The Chef's Passion (Her Perfect Man Contemporary Romance)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  I lift my glass to him. “Well, you’re having one tonight.” What a tool.

  “All right, then,” he says as if I asked him to drink a glass of bathtub water.

  “Just taste it.”

  Jeremy takes a deep breath and then scoops a serving onto his fork and quickly puts it in his mouth. I tilt my head and watch him cautiously chew. Suddenly, he raises his eyebrows and begins nodding. He gives himself another serving and chews.

  “All good?” I ask, smiling.

  He raises a finger and swallows. “Yeah… actually, it’s delicious.”

  I raise my glass. “To trying new things.”

  Jeremy has this sultry look in his eyes again. He raises his glass. “Absolutely.”

  I smirk and shake my head. “I meant the food.”

  He smirks. “So did I.

  “The hell you did.”

  He raises his glass. “Touché.”

  There he goes with that cunning chuckle again. I dig into my hash, breaking the egg, and take a bite. I tasted it after I finished cooking it, but now that the vegetables have cooled and the flavors have expanded, it rocks.

  “Um,” I say. My eyes practically roll into the back of my head.

  “So, Gina, you live here alone?”

  I snap from my bliss and narrow an eye. “What if I said no?”

  “Then I would want to know if you live here with your boyfriend.”

  “I already told you that I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Is that a rule?” I ask.

  “Is what a rule?”

  “Every girl mustn’t live alone, and she must have a boyfriend?”

  He throws his hands up. “Who’s saying that? I’m not saying that.”

  I’m fucking with him, and now his face is red, and he looks as though I just embarrassed him.

  “It’s okay, Randy. Let’s just drop it.”

  “Randy?”

  My eyes expand. Did I just say Randy? Gosh, I did. I shake my head. “Listen, I’m sorry if I’m being intense. I’m that way sometimes.” I make myself smile graciously.

  He waves a hand dismissively. “No problem.”

  Jeremy and I eat silently. The air between us is thick. I’m pretty sure I laid into him just to create distance. I don’t want him to think that I’m an option. He’s cute but not my type. I wonder what my type is. Peering at him inconspicuously, I know I appreciate his gorgeous eyes. He smells fantastic, and his pale freckled face and fiery red hair do make for something to look at. On top of that, he’s got quite the figure. The DNA must run in the family—Randy’s physique is just as heavenly.

  “So are you a cook or something?” he asks.

  My thoughts snap back to the moment and my eyes to my plate. “Yeah, I am. Well… I’m in school to be a chef.”

  “Humph.”

  I grimace. “Why humph?”

  “Well, you got me to eat vegetables, so you probably are already a chef.”

  I laugh out loud, wondering if he knows I love being called a chef. “Are you still trying to get in my pants?”

  He has a tentative smile on his face, which means the answer is yes. However, I’m pretty sure his compliment was independent of his end-of-the-night goals.

  I press my hand over my heart. “Sorry about that. What I should’ve said was thank you. That was a sweet thing to say.”

  “It’s true,” he says with an earnest expression.

  I smile warmly. “I believe you.”

  Jeremy puts another serving in his mouth.

  “So you never told me exactly what you do for a living,” I say.

  He clears his throat and adjusts in his seat. “I told you, I’m in finance.”

  “Finance is a broad field.”

  I wait for him to say something else, but he keeps his eyes focused on his plate as he shoves another serving into his mouth.

  “There’s banking, accounting, the stock market, financial advising, and so forth.”

  He clears his throat again. “I work with loans.”

  “Oh,” I say, intrigued.

  “It’s no big deal.”

  Why is he so damn uncomfortable? “Do you work for the mob or something?”

  He blurts out a laugh. “No…”

  That wasn’t convincing. “You do?”

  “No way.” Now he sounds more credible.

  I sigh in relief. “Oh, good. I wouldn’t want to owe the mob guy a third date.”

  We laugh.

  From this point on, we talk more about me. He wants to know about my parents.

  “They’re about as quirky as Minnesotan parents can let themselves be, you know?”

  He chuckles. “I know exactly what you mean. There are rules to life that are hard to break.”

  I grin thoughtfully. “My parents are an interesting pair to say the least. They put all these rules on themselves, but me? They’ve always let me be whatever.”

  “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

  I press my lips together as I shake my head. The subject of siblings is a sad one. My mother had three miscarriages after I was born. The doctor said she was lucky once, but her genetic abnormalities made her uterus too weak to grow another baby. My mom never cried about it, but with each loss, she would sit on the porch and gaze out over the street as if she were in a trance, sipping chamomile tea all day. She lost my second baby brother during the dead of winter. It was fifteen below outside, and she still sat drinking tea on the porch, covered in a blanket. Hours later, when she came back inside, she was okay. That was her grieving process.

  “You’re the only child, then?”

  I nod. “Yep,” I say, trying not to sound sad. I cough to clear my throat. “What about you.”

  “I have six brothers.” He goes on to tell me the standard stories one hears about a family full of boys—fighting, jockeying for power, tough dad, always getting each other in trouble, breaking shit, and so on. It sounds like a miserable existence if you ask me.

  “So how long have you worked at Calypso?” he asks.

  “About a year.”

  “Do you like it there?”

  I go on to tell him my story about graduating from law school and failing the bar so many times I stopped counting in order to not feel like an idiot.

  “Nice, nice…” he says.

  I notice he’s distracted, so I clap my hands to get his attention. “So I guess dinner’s over.”

  “Really?” Now he’s completely back to reality. “There’s no dessert?” He’s wearing that impish smile again.

  I scratch my cheek. I have a split second to decide whether or not to bring out the cannolis. “No, you know…” I sit back and rub my belly. “I didn’t have time to make the dessert.”

  Jeremy looks at me as if he wants to call bullshit on me, then he flashes a charming smile. “Then how about we hang out for a while—dance or something? Do you have music?”

  I check my watch. “Sorry, it’s late, and I have to wind down. I have a long day tomorrow.”

  Actually, I don’t have a long day tomorrow.

  I stand up, and after a moment, he rises to his feet.

  “Thanks for having dinner with me tonight,” I say.

  His glossy-eyed gaze falls down to my tits again. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

  Once again, he seems distracted, but I don’t care. It’s time for him to leave. There’s something about his energy that doesn’t sit well with me.

  “I’ll get your coat.”

  I begin walking to the door, and I can hear him behind me. Before I make it to the coat tree, his arms wrap me up from behind. His engorged cock presses against the upper part of my lower back.

  “Gina,” he whispers, his mouth close to my ears.

  My dad taught me a lot of things, and one of them was that if a man grabbed me without my permission, I was to act without hesitation. In a flash, I whip myself around, grab him by his strong shoulders, and knee him in the groin.
>
  Jeremy immediately bends over, moaning, as he cups his hands over his balls.

  “What the hell, you crazy bitch!” he barks, but he’s short on breath, probably because he’s in pain.

  I rush over to grab his coat and open the front door wide. “I never said you could touch me, asshole!”

  “You’re crazy! You’re a fucking crazy bitch.”

  I’m breathing heavily, mad as a bull. How dare he violate me in such a manner? I really want to finish the job and kick his ass. I’m a black belt in karate. I could take him in a New York minute. “No more dates. We’re done. How much does it cost to fix your car?”

  Finally, he forces himself to stand up as straight as he can. “For you, five grand!”

  I throw his coat at him as I laugh facetiously. “There’s no way in hell I’m paying that.”

  “Then your insurance company will pay it.”

  I shake my head. I’m now convinced he is a fucking tool. I feel like suing him for breach of contract, and I just might, but tonight I just want him out of my presence. I hold the door wider. “Get the hell out of my house, or I swear I’ll scream.”

  He sniffs aggressively and clutches his coat. He walks past me closely, and as soon as he stops outside, he turns to face me. “You’re going to regret this.”

  I look him dead in the eyes. “You mess with me, and you will regret it.” I slam the door in his face.

  From behind the door, he shouts, “You fucking cunt!”

  Obviously he has anger issues. Since I’m done with him for now and forever, I take a deep breath to calm myself. What in the hell just happened? My hands are still shaking as I walk to the dining-room table. I pick up Jeremy’s plate. My feet don’t want to move. I’m not yet composed, so I flop down in the chair he abandoned.

  I shake my head. If only he could’ve controlled himself. Since Randy is fraternizing with Chef Deanna Blume, I probably would’ve fucked Jeremy after date number three.

  “What a stupid asshole,” I whisper. He’s ruined what could’ve been a mind-blowing ending to a three-date deal.

  I sniff disdainfully and leap to my feet, feeling a lot better now. I decide I’ll clean the kitchen tomorrow. I decide to have a leftover bran muffin for dessert, along with another glass of wine, and rewatch the last episode of Head Chef Total Domination just to make sure I was right about Randy flirting with that woman, and fall asleep on the couch.

  8

  Yesterday I went for that jog with Naomi and nearly puked my guts out on the track. I think the bran muffin I ate for dessert on Saturday night had gone bad. It had been in my refrigerator for over a week and it tasted funny. I felt better after Naomi and I ate breakfast later.

  Now it’s Monday, and the snow has pretty much melted, and it’s in the fifties. By the end of the week, it’s supposed to be in the sixties. I just love soaking up the warm spring sun and smelling the fresh air. I don’t have a lot of time to be outside, so I just enjoy as much as I can while quickly crossing the long parking lot at school. Soon, everything is going to be getting green again, and I can’t wait. When I arrive at work, I’m not early, but I’m not late either. Things are a bit stressful because we’re short staffed today, but we seem to manage.

  “Why isn’t Sam here today?” I ask Rex in passing.

  He appears agitated. “She needed to take the day off.”

  I shrug and just keep on working, figuring he must be slightly agitated that he’s short staffed.

  I work until closing, head home, and go to bed to start it all over again.

  Day in and day out, the week goes by pretty quickly until on Thursday I find a letter in my mailbox from my insurance company, asking me to call because there has been an accident reported. Apparently, the deal with Jeremy was off when he didn’t get what he wanted.

  “Whatever, douche,” I say, leaving the notice on my kitchen table. In hindsight, I should’ve just filed the claim with insurance instead of entertaining his silly idea. Whoever heard of a guy that would accept three dates without sex as payment for damages to his car?

  When I arrive at work, I hurry in. We’re short on staff again only this time we’re really busy. When there’s a reprieve, I say to Rex, “So I guess it’s getting warmer out and everyone’s got spring fever.” I pass him behind the counter on my way to grabbing a cheese torte for the customer at the register.

  “Huh,” he says.

  I look at him and decide to be a little more direct. “I guess Rita must have gotten a case of spring fever.”

  “Oh.” He chuckles nonchalantly and walks the coffee he was filling to one of the customers.

  While taking an order, I see Jeremy out of the corner of my eye. He can’t be a customer because he’s coming from the back and is walking with Steve, the owner, through the dining area. I try not to look but can’t help staring at the two while preparing a latte.

  They’re now in the parking lot, and Jeremy is shaking his finger under Steve’s nose. I look around to see if anyone else is watching. Rex is busy bussing tables and looks as if he’s paying no attention to them.

  Steve’s arms start waving frantically in the air.

  I set the latte on the counter and walk to the pastry case for the customer’s muffin.

  Now, the two are practically nose to nose.

  I ring the sale, and Steve comes back into the café without Jeremy. I watch him as he walks by, but he won’t look at me. His eyes remain trained on the floor.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at the customer.

  She slips a dollar into the tip jar next to the register.

  Jeremy’s red BMW backs out of the parking spaces. I squint, looking for the mark I left on his car. It’s gone. His tires let out a screech as he races onto the street. Now that he’s out of sight, I ring up the next customer.

  Rex comes out after the counter is clear.

  “Do you know what’s going on between Jeremy and Steve?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately, I do.” He sighs.

  “Well, what was that all about?”

  He looks at me, jaw clenched.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but Jeremy loaned Steve a bunch of money, and Steve has gambled it away.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” he whispers and moves closer. “The money was supposed to be used to float this place, but Steve burned it all at the casinos.”

  I look at him, wide eyed. My hand covers my mouth.

  “Exactly,” he says with an affirming nod. “So you might want to think about finding somewhere else to work. I don’t see this place staying open for long.”

  I drop my hand from my mouth, and my head falls forward. “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s that bad.”

  At that very moment, I start cramping. “I’ll be right back.” I dart off to the bathroom and check my panties. There’s no blood, but at least I’m feeling something. I should’ve seen my monthly friend a week and a half ago, but I’ve been under a lot of stress. I’m sure my period is just delayed from that.

  I finish my shift and go get my things before leaving. As far as I can tell, Steve hasn’t left the office. When I come out of the locker room, finally, the office door is cracked open.

  Tap tap tap. I knock lightly on the doorjamb.

  “Yeah,” Steve says.

  I push the door open just enough so I can see in. There are papers everywhere, and every cabinet and drawer is open. Steve’s frantically shuffling through everything as if he’s looking for something that he can’t find.

  I step one foot into the office. “Is everything okay?” I know full well it isn’t.

  “It’s fine.” He continues rummaging like I’m not here.

  I feel my heart sink. “Well, I saw you earlier with that guy.”

  “Yeah? Which one?”

  “The redheaded one. Jeremy.”

  He stops flipping through one of the many files on his desk. “So?” And he starts again.


  “Well, I know him.”

  Nothing in Steve’s demeanor has changed.

  “I mean… we just went on a couple of dates. So, you know I know he’s in finance or something. And you’re related, right?”

  Steve stops and stares at me with a studying gaze.

  I stand, expressionless, just breathing calmly and giving back my own studying gaze.

  He sits back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly. “He’s my nephew.”

  I nod slowly. “So… is the café okay? I mean, financially.”

  Steve narrows an eye. “Who are you again?” Suddenly he snaps his fingers. “Gina. Right.”

  “Right,” I say.

  “Gina… what you’re asking is none of your fucking business.”

  He jumps up out of his seat, appearing distracted again by the clutter littering his office. He frantically starts shuffling through his filing cabinets and his trash can and his filing cabinets again then suddenly looks as if he’s struck gold.

  “Ah ha.” He holds up a white envelope “This.” He taps the envelope twice against his palm.

  It looks fat, like it’s full of cash.

  Steve grabs his jacket from the back of the door. He passes me and turns. “Tell Rex to clean this place up,” he says before continuing on his way through the kitchen.

  I stand, watching his overweight frame shuffle down the hallway. I know he’s gone when I hear the back door open and then slam shut.

  9

  Boy, was that weird. I don’t even want to think about where he was going when he left the café, but my instincts tell me that his downward spiral will continue. However, I’ve got plenty of things on my mind. Like why in the world haven’t I started my period? It’s normally like clockwork—I’m on a regular twenty-eight-day menstrual cycle.

  Something deep inside me is merging with the darkness of night. My brain wants me to run a few calculations, but my denial is strong. I’m unwilling to think about the fact that I could be pregnant.

  I turn into my driveway and park my car near my front porch. I don’t have to drive all the way into my garage because the temperature today was seventy degrees. All week long at school and at work we’ve been talking about the odd variations in the weather. One day it’s snowing, and three days later, we can practically wear our sundresses and flip-flops.