PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF DEIRDRE MARTIN
Chasing Stanley
“Martin has created an enjoyable sports community with quirky characters and lots of humorous dialogue. You’ll cheer as Delilah and Jason slowly overcome their fears and the obstacles keeping them apart.”
—Romantic Times
“Martin has a way of bringing her dissimilar characters together that rings true, and fans and curious new readers won’t want to miss her latest hockey-themed romance.”
—Booklist
“Sometimes it’s not the one-plus-one-equals-two that matters, but everything that comes in between. On that score, Chasing Stanley is a real winner.”
—The Romance Reader
The Penalty Box
“It will make you think even while you laugh and cry…A crowd-pleaser. You won’t want to miss The Penalty Box.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Scores a goal with this reader…Deirdre Martin proves once again that she can touch the heart and the funny bone.”
—Romance Junkies
“Martin scores another goal with another witty, emotionally true-to-life, and charming hockey romance.”
—Booklist
“Fun, fast rinkside contemporary romance…Martin scores with this witty blend of romance and family dynamics.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Ms. Martin always delivers heat and romance, with a very strong conflict to keep the reader engaged. The Penalty Box should be added to your ‘must-read list.’”
—Contemporary Romance Writers
“An engrossing read…Left me cheering at the end!”
—Joyfully Reviewed
Total Rush
“Total Rush is just that—a total rush, an absolute delight. Deirdre Martin is the reason I read romance novels. This contemporary romance is so well written [and] has a hero to die for and a romance that turns you into a puddle. It fills your heart to overflowing with love, acceptance, and the beauty of uniqueness. I laughed, I cried, I celebrated. It’s more than a read, it is a reread. Brava, Ms. Martin, you’re the greatest!”
—The Best Reviews
“Well written…makes you want to keep turning the pages to see what happens next.”
—The Columbia (SC) State
“Martin’s inventive take on opposites attracting is funny and poignant.”
—Booklist
“A heartwarming story of passion, acceptance, and most importantly, love, this book is definitely a Total Rush.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Fast paced, sexy, fun yet tender, the pages of Total Rush practically turn themselves. This is Deirdre Martin’s third novel and [it] is as sensational as the first two…A definite winner.”
—Romance Junkies
Fair Play
“Martin depicts the worlds of both professional hockey and ethnic Brooklyn with deftness and smart detail. She has an unerring eye for humorous family dynamics [and] sweet buoyancy.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fast paced, wisecracking, and an enjoyable story…Makes you feel like you’re flying.”
—Rendezvous
“A fun and witty story…The depth of characterizations and the unexpectedly moving passages make this an exceptional romance and a must-read for all fans of the genre.”
—Booklist
“A fine sports romance that will score big-time…Martin has provided a winner.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Sure to delight both fans of professional ice hockey and those who enjoy a good romance.”
—Affaire de Coeur
Body Check
“Heartwarming.”
—Booklist
“Combines sports and romance in a way that reminded me of Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s It Had to Be You, but Deirdre Martin has her own style and voice. Body Check is one of the best first novels I have read in a long time.”
—All About Romance (Desert Isle Keeper)
“Deirdre Martin aims for the net and scores with Body Check.”
—The Romance Reader (Four Hearts)
“You don’t have to be a hockey fan to cheer for Body Check. Deirdre Martin brings readers a story that scores.”
—The Word On Romance
“Fun, fast paced, and sexy, Body Check is a dazzling debut.”
—USA Today bestselling author Millie Criswell
“Fun, delightful, emotional, and sexy, Body Check is an utterly enthralling, fast-paced novel. This is one author I eagerly look forward to reading more from.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“An engaging romance that scores a hat trick [with] a fine supporting cast.”
—The Best Reviews
Titles by Deirdre Martin
BODY CHECK
FAIR PLAY
TOTAL RUSH
THE PENALTY BOX
CHASING STANLEY
JUST A TASTE
JUST A TASTE
Deirdre Martin
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
JUST A TASTE
A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author
Copyright © 2008 by Deirdre Martin.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 1-4295-7717-7
BERKLEY® SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
For Jane Dashow, FQOTFU.
Love you, me gel.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1<
br />
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Recipes inspired by Just a Taste
Anthony’s Ricotta Fritters
Acknowledgments
Thanks to:
My husband, Mark, as always. The man has the patience of Job.
Miriam Kriss and Kate Seaver.
Binnie Braunstein.
Jeff Schwartzenberg, who did such a great job designing www.nyblades.com.
Mom, Dad, Bill, Allison, Beth, Jane, Dave, and Tom.
A number of publications were helpful in the creation of this book. They are:
The Perfectionist: Life and Death in Haute Cuisine by Rudolph Chelminski
French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano
Sixty Million Frenchmen Can’t Be Wrong by Jean-Benoît Nadeau and Julie Barlow
Gourmet magazine
Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking by Marcella Hazan
Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child
HarperCollins French Dictionary
Chapter 1
“Sorry I’m late, Ang. They’re doing construction on Metropolitan Avenue, and there’s only one lane open. Traffic was backed up to the friggin’ moon.”
Anthony Dante set up a small canvas folding chair beside his wife Angie’s grave and sat down, just as he’d done every Sunday morning for the past year. In one hand he clutched a foam cup of coffee; in the other, a ham and egg sandwich. He took a bite, disappointed to note it lacked the extra salt he always requested. He’d let it go this time, but if it happened again, he might have to say something to Al at the deli. It was important to get customers’ orders right. If his staff was getting sloppy or lazy, Al needed to be told.
“So, let me tell you about my week…”
The vast cemetery was like a silent, sleeping city, the early morning mist draped like gossamer over the trees. Anthony took a moment to pass the steaming cup of coffee beneath his nose, reveling in its robust scent. Nothing like a perfectly brewed cup of coffee to start the day. At least Al had gotten that right. The coffee aroma mingled nicely with that of newly mown grass. The morning sun was a blazing ruby ball, bringing with it the first real hint of the day’s heat. What was that old adage? “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky at morn, sailors be warned”? No doubt about it: today was going to be a scorcher. Not that Anthony minded. After years in a restaurant kitchen, heat and humidity didn’t bother him the way it did some people.
“First, the veal chops.” He threw a shot of coffee down his throat, sputtering as the scalding liquid burned the inside of his mouth. “Jesus,” he gasped, running his burnt tongue over the roof of his mouth a few times for relief. “I think Al is trying to kill me.”
He took the lid off the coffee, blowing onto the liquid to cool it. “Remember I told you I was going to switch up the recipe a little, maybe use a little more rosemary and a little less garlic to see if the customers would like it? Well, not only did they like it, they loved it.” He smiled with satisfaction, imagining Angie’s wide-eyed interest as she pulled one of their kitchen chairs closer to him, the better to listen. “Even Aldo gave it the thumbs-up, and you know what a crotchety old SOB he can be. By the way, he quit again yesterday. Second time this week.”
Angie had always been amused at the way Anthony and the ancient waiter sparred, a tradition reaching all the way back to the restaurant’s earliest days, when the old man had been young and used to mix it up with Anthony’s father. “One of these days, I’m going to call his bluff,” Anthony continued. “Then we’ll see how quick he is to throw his apron at me and call me un cazzone cafone.”
He paused for another sip of coffee, hearing voices behind him. He turned; two old women were slowly walking arm in arm toward a large, rectangular mausoleum whose double doors were flanked by enormous marble angels. It was rare to see anyone else at the cemetery at this hour, which was why Anthony liked coming so early. He could talk to Angie without having to worry about someone thinking he was a major nutcase, though if the past year of widowerhood had taught him anything, it was that grieving people were all a little unhinged. That, and everyone talked to their dead spouses all the time, whether they admitted it or not. He just chose to do it publicly once a week.
He glanced at his wife’s headstone, at the carved words that read, “Angela Maria Dante, Beloved Wife, Daughter, Sister.” He spoke to Angie all the time in his head. Maybe he was ubatz, but sometimes he swore she talked back. Not as a disembodied voice echoing through their dark bedroom or anything as crazy as that—it was more a coincidence thing.
Just the other week he’d lamented to Ang how he wasn’t sure what christening gift to get for his cousin Gemma’s new baby girl, Maeve. The next day, a Baby Gap catalog arrived in the mail. Some people might think it was nuts to believe the dead could influence the postal service, but since Ang died, Anthony found stuff like that happening all the time.
“Did I tell you about Mikey?” Anthony shook his head ruefully as he geared up to talk about his little brother, Michael, who had just retired from his career as a professional hockey player for the New York Blades. “Get this: he’s going to stay home and be a full-time dad while Theresa goes back to work.” Anthony snorted.
His gaze was pulled back to the mausoleum. The old ladies had slipped inside; he could picture them sitting on a glossy teak bench, staring at the smooth marble wall behind which their loved ones were interred. Sometimes he wished he’d chosen a mausoleum for Ang, if only because sitting out here when it rained or snowed was a big pain in the neck. Even so, he hadn’t missed a Sunday yet. It was the least he could do for the woman snatched from his arms too soon, the angel who’d shown him there could be more to his life than his restaurant.
He continued chatting in between bites of his sandwich, catching Angie up on both family and restaurant gossip. He liked concluding by sharing with her his ideas for shaking up the menu in the week to come. “I’m thinking of doing some kind of pork special this week, but I have to talk to Dom over at Santoro Brothers first.”
Santoro Brothers! How could he have waited until now to share the most interesting piece of neighborhood gossip he’d heard in months? “I almost forgot! You know the old candy store next to Cuccio’s, across the street from the restaurant? The one that’s been for sale since Old Man Garlasco died? Well, according to Dom, someone bought it and is planning to turn it into a restaurant. Insane, right? Just what we need: another trattoria in Bensonhurst.” He drained his coffee cup with a chuckle. “Good luck to them is what I say. They’re about to enter the big leagues, eh, cara?”
“Can’t you picture it? Couples staring dreamily into each other’s eyes over a bottle of Bordeaux? The scent of apple tartin as it bakes? Oh, Natalie, it’s going to be wonderful!”
Vivi Robitaille hugged herself tight, giving a small twirl in the center of the empty candy store she and her half sister planned on turning into a small bistro. All her life she’d dreamed of cooking in her own restaurant. Now it was going to happen—and in America!
Vivi dropped her arms and danced over to Natalie, who had yet to respond to her giddiness. “What? You can’t imagine biting into a piece of my baguettes with creamed butter? Or ordering a bowl of my bouillabaisse de poulet?”
“Not as strongly as you can, obviously.” Eyeing her surrounds critically, Natalie strolled the perimeter of the empty store, her high heels punching measured beats on the scuffed wooden floor. Unlike the high-spirited Vivi, Natalie was pragmatic, some might even say detached. Vivi was not surprised when Natalie concluded her stroll by asking, “Remind me again why we chose to open a restaurant in Brooklyn rather than Manhattan?”
“You know why,” Vivi reminded her. “We—”
“You—”
“—wanted a small, intimate local place that would serve peasant food to regular people, not some fancy haute restaurant catering to Manhattan’s rich.”
“You have something against the rich?” Natalie asked wryly.
Vivi blushed. “You know what I meant.” She regarded Natalie with unabashed appreciation. “I could never do this without you. You know that.”
Natalie cracked a small smile. It saddened Vivi to think it, but sometimes she wasn’t sure whether she liked her half sister at all. Now they’d embarked on a foreign adventure together, Natalie putting up the lion’s share of the money for Vivi’s restaurant. Amazing. Some would say that was only fair, since Natalie had received the lion’s share of their papa’s inheritance. But Vivi never felt entitled. Instead, she felt lucky to have Natalie there with her, both as a business partner and a friend, even though there were times a certain wariness could spring up between them. Vivi’s mother claimed the beautiful, aloof Natalie was just running from her failed love affair, but Vivi knew better. Natalie wasn’t running from, but toward. Both sisters wanted to reinvent themselves. What better place to do that than New York?
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