He paused. For the length of time it took Jorja’s heart to thump twice like a cannon in her chest.
“Because I love you so much it fucking hurts to breathe, it hurts to live and I don’t want it any other way but that way. For the rest of our life.”
He stopped. Extended his hands and the black box-like something towards her. A part of her brain noticed his knuckles were smeared with dirt a second before he opened the box-like something and her whole brain forgot everything but what he’d revealed to her.
The most exquisite square-cut diamond solitaire engagement ring she’d ever seen.
“Will you marry me, Jorja Jones?” he asked, hope and fear and open love in his eyes. “Will you—”
Jorja held up her hand, silencing him.
He didn’t move. Around him, the eager witnesses of his proposal gaped at her. At Mud. At her again.
“JJ?” Meagan whispered at her side, stunned shock turning her name to an incredulous gasp. “What the hell are you—”
“Party’s over,” Jorja declared, keeping her stare fixed on Mud, kneeling on their two thousand dollar rug with his mud-smeared knee and boots. “Time for everyone to leave. Feel free to take a doggy bag on your way out.”
Mud watched her. Everyone watched her.
No one moved.
Letting out a harsh sigh, she rammed her hands on her hips and turned her pointed stare on her dumbstruck friends. “It’s time to go, people. Now. Unless you plan to watch me strip naked and fuck my fiancé into a heady stupor, that is. And I’d prefer you didn’t. Once you’ve seen just how fucking incredible he truly is, you’ll all want a piece of him.”
She returned her gaze to Mud and spread her lips in a slow, filthy smile.
“And there is no fucking way I’m ever going to share him with anyone. Ever.”
EPISODE 6
Meagan
SHONA HUSK
Acknowledgements
Sometimes writing is a very solitary endeavour. Being able to work with a bunch of other authors on a project like this is a lot of fun. Thank you!
Meagan
Aside from the radio playing in the background, the restaurant was silent. Edesia was always closed on Mondays. Today, however, Meagan Bissett had spent the afternoon working, preparing the dishes that she planned to put on the autumn menu. While she was happy with the presentation, the costings and profit margins, she still had to run them past the owner, Fraser Oxley-Nichols.
The heat that raced through her body when she thought of their meetings had nothing to do with working in the kitchen. She might be the name behind the award-winning restaurant, but he was the money. He had the final say…although she had to admit he usually sampled the food, checked the budget and gave his approval without requesting any changes. He trusted her when it came to the food. As long as she met his financial guidelines.
Meagan glanced at the large cognac and dark chocolate truffle that would be served with praline and vanilla bean ice-cream and had to admit that she might be pushing that expensive treat up hill. It didn’t meet the requirements, but it was only out by a smidge and it had luxury and decadence written all over its recipe.
She wiped the sauce off the edge of the entrée seafood platter she’d prepared and carried it out to the table that she’d already set for two. It was the table they always sat at, out of view from the windows at the front. Private. From her black pants she pulled out a lighter so she could light the candle that lit up the table’s centrepiece. She didn’t need to do that, but it was part of the presentation.
Plus Fraser wasn’t just any man. He was sin in a three-piece suit.
Her heart gave a flutter that had nothing to with nerves about serving up her new creations. No, it was pure desire. Every time he walked in here he made her feel like she was an apprentice who didn’t know which end of the whisk to hold.
She gave herself a shake. She was a married woman… not that she was wearing her rings. She never did when she worked. Would he take that as a hint? She should be sensible and put them on before he got here, but they were nice and safe in her handbag.
Meagan went back into the kitchen and plated up the two mains. It was a waste of food when neither would get fully eaten, but she couldn’t show the owner half a meal. He needed to see what people would be paying for.
Her head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening.
Damn it. Fraser was early. Her chef’s coat was with her handbag at the front of house, which meant he’d see her in a black tank top and cargo pants—hardly the image of a professional chef at the top of her game.
“Service,” he called out. His voice sent a shiver through her, and she had to remind herself he was talking about the food.
She placed a delicate curl of vanilla ice-cream and a shard of praline onto the plate with the oversized truffle, and then carried out the three plates of food. The dessert, a vegetarian main and a beef and pasta main—dishes that would suit the cooler weather. She concentrated on her steps, not on the man lounging at the table, his legs stretched out and the jacket of his blue pinstripe suit slung over a nearby chair. His white shirtsleeves were rolled up, but his waistcoat was done up. He always looked immaculate.
She looked like a bare-faced housewife.
Double damn it. She should’ve put on a lick of mascara and a touch of powder. If he hadn’t have been early, she would’ve.
“What have you got for me today?” He didn’t move, just glanced at the plates as she put them down.
“These are the substitutions for autumn.” From her back pocket she pulled out the calculations she’d done and she placed them on the table. Fraser never liked to taste the food without knowing the details. He liked all the facts. When it came to money he was smart. But then, he hadn’t got to where he was in life by being as dull as a spoon. His wedding ring glinted in the soft lighting. She swallowed, but couldn’t take her gaze off his hand. His fingers were beautiful and unmarked. She put her own hands behind her back. They were covered in fine scars from too many years working her way up through the kitchens of too many restaurants.
It was because of Fraser this place was hers.
Fraser pulled the paper toward him. He read through the numbers, his gaze flicking between the meals and the paper. She knew the moment he reached dessert. His dark eyebrows drew a fraction closer.
“Taste it before you complain.” She straightened her shoulders and sucked her stomach in, but there was nothing she could do about the way the extra post-baby kilos had added to her bust and butt. He was here for the food, not the view, she reminded herself. This was business. But she knew that was a lie.
“What is the point of tasting something that breaks the profit margin?”
“By fifty cents.” It was nothing…okay, that wasn’t true. “We can put the price of dessert up to cover it.”
“Then people will baulk at the price.”
“Then we take the hit and collect the good gossip.” She’d prepared all the arguments, but expected to lose anyway. She’d never gotten a meal that didn’t meet his requirements through, but that didn’t stop her from trying occasionally. And this dessert was gorgeous.
He looked up at her, his eyes as blue as his suit. “Use cheaper chocolate or cognac.”
That was a trap. She laughed. “You don’t cook with what you wouldn’t eat or drink. You should’ve been here when I made it originally. I’ve already cut the price.” Her first attempt had been with the end of a four hundred dollar bottle from the bar. She’d known that would never get off the ground, but the taste combination had been a winner. She’d already compromised, now it was his turn. “Taste the dishes before they get cold.”
“Sit and join me, Meagan.”
He used her first name, not Chef. But then, these meetings were never formal. They’d known each other too long for that.
The setting suddenly seemed too intimate for what should have been a business meeting. The soft lighting gleamed on the dark wood of the empty
tables around them before fading into shadows. The silence of a restaurant that was usually bubbling with conversation reminded her that they were completely alone and no one was expecting either of them to be anywhere but here. The candle flame flickered on the table set for two. It was never just business between them and never had been. She had money now—she should just buy him out. But she hadn’t.
“I already know what everything tastes like.” She’d sampled the meals many times as she’d experimented with different things, adjusting the recipe and making sure it could be replicated.
“I like company while I eat.” He smiled and her stomach flipped over. It wasn’t right that one man could be so smart and good looking.
She sat opposite him, feeling just a little plain compared to his elegance. His watch flashed in the light. Simple yet expensive. Nothing said he was worth millions, or that he had a fancy house in Bellevue Hill, at first glance.
He had the kind of wealth that as a kid growing up in Bendigo she could only dream about. Her parents could never have afforded to eat in a place like Edesia. When they’d come to visit she’d invited them, given them a great table, yet they’d been so out of place. Exactly how she’d been less than a decade ago.
“So, everything else going well?” He took a few bites of the entrée.
“I want to include another local winery. I’ve already spoken to the owner and made the arrangements.”
Fraser lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. That small move conveyed everything.
“Oh come on, I don’t have to run every small thing past you. You have better things to do with your time and I know what I’m doing. This place is a success by any standard.” It was her name that had made it the success, but without his cash it would’ve never happened.
“And I want to keep it that way. This is the proverbial golden goose.”
Yeah, and she had the bank account to prove it. “Fine. I’ll forward you the details of the new winery.”
“We could go and visit.” That smile again.
“Yes…and just how often does your schedule align with mine?”
His smile faltered. “That was harsh.”
It was, but it was also true. “I’ll make sure you get some sample bottles.”
He nodded and offered her a forkful of prawn entree. She obligingly took it. There was no need to annoy him; after all, he still needed to approve the menu change.
“I like this, a lot.” But he edged the plate away without finishing the food.
“Good.” She’d known he would.
He moved onto the vegetarian main—that wasn’t his thing. She had yet to create something meat-free that would dazzle him, but she put that down to him being a man. Beneath that suit was a rugby-loving guy. She tried not to think about what else was under the suit. He nodded his approval but offered no comment, before sampling the pasta and beef dish. He ate a little more of that and she bit back the smile. She knew him too well.
He offered her a bite of the beef. “You should eat some.”
“I’ve been tasting these meals for the past two weeks. I’m over them.” She wanted to move onto the next thing. The new business venture was never far from her mind. She wondered how his search for a venue was going but didn’t ask. One thing at a time. They could talk about Footprint later.
There was that frown again. “You still need to eat.”
Not really, she still had six kilos to lose. “I do eat.” But eating this stuff every day was why she hadn’t lost the weight. It was so much harder after the second baby, plus being that little bit closer to forty.
His gaze drifted down to her breasts; pulling the front of her tank up would’ve been too obvious so she sat still. Could he see the top of her lacy bra? His gaze drifted back up. “As always, I think you look lovely.”
Charmer. But she smiled. It was hard not to when he was looking at her like she was the next dish he desperately needed to try. “I bet you say that to every woman.”
“Only the ones who need to hear it.” He brought the dessert closer and looked at it as though he didn’t want to like it.
He hated it already because of the profit margin. She should’ve fudged the figures and then told the truth after he loved it.
“Why this dessert?”
“Why not? I wanted something rich and sinful.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and down her neck as soon as the words were out of her mouth. That was exactly what being with him was like. And he knew it.
He laughed. “Is that right?” He picked up the spoon. “You made the ice-cream.”
She tilted her head and raised both eyebrows. Really, did he need to ask that? “It was created for this dessert.” It wasn’t quite a simple vanilla ice-cream.
He tasted that first, then the praline, before finally getting to the point…the chocolate ball three times the size of a normal truffle. “Any surprise filling I should be aware of?”
“Just try it.” She might’ve moved a little closer to the edge of her seat. Would he love it enough to let it through? She was definitely not holding her breath, but she was also not giving up.
She’d let the truffle warm up a little so that it would be smooth and creamy. She knew exactly what it would taste like. The seventy percent couverture chocolate was full of flavour without being bitter and would be balanced by the cognac. She knew if used cheaper of either, something would be lost.
She’d grown used to the finer things in life without even realising. Her tastebuds wanted excellence, not average or near enough. Ten years ago she’d have cooked this stuff but could never have afforded to eat it. A chance meeting with Fraser had changed that. He’d spun her life in a direction she could never have imagined…no, that wasn’t true. She had dreamed of expensive restaurants, book deals and guest spots on the TV, but she hadn’t expected it to happen. She hadn’t planned on sleeping with a man who had the connections and the capital to open the right doors.
Without him she wouldn’t be sitting here. Sometimes it burned to know that her success was because of him. She might’ve been good enough to get his attention but the professional kitchen was still very much a man’s domain. The irony wasn’t lost on her. At home, where it was unpaid, cooking was women’s work, but add money and prestige and men were all over it. Without Fraser she wouldn’t have broken out.
He brought a spoonful of the truffle to his mouth, paused and looked at her. “Do you have a backup plan?”
“No, because I’m not going to need one.” She gave him a cool smile.
He liked confidence. If she’d said yes, he’d have put that spoon down and asked to see the alternate dessert. Of course she had one, but she hadn’t made it for today. It was her restaurant and damn it, she wanted this dessert on the menu.
He nodded and sampled the chocolate concoction. For several heartbeats he didn’t say anything. Then he moved the plate toward her. “Do you honestly think it’s worth either increasing the price or breaking our rules about profit margins?”
Shit, he hated it. He hadn’t liked everything she’d added to the menu, but as long as he could see the potential and that other people would like it, and it met his financial criteria, it went through. At first she’d discussed her ideas with him, but as she’d grown in confidence and had gotten to know her business partner better, now she simply cooked what she wanted and presented the finished product for his opinion.
“Do you think I would’ve presented it to you if I didn’t?” She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. Maybe she should’ve bought him out, then she wouldn’t have to deal with this…yeah, but she liked the excuse to see him and she knew that he had the best interests of the restaurant at heart. It was also nice to know that someone else was taking care of the financial side of the business while she handled the actual running, the food and the staffing.
“Yes.” He lifted one eyebrow in challenge.
“It is my name that brings people here, not yours. My food. My restaurant.”
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br /> “My money.” Something she was never able to forget. “My rules.” He tapped the paper with her neat columns. There was a glint in his eyes, as though he was deliberately goading her.
Meagan picked up the truffle and threw it at him. Her eyes widened as she realised what she’d done. Then the chocolate ball was in his hand, caught perfectly before it could reach his face.
For a heartbeat neither of them moved. She shouldn’t have done that, but he knew exactly how to piss her off. Reminding her of that fact—that it was his money—was like waving a red cape at a bull. She needed to work on her gratitude, but how long should that last; two years, four years? Surely by now it shouldn’t matter, when they were both pocketing the proceeds.
He brought the truffle closer. “This smells divine.” It had been sitting out so it would be the perfect temperature for eating, not cold and hard, but not so soft as to be mushy either. Now in his warm hand, though, it would be melting fast. He took a bite from the ball in his hand, leaving a smudge of chocolate on his lip until he licked it off. “And it tastes pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” She stood up. “Edesia has two chef’s hats. It is one of Sydney’s best fine dining establishments. My cooking isn’t pretty good. It’s fucking awesome!”
Fraser stood up, still managing to look perfectly calm and in control even though he was holding a slowly melting chocolate truffle in one hand. “I love that spark you get in your eyes when you are angry.” He tossed the truffle to her.
She caught it and fumbled the now sticky ball before placing it on the plate. “So you deliberately insulted me?”
“Someone has to keep your massive chef ego in check.” He ran his fingers over his wedding ring then slowly drew it off. Chocolate smudged the white gold as he placed it on the corner of the table. “Perhaps you should show me how much you want that dessert on the menu.”
Secret Confessions: Sydney Housewives - Extended Edition Page 18