by Krista Lakes
"What happened here?"
He poked the scattered pile with the tip of his black shoe.
"Oh, oh!" Tracy scampered over and quickly swept the mess up into a dust pan. "That was nothing. I was just finishing cleaning it up." She dumped it out and cast the pan aside. "Can I show you around?"
"That’s okay. I'll take a look while you finish." Gordon’s voice faded as he walked away.. While she was busy sweeping up, he made himself comfortable in the kitchen. By the time she looked back, he was inspecting the range.
"Is everything okay?" Her voice did little to mask her anxiety. She needed him to want to work here.
Gordon looked up at the stacks of new pots, pans and dishes. "It looks like it to me."
"Good," she sighed. "Do you want to have a seat and go over the paperwork?"
"No problem." He smiled at her, and her knees wobbled slightly. The man was incredibly attractive, and the force of his smile was something else.
As they left the kitchen, Tracy glanced over to the case that he brought with him. She wanted to know what was inside, but didn’t dare ask. Who was she to question one of the best chefs in the world, after all? Instead she grabbed one of the yellow folders near it and continued on her way.
Out in the dining room, she put the papers on the table where Mr. Hayes took her and pulled the other three seats down.
Gordon sat down across from her and scooted his chair in.
"So," he said, folding his hands together. "I trust you’ve had a chance to look at the contract that the lawyers finally agreed on."
"Yes. It all looks good to me." Tracy smiled and held her breath. This was where any problems would come up.
"Great. Where do I sign?" he asked.
Tracy rifled through the papers and plucked out one with a little, red flag sticking out. She handed him a pen. "Right there, please."
Tracy glanced down. There, near her shoe and in plain view, was the pair of lacy panties that she hadn't bothered to put back on from the night before. On seeing them, Tracy did her best to muffle the gasp that rose up in the back of her throat. Hoping that Gordon hadn’t seen them, Tracy quickly kicked them under the table’s raised feet and bit down on her lip in a feeble attempt at hiding her embarrassment.
Gordon scribbled his name quickly and handed the pen back to her. "Looks like we’re in business."
Tracy suddenly felt giddy. It took everything she had to keep from melting into a giggling school girl right then and there. Gordon, for his part, didn’t seem to notice.
"I know we’ve talked about the menu at some length," he said and leaned back in his chair, "but obviously I would prefer to do a private tasting so that I can get your final approval. We need to nail this down so we can get our orders out to the vendors."
The way in which the confident chef spoke made Tracy hold onto his every word. Every minute of his years of experience shone through in his tone. Anyone could tell, just by listening, that he knew exactly what he was talking about. To Tracy, that kind of confidence made her imagination run wild.
More than that, however, she found herself helplessly drawn to him. For all of the press and attention that his successful career had drawn, people actually knew very little about Gordon Baxter. It was, so it seemed, to be just the way that he wanted it. But to Tracy, it was only a begging invitation to want to know more.
He brought his hands up and rested his index fingers on each side of his tightly-angled chin. His eyes bored into hers, making her core heat with his intensity.
"So what do you say?" he asked.
"That would be great,” she whispered. For a moment she wondered if he wanted to be alone with her for this tasting. In her mind's eye, she could quickly see it turning sexual. The way he looked at her was primal and full of desire. As much as the thought piqued her interest, she was with Mr. Hayes. “It will be me and my boyfriend, Mr. Paul Hayes."
"Of course." Gordon nodded and pushed the contract back toward her as if he had expected that all along. "How about tomorrow night around seven? I need some time for prep and all that."
Tracy smiled. Her thoughts finally felt a little lighter for the first time in weeks.
"I can’t wait."
“Neither can I,” Gordon replied, fixing her with his stare again. Tracy bit her lip. It was a good thing Mr. Hayes was coming to dinner, or she would be tempted to do so much more than just eat Mr. Baxter's food.
Chapter 19
"So," Tracy turned to Mr. Hayes, who had his eyes fixed on the road in front of them as it whipped by their luxury car. "Are you excited?"
He quickly turned to her and flashed a smile. "Yes, but probably not as much as you."
Tracy wrapped her fingers around the seat belt near her shoulder and sank down into the seat with a giddy giggle.
"Probably not,” she agreed. The look of desire Gordon had given her flashed into her mind.
As time went on, the nervousness started to relent and gave way to a hesitant air of child-like excitement. Tracy knew that nothing was guaranteed: her restaurant, her relationship, the life that she was living. All of it could be so easily yanked out from under her by a few different people. If Gordon or Mr. Hayes had a change of heart, she knew that her dreams would go up in smoke. Still, that knowledge had been progressively pushed back into the recesses of Tracy’s mind.
Pulling up to the empty parking lot, it felt like Christmas morning.
Tracy shifted and sat up in her seat. From inside, the light from the kitchen poured through the empty slits of the windows.
"Looks like we aren’t the first ones here." Mr. Hayes glanced around and pulled the Town Car into a spot near the back door. "Where is his car, though?"
"He doesn’t have a car."
Mr. Hayes scoffed, "Why wouldn’t he have a car?"
"Why would he? He’s staying at The Starmore until he gets settled, and you know they would give him a ride to China if he asked for one."
The local ritzy hotel, The Starmore was a luxury tower that rose high above the city’s bustling streets. Only the most elite businessmen stayed there, including Mr. Hayes. Tracy, on the other hand, had only ever heard about it.
Mr. Hayes chuckled. "I suppose you’re right."
They climbed out of the car and were immediately hit by the wafting smell of bacon, garlic and simmering onions, along with sage and many other scents serving as undertones."I hope that’s coming from my restaurant."
"Well let’s go find out."Tracy hurried through the unlocked back door. When she stepped in, a more concentrated form of the outside smell hit her in the face. It was the most welcoming assault on her senses that she’d ever experienced.
"Gordon?" she called out.
The famous chef peeked his head around the corner. He had a black bandana wrapped around his head and his chiseled cheeks glistened with small beads of sweat. It was obvious that he had been working for quite some time.
They locked eyes just long enough for her to see him sizing her up. It was a look that she (and most women on the planet) knew well, though his stolen glances at her body were stealthy. Still, Tracy saw his eyes quickly taking in the feminine curves of her body, all the way up to the loose, tousled curls that she had carefully ironed in. His pupils dilated enough that she blushed.
"Hey there! Is this the elusive Paul Hayes?" he asked, pretending as if he hadn't just checked her out.
Mr. Hayes smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you."
"Same to you," Gordon said. "Give me just a minute?"
Tracy responded this time. "Sure. We’ll be around the corner."
He smiled and ducked back behind the eggshell-colored column. Mr. Hayes reached out and touched Tracy’s lower back. A patch of it was exposed by a low sling of black fabric that hung just above her round ass. The whole thing draped off of her in a way that reminded her of a Greek goddess.
She spun around, feeling a sudden burst of friskiness from out of nowhere. She grinned at him. "Yes, Mr. Hayes?"
It felt good to smile. To flir
t. It had been some time since she actually felt like her old self. Months, maybe.
"He’s more handsome than I was imagining," Mr. Hayes observed. Tracy thought there might even be a hint of jealousy.
Tracy gave up a short laugh and let her tense shoulders relax a little. After all, this might be the only time in her life where she would be sitting down with a world-renowned chef to taste what would become the menu for her restaurant, not to mention the fact that her billionaire boyfriend was there as her guest.
My restaurant, she thought to herself and looked around. Though Gordon bought a few things for their meal, the shelves were still mostly bare. They wouldn't be for long, though. Tracy couldn’t help but allow herself to revel in all of it. If she tried hard enough, she could almost see the hustle and bustle of a busy Friday night, could just about hear the constant cacophony of pots, pans, dishes and foul-mouthed chefs.
"Hey," Mr. Hayes’ voice snapped her out of her daydream.
Tracy blinked a couple of times. "Yeah?"
"Are you sure you’re okay?"
"Of course!" She grinned abruptly grabbed hold of his tie, pulling him in close. "I’m actually better than okay," she whispered. Their foreheads gently touched and she kissed him with a quick peck. Her fingers tightened around the strip of blue silk.
Before it could go any further, they were interrupted by Gordon clearing his throat. Tracy released Mr. Hayes and spun around on her spiky, nude-colored heels.
"Sorry," he said, wiping his brow with a small towel. "I’m about ready to start."
"Don’t apologize," Mr. Hayes answered before she could. "Is there anything that I can do?"
"Actually, I was thinking that we could drag one of those tables back here. It would make this a whole lot easier and you’d be able to see what goes into the dishes."
Tracy hadn’t even considered that.
"Of course. That’s a great idea. Mr. Hayes," she turned back to him. "You two can handle that, right?"
"No problem."Each man took an end of the table. It wasn’t an easy feat, either. The tables were made of solid mahogany that had been polished and buffed to a sparkling finish that made it hard to get a good grip.
Gordon backed through the doors, sliding his feet backwards as he went so that he didn’t trip over anything. Mr. Hayes followed, the corner of his bottom lip clenched under his upper teeth. Both of them were visibly exerting themselves and something about it made the tender flesh on the inside of Tracy’s thighs begin to tingle.
The feeling was subtle, but seeing the two of them exerting themselves to please her gave Tracy a sudden rush of joy.
"There," Mr. Hayes sighed as the table set down with a thunk. "I’ll grab the chairs, Gordon. You go ahead and take care of the kitchen."
The chiseled chef looked over with a smirk, "I think that I can handle that."
After a few minutes, Tracy and Mr. Hayes were seated comfortably in a pair of plush chairs, with another seat next to Tracy for Gordon. The two of them faced the kitchen where Gordon Baxter was hard at work.
"I brought some champagne, Mr. Hayes," Gordon called to him without looking away from his station. "It’s in the cooler. There are glasses in there, too."
"Excellent. I’ll be right back,” Mr. Hayes said. He touched Tracy on the back of her neck softly before walking away, giving her a little chill. When he was gone, she turned back to the kitchen.
"What are you working on now?" she asked, watching him with wide eyes. He grinned at her, and the heat of his gaze made her core heat.
"Ah," Gordon reached into a metal bin and scooped up a small ball of rice. "I made some risotto yesterday and stuck it in the cooler overnight."
The way that he moved around the kitchen so effortlessly was amazing to Tracy. Seeing anyone perform a skill that they’ve mastered was a treat, but seeing a chef on her payroll do his thing was even more rewarding. There was an easy dexterity in the way that he handled his tools that was fascinating to her, almost entrancing.
Gordon pressed his thumb into the ball of creamy rice, forming a little divot.
"So I take it and form the risotto around a piece of this amazing buffalo mozzarella that I found just a block from here. Then it gets breaded and fried up really quick."
He quickly made five more before dropping them all into a bowl of bread crumbs and tossing them, coating every piece evenly. When that was done, he turned around and dropped each one into the hot fryer.
"For the base," he continued, turning around to pluck down two rectangular appetizer plates, "I whipped up a tomato coulis with garlic, thyme and a couple of other things yesterday."
Mr. Hayes returned with three glasses and a bottle of champagne on ice, and served all three of them. Tracy knew that he was there, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the skilled chef performing in front of her.
Gordon grabbed a small saucepan from the back of the stove and used a large spoon to put a dollop of the smooth, red sauce on the far end of each plate. Then he jerked the end of the spoon through the mound, pulling it into a decorative wisp of crimson. On top of each one, he placed two small beds of micro greens and topped those with the hot, crispy rice balls.
"Then I’m going to top this simply with a sprinkle of some crisped pancetta, a dusting of fresh Parmesan and a sprinkle of chopped parsley for color. And that’s about it."
He wiped his hands on a towel hanging from his waist before setting the plates down in front of the couple. Tracy looked at her plate, almost afraid to destroy his masterpiece. Almost, that is, if it wasn’t for the tantalizing aroma wafting up and accosting her nose.
"Dig in," he politely demanded with a smile. "It’s called arancini."
Tracy grabbed her fork and sank the side of it through the golden-brown sphere. She scooped up a piece, using her knife to sweep up a little bit of everything, and slipped it into her mouth. A sudden burst of flavors, from the sweet tomato to the salty pancetta and all of the other subtle flavors in between, filled Tracy’s senses. She mumbled her approval through the mouthful of food and closed her eyes, allowing the elegant layers of flavor to melt into one on her palate.
When she was finally able to swallow and open her eyes again, she exclaimed, "Holy shit!"
Mr. Hayes looked at her sideways and raised his eyebrows. He was struggling to keep from laughing. "That good?"
Tracy let herself chuckle and fell back against her seat. "Yeah. That is amazing, Gordon. Honestly. I don’t even have words right now."
The battle-hardened chef smiled with genuine happiness and replied, "Thank you very much. That is why I do this."
"She’s right though," Mr. Hayes broke in. He swallowed slowly and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "My compliments. It's amazing."
Gordon tipped his head in acknowledgment, then rubbed his hands together. "Go ahead and eat. I’m going to start on the second course."
Tracy smiled and watched him go back to work with reverent fascination. Of course, that didn’t stop her from shoveling down the rich, cheesy goodness as she did so.
Just as she sucked down the last bite, she felt Mr. Hayes’ hand slip under the hem of her dress and come to rest on her thigh. His hot palm tickled her skin.
Tracy set down her fork and turned to him. "Yes, Mr. Hayes?" she asked.
He smirked and moved his chair closer to her, never once letting go of her supple leg.
"I was just thinking that you look beautiful tonight," he replied.
Tracy took a drink of her champagne, letting the dry bubbles carry away the appetizer’s more subtle flavors. She set the glass back down and turned her body to him just slightly, only enough to tease him.
"Thank you." She winked at him, knowing exactly what he was up to.
His hand tried to inch upward, but Tracy pulled away. She was in control here. It felt, in that moment, like the world and everything in it was hers for the taking. Hers, not his. She was the one in control of what happened tonight. And right now, she wanted to focus on her food.
"So what’s next, Chef?" she asked, already drooling for the next course.
Gordon grabbed a sheet pan out of a nearby holding cooler. On it were three rows of round ravioli with neatly crimped edges.
"These are filled with a crimini mushroom reduction, a little ricotta to hold it together and a mix of hard cheeses like Pecorino and Romano." He walked over and unceremoniously dumped the whole lot into a tall pot of boiling water. He didn’t even wince when large drops of the fiery liquid jumped up and landed on his bare arms. "They only take about three minutes to cook. While that happens, I’m going to finish up the sauce."
"And that is?" Tracy asked, breathless.
Gordon grabbed a saucier and held it down so that she could see the simmering, golden liquid inside.
"I’ve got some butter that I’m browning slightly." He set the pan back down and threw in a few green leaves. "There’s some sage and a little lemon juice. Now I can put the pasta in here to finish."
He used a scoop to pull out the floating ravioli and dumped them into the sauce. A spectacular, though short-lived hiss filled the kitchen as the water and hot butter reacted. Columns of steam rose up to Gordon’s face, making his skin glisten .
After a few flicks of the wrist and a generous palmful of Parmesan, he grabbed two deep, square plates and served up the shining disks.
Tracy grabbed her fork in anticipation as he set the plate down in front of her.
"Thank you again, Gordon. This is beautiful," she said, taking a deep inhale of the food.
He nodded silently, waiting for her to take the first bite. When she did, the deep, rich earthiness of the dish was the first thing that she noticed. The browned butter had a sweet, nutty flavor that danced in step with the mushrooms and distinctive sage. After that, the smooth, tangy bite of the cheeses hit her. Then, at the very end, only the slightest hint of the lemon whispered by.
"I can’t say it enough," she set her fork down. "You really are an artist. I can’t find one thing wrong with this. What do you think, Mr. Hayes?"
"I agree completely." Mr. Hayes closed his eyes and savored the food.