Just Add Spice (The Spice Series Book 1)

by Calista Fox

  His jaw clenched briefly. Then he said, “Feels like I’m using you because we were once involved.”

  “I’m the one who made the suggestion, Rafe! You’re not using me. I’m offering. And I really want to do this. Trust me,” she urged. “This is one thing I know how to do well.”

  She gazed up at him again, knowing there was a compelling look in her eyes. She might have sucked at being a wife, but reviving a restaurant? She excelled at that.

  “Just say yes,” she quietly insisted. “Say. Yes.”

  He let out a sexy laugh. “Why can’t I ever refuse you?”

  With a smile of relief, she said, “Because you know I have your best interest at heart. This will be great, Rafe. I promise.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a second. Just seems like a huge imposition on you. I’d rather you were on vacation, Jen. Not slaving away for me.”

  “Slaving away?” She scoffed at him. “I thrive on this. It’s what I know. It’s what I love.”

  He scowled. “So I’m perpetuating the workaholic mentality?”

  “Oh, stop.” She gave him a playful swat, though in the back of her mind, she noted his dismay. And couldn’t deny a hint of fatigue had crept in on her lately. Still, doing something significant for Rafe would mean the world to her. “I’ll call Tad and let him know we’ve got a new assignment.”

  “Fine,” Rafe conceded, though with a hint of reticence. “Since I can’t dissuade you, we may as well go the whole nine yards.”

  Jenna beamed. “This’ll be great, Rafe. You have my word.”

  “I never doubt you in this capacity, sweetheart. Just…one small glitch,” he said, turning contemplative.

  “Yes?”

  “A remodel warrants a fresh menu. And I’m seriously lacking creativity these days.”

  She batted her lashes at him, feeling particularly giddy over her new pro-bono work. “Really, Rafe? You lack creativity?”

  “I’ve been stilted of late, what with all the restaurant closures I keep hearing and reading about.”

  “Well. We’ll see what we can do about that. You and I were always quite dynamic together in the kitchen.” She winked at him.

  “Oh, the can of worms you just opened…”

  She knew it—and once again understood the implications of her risky flirtation. But when it came to Rafe… She simply couldn’t help herself.

  “Two weeks,” she reiterated. “Let the horses run wild—and I am damn certain we will light this place on fire!”

  “Figuratively,” he added with a crook of his brow.

  “Well, yeah. Figuratively.” She kissed him on the cheek. “This will be sensational. I’m so excited!”

  She bounced off, heading into the dining room as Rafe returned to the kitchen.

  Jenna was on her way to the bar when she caught a glimpse of Rafe’s favorite aunt coming through the front door. Jenna handed Gio his olives, to which he replied, “Been there, done that, Jen. Didn’t you see me go into the kitchen?”

  “Uh…no. Not so much.” Rafe had commanded her full attention. As always. It was difficult to see anything else when he was in her line of vision. “Sorry about that.”

  “No worries.” Gio grinned at her. “You were sufficiently preoccupied.”

  She was about to utter a sassy reply, but he walked off with her olives. And Vesta Sampogna strolled over.

  Jenna greeted the small woman with the big brown eyes and vivacious smile. “Vesta. It’s so good to see you.”

  “Jenna, dear,” the older woman said in her light accent. She ignored Jenna’s outstretched hand and instead gripped her forearms with a surprising amount of strength, given her minimal size.

  Jenna leaned down a few inches and Vesta kissed her on both cheeks. “Such a lovely girl,” she said as she released Jenna. Her gaze swept over the early lunch crowd. “And look what you’ve done here.”

  “It’s just a start,” Jenna explained. “To get Rafe’s creative juices flowing.”

  His aunt eyed her with the arching of one neatly trimmed, blonde eyebrow. “I’m sure that hasn’t been a problem since you returned.”

  Jenna bit back a smile at the innuendo that caused a tickle between her legs.

  “Would you like a table?” she asked.

  “No, no,” Vesta said with the wave of a bejeweled hand. She wore a tailored mauve-colored suit with sensible heels. Her flaxen hair was coiffed in a sophisticated bob. She was attractive and stylish, and there was a genuine air about her that Jenna liked. “I only stopped by to see how things are going. I’m visiting Vinny next.”

  Vinny Sampogna was her oldest son. He owned the family’s second restaurant, on the Wharf.

  “I just talked Rafe into letting me redecorate,” Jenna confided. “He wants a new menu and the restaurant would benefit from a change in atmosphere, don’t you think?”

  With a nod, Vesta said, “He clings to tradition, but the fact is, all of this implies it’s too expensive to have dinner here. Especially in this economy.” She gestured at the spacious front-of-house. “And, honestly, the larger portions and price points confirm it.”

  “I agree. We can adjust the food items and jazz the place up. Make it more romantic in some spots, more intimate. Allow for livelier groups in other areas. ”

  “Hmm, indeed.” Her gaze swept over Jenna and she added, “You have the right touch when it comes to that. But, cara mia, be careful with his feelings.”

  “Vesta.” She sighed. “I adore Rafe. You know that. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him further.”

  So why are you flirting with him?

  Shit.

  Rafe’s aunt grasped Jenna’s hands. “I don’t understand what happened. You were so wonderful together. But then you left.”

  “Yes. For my job.”

  “And now you’re back. For your job?”

  Tension gripped Jenna. She wanted to skirt the question, but she admired and respected Vesta too much to play coy. “This isn’t about my job. I want to do this to help Rafe. He’s very important to me, Vesta. You have to know that.”

  Jenna had no doubt her affection for Rafe shone in her eyes.

  The older woman smiled and said, “Aunt Vesta. You are family, cara mia.”

  Jenna’s heart constricted and emotion swelled in her throat. It took a few seconds for her to collect herself and say, “I always appreciated how you accepted me. I never meant to screw up things with Rafe. Or hurt him. He means the world to me. The entire family does. But… I’m not like all of you. Can you understand that?”

  It was vital to Jenna that this woman she thought so highly of knew how Jenna felt about her—and the family.

  Vesta squeezed her hands. “Si. And I’m happy you have come home.”

  Okay, that was uncomfortable.

  “Vesta—”

  “You are here for now,” Rafe’s aunt said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “That matters most.”

  Chapter Four

  “My darling, Rafe.”

  He turned at the sound of his aunt’s voice and grinned. “Aunt Vesta. What a nice surprise.” He bent at the waist so she could kiss his cheeks.

  She said, “My visits are hardly a surprise. I’m in here at least three times a week.”

  “For lunch today?”

  “Next time.” She took his hand in hers. “What’s a true surprise is seeing Jenna covering for Reesa as hostess. Come, tell me all about it.”

  She led Rafe into his office and he closed the door behind them. Sliding into his burgundy leather executive chair while she gracefully perched on the edge of one of the chairs opposite his desk, he earnestly told her, “Don’t get too excited, Aunt Vesta. Jen’s only here for a couple of weeks. She had some spare time on her hands and didn’t know what to do with herself.”

  “So she came here.” Vesta smiled knowingly. “That says a lot, don’t you think, tesoro mio?”

  Rafe shook his head, and not just at his aunt’s term of endearment—sweetheart. “I don’t k
now what it says. The fact that this is the place she’d come to when she finally has a break in her schedule suggests she thinks of it as home. But then again… Jenna doesn’t know the actual definition of that word.”

  “She belongs here,” Vesta said in a soft tone.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. She likes her whirlwind, jet-set life. If she didn’t, she would have stayed.”

  His aunt crossed her legs and rested her hands in her lap. A rather unassuming position Rafe decided. And he geared up for whatever it was she had on her mind.

  A few uncomfortable moments slipped by before she spoke. “You held on too tightly to her, tesoro mio. You wanted to do everything for her. Take care of her. Give her the moon and the stars. But… She never asked for any of that, did she?”

  “No,” he said quite frankly. “Does that make it wrong that I wanted her to have whatever her heart desired?”

  His aunt paused once more, as though choosing her words carefully. “How can you give someone what their heart desires when you don’t know what it is they want? Or need?”

  Rafe shot to his feet. “It’s not like I didn’t ask!”

  “But even she doesn’t know,” Vesta said, her tone still quiet. Never a good thing when Italians were having a tense discussion.

  He anticipated the next impending comment before the words even left his aunt’s mouth.

  “You met her in Italy. You took her to Vegas for the wedding—something I’ve not forgiven you for, by the way—and then you honeymooned in Coronado and San Diego. Already I see a pattern of flitting about. And so you bring her to San Francisco and expect her to settle down with you? What does Jenna know about settling down?”

  “What, exactly, did she think? We were married, for Christ’s sake!”

  A blonde brow lifted.

  “Sorry,” Rafe muttered.

  On a sigh, Vesta said, “She is not the only one to blame. You should never have married her so quickly. Or outside of our church, without Father Michael to bless the rings and your family to celebrate with you. You of all people—a traditionalist. But you let your attraction to her guide you down the wrong path.”

  “It’s more than attraction,” he said in a dour tone. “I love her. I always will.”

  “Hmm, yes. And she will always love you, tesoro mio. The reason she is here.”

  Vesta stood. Rafe raised his hands in surrender. “How do I keep her here?”

  With a shake of her neatly coiffed head, his aunt said, “You can’t keep her here. She has to decide to stay. Even if it’s not fulltime because she has her job. She has to choose to want to be with you and to be a part of this family. And she will. If she doesn’t feel caged in. You can’t do everything for her, Rafe. She is an independent girl who has always taken care of herself. Don’t stifle her. Watch and listen, and perhaps you’ll discover what she truly needs.”

  Vesta stepped forward and Rafe bent down again so she could kiss him. Then she held his face and added, “You know the saying. Set her free.”

  “I did. I’m the one who initiated the divorce, remember?”

  “But you still expect her to be someone she’s not.”

  Rafe straightened. “She did come back to me.”

  Vesta’s head tilted to the side as she regarded him with a challenging look. “Three years later. You can do better than that, tesoro mio.”

  Rafe snorted. “Way to rub it in.”

  “You know I love you. I raised you after your parents died and have always thought of you as a son. I want you to be happy. That woman in your dining room is the one for you. The only one. But she has needs you know nothing about, Rafael. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped insisting your relationship has to be a certain way, and let her show you how it could work from her perspective?”

  His brow furrowed.

  So…what? He was a horse’s ass for wanting to be her everything?

  Yes.

  How could he be her everything when he had no idea what “everything” meant to Jenna?

  It certainly wasn’t the conventional things most women wanted—a car, a house, a husband who mowed the lawn and took out the trash. One who brought home a puppy and proposed having children and discussed 401(k) plans for their retirement years.

  His eyes rolled. Hell, they’d never made it past talking about preferred furniture. They’d stuck with his. What would have been the point of replacing it all, anyway? Jenna was always headed toward the door. The airport. Another job. What the hell did it matter what their sofa looked like?

  Rafe grimaced. “I see your point, Aunt Vesta. I did hold on too tightly. I did insist there was only one way for us to be married—my way.”

  “And now you know that there are two hearts and two wills involved. She’s as stubborn as you are, but that doesn’t indicate you can’t learn to compromise. Think of how much you’ve missed her, Rafe. And tell me you wouldn’t do anything to be with her again.”

  “Anything.”

  His aunt smiled. “It won’t be easy. You’ll keep pushing her. She’ll keep looking for an escape. You have to strike a balance.”

  Rafe crossed his arms over his chest and groaned. “I don’t do balance well. Not when it comes to Jen.”

  From the beginning, he’d wanted all or nothing. At least…that’s what he’d thought. Now that he knew what nothing entailed, he had to admit that something was better than that.

  Jesus, how fucked up is this?

  He shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Be her friend, tesoro mio.” Vesta smiled once more and then left the office.

  Rafe stared after her. Did Jenna even have friends? Tad, maybe. Did he know her well? Better than Rafe? Perhaps so, given the fact they traveled together, lived the same rootless existence, worked the same ungodly hours.

  He continued to glower. Taking it slow and easy where Jenna was concerned was not in Rafe’s repertoire. But if he was going to win her back—in whatever capacity—he had to do exactly as Vesta said. Not cut the ties, but unravel them a bit.

  Okay. A lot.

  With his mind churning and the adrenaline pumping, he returned to the kitchen, knowing his macho attitude needed to be revamped as much as his stale dining room did.

  * * *

  Jenna worked the dinner crowd the way she had at lunch, and also used her famous face to create a buzz about the makeover of Sampogna’s. “Tell all your friends!” became her mantra and the patrons appeared as excited to see what the end result would be as she was.

  Though she hadn’t yet latched onto a full plan of attack. That always took a day or two of absorbing the atmosphere, getting to know the regular diners and the restaurant staff, assessing the current local competition and determining strengths and weaknesses across the board. She’d combine the latter with opportunities and threats to develop a SWOT analysis that would help guide her strategy.

  Admittedly, she was happy for the engaging project, but mostly she was over the moon at being able to help Rafe.

  Sure, she owed it to him. But she’d also realized during the course of the day that she’d desperately wanted to do this in order to be a part of something he treasured. An interesting revelation.

  When Sampogna’s closed for the evening and everyone cleared out, following cleaning chores and re-setting the tables for the next day’s lunch service, Jenna was ready to kick off her high heels. Ten hours playing hostess left her with severely sore feet, despite her absurdly expensive air-insole inserts.

  Rafe came from the kitchen as she propped a hip against the side of a booth.

  “You look beat,” he told her.

  “I forgot how exhausting it is to work a room all day.”

  “You are damn good at it, though.”

  “It’s actually a lot of fun. I enjoyed talking with everyone. It was great to see familiar faces as well as new ones. And I like that your family comes in. Your staff is amazing too, Rafe.”

  “They’re all very supportive.”<
br />
  “I adored seeing Vesta. I wish she would’ve stayed.”

  “She and Uncle Frank will be in for dinner this week,” he assured her. “Vinny’s been having some problems with his restaurant too, so she was checking in on him this afternoon. Seafood is much more expensive than Italian food.”

  “True.” Jenna paused. “Hmm. Maybe I should stop by as well. Vinny’s got a great restaurant in an enviable location on the Wharf. I bet we could do something with his menu to liven it up.”

  One corner of Rafe’s mouth dipped.

  Jenna sighed. “My God. I can hear the words tripping through your mind. She never stops working.”

  “And I’m right, aren’t I?”

  With a nod, she said, “Yes.” She turned away, adding over her shoulder, “I’ve got to get out of here and find something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “That’s because you refused to take a break.” Even when he’d offered her half of the New York strip steak he’d had for dinner.

  “I was too busy trying to find out what people are looking for or expecting when they come to Sampogna’s.” She pushed through the kitchen’s pass door and entered Rafe’s office to collect her purse and coat. When she returned, Rafe was still standing where she’d left him, a scowl on his face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “I was just debating whether I should invite you over to the loft for linguine alla vongole—”

  She let out a small whimper. “My favorite.”

  “Or let you go to the hotel without me saying a word.”

  Jenna eyed him a moment. “The latter is hardly your style.”

  “Yeah, well, Aunt Vesta felt compelled to tell me my style doesn’t compute. Not when it comes to you, at any rate.”

  “Rafe.” She groaned. “I know I’ve stirred up all sorts of speculation and nostalgia with my visit, and I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”