“What else is there?” Dax would have to grab the folding stool so his dad could climb in.
“Mine,” Dave said.
Dax started to say no, but then chuckled. “Veronica might prefer your Cadillac to the jump seat in the back of the jeep.” His dad had bought the deluxe car for his wife, who had then died. It was the last connection to her, so he wasn’t giving it up. “I get to drive, though.”
“I can drive, son.”
“I want to drive.”
“I knew you liked that car. Finally admitting it.” His dad pulled the keys from his pocket, and handed them over. Even a year ago, that would never have happened.
“I’m not admitting shit.” Dax palmed the keys, knowing that life was short. But did it have to hurt, too? “I really like your shirt. Looks familiar.”
His dad winked. “Borrowed it from your closet.”
“That explains it.”
Maybe it was time to go shopping again. His dad had lost fifty pounds, at least. But he didn’t want to ‘waste’ money on new clothes.
Well, he could ‘borrow’ as much of Dax’s wardrobe as he wanted.
Dax quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. “Veronica’s bringing wine. I should bring something, but what does she need?”
“We’re going to dinner at a young woman’s house, Dax. Doesn’t matter what she needs. You bring flowers.”
“Melanie’s will have something, right?”
His dad nodded, and checked his watch. It seemed odd that anybody wore one these days, but his dad always had. “We’ve got a half an hour before the florist closes.”
Most of the specialty shops closed at six. Maybe Celia would start a new trend, and they’d all start closing at four for an early happy hour.
“What are you smiling about? You like this girl, Celia?”
Dax locked the shop door behind them. “Celia is a woman. And she’s nice.”
“Nice.” His dad blew a raspberry. “Nice is for puppies. A woman should be more than nice, if a guy’s lucky.”
“She’s been recently widowed, Dad, so don’t go asking her all kinds of questions.”
“What are we supposed to talk about?”
“Food. Her café, which opens soon. Talk to Khanti and Nino, you know them. And help me out with Veronica, would you?”
They picked up a bouquet from Melanie, who had a great selection of pre-made arrangements. Thinking of the white on white in Celia’s apartment, he chose oranges and reds with the flowing greens.
“You hold it,” he told his dad, swinging by to pick up Veronica. “Here we are.”
She waited outside the hotel, having forgotten the definition of casual. Dressed from head to toe in sheer gold fabric, Veronica gave off a rich light of her own. The silhouette of her body was visible through the shimmering material.
“Dear God,” his dad said, tightening his hold on the flowers. “Dax, you have your work cut out for you.”
❋
Celia heard the timer beep, signifying that two of her four quiches were done. She checked the clock on the oven and cursed beneath her breath. “Thirty minutes to show time,” she said.
She wasn’t nervous, exactly. But she’d just met these new friends, and what if her cooking was off? Or someone had allergies? What if Dax’s dad didn’t like her?
Taking the quiches out, she covered them with foil and put them in the microwave, off, of course, to keep them hot. She’d chilled her tomato gazpacho, and mixed her summer slaw with quinoa. Her VitaMix blender held a place of honor on her counter top, right next to the sink.
Cheesy fried polenta bites, baked eggplant lasagna, and for Nino, steak kabobs marinated in burgundy.
Celia wiped her hands on her apron, then untied it and slid it over the chair at her kitchen table. Her intimate dining area was ready for action. Candles lit, the drapes open so the beach and lights on the water could be seen.
She’d set the dining room table with the Wedgewood blue china that had come with the place, complete with silver and gold silverware that had been so popular in the 80’s. Crystal water glasses. Wine glasses.
She caught a look of herself in the mirror above the table and gasped. “Everything ready but me,” she said, running down the hall.
Celia smoothed her hair into a high bun, tossed powder on with a free hand, and added blush and a light lip gloss. She wore a simple, sleeveless cobalt blue dress that came to her knees with a subtle ruffled hem.
She grabbed her sandals and ran for the kitchen as the timer dinged. “The last thing I need is burnt food.”
Taking the last of the quiches from the oven, she turned it off, and put the eggplant lasagna in to warm.
The doorbell rang and Celia patted her fluttering heart. “Show time.”
Nino and Khanti stood in the hall, with Dax and an older man who had to be Dax’s father. Veronica, stunning in a sheer costume of some kind, waited in the back. Once she caught Celia’s eyes, she pushed to the front without waiting for Dax.
“Darling! I have wine,” she said, kissing Celia’s cheek with her red smooch. “I ordered an array for every palate.” She spun around the condo and proclaimed, “Charming.”
Dazed, Celia stepped back and welcomed the others. “Come in, come in.”
“I could smell this down the hall,” Khanti said, handing Celia a box of chocolate and a plastic container of salsa.
Nino hugged Celia. “You’re gonna love it.”
Dax, his hand on the older man’s shoulder, said, “This is Dave. Dad, this is Celia.”
The man took her hand, and brought it to his lips. “A pleasure to meet you. If it tastes as good as it smells, I might move in for a while.”
“Smooth talker,” Celia laughed. “I see where your son gets his charm.”
Dax followed his dad in, bending down to kiss Celia on the cheek. The peck was over too soon, but at least she’d have the memory to get her through the next hour.
“Here,” he said, handing her a vibrant bouquet of tropical flowers. Birds of paradise, hibiscus and orchids in a low container perfect for the table. Nothing so high it blocked your view from the person sitting across from you.
“These are gorgeous,” she said, turning toward the coffee table. She’d put the vase next to the television, so there was room. “I guess I needed that splash of color. Thank you.”
Dax stayed at her back. She could feel him behind her. His jeans fit him very well, showing his long, lean legs and adorable ass. His tailored black t-shirt was nice too. Everything about Dax made her girl parts pay attention. His arm brushed against hers and she got goose bumps.
“Where shall we put our things?” Veronica asked.
What ‘things’ could the model possibly have? She stood by the window, which highlighted her practical nakedness beneath the sheer head to toe garment. It was black and gold, with bands of black velvet around the wrists, waist, ankles and collar. Strategic body-colored netting covered the illegal bits. Still, for all intents and purposes, the woman looked nude.
And stunning.
Nino did his best to look at the ceiling, or the floor. Dave didn’t mind looking with admiration. Khanti silently fumed, and Dax ignored Veronica as if she didn’t exist. Celia was far more comfortable in her dress.
“My bedroom is down the hall if you’d like to set,” Celia cleared her throat, maintaining her hostess smile through force of will, “anything down. Purses, or...” she trailed off. “Wine, anybody?”
“The delivery man is bringing it up,” Veronica shrugged. “Any minute, he said.”
“Thank you,” Celia said. “However, instead of waiting, we can start with a simple Pinot Grigio until it comes.”
“I don’t care about the wine,” Nino said. “It’s torture having to smell all of that good stuff without a bite!”
“Nino!” Khanti elbowed his side.
Celia spread out her hands. “The guests have spoken,” she said. “Wait here, then, and I’ll bring out the firs
t selection of appetizers.”
Dave rubbed his belly. “The first selection?”
“I have so much food.” Celia met each of their gazes, but stopped at Dax. “Portions are small, because we’ll be eating all night.” Her voice broke as Dax’s lids flickered. She had the insane idea that he was wondering what else they could be doing that might take all night. Focus, Celia.
“I love this girl,” Dave told Dax. “Love her.”
She dashed into the kitchen and collected the trays. Wheeling out a cart she’d covered with a white tablecloth and appetizer-sized dishes, Celia removed the lids and scents rose in the steam to capture everyone’s attention. Dax was right there to help her, taking the lids and putting them in the kitchen so she had more room.
“Get a plate,” she said, her hands shaking with nerves. What if they hated it? What if she’d made a big mistake?
Dave, Nino and Dax eyed the food. Veronica laughed as she took her plate. “I smell duck. Yes?”
“Good nose, Veronica,” Khanti said. “I can pick out sage and rosemary. And is that blue cheese?”
Celia pointed to each of the dishes. “Fried blue cheese and polenta medallions,” she said. “Crispy duck with mango sauce. Nino, this one is filet mignon wrapped in bacon and rosemary. And last, pan-fried eggplant with cilantro.”
They used silver and gold appetizer forks, taking the time to savor each bite. It was a game to see who could guess what seasonings.
Veronica was surprisingly good, probably because she had a broader culinary palate.
Matthew delivered the wine. “Smells like heaven in there,” the security guard said. “It’s tempting us down on the first floor, even.”
“If there is any leftover, Matthew, I will send down plates.” Celia’s happiness made her giggle. When was the last time she’d felt so in her element? So capable?
“There won’t be,” Nino shouted from his place by the cart.
“Nino!” Khanti said, but then laughed. “He might be right, Celia.”
Dax agreed, putting his plate on the side table to help her with the wine bottles. Veronica had ordered a dozen and he picked up the cases as if they weighed nothing. The flex of his muscles as he set them down by the table made her mouth dry.
He met her eyes and she had difficulty remembering what to do next. Matthew left, shutting the door closed. “I should have tipped him,” Celia said, shaking her head to clear her scrambled mind.
“I already did,” Veronica said, walking to the top case, and putting her hand on Dax’s back. Celia blinked at the casual contact. It meant nothing, right?
“Dax, darling, open this bottle of white, will you?”
Dax accepted the bottle and opened it. Celia gathered glasses for everyone, deliberately avoiding looking at how close Veronica stood to Dax. Did the woman not understand boundaries? Of course, Dax wouldn’t mind. The model was drop-dead gorgeous. Celia smoothed back her hair, feeling pale and plain compared to Veronica’s dark beauty.
“Let’s have a toast,” Veronica said, pouring three inches in each glass. “To Celia.”
Celia raised her glass, pushing any negativity away. This was her first meal, with friends, in her new home. Dax walked around Veronica to stand next to Celia. He slipped his arm around her waist, clinking his glass to hers.
“To Celia,” Dax said. The others chorused her name and her face heated at their praise.
“Thank you so much,” she said after a sip of crisp wine. “Let’s eat!”
Chapter Eleven
Celia surveyed the groaning people around her table and smiled. They’d eaten like Romans, decadent in the amount and variety. Slightly buzzed and definitely over fed, she leaned back in her chair, her leg brushing against Dax’s beneath the table.
Veronica, quiet for a bit, sat with her hand on her slightly protruding belly. She held a glass of wine in the other, in the most relaxed pose Celia had ever seen.
“You should get a picture of that,” she whispered to Dax. “Umberto won’t believe it.”
“I think we might get sued,” Dax whispered back, his breath warm against her ear. “It isn’t the most flattering picture.”
She shivered at the close contact, turning so she spoke directly to him. “I disagree. She’s beautiful in a different way-more attainable.”
“That is not what Umberto pays her for,” he said with a half-smile that made her wish she could crawl into his lap.
“Cold observation.” She wondered if she should be insulted on Veronica’s behalf. Unfortunately, Dax was right. She was paid to be an ideal that most women would never attain. No plastic surgery or diet could grant what Veronica had been born with. “She’s perfect.”
Dax put his hand on her knee and gently squeezed. She was just tipsy enough to let herself an inch closer. “No. You are.”
Celia snickered. “Dax, are you drunk?”
He edged the hem of her dress so that it rested above her knee cap, gently circling the sensitive skin behind her knee with his finger. “Nope.”
She moved his hand before she begged for more. “Dessert, anybody?” Celia had to find the energy to keep Dax at a safe distance. She just couldn’t make herself do it. He felt too good. It had been a very long time since she’d been desired.
“God, no,” Khanti groaned from the other side of the table. “I think I hate you, Celia.”
“What?” Celia sat up straight. “Why?”
“I am miserable. But if you brought out more to eat? Somehow,” she shook her head, her long brown braid falling over shoulder, “I would eat it. I would.” Khanti’s eyes looked so sad that Celia burst out laughing.
“Me, too, honey,” Nino said, pushing his plate away.
Celia studied the carnage left on the table. Partially empty pans and bowls, plates and saucers, covered the top, but try as she might, she had zero energy to clear the stuff away.
“I made a fruit bowl. But it can keep.” The eggplant pizza had been a surprising hit, something new she’d added that afternoon after searching recipes from the internet.
There was none of the Amazing Salad left, and she knew she’d been right to include the pineapple, cucumber and raspberry mix in her debut.
“This was wonderful, Celia,” Dave said, rising from the table on unsteady feet. “Thank you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest my head on that couch of yours and take a little nap.”
Dax regarded his dad with concern, which his father waved away. “I ate enough for the entire week,” he said, making his way toward the couch. “And had some wine, but don’t tell the killjoy doctors.”
“Dave, take my bed. It’s at the end of the hall, and you can shut the door.”
“I like to hear the chatter of you all talking,” he said. “Makes me feel like I’m still part of the party.”
Dax covered Celia’s hand, where it rested on the table. A zing jolted through her body. She’d never had this awareness of Preston. “Do you mind an old fart grabbing z’s on your couch?”
“Not at all,” she said, too full to do more than chuckle.
Khanti flipped her braid back, leaning one elbow on the table. “I have never, in my entire life, been this full.”
“Me either,” Nino echoed, sounding close to miserable. “And I eat at the buffet at the casino.”
“Don’t make me laugh, Nino.” Dax held up his hand. Celia immediately missed his warmth and wanted him to put it back. “It hurts.”
“All right, brother.” Nino closed his eyes. “Dave, any room on that couch?”
“Forget it,” Dave grumbled. “It’s all mine. Now that I live alone, I forgot how to share.”
“When is Darcy coming home?” Khanti asked.
“Who is Darcy?” Veronica butted in. The mention of another woman’s name brought her to life.
“My sister,” Dax answered with exasperation. This time his hand landed on the back of Celia’s chair. She scooted so that he was able to touch her hair.
“Older than you?” Ver
onica asked, her curiosity present and accounted for. “Younger?”
“Younger,” Dax said. “She’s a marine biologist.”
Celia heard the pride in his voice as he talked about his sister.
Veronica’s eyes flashed. “Really? That sounds interesting. Where is she?”
“Melbourne, finishing up a project.” Dax’s fingers lightly caressed Celia’s nape, beneath her upswept bun. She tingled with want. “She’ll be home to stay for the holidays, starting with Thanksgiving.” Dax’s voice was getting huskier. Was he just as turned on?
“Australia?”
“No,” Dax laughed. “Melbourne, South Florida. It’s just a few hours away.”
Veronica deflated. “Don’t any of you travel?”
Celia was glad that Dax would have his sibling to help with his dad. Dave seemed in decent health, but she had no idea what he’d looked like before. True, he had the purplish lines around his mouth signifying lack of oxygen. She knew everything about pediatric cancer, but not so much about lung disease. “I look forward to meeting her.”
“She’s a carnivore, like me,” Nino said proudly. “You make that filet thing, and she’ll be your best customer.”
“That was a seared filet mignon with crusted rosemary, braised in burgundy.” Celia put her hand over belly.
Khanti switched elbows, cupping her chin in her hand. “How much of what you did tonight will you be able to serve in your café?”
“All of it but the appetizers. Unless I offer them as small plates?” Celia was undecided about how much variety to offer on a daily basis. It was something she’d have to wait and see, based on clients and what was at the market.
“People love little assortments of yummy food,” Khanti said. “I do, anyway.”
Veronica sniffed. “Tapas. We’ve been doing that in Peru for years.”
Nino shrugged. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Did you have a menu planned already?” Dax asked. He kept his fingers at her neck, massaging with the lightest pressure. Touching. Making her want to shove all of the dishes onto the floor, kick everybody out of the house, and make love with Dax on the table. All night.
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