by Randi Ocean
“Wow, did you know Sergio’s wife died from anaphylactic shock from a nut allergy?” I asked Valerie.
“I know. I have the same allergy, which is why it stuck in my mind. It had to be a freak accident. Everyone I know who has it always carries an Epipyn. And when you go out to eat, you always tell the servers about your allergy. They take it very seriously. I don’t think they ever figured out exactly what happened with Sergio’s wife. Sergio seems to be doing better now, though, with the new book and all.”
“Yeah, there are a number of articles here about his restaurant, Buena Comida. The menu sounds awesome.”
“That place has certainly put him back in the spotlight. And he’s such a hottie I bet he won’t stay single long,” Valerie commented.
“Do you know anything about his culinary director, Adele? Looks like she’s in that association of culinary professionals you belong to.”
“Yeah, I’ve met her at the convention and talked with her a couple of times. She’s all business. She takes the work very seriously and doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor.”
“Great!” I was being facetious. “I guess we’ll just have to see if there’s any chemistry between Sergio and Dane tomorrow. I hate that Dane has such negative feelings about the whole thing.”
“He’ll rally and be totally charismatic. That’s what Dane does best,” Valerie said. “You’ll never know he had one bad thought about Sergio.”
“This is going to be interesting,” I said skeptically.
Chapter 3
Sergio and Adele arrived a few minutes after our scheduled meeting time of 9:30. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the studio, and the kitchen counter was covered with colorful fruits and pastries. Valerie was on hand, too. If Dane got the photography gig, Valerie would be the stylist. We were all psyched about it.
Sergio glided into the studio with an elegant stride and captivating presence. He was tall, obviously fit, and strikingly handsome. He greeted Dane warmly. His voice was deep and sultry, with a distinct Latin accent.
“Mr. Pratt, it is such a delight to meet you. I’ve admired your work for some time. This is my culinary director, Adele Westbrook.” Adele was painfully serious. She had the body of a swimmer: thin, but with broad shoulders. She nodded as she pushed her horn-rimmed glasses back in place and held out her hand to shake Dane’s in an obligatory fashion. Her entire persona was stiff, with her hair tightly tied up into a meticulous bun – not one hair out of place.
“Thank you, Mr. Ramirez. I’m honored to meet you and Ms. Westbrook. And please, call me Dane.”
“Call me Sergio. And who are these lovely ladies?” he asked, turning to Valerie and me.
“This is my studio manager, Bridget Stone, and my food stylist, Valerie Essex.” Adele nodded at each of us but skipped the formality of handshakes. Sergio held out his hand, but rather than shake, he held my hand in both of his. His touch was firm but tender. A shiver went up my spine.
“It’s nice to meet both of you,” he said, glancing at Valerie but holding my gaze for a long moment.
“It’s great to meet you, Sergio,” I said, my face flushing from his stare. “I’ve been a fan for a long time.”
“Why, thank you,” he said softly nodding at me. He turned and shook Valerie’s hand in the usual manner. I took a deep breath trying to regain my composure.
“Why don’t we sit down over here and talk?” Dane asked, leading Sergio and Adele to the farm table. A thin railing along the back wall propped up the large images of Dane’s work, creating the illusion that they were floating there.
Sergio paused to admire them. “Dane, I think I owe you an apology,” he said, still staring at the photos.
“Oh?” Dane inquired.
“I know you contacted me a long time ago and offered to take some photos for me. Things in my life were a blur back then - everything was happening so fast. When Food & Wine named me one of its ‘Top Ten New Chefs,’ my whole world changed. Too many things fell through the cracks, and I’m afraid your offer at the time was one of them. That was before I had Adele to help me. I hope you won’t hold it against me,” he said, turning to Dane with a warm smile.
“Of course not, Sergio. You’re a busy man and were then, too. I chalked it up to the fact that I was nobody, and you’re a rock star. You certainly didn’t need my help.”
Sergio looked at me, his charismatic smile broadening ever so slightly, and said, “I do hope we’ll have a chance to work together.”
Everyone helped themselves to breakfast, and we got down to business. “This book is a departure for me,” Sergio began. “The last couple of books covered the rustic, traditional Latin dishes that we serve at Familia Cucina and Café de la Esquina. This book is a collection of more upscale, elegant recipes in line with the food we serve at Buena Comida. Many people have said they want to be able to cook the more elegant dishes at home, so that’s where we started.”
Adele chimed in. “This book has been almost two years in the making, and I think we’ve nailed it. The recipes have been totally fine-tuned for the home cook and are spectacular. The photography has to reflect that,” she said without even a hint of a smile. Valerie was right; Adele was all business. She was obviously a driving force in getting this book done and was not going to settle for anything but epic photography.
Dane watched her and listened attentively. When she finished, he headed for the library, pulled three volumes from the shelves that contained photos he had shot, and returned to the table. “I think these books are very much in line with what you’re talking about.” He spread them out opening each one to a photo that embodied his talent and passion for the work. Dane had won James Beard awards for his photography on two of the three, and the third had been nominated. Sergio was obviously impressed, but Adele nodded with far less interest.
“I particularly admired the art direction for this book,” Sergio said, picking up an Italian cookbook that had actually won multiple awards.
“Valerie and I were very pleased with how they positioned our work, too,” Dane said. Valerie beamed as Dane clearly credited her as his partner in creating the beautiful work. Adele seemed almost annoyed at this remark.
We talked about food and food philosophy for almost an hour, and then Dane started driving the conversation to wrap up the meeting. “Why don’t you let Bridget and me put a proposal together for you? We can get it to you by the end of the week.”
“That would be fantastic!” Sergio said, in his elegant Latin accent. He and Adele nodded in agreement and stood up to say their good-byes. Adele was out the door quickly, but Sergio took my hand in both of his as he had earlier and stared deeply into my eyes, his riveting gaze drawing me in.
“I look forward to hearing from you at the end of the week, Bridget,” he said warmly. I recognized a flutter in my stomach that I had not felt in a while.
“Thank you, Sergio. We‘ll be in touch,” I squeezed out while trying not to collapse as my knees went weak.
The moment he was gone, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Dane seemed pleased with how things had gone. We all sat down at the breakfast bar to recap.
“Do you believe he remembered that I had offered to shoot for him way back?” Dane said incredulously.
“You nailed it when you pulled out your books to show them you’re in sync with their ideas,” I said, high-fiving him.
“That was very cool,” Valerie added. “So, did he ask you out, Bridget?”
Her question caught me completely off guard. “What? No! Why would you even think that?”
“Well, from where I was standing, he sure looked enchanted with you,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m sure he was just being polite,” I said, trying to slough off that I was totally aware he’d paid extra attention to me, and I was diggin’ it.
“Okay, whatever you say.” She wasn’t buying a word of it.
“Enough chit-chat, girls,” Dane chirped. “We’ve got a proposal to write.”
**
Dane and I spent the next three days taking turns writing, editing, and crafting a proposal to position him as the perfect photographer for this book. Dane sifted through hundreds of photos that he felt were in the same vein as what Sergio and Adele had described. He wanted to present five killer shots to seal the deal. While he made another pass at editing the text, I touched up the photos. Dane was so talented, they didn’t need much, but a little Photoshop work took them to the next level. Dane was ideal for the project, but selfishly, I knew I was going to do whatever it took to land this contract so I could spend time with the infamous Sergio Ramirez. His captivating brown eyes had etched a path to my soul that I couldn’t ignore.
Friday morning, Dane and I combed through the proposal one last time. We were about to create a PDF and e-mail it to Sergio and Adele when it occurred to me, “Why don’t we print this out, and I’ll take it to them?” I asked. “We don’t know how they’ll try to review it, and if they have a crappy monitor or, God forbid, try to look at it on their phones, it won’t have as much impact. It’s too important that they understand what you’ll bring to the table…no pun intended.”
He thought about it for a minute and said, “You’re right. We can put the whole thing together in one of our signature photo boxes. It’ll be awesome!” He jumped up and started putting the package together.
“I’ll e-mail them to see if I can take it over there today.”
Hello, Sergio and Adele,
We have completed our proposal and I would like to deliver it to you in person. Would you have time this afternoon for me to drop by your office and walk you through it?
Kind regards,
Bridget Stone
Studio Manager
Pratt Photography
503-555-2345
An “out of office” reply from Adele instantly popped up in my e-mail. Crap. That probably meant I would have to wait until she was back to present the proposal to them. The office phone rang.
“Pratt Photography, this is Bridget.”
“Bridget, it’s Sergio,” he said with a smile in his voice.”
“Hi, Sergio. I just sent you an e-mail and --”
”Yes, that’s why I am calling. I’m so excited to see what you’ve put together. Can you come by Buena Comida around four? We’ll be in between shifts, and I can spend a little time with you.”
My heart skipped a beat. Of course I could go to Buena Comida, and I wanted nothing more than to spend time with him. But had he forgotten Adele wouldn’t be there? “I got an ‘out of the office’ e-mail from Adele. Don’t you want her to be part of that conversation?” I asked, holding my breath, hoping he would say it wasn’t necessary.
“She’s gone until Tuesday. I don’t want to wait that long to hear what Dane is thinking. I’ll fill her in when she gets back.”
“Four o’clock it is. See you then,” I said, with probably way too much excitement.
Dane was thrilled that I was presenting to Sergio without Adele there. “I know she carries a lot of weight with Sergio and is his right-hand girl, but I just don’t get a good vibe from her,” Dane confessed. “I think Sergio gets me. I’m not sure she does.”
“I know what you mean. She’s just so serious and by the book. You need room to let your creative juices flow without too many ‘rules,’” I said, miming the quotation marks around the word “rules.”
“That’s exactly it! I’m so glad you can see that, and I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, hugging me.
“I’m very glad to be here, Dane. More than you can imagine.”
**
I stopped at home to freshen up, trying to stay focused on the presentation. Even though it was a business meeting, there was no harm in dressing up a bit. I had a brown suede skirt that was the same color as Sergio’s alluring eyes. Those eyes. I longed to capture his gaze again, so I strategically selected a green cashmere sweater that I knew accentuated my green eyes. I had to remind myself, this isn’t a date. But it was hard not to be excited about seeing Sergio, regardless of why we were meeting. Refreshing my lipstick, I thought about his soft lips and how tender he was as he held my hand to say good-bye the other day. Stop it! This was the first time since I was torn from Adam Comstock’s arms to enter witness protection that I’d even glanced at another man. I missed Adam desperately, but it was painfully obvious when I left New York that I would never see him again. This was my new life and I might as well embrace it.
I arrived at Buena Comida at the strike of four. The door to the restaurant was locked and the hours on the door indicated they would reopen at six. I peered through the glass and saw a bartender restocking the shelves. I knocked, and he came to unlock the door.
“Ma’am, we’re closed until six o’clock.”
Before I could explain, Sergio came around the corner from the kitchen. “Bridget! Joseph, I have an appointment with this lovely lady,” he said, urging the bartender to let me in.
“My apologies, ma’am,” Joseph said, stepping aside.
“No problem,” I said as he nodded and headed back to the bar.
“Let’s go over here where we can spread out.” Sergio led the way to a circular booth that could easily hold six. He held out his hand, inviting me to slide in. He worked his way in behind me until he was right next to me - closer than he needed to be, but I wasn’t going to complain. He called to Joseph to bring over a bottle of Prosecco. “Will you join me in a sip of wine?” he asked. His eyes were mesmerizing.
“I suppose that would be okay,” I said, trying to keep somewhat of a business protocol.
Joseph arrived with the Prosecco in an ice bucket and two champagne glasses. He put the bucket near Sergio’s side of the table, poured the wine, and replaced the bottle in the ice.
“Thanks, Joseph. I think we’re set.” Sergio nodded, dismissing him. Joseph nodded in return and disappeared.
Sergio’s eyes lit up when he opened the photo box and saw the stunning images Dane and I had meticulously prepared to go along with the proposal. Every detail for Sergio’s book was considered. He let me talk for almost forty minutes walking him through the proposal, stopping me only once with a question. I realized as I was wrapping up my pitch that we had been alone since Joseph left us.
Sergio turned to me and said, “Magnificent…just like you.” He took my hand and kissed it softly, then leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. His deep Latin voice reverberated through me.
His advances caught me off-guard. My heartbeat quickened, and I stumbled over my words. “Sergio, I…”
“I’m sorry,” he said, backing away. “I didn’t mean to be so forward. I just find you very attractive. I’m sure you have a boyfriend, so I’ll try to behave myself.” But he was still holding my hand, and his soft lips curled in a sly smile. I could feel my nipples tighten, responding to his kiss, pushing against the confines of my clothes.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “I actually don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m very flattered.” I held up my glass to toast to him. “You’re quite charming,” I added.
“Well, now, that’s very good news,” he said, referring to the fact that I didn’t have a boyfriend, and refreshed both of our glasses with a little more wine. He clinked glasses with me and said, “I’m looking forward to working with Pratt Photography…very closely.” He winked at me and took a sip of the wine.
I felt awkward, not knowing exactly how to ask if he was seeing anyone. I didn’t want to assume that he wasn’t in a relationship simply from the fact that he was enthused that I didn’t have a boyfriend. “Sergio, I don’t mean to pry, but I know you’ve been though a lot with the death of your wife.”
He picked up on where I was going with the conversation. “Yes, it’s been difficult for a while. I was seeing someone briefly last year, but I realized I wasn’t emotionally ready to let anyone back into my life. I’ve been seeing a grief counselor who has been a great source of comfort and strength for me, and I’ve been driving my
self hard between Buena Comida and this book, trying to get my life back on track. I feel like things are finally coming together.”
“I give you a lot of credit for pushing through all the challenges that have been thrown at you. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been to manage everything and deal with your grief.”
“I’ve had good people around me for the last couple of years, and now a delightful, unexpected muse,” he said, staring deeply into my eyes. He gently kissed my cheek and asked, “Will you have dinner with me here tomorrow night?”
“I, I’d...” I was tongue-tied again. I wanted to say yes but was suddenly, unsure whether socializing with a potential client was a good idea.
“Please?” he asked. “I want to get to know you a little better if we’re going to be working together. I promise, no strings, just dinner.” He raised his glass toward me without a formal toast.
He was irresistible. “That’s reasonable,” I said, raising my glass in return. I hoped he didn’t notice my heart practically pounding out of my chest.
“Okay, then. Meet me here at eight-thirty. I’m working the first few hours of the dinner rush, but after that I can completely focus on you.” He took my hand and kissed it. My face flushed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re very beautiful,” he whispered with his seductive accent.
“Thank you, Sergio. You’re very sweet.”
It was a little after five, and some of the restaurant crew had begun to filter in. They kept themselves occupied as far away from us as possible, but with the dinner hour creeping up, they had to get busy with their set ups. Trying to return the conversation to business, I thanked Sergio for his time and for letting me present the proposal to him in person. He kissed me on both cheeks. “The pleasure was all mine,” he beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that quick good-bye, he was swept up into the fray of the dinner prep.