What Love Tastes Like

by Zuri Day

Tiffany did, and quickly unfolded the letter inside, written on Keith’s company’s stationery:

  Dear Miss Matthews:

  Your father has taken the liberty of forwarding your college transcripts to this office and we are quite impressed with your scholastic achievements. We are pleased to make an offer to you for a junior management position. Your starting salary will be $75,000, with additional company benefits including full medical and dental insurance, profit sharing, two weeks’ vacation…

  When Tiffany had looked up at her father, hers wasn’t the happy face he’d been expecting. Instead, tears threatened as she quietly refolded the paper, stuck it back in the envelope, and placed the envelope near her father’s plate.

  Keith frowned. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  “I can’t accept that,” Tiffany whispered.

  Keith nodded his understanding. Of course. She wanted to prove herself and not think that she got the job simply because her father owned the company. “Baby girl, I can assure you that nepotism doesn’t play a part here. You were not the only candidate considered for this position. There were four other applicants that we—”

  “I’m going to be a chef!”

  Tiffany’s sentence seemed to push air out of the room, and took sound with it. It was as if time stopped. Keith immediately thought about the tens of thousands of dollars he’d spent to provide his daughter with a top-notch education. And she wants to trade in her diploma for an apron? To sweat over a stove in somebody’s kitchen?

  “You want to do what?” Keith asked slowly, enunciating every word.

  “Daddy, I love to cook. And I’m good at—”

  “You want to do what?” Keith bellowed the question this time, and every patron in the restaurant turned to hear Tiffany’s answer. “Do you think I just spent almost a hundred thousand dollars preparing you to work in my company so that you can throw it all away for a hot stove?”

  “It’s not like that, Daddy. I don’t just want to cook. I want to be a chef, own my own restaurant. Nothing I’ve learned will be wasted; it will all be put toward eventually opening my own five-star restaurant.”

  Keith looked at Tiffany as if she’d grown an extra head. “You listen to me, Tiffany. No daughter of mine is going to spend her life as a glorified cook. Now, I don’t know where you got this cockamamie idea, but you’d better forget about it, and quick. Do you know how many graduates would kill to get the offer that’s been handed to you on a silver platter? People with five, ten years’ experience don’t have jobs like the one that’s just landed in your lap!”

  Keith realized he was still talking loudly even as his wife placed a calming hand on his forearm. He took a deep breath, lowered his voice. “You have a month to take a break from all your hard work of the past six years. You name the place and I’ll pay for the vacation, for you and a friend, wherever you want to go. Then in July, just after the holidays, I expect you to move into your new office at KJB. If you don’t, then…you’re on your own. I’ll cut off all financial support, so that you can see how a cook lives. I’ll let you keep the condo, and other gifts…but no more. Join the KJB family and, well, the sky’s the limit for what you can achieve.”

  “No!” Tiffany heard herself say. She took a breath and looked her father in the eye. “I spent the last six years of my life getting the degree that you wanted me to have. Now it’s time for me to get what I want. This fall, I will be enrolling in culinary school, to get a degree in the culinary arts.”

  Keith never said another word. He simply folded his napkin, placed it on top of the half-eaten dinner, rose from the table, and left the room. His wife cast a sympathetic look at Tiffany before hurrying behind him. After Tiffany paid the almost two-hundred-dollar bill for a dinner no one ate, she too left the restaurant. Keith and his daughter didn’t see each other for the next five years.

  Keith looked down at his cleaned plate, and for the first time was ashamed at how he’d treated his daughter. She was right and I was wrong.

  “Dad?” Tiffany asked cautiously, aware that her father was deep in thought. When he looked up, his eyes were misty. Tiffany placed his dinner in front of him. “Dad, are you all right?”

  “You were right and I was wrong, Tiffany,” he muttered, anguish evident in his voice. “I was wrong to squash your dreams of being a chef, of trying to force my idea of success on you.”

  It was the first time Keith Bronson had come anywhere close to an admission of wrongdoing, much less an apology. Tiffany’s heart swelled at the sound of his words, but she knew if the conversation continued on its present course, she’d break into an ugly cry. And as the sous chef of a five-star restaurant in one of Los Angeles’s premier hotels, that would not be cute.

  “Let’s talk about that later,” she said, forcing a cheerful sound to her voice. “We don’t want your food to get cold.” Tiffany donned her professional hat, explaining the food she’d prepared for her father. “The butter has been infused with ginger, smoked paprika, and lemon zest,” she concluded, “and can be either poured over the lobster or used for dipping. Bon appétit.”

  Keith looked at his daughter another long moment before spearing a chunk of the lobster, dipping it in the butter, and placing it in his mouth. The spices immediately tickled his palate, even as the lobster almost melted in his mouth. He closed his eyes, chewed slowly, and savored the taste. “It’s absolutely incredible, Tiffany,” he said when he’d finished. “The best food I’ve ever tasted.”

  Tiffany tried to swallow the lump that leaped into her throat. “Well, enjoy, Daddy,” she said hurriedly. “I have a few more orders to get out, but I will come back and join you for dessert.” Without waiting for an answer, she rushed out of the restaurant, bypassed the kitchen, ran into the bathroom, and burst into tears.

  Forty-five minutes later, Tiffany watched her dad scoop up the last of his apple dumpling, which had been served warm atop Tiffany’s caramel ice cream. When she’d returned to the table and her father had tried again to apologize, Tiffany had cut him off. “Let’s have this talk later, Dad. You’ll make me cry, and that’s not professional.” Her father’s smile was bittersweet as he’d simply nodded and changed the subject. The time they spent talking during Tiffany’s fifteen-minute break centered on family and politics, specifically the presidency of Barack Obama, which next to business was Keith’s favorite subject.

  “When it comes to worldwide diplomacy, Obama’s been walking a tightrope for the last two years. No matter which country we’re talking about, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.”

  “I think he’s doing a fabulous job,” Tiffany countered. “And Michelle is the perfect complement, tackling issues important to women everywhere. Wow, what I wouldn’t give to fix them dinner…just one time. And speaking of, I’d better get back to work.”

  Keith wiped his mouth and placed the napkin on his cleaned plate. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and stared at his daughter. “The food was simply amazing, Chef,” he said sincerely. “I love you, Tiffany.”

  Tiffany stood, once again tamping down her emotions. “Me, too, Dad. Catch you later.” She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, and left.

  Keith eyed his watch. Dinner had taken longer than he’d intended, but he’d enjoyed every moment. So much so that he thought about taking the evening off. Maybe he’d pick up Angelica and do something casual—maybe take in a movie or go to the beach. He’d just reached for his BlackBerry to dial her, when it rang. “Bronson.”

  “Hey, Keith. It’s Stan. We’ve got a situation, and we need to act fast. How far are you from Bel Air?”

  “I’m in Malibu.”

  “Shit. Well, your source was right. While we were watching out for a meeting here in Los Angeles, those bastards were having it in Vegas. We need to act fast.”

  “I’m on my way.” Keith quickly threw down two one-hundred-dollar bills and exited the restaurant. He was in such a hurry that he almost ran over the tall, lean man who rounded the corner. “Oh, exc
use me, brothah,” Keith said as he looked up. Recognition came immediately as he took in the immaculately dressed Black man. “Nick Rollins,” he said to himself.

  “Yes,” Nick replied. “And you are?”

  “In a hurry,” Keith replied before quickly exiting the hotel.

  Nick’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man scurry from his establishment. Who is he? Nick thought. And why is he in such a hurry?

  55

  Tiffany yawned as she unlocked the door to her new home. She was exhausted, her shoulders and feet ached, and she needed a shower. At the same time, she’d never felt better. For the first time in a long time, in fact, since she could remember, her father had complimented her for doing what she loved. His praise lay like a blanket around her, causing all the physical aches and pains to recede into the background of her mind.

  “Nick?” Tiffany walked into the master suite and immediately began pulling off her clothes. He’s probably in his office. Tiffany smiled as she stepped into her favorite part of this bedroom—the custom shower. It was made of pure marble and was as large as her old walk-in closet. Six pulsating showerheads enveloped her in a liquid massage, with dual seating for at-home pedicures—or as was more often the case with Tiffany and Nick, lovemaking. Tiffany twirled around, luxuriating in the feel of the soft water flowing from all angles against her skin. She could have stayed in the shower indefinitely, but remembering the good news she wanted to share with Nick, she quickly washed her hair. After toweling off and rubbing on her favorite vanilla-and-jasmine-scented lotion, Tiffany donned a skimpy, silk pajama short set and went in search of her man.

  “Hey, you,” she said when she found him, looking out the window in his home office. She snuggled behind him before walking around and searing him with a long kiss. “I’m so glad to be home.”

  “I’m glad, too,” he drawled, dipping his head to kiss her again. “Especially now.”

  “And I’m so happy! You’ll never guess what happened to me today!” Tiffany almost bounced around the room as she told Nick about her father’s visit to the restaurant. She gave him a rundown of all the dishes she served and a recap of their conversation. “He loved my food!” Tiffany finished. “He said I was a top-notch chef, and that I made him proud! The one and only Keith Bronson—proud that his daughter’s a cook! I can’t believe it.”

  Nick’s head jerked up at this last comment. “What did you say?”

  “I said that I can’t believe that my dad is proud—”

  “No, his name.”

  “Keith Bronson.”

  Nick’s brow furrowed. “But your last name is Matthews.”

  “My mother’s maiden name. It’s a long story, but she changed both of ours after their divorce. But that’s not the point! The point is that for the first time in my life, my dad gets it. He finally gets why I love to do what I do!”

  “That’s great, baby, that’s real good.” Nick hugged her tenderly.

  Tiffany stepped back and looked into Nick’s eyes. She’d been so wrapped up in her own happiness that she hadn’t noticed his subdued mood until now. “What is it, Nick? What’s wrong?”

  What was wrong? That was the fifty-million-dollar question—literally. It was the question Nick had wrangled with since leaving his office around six o’clock, after spending hours on the phone. When he’d finished making calls and having them returned, he knew all he needed to know about Keith Bronson, the financial whiz behind the other contenders for the chain of nightclubs in China. Everything but the fact that he had a daughter named Tiffany.

  Competition aside, Nick admitted to having a grudging respect for Keith Bronson. He was a man who, like Nick, had pulled himself up by his own bootstraps. Keith was brilliant with numbers, and tenacious when it came to getting the deal. He’d been labeled “silent but deadly” in business circles, the one who would verbally cut you with such finesse that it was only days later you realized you were bleeding. While being persistent, Nick learned that Keith stopped short of being ruthless. And he had a soft side, as his informant had found out. Keith had almost single-handedly funded the children’s ward of a low-income hospital in Detroit, where he grew up. Nick was in turmoil with what to do about what he knew, and how much to tell the woman who stood nestled in his arms.

  Nick reached for Tiffany’s hand and walked over to the large office chair. He sat down and pulled her into his lap. How can I tell her? He ran his hand through her still damp hair and kissed her neck, but remained silent. How can I tell her that my competition for this business venture, the one that will set me up to give Tiffany the life and relationship she wants…is her father?

  56

  Nick paced his office. Various conversations from the past few days vied for attention in his head—especially Bastion’s pleas and the other partners’ appeal for caution where this monumental decision to bow out of the China venture was concerned. As loud as those voices were, however, they paled in comparison to the conversation he’d had that morning, when a trustworthy informant had confirmed his suspicions about Stan. Their finance guy was definitely playing both sides against the middle, and Nick believed he knew why. Angelica. Obviously, Stan had become more enamored with her than Nick had realized, enough to where he would betray one set of partners for another. But why?

  “Mr. Rollins?”

  Nick frowned at the fact his musings had been interrupted. “Yes, Kim?” Kim was the woman sent from the temporary agency to replace a hastily fired Christina—whom he’d let go after questioning her about Angelica. Christina denied sharing any confidential information with Angelica, but admitted she had talked to her since the breakup, and had initiated some of those conversations. That was enough information for Nick to lose faith in her, even though he felt she was lying as well. Nick liked to run a tight ship and a drama-free life. He had to trust everyone who worked for him, and he no longer trusted Christina. So she had to go.

  “Tiffany is on line one.”

  Nick smiled. Tiffany was the one who could make him happy that his attention had been diverted. He walked behind his desk and sat down. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey, you. Sorry to bother you, but I’m on break and was thinking about this Sunday. I have the day off, and thought about inviting Joy and her crew over. Do you have plans?”

  Nick glanced at his planner. “Nothing urgent. I’ll fix my world-famous grilled steaks.”

  “You and Randall can fight over the grill. Joy and I will handle the side dishes. Say…three o’clock?”

  “Or earlier, if you’d like. And make sure the kids bring their swimsuits.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Uh, hold on a minute. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  There was a pause on the other end before Tiffany answered. When she did, there was a smile in her voice. “Oh, that. I love you, Nick.”

  Nick’s chest swelled with pride and his manhood with longing as he hung up. They still hadn’t taken their relationship public but he knew from Steven, the head of the concierge and all-around ears in the lobby, that people were starting to whisper about the amount of time Tiffany spent in his office. Nick had not one ounce of shame that a few of the meals Tiffany had brought him to taste had turned into another type of tasting altogether. Just another couple months. Once Nick and his partners sealed the restaurant/nightclub deals in China, Nick was going to surprise Tiffany with what she’d always wanted—even though she’d have to promise to work part-time. Nick had no intentions of cutting down his heavy schedule while his wife became a workaholic. Wife? Where did that come from? Nick knew from where. That thought had come from his heart. Tiffany’s exuberance for cooking and passion in lovemaking, combined with the naïve, vulnerable side that she tried so hard to keep hidden, was an attractive combination that Nick couldn’t resist. Nor did he want to. He thought they were perfect together, and thought that Tiffany would make a wonderful mother. He only hoped he could be a good d
ad.

  Thinking of fatherhood brought Nick’s thoughts back to Keith Bronson. His frown returned. To navigate the situation between Tiffany and her father was tricky at best. If he got the deal, would Tiffany be angry that he’d won against her dad? If Keith got it, and Nick had to put the life he wanted for them on hold for several years, would Tiffany’s trust in him fade? Would she be able to tamp back her fears that he was like her father? Nick felt guilty withholding this information from the woman he loved, but if he could just find a way to either pay Keith off or get him to somehow back out of the deal…

  “What am I thinking? That will never happen,” Nick said to the empty room. He ran a weary hand across his face, got up from his desk, and walked over to the magnificent ocean view that always calmed him. If it comes down to a choice between this deal or Tiffany… Nick didn’t doubt his love for Tiffany. But is it enough for me to walk away from fifty million dollars?

  “How can I do this?” Nick murmured to himself. “How can I get rid of Stan, make a case with Keith to back out of the deal, and expose Angelica for the snake that she is?”

  “Mr. Rollins?”

  “Yes, Kim?”

  “Steven is here and would like a moment with you.”

  Steven? What could he want? “Uh, sure, Kim. Send him in.”

  Seconds later, his head concierge and longtime employee walked into the room. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Rollins, but Angelica and an older man are in the restaurant. Keith, I believe she called him. I know you lifted the ban on her being here, but thought you’d like to know.”

  Interesting. “I appreciate it, Steven. Thanks.” Without thinking twice about it, Nick walked toward the door. Most of the time, when it came to business, Nick was meticulous in his planning, dotting every i and crossing every t. Now was not one of those times. Now he was going on instinct alone, following his intuition. Two of the three people he’d just thought about wanting to deal with had just walked into his restaurant. Angelica’s idea, he figured, as he crossed the lobby. And then another thought hit him. Tiffany can’t possibly know that Angelica is dating her father! Nick’s steps increased. He couldn’t get to the restaurant fast enough.