working directly under my dad’s guidance. He doesn’t make it easy for me, but he’s also not a dick about making me work long and hard either. I had to go in to work today and do three depositions; each of them went on for a minimum of two and a half hours. But thankfully, they ended in time for me to come to this party and meet up with Derek in Aspen later this evening. I eat some more and congratulate Randy on the big career move. As always, he’s charming, but the girlfriend on his arm is like a guard dog—more like a Chihuahua ready to snip at any attractive woman who gets too close to him.
Finally, I say good-bye to Gina and rush to the airport with my suitcase in the trunk of my new car. After Barbara cut the brake line of my old Buick, driving it left a bad taste in my mouth. Detective Molina was able to provide enough evidence to get her eighteen years for one count of manslaughter and two counts of attempted murder. So now I drive a royal-blue SUV with white leather seats and hefty tires to get me through the snowy seasons.
Gina exaggerated about the sort of plane that’s flying me to Aspen. It’s not a jet, and it’s not privately owned, but it is a chartered plane. I would’ve had to wait until tomorrow to fly out if I had taken a regular domestic flight. Derek wanted me to arrive in Aspen tonight, and so did I. I don’t even know how to sleep alone anymore. We’ve slept together every night since I don’t know when—it’s been a long time.
Boarding the charter flight is a piece of cake. I just drive to the airstrip, and an attendant takes my bag while another attendant parks my car. I walk up the ramp, find a nice seat, buckle up, and sooner rather than later, it’s time for takeoff.
Around two and a half hours later, the airplane lands, and an SUV is there to take me to the cabin. I’m a little confused. I thought Derek was going to pick me up—although I’ve been so busy at work, I could’ve gotten the details wrong.
The snow-covered landscape with robust spruces reminds me of the last time Elena and I went skiing. We were in the Alps and stayed on the mountain all day. We were buffs, denying food, drink, and even all the men who were waiting to get a crack at us, the two cute girls from America. It’s dark, but the moon reflects off the large white mountain. The powder looks inviting, but it’s not calling me to it anymore. I’d rather stay in bed and make love to Derek for the entire weekend.
I rest my head on the seat and close my eyes. “Gosh, I love him. I love him so much,” I whisper.
The SUV turns down a road with trees lining each side of it. When the trees break, the most gorgeous vacation home comes into view. It looks like a cozy, opulent mountain chateau. The light inside is orange and warm. My heart skips. Derek is less than fifty feet away.
When the vehicle stops, I open the door before the driver can make it around to open it for me. He gets my bag, and I follow him to the porch.
He sets my suitcase down in front of the door. “Thank you, miss.” I open my wallet to tip him, but he lifts a hand. “That has already been taken care of.”
Of course—Derek tipped him already. He thinks of everything.
I open the door and walk inside. The gentle heat takes the chill off me. The brown leather sectional with a loveseat and armchair, the Impressionistic paintings of the town of Aspen, and the decorative pieces are all done with magnificent taste. However, the rose petals on the floor catch my attention.
“Derek?” I call.
There’s no answer.
I’ve seen this scene enough times to know what to do next. I walk on the delicate, sweetly scented petals. When I follow them to the end of the hallway, there’s a door that leads outside. I stop and turn around. Did I miss something?
I look out the glass part of the door. The rose petals continue down the shoveled walkway, so I open the door and squint at what looks like a cabin surrounded by trees. The red trail leads to it.
I grin. Derek is being romantic tonight, and I love it. I pick up my step for two reasons: it’s cold as heck, and I’m so ready to make love to him. I open the door to the cabin and step in.
Derek is standing beside a piping hot fireplace, smiling from ear to ear. “You made it, babe?”
I smile too. “I did.”
My gaze scans the room. One large square bed with white fur blankets is in front of the fireplace. There’s also a table set for a candlelit dinner.
“Mm, that smells good,” I say. “What is it?”
“Filet mignon,” he says quickly and rather nervously before dropping to one knee.
My eyes widen in disbelief. I’m frozen in time. I feel as if I’m watching him move in slow motion.
He holds up a brown velvet ring box. “Naomi, will you marry me?”
I blink. Did he just… My whole future passes before my eyes until I see Derek and me raising a family and loving each other until the end of our days. I never entertained such a picture until I fell deeply in love with him.
I don’t think the sun could compete with the rays of happiness emanating from my smile. “Yes!”
He slides the ring on my finger, pops off his knee, and sweeps me into his arms. “Thank you, babe.” He sounds relieved.
As usual, his kiss makes my head spin.
“We’ll eat, but first…” He turns, and I follow his eyes to the bed of furs.
When he turns back to me, I flex my eyebrows at him. He spreads me on top of the furs and unzips my jacket while I unzip his. We keep taking off each other’s clothes until we’re lying between the furs, naked, and he’s inside me.
This time when we make love, it’s different. It’s fuller. We’re going to be together forever. I can hardly believe it. Professor Derek Valentine, the sexy professor, is my perfect man.
The Chef’s Passion
The Chef’s Passion” features Gina Gilbert from “The Professor’s heart.”
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
1
I speed into the parking space and smash my foot on the brake pedal. The clock on my stereo reads 1:17 p.m.
“Shit.” I’m late. All I need is Randy riding my ass today. He can be a major jerk.
I snatch my purse off the passenger-side seat and swing my door open. There’s a loud bang.
I pound my steering wheel.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I jump out of the car and examine the deep dent I put in someone’s bright-red BMW. The paint’s even chipped.
“Damn it!” I stand and look around the parking lot and at the door of the Calypso Café. There’s no one in sight.
I take a deep breath then dig frantically through my purse and take out a pen and an old business card from Jack of All Tires. I draw an arrow, pointing toward the dent, and scribble, “Sorry about the door. Find me at the register. Will pay. Gina.” I tuck the card under the wiper blade on the driver’s side and run across the lot and into the café.
The bells on the door jingle. Randy Cousivan, our manager, is working the registe
r. He gives me the evil eye. “You’re late.”
I grunt and swoop right past him on my way to the locker room. I swear he lives to harass me. The locker room is small and always smells of strong perfume and some guy’s sweaty socks. I open the lock with my key and swing the door open. My deodorant and lipstick fall out and hit the wooden bench and then the floor.
“Fuck,” I mutter while picking them up. I have so many books shoved in the locker that I hardly have room for anything else. I’m back in school, culinary school, and enrolled in an intensive program that’s supposed to make me a professional in just eight months.
I snatch my apron off the hook. I put it on along with my name tag, roll on some red lipstick and deodorant, then check my face in the mirror. Jeez, I look haggard. Sleep has been a rare commodity as of late, and that fact is beginning to show.
“On with the show.” I center my name tag.
There are two consecutive knocks on the door, a pause, and then two more. That signals that the person is male.
“I’m decent,” I say.
The door opens, and in walks Randy. “I didn’t think you were going to be late every day when we discussed your plans for school.”
I slam my locker shut. “Neither did I.”
He sweeps past me and opens his locker. “Why should I continue supporting you when you’re constantly late?”
I jerk back. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
He cocks his head to the side.
“Well, you didn’t seem to have much of a problem with my tardiness after my muffins and tarts sold record numbers.” A few months back, one of the bakers left in the middle of his shift. I stayed late to finish it, only instead of following his recipes, I used my own. For the next three weeks, customers didn’t stop requesting them until finally Randy put his pride aside and asked for my recipe. Now, my pastries have been added to the menu permanently.
Her Perfect Man- The Complete Series Box Set Page 48