"I got some bad news this morning. I needed to have a couple of drinks and clear my head."
"So I heard."
Nick seemed surprised. "You know? Meaning Enzio told you?"
"Of course, he told me."
"Everything?"
"Yes, everything. You were very upset, and I'm your boss. I needed to know why. It's part of my job."
"Well, in case you're wondering, Al won't be moving down here. And I definitely won't be moving back up there. We're through. Really through this time."
Trip forced out the words he knew were expected. "I'm sorry things didn't work out the way you'd hoped."
"At least one of us got what he wanted."
"How do you figure that?"
"Al thought there was still a chance for us. He said all I had to do was go home, and we could work something out. As if!" Nick made a sound halfway between a groan and a snort. "Lucky for you, that won't be happening. Otherwise, like you said a while back, you'd have had the hassle of finding another experienced Italian chef with a knowledge of seafood to take over Silvia's party."
"I said that?" Trip asked, knowing quite well he hadn't.
"Not in so many words. But I thought that's what you meant when you said you didn't want me to leave."
"I seem to recall me saying that wasn't the reason."
"It wasn't?"
No, Nick. That's not even close. But you're not ready for me to tell you the real reason. At least, not yet.
"Just go get that shower while I find you a couple of painkillers and some clean clothes. It'll be morning before we know it."
* * * *
Despite everything that had happened the day before, including being beaten up at the bar, Nick awoke the following morning feeling a little sore but strangely refreshed. Maybe it was the relief of knowing his affair with Al was finally over. No more wondering, second-guessing, or driving himself crazy with a constant string of what ifs? What if he'd said no to Al in the first place? What if he'd made it clear to Al he was done before moving down here to Vegas?
Even though it was officially over, Nick knew there would be the occasional memory to trip him up. Perhaps he still had a few more tears to shed, too. He and Al had been together a long time. Now, he needed time to put it all behind him.
After folding up the sheet and blanket he'd used to sleep on Trip's sofa, Nick followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen. Trip was sitting at the table, eating a slice of toast and reading the morning paper.
The temptation to ruffle Trip's hair, give him a hug and thank him for saving his ass last night was almost too strong to resist. Somehow he managed, although barely. "'Morning."
"'Morning to you, too. How are you feeling?" Trip inquired. "Better? Worse?"
Nick stretched, helped himself to a mug of coffee and sat down in one of the chairs. "Good. Actually, I feel more than good. Like today is the first day of the rest of my life. Like...I don't know. The way I used to feel when school let out for the summer, or on Christmas Eve. You know what I mean."
"Like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders?"
"I guess that pretty much describes it."
"And no ill effects from being attacked?"
"Not really. I feel like I was in a fight, but no headache and no dizziness. Nothing another hot shower won't fix." Nick gently touched the cut on his lip and the still puffy area around his right eye. "I guess my face is a bit of a mess."
Trip gave him a wry grin. "Definitely not a pretty sight. But there's a bag of frozen peas in the freezer. Hold that against your eye for a while and it'll reduce the swelling. I also have a stick of concealer in the bathroom that should help with the bruising."
"I'm really sorry you got dragged into this," Nick apologized. "All I wanted was for Lenny to call me a cab. I would've been fine."
"Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn't. Who knows?" Trip reached across the table and gave Nick's hand a brief, impersonal squeeze that had exactly the same effect as when Trip touched him the day before--a weird, tingly sensation. "As far as I'm concerned, Lenny did the right thing. I care about you, Nick. As an employee, but more importantly, as a friend."
Nick felt a sudden rush of emotion he did his best to hide. It felt good to know someone cared. Although his friendship with Trip was purely platonic, it was also an important part of his life and no way did he want to screw it up. Not by indulging in wishful thinking or making what Trip might interpret as inappropriate moves.
Pushing away from the table, Nick found the bag of frozen veggies in the freezer and held it against his eye while he finished his coffee. By the time he'd showered, borrowed Trip's razor to shave, and used the concealer to hide the worst of the bruises, if anyone asked, he might just get away with saying he'd run into a door.
"You driving or taking a cab?" Nick asked as he rolled up the dirt and blood-spattered jeans and shirt he'd been wearing the night before and stuffed them in a plastic bag.
"Driving. Why?"
"Could you give me a lift to my place? I need work clothes, plus the info I'll need to cancel all my credit cards is there."
"Sure. No problem. I just hope those kids didn't get your keys."
"Oh, shit!" Nick experienced a sudden surge of panic at the all too likely possibilities exploding in his mind, all the while praying that hadn't happened. He pulled the jeans from the bag and checked the front pocket, giving a quick sigh of relief as his fingers closed around the small bunch of keys. "No. They're still here, thank God! "
* * * *
Nick used the first part of the following week to check on the offerings of the various seafood restaurants around town. The second half he spent in the small test kitchen Trip had authorized to be set up off the hotel's main kitchen, perfecting and refining a couple of new dishes he hoped to add to Franco's menu. The first was an appetizer based on a dish he'd had while vacationing in Europe, and the other was a shrimp entrée he'd planned to serve in his own restaurant, but had never quite managed to achieve the taste he'd been aiming for.
He'd tried any number of different and unusual dishes while in Europe, but the one that still stuck in his mind was an appetizer made of poached white fish, topped with a section of banana and smothered in a fruit sauce. The taste had been unexpectedly delicious, but for some reason the restaurant owner had refused to share the recipe or even identify the fruit used in the sauce.
Nick had tried duplicating the dish on several occasions, but his efforts had been less than encouraging. That was until he began working in Butterscotch Dreams. With the customers constantly demanding new smoothie flavors, he'd asked the staff for their suggestions and someone had mentioned mango. It wasn't a fruit Nick had worked with before, but the moment he tasted the sharp, sweet flavor obtained by blending pureed fresh mango with fresh orange juice, he knew right away that the secret ingredient in the fruit sauce was a secret no more.
The problem with the shrimp entrée had, in Nick's opinion, always been the bland, lackluster flavor of the sauce. After a few experiments and without losing the subtle taste of the shrimp, he'd managed to improve and enhance the fennel flavor he wanted by the addition of a small amount of Pernod.
Early Friday afternoon, Nick knew the white fish appetizer was as close as it would ever come to the original dish he'd had in Portugal. And his problems with the shrimp entrée were now also solved.
He'd also created a new salad composed of baby romaine, sliced pear, gorgonzola crumbs, and toasted pine nuts with a raspberry vinaigrette dressing.
Nick knew his next step should be to call Silvia and have her taste-test all three new dishes, but first, he wanted Trip's opinion on presentation and taste. If Trip approved, he'd ask Silvia to join them.
Taking out his cell phone, he keyed in Trip's number.
"You had lunch yet?" he asked the moment Trip answered.
"Matter of fact I was just thinking about doing exactly that. You want to join me somewhere?"
"No. Stay where
you are. I'll bring it to you."
After loading everything, including tableware and cutlery, onto one of the room service carts, Nick added a bottle of chilled white Chianti, a carafe of iced water and another of coffee, and managed to talk Enzio into parting with a few small slices of his latest cassata.
Taking a deep breath, he headed out of the kitchens. If Trip liked the new creations, there was every chance Silvia would, too.
When he arrived at Trip's office up on the third floor, he knocked on the door and called out, "Room service."
Trip admitted him with a heart-stopping grin and an appreciative sniff. "Something smells good. What is it?"
"A test session. Remember I promised you the first taste of the new dishes I'd like to add to the menu? Well, boss, this is it."
"Is Silvia coming? No matter what I think, you realize she has final say?"
"I know. That's why I've brought enough for you both." Nick poured a glass of iced water and handed it to Trip. He then removed the cover from a small plate containing a taste-size portion of the fillet of haddock in fruit sauce that he'd decorated with a couple of tiny carrot curls and a minute sprig of watercress. "But I wanted your opinion first, just in case anything needs a bit of tweaking."
Trip drank enough water to refresh his palate, then picked up a fork. "This looks very different. I can see white fish and banana. What's in the sauce?"
"Just taste it."
Trip popped a small piece in his mouth, closed his eyes and chewed. "Wow!" he muttered as he opened his eyes and put down the fork. "That's fabulous. I can taste orange and ginger and... What's the main base? I know it's not apple or peach."
"It's mango."
"Of course! Mango."
"Now, the salad." Nick waited while Trip had more water before handing him another fork and a small amount of salad.
"Romaine, blue cheese--"
"Gorgonzola," Nick corrected, his gaze glued to Trip's mouth as Trip used his tongue to catch a stray crumb of something. He swallowed a sigh, unable to prevent himself from wondering what that tongue would feel like, and what other tricks it could do. "Silvia would kill me if I used anything else."
"Pine nuts, fresh pear, and a light raspberry dressing. Did I miss anything?"
"No. What do you think?"
"Again, fabulous."
"If Silvia agrees, I thought we could start by serving it as a side, and then later, if it goes over well, we might consider serving a larger portion as a lunch entrée."
"Good idea. What do you have hiding under there?" Trip tapped the side of a silver cover.
"Shrimp." Nick topped up Trip's water glass and opened the bottle of white wine. "It's something I've been playing with for a while."
Nick removed the cover to reveal a small dish containing three shrimps nestled on a bed of linguine and covered in a light tomato cream sauce.
Trip reached for another fork and speared one of the shrimps. After chewing and swallowing, he frowned. "I love the licorice taste, and I want to say white wine and fennel, but that's not right, is it?"
"No. That was my first attempt. But it was too bland, so I tried a dash of Pernod, and voila!"
"Well, you've got my vote on all three," Trip said as he reached for the phone and entered a two-digit number. "Now, we'll see what Silvia has to say."
"Hi, Silvia, it's Trip. I have Nick here in my office, and we're wondering if you can spare the time to taste a few new dishes he'd like to add to the menu at Franco's." He paused, listening. "Of course, we can serve them at the opening party if that's what you decide. Shall we come up?" He paused again. "Okay, that's fine. We'll see you in a few minutes."
"She's on her way down here," Trip announced as he disconnected.
A few minutes later, the door opened to admit Silvia DiMarco, dressed in her usual tailored black suit, and with every hair of her blonde coiffure firmly in place.
"Nick. Trip." She acknowledged both men with a warm smile before turning her attention to the food cart. "I haven't had lunch, so I hope you've brought lots."
Nick went through the same routine as he had with Trip. First, he gave Silvia a glass of iced water and one of the silver forks, and then he produced another test-size portion of the fish.
"This look interesting," Silvia said. "What do you call it?"
"At the moment, it's just the fish appetizer with fruit sauce. If you approve, we can come up with a fancy name."
"Well, here goes," Silvia said, using the fork to break off a piece of the fish and put it in her mouth. "Oh, my, yes!" She rolled her dark eyes in appreciation and shot Nick a mischievous grin. "This is very, very good. An absolute must. Can I finish what's on the plate? It's just a tiny piece, and I wouldn't want it to be wasted."
"Be my guest," Nick invited. "There's plenty more."
After tasting and also giving her approval to the salad and the shrimp entrée, Silvia poured a cup of coffee and helped herself to a sliver of the cassata. "Just a couple of small suggestions, if I may. I always associate linguine with heavier, richer dishes made with cheese or a meat sauce, so you might consider substituting angel hair pasta to go with the shrimp. And while the pine nuts are Italian and definitely add an authentic touch, I find them to be a little too bland--completely overwhelmed by the other ingredients. I'm wondering if pecans might work better. What do you think, Nick?"
"Spiced pecans are what I use when I make it for myself, so sure, we can do that."
"In that case, gentlemen, you have my permission to include all three dishes in the menu, and I'll leave you to think up suitable names."
Nick had been literally holding his breath, praying for Silvia's approval. If she'd given thumbs down on all or any of the three dishes, he'd have been hard-pressed to come up with replacements at this late stage. Instead, to his relief, she'd loved them all!
As the door closed behind Silvia, Nick let out his breath in a rush, grabbed Trip and waltzed him around the room. "She liked them. In fact, I think she loved them. This is so totally fantastic because I was terrified she would hate them all, and in that case I would have been totally screwed because I--"
Nick's flow of words ceased abruptly as Trip's arms tightened around his body and then the hot, moist heat of Trip's mouth brushed softly against his lips. Unable to move, Nick closed his eyes, savoring the magic of Trip's embrace. He could feel his heart thudding against his ribs and the blood pulsing in his veins. He could also feel Trip's heat and smell his scent, but he didn't know what to do or even what to think. Okay, so it was something he'd secretly wondered about and hoped for. Now, it appeared what he'd suspected about Trip was true.
But why hadn't Trip made a move before now? Nick tried to pull free to ask, but Trip held firm, one hand cupping the back of Nick's head, while his tongue slipped into Nick's mouth, gently at first, seeking, exploring. As the kiss became more passionate, Nick knew he didn't want it to stop. He wanted--
As suddenly as it had begun, the moment was over. Trip released his hold on Nick and stepped back, his face flushed and his expression confused. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I had no right. It's too soon. You need time to recover, time to heal and put the past behind you. Forgive me, I--"
Before Nick could collect his thoughts and say he didn't want or need an apology, Trip had abruptly stopped speaking, wrenched open the door and rushed out, leaving Nick on his own.
Nick took a deep breath and touched his mouth with the tips of his fingers. He let the breath out slowly. Oh, man! Trip had kissed him. A real, honest-to-goodness, lots of tongue involved, French kiss. It had been so damned good, he hadn't wanted it to end. He'd wanted it to continue on all the way to its natural conclusion. He'd been ready to rip off his clothes, go down on his knees...
Trouble was it had all happened too fast, and ended much too quickly. Now, he could hardly believe it had happened at all. But it had. Trip had kissed him. It hadn't been a dream or his imagination. It had happened. He closed his eyes, trying to relive the moment. He wanted
to chase after Trip, ask him why he'd rushed off like that. He wanted to feel Trip's arms around him again. He wanted to feel his mouth, his hands...
Damn!
He hit Trip's desk with his closed fist. The best thing that had happened to him in months and then to have it snatched away like that. He wondered where Trip was and what his chances were of finding him. Except Nick knew, wherever Trip had gone, chasing after him was the worst possible idea. Trip had mostly likely acted in the heat of the moment, and now he needed a little time and space to get his head together. He'd be back when he was ready.
The good thing was even before that kiss, he and Trip were close. Trip had interviewed him for a job at The Neapolitan within a few days of Nick arriving in Vegas, and they'd clicked right away. In fact, Nick knew he wouldn't have settled into his new life as easily without Trip's help. Still, there were limits beyond which he couldn't go. Until now, he hadn't been quite sure of Trip's sexual orientation, and perhaps Trip hadn't been either. It wasn't the kind of thing he could just come out and ask.
For all Nick knew, Trip was one of those guys who'd been teetering on the edge all his life, unwilling or unable to declare himself. But then Nick's moment of triumph had given him the shot of courage he'd needed to just close his eyes and jump. And ended up scaring the hell out of himself?
Whatever the reason behind that kiss, Nick knew it had left Trip feeling confused and embarrassed. He wanted to go to him, hold him and tell him everything was okay, but right now, he knew Trip needed to be left alone to work things out for himself. He didn't need Nick hounding him for answers he most likely didn't have, or probing for motives of which he was unsure.
When Trip was ready to talk, he'd be back in touch. Nick glanced at his watch and made a mental note of the time. If that didn't happen within the next few hours, then it would be up to him to make the next move.
After cleaning off Trip's desk and returning everything he'd brought with him to the service cart, Nick made his way back to the test kitchen, where he put the leftovers in the trash, and the dirty dishes and cutlery into the dishwasher.
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