The Winemaker's Dinner: Appetizers

by Rusilko, Dr. Ivan

  “Chef Thorne, you need to sign for these,” he said in his snooty French accent.

  “These are for me?” No way.

  “Yes,” he replied, clearly annoyed by the onslaught of what looked to be close to eight-dozen long-stemmed roses.

  “There has to be some sort of mistake.”

  “No, Chef Thorne, it says right here on the card: To Jaden, my fellow turtle watcher,” he replied. “I shan’t even ask what that is referring to.” He huffed as he passed her the small white envelope that had accompanied the flowers.

  Oh my God, he didn’t. She took the card from the maître d’s outstretched hand. Oh my God, he did.

  The culinary critiquers now walked toward her, and she panicked. “Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Jaden said to the maître d’ and returned her attention to the VIPs.

  “Chef Thorne, it’s so nice to see you again,” the bald man exclaimed, offering her his hand. “I’m Stephen Watson, food critic for the Herald.”

  “I’m happy to finally officially meet you, Mr. Watson. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” Jaden stammered, trying to suppress her excitement.

  “Another culinary masterpiece,” her arch nemesis cackled in a too-tight pink dress.

  “It’s so nice to see you again.” Jaden smiled.

  “Unfortunately, we do have to run,” explained Mr. Watson, fidgeting with the top button on his shirt. “But keep your eye on the paper over the next few days. I think you’ll be pleased with one of my upcoming articles.” He smiled and added a wink that sent Jaden’s mind soaring.

  “I definitely will, and thank you again for stopping in. It’s always a pleasure.” Jaden was once more interrupted by the maître d’.

  “Chef Thorne, can you please sign for these? These men need to leave.”

  Jaden smiled politely as she imagined wringing his little fucking French neck for interrupting the most important moment of her culinary life.

  “Well, apparently we aren’t the only ones impressed with you, are we?” the blonde said with what might have been just a hint of jealousy in her voice.

  Jaden, now embarrassed, could only laugh at the situation. She hurried over, snatched the pen out of the maître d’s hand, and scribbled her name across the delivery slip. Turning her attention back to the critic and the blonde, Jaden replied, “I hope to see you again, and I look forward your article, Mr. Watson.”

  “Yes, next time you must join us for dinner.”

  “Certainly,” Jaden agreed. “Please let me know when you’ll be coming, and I’d be honored to join you for dinner.”

  The blond woman leaned in for a high society, half-assed hug. “I’ll be in touch,” she called, and both of them waved as they headed for the exit.

  Goddamn it! She still hadn’t gotten the woman’s name, but no matter. In her mind, she’d just won the Super Bowl, and it was time to celebrate. But first she had to take care of another matter: eight-dozen roses! She smiled at the entire floral shop that now filled the restaurant and decided to have the flowers placed throughout the dining room for the remainder of the evening. As soon as Jaden had this happy inconvenience sorted, she returned the kitchen and poured herself a glass of her favorite Australian shiraz, the one she’d come to love since her night in Sarasota.

  Digging her phone out of her pocket, she quickly checked it for messages. This time there was an email from Ivan:

  Some say give a woman a bouquet of roses and she’ll smile.

  Give her two bouquets of roses and she’ll think about you.

  Give her three bouquets of roses and she’ll forgive you.

  Give her four and she’ll fall in love with you.

  I doubled that, and all I ask is for a second date.

  Would you do me honor, Ms. Thorne, of accompanying me on a second date this Friday?

  Your fellow turtle watcher,

  Ivan

  Jaden’s smile threatened to overtake her face. At this precise moment, her life was perfect. But an edge of fear lingered nearby because with every peak comes an inevitable valley. Friday…oh, God! There were no special events, so surely she could prep early and duck out for the evening. She closed her eyes for a moment and calmed herself. Tonight’s events had been too much to fully absorb. Tomorrow she’d worry about the dangers of too much perfection, but not tonight. Tonight was hers.

  She looked down at her phone for a second before responding, then typed:

  Ninety-six roses couldn’t have made me smile or think of you any more than I already was, but yes, they won you a second date. Let’s find some more turtles!

  Filling her glass once more, Jaden saluted herself and downed the contents before returning to work a new woman…a complete woman.

  Chapter 12

  “Young Lust”

  LYNYRD SKYNYRD’S “FREE BIRD” screeched from the nightstand as the alarm clock on Ivan’s phone reached five thirty a.m. The sound woke him from near-comatose sleep. Classic rock was a complete one-eighty from the tranquil sounds of the rainforest he’d fallen asleep to.

  “Ay…Ay…Ay…” was all he could muster as he rubbed his eyes. His mind immediately began running in circles over everything he had to do today. Somehow he’d have to fit in his usual exercise sessions before preparing and presenting a fantastic night for his new baby girl. God, he thought to himself. I have to stop calling her that.

  He shivered as frigid air assaulted him. Since moving to Miami two years ago, Ivan had insisted on having the air conditioner cranked up full blast during the night to help him sleep. It reminded him of the freezing northwestern Pennsylvania winters he’d been accustomed to growing up.

  As he lifted the blanket, determined to start the day, his cock greeted him, hard and erect against his stomach. He must’ve been having one fantastic dream because the air was freezing cold, and he still managed to stand at full salute.

  “Damn, girl.” His thoughts drifted to Jaden, and he wondered what her morning routine was like. Did she sleep naked, or wear a thong? Boy shorts? Some other kind of frilly shit he didn’t even know existed but no doubt looked great hugging that amazing ass of hers? Would she say yes if he asked her to spend the night so he could observe firsthand, or was it too soon?

  He couldn’t resist gliding his hand over his erection as thoughts of her sleek form cleared his morning haze. How would she wake him in the morning? A tender kiss, a gentle shake of his shoulder, or would she surprise him with a kiss of a different sort? The thought of Jaden’s sweet, soft lips soon had him gripping his cock in earnest. He began stroking it slowly, then harder and faster as his fantasy grew. He kicked off the blankets and sheets completely as the image of Jaden’s warmth against his cold flesh replayed over and over in his mind: the taste of her laid out on the beach, the sight of her in front of him on the balcony, her perfume mixing with their animalistic lust. His hand worked his cock in ever-quickening strokes as he imagined Jaden in the short black dress that hugged her tight ass and perfect tits kneeling before him, her mouth taking him in. In an instant he came hard and fast. He lay spread-eagled and breathing heavy, his body spent.

  When he’d recovered and finally rolled out of bed, Ivan was greeted by a cold floor. He hop-shuffled over to the window of his twelfth-floor condo on the bay side of Miami Beach to sneak a peek at the weather for his early-morning jog. The faint orange glow illuminating the clouds above the distant Miami skyline meant the possibility of rain, but that didn’t matter. He was up, and this was his routine.

  He flipped on the light, illuminating his room and all his familiar, favorite things. An M.C. Escher print hung on the cardinal red wall above his bed. His blue sunburst guitar sat on its pedestal in the corner next to his grandmother’s favorite denim chair, one of the only things he’d brought with him from home. He’d positioned his chestnut dresser beneath the ocean-facing window so on even his busiest days he’d have the view to remind him that life was beautiful and precious.

  “Shit, it’s cold,” he muttered as if to reassure him
self he wasn’t imagining the chill. Pulling on a pair of clean briefs, white shorts, and his favorite Pink Floyd T-shirt, he headed for the bathroom.

  Ivan splashed his face with cold water and drenched his hair in an attempt to spark a shot of adrenaline for his seven-mile daily jaunt ahead. He watched the water drip from his face in the mirror and started smiling. Forget the water. The image of Jaden running her hands through her hair on the beach as the moonlight painted her in an ethereal glow gave him just the jumpstart he needed for the run.

  Then his mind circled back to his packed day ahead, and the excitement was short lived: exercise, patients at the spa, a lunch meeting about the new weight loss program’s debut, then back to work, more exercise, and then his second date with his sweet new addiction.

  Tonight he planned to offer Jaden a completely different experience—and he was both excited and paralyzed by the possibilities. Returning to his bedroom, he sat on the bed to put on his old sneakers. He’d estimated they had around one thousand miles on them, and they were on the verge of being retired. After lacing them up, he gave a half-assed attempt at a stretch before grabbing his phone and completing the ritual that unfolded each and every morning. Passing through the still-dark living room, Ivan entered the kitchen, snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and chugged it, hoping to get enough fluid in his system to counteract the muggy morning.

  Closing the fridge door, he retreated back through his apartment and out the front door. On his way to the elevator, his obligations—both business and pleasure—crept back for another spin around his head, and he cranked up the tunes. But he soon realized his attempt to divert his attention with even the melodies of Pink Floyd was futile. Work receded into the background, but he couldn’t stop wondering what Jaden might wear on their date—or not wear, if he had his way.

  Sundress? No, too casual. Evening dress? Too formal. Sexy police officer outfit? Now we’re talking, but unlikely. Whatever it might be, Ivan knew it would look great. Jaden would look sexy in a clown costume.

  As he stepped into the elevator, Ivan continued his daydreaming and personal predictions. Hair up or down? Heels or flats? Floral or fruity perfume? Heavy or minimal makeup? Thong or—He stopped himself. God, I am terrible. But thong for sure, his mind snuck in. He had a particular fetish for the strappy little pieces of dental floss that women called underwear, not to mention skirts that barely concealed them.

  When the elevator came to rest on the ground floor, Ivan exited with an extra jump in his step, his blood pumping with fantasies of the knockout he was courting. Courting? Is that what he was doing? Did this relationship with Jaden have the potential to be more than just great sea-turtle watching? The answer came to him as naturally as breathing: Yes.

  Ivan was still shaking his head, shocked that he hadn’t come to this conclusion sooner, when he left the air-conditioned lobby and an extra-muggy heat wave crashed over him like a ton of bricks. Setting out into the wet furnace that was Miami Beach, he jogged the short distance to the beach. He took extra-long strides, hoping to elongate his leg muscles, which felt like they were back in bed. Less than five minutes in the heat and a thin sheen of sweat covered his body. He yanked his shirt over his head and tucked it in the back of his shorts.

  A woman jogging by slowed her pace to watch. His biceps flexed as he reached above his head for a final stretch. She nearly tripped and fell headfirst into the sand. “You okay?” Ivan asked as he heard her gasp, but with his thoughts focused on Jaden, he hardly even saw her.

  As he began to run, he wondered if the way he was pursuing Jaden was proper. He’d never really pursued a girl before, and being so forward was foreign to him. All of his past relationships had either been a set up by a friend or his agent, so the game he now played was different. But there was something different about Jaden.

  He recalled the second he’d laid eyes on her. The presence she carried when she stepped out onto the dance floor was palpable—the way her red dress had outlined her slender form, the searching look on her face. In the first moments of seeing her, Ivan knew this woman was worth taking a chance on.

  Yeah, he’d been around the world and been with beauty queens, actresses, singers, and socialites, but this girl in the red dress had blown his mind and altered his world before he’d even learned her name. And since he’d learned her name? She’d only cranked up the heat.

  Ivan had finished his warm-up and now faced another choice: run on the path constructed at the sand’s edge or go off-road on the sand. He reminded himself that he’d moved to Miami to live on the beach and chose the latter. Giving his neck a final crack and his back a rotating twist, Ivan turned his attention to the psychedelic rhythm of his music and set off for six more miles of sand and sweat. He couldn’t stop grinning.

  Chapter 13

  “Shakin’”

  JADEN CIRCLED THE KITCHEN for what seemed like the fiftieth time, reading and rereading the text message she’d received during her lunch break:

  Wishing you a beautiful day, and I hope you’re up for a magical night.

  I’m looking forward to getting to know the real Jaden Thorne tonight,

  inside and out. Hope you’re hungry, and think casual!

  Hungry? That was easy. But casual? What was that? A dress, blue jeans, shorts? This Miami Beach lingo was a language she needed to learn, and fast. But even if she came to understand the language, she might not be very fluent, Jaden worried. Her wardrobe was on the modest side, and not many of her clothes actually carried designer labels. Fearing she might be in over her head, Jaden ever-so-casually asked her sous chef—and fashionable Miami native—what Ivan meant by casual.

  Chuckling, Bert took her to peek through the restaurant’s kitchen doors. “Do you see that lady in the blue top and nice jeans? That’s casual.” He pointed to a woman sitting at the bar. “The lady over there in the red dress and high heels? That’s smart casual. As for formal, think celebrity wedding. There you go! Miami Beach Clothing one-oh-one.”

  “Gotcha!” Jaden said, feeling better as they returned to work.

  She could do that, and now that she knew what to aim for, all she needed was for her day to end. But the time crawled by as she prepped for the evening’s rush, which gave Jaden a chance to mentally scan her closet and audition outfit possibilities. When she finally felt satisfied she was leaving the evening’s kitchen staff in good shape, she sailed out the door. It was amazing to have an actual weekend ahead of her, instead of putting in the endless hours she was becoming accustomed to.

  Practically running to her car, and breaking every speed limit on the way home, Jaden didn’t even wait for the elevator to arrive and instead ran up the four flights of stairs to her apartment, praying that Tasha was home to help her get ready. In her frantic attempt to unlock the door, she fumbled with the keys and dropped them on the ground. She cursed herself for wasting time. Bursting into the apartment, she was met by luck: Tasha sat in front of the computer, and Michael was nowhere to be seen. Success!

  “Slow down, killer,” Tasha said as Jaden ran past her in a blur “Where’s the fire?”

  “No fire,” Jaden called from her bedroom. “But I need help getting ready. Ivan’s picking me up in two hours, so we need to get moving.”

  “Take deep, calming breaths and relax.” Tasha laughed. “Do you think he’s acting this insane getting ready for you?”

  Ivan snapped his computer shut and left his office within moments of finishing his last consultation. He tossed a pile of paperwork and a round of goodbyes to the ladies at the reception desk and strolled out through the lobby of the Four Seasons. He mounted his black Ducati and began the trip back across the bridge to his apartment, the bike lane allowing him to speed past the standstill traffic as he tended to do. He’d decided against his helmet, a rarity for him, but the temperature was too perfect, and he loved the feel of the wind sliding through his hair—even if it meant taking a stupid risk.

  With his usual button-down shirt now unbuttoned hal
fway down, Ivan finally gave himself over completely to his anticipation of the evening’s events. He felt on top of the world and ready for anything. His aviator sunglasses gleamed in the five o’clock sun and nearly flew from his face as made a particularly high-speed turn into the parking lot. Ivan parked the bike in front of Betty, his Jeep, and trotted toward the door. He felt a bit shaky now and was surprised by his concern, not about what he was going to wear, but about how clean his apartment was (or wasn’t) and what to cook.

  His plan for the evening involved sharing his love of the culinary arts with Jaden. Ivan hadn’t told her—or anyone else, actually—but he would’ve loved to become a chef. He might have pursued it if he hadn’t gotten caught up in the modeling and doctoring gigs.

  He’d grown up in a family that relished big meals accompanied by even bigger smiles, and he’d learned to cook not only by watching his mom but also his dad. His mother’s Italian family gave him a flair for the perfect pasta sauce and a love of holiday traditions like ham-and-cheese pie and the Seven Fishes of Italy—a dish he looked forward to cooking every Christmas Eve in his Santa suit. His father’s side brought the Russian flavor of pigs in a blanket and halupki, a stuffed cabbage dish. As he grew older and learned more about nutrition for his medical career, he’d taught himself the basics of roasting a turkey and stir-frying vegetables, and he’d studied up on simple, healthy, cooking-from-scratch techniques.

  He wanted to show Jaden he shared her love for cooking and prepare her a meal from start to finish. Normally Ivan would have thought it wasn’t such a good idea to cook dinner for a chef, but this was Jaden—and he felt confident he had the upper hand. Not only would he cook her a meal fit for a queen, if needed, he could top it off with a bottle of the wine he and his father made every year.