Add Spice to Taste (11 page)

“I like that look on you. Shows off your nice arms.”

The black tank top I’d worn underneath my jacket was standard for me in summer—it was the least I could wear underneath, short of absolutely nothing.

“Um, thanks. It got hot.” I glanced over at Michael, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention.

She arched an eyebrow and kissed me, softly at first, but then she nipped my lower lip before pulling away. Damn, it was getting really, really hot.

Only after that did she survey the apartment. “Wow,” she said in a hushed tone. “This is crazy.”

“I know, right?”

Julianna was still holding the bag she’d walked in with and gingerly put it on the counter, as if afraid to damage the surface.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Lunch. I figured even the chef has to eat.”

I smiled
. “Yes. Thank you. That was very sweet of you.”

She probably never dreamed that just two minutes before she arrived, Michael inform
ed me that I was expected to perform more than one service that night.

Michael continued to string up lights in the next room. I did the polite thing.

“Julianna, this is Michael. Michael, this is Julianna, my assistant for the evening.”

Michael put down the lights and came over to us, hand out. “Nice to meet you, Julianna.” He quickly threw me a look
, then turned back to her. “How nice of you to help Jo out.” His voice dripped with mischief. “Excuse me, I have to finish up these lights.” With a sideways glance at me, he walked away.

I unwrapped the sandwich Julianna had brought. “This was so nice of you. I’m starving.”

“I figured you might be. You seem the type that doesn’t take care of herself.” Her eyes shot open. “I don’t mean that you don’t look good,” she stammered. “You obviously work out and take care of yourself in
that
way. I meant that you probably don’t make sure that you get everything you need.”

I pursed my lips playfully. “I know what you meant.” We both sat down on stools at the counter and dove into our sandwiches.

“When are the others coming?”

“The students? I told them to come around five.”

She’d gotten me a California sandwich, and it was fantastic. The first bite I took was like a key to heaven—just the right ratio of tomato, avocado, and Monterey jack cheese, on a great multigrain bread. It even had a green olive slice, a rarity for a first bite. It almost made me cry. Not the sandwich, but that she’d remembered that it was my favorite kind. One of the many things we’d talked about over the last couple of weeks. I took another bite and looked at her. “What made you say that?” I asked her as I chewed.

“What?”

“That I don’t take care of myself.”

“I can tell.”

She was right, and it kind of disturbed me that she knew that about me.
How
did she know? Was she psychic? I hoped not because the thoughts I was having about her at that very moment were not professional.

When we’d finished, I got up and pressed the
preheat button on the oven. “Time to get started.”

“So what do you want me to do first?” she asked. Now on her feet, the warm bloom of a satisfied belly on her cheeks, she almost looked as if she’d just been satisfied in a different way. At least, that’s how I imagined she looked. Now I felt my own cheeks flush as I envisioned what kinds of things would rouge the skin on her breasts, her stomach, her thighs
. . .

I turned away so I could
pull myself together, and pull my thoughts away from Julianna’s body.

“We need to get the hors d’oeuvre toppin
gs started. Why don’t you start cleaning and chopping up those mushrooms over there?”

“Sure.”
She pulled boxes of mushrooms out of one of the crates and set herself up at the island counter. She had on a pair of black casual slacks that hugged her curves perfectly. I’d told her to wear full-length pants, preferably black, because it not only looked professional but it was for her safety. And, boy, did she look good in them. The loops on her pants were beltless and I couldn’t help but imagine hooking a finger in one of those loops and pulling her to me.

I was about to turn back to my own
workstation when I caught Michael looking at me, an evil grin splashed across his face.

“What?” I mouthed silently. To my horror, he came back over.

“Have you seen Brit’s bedroom?” At my puzzled silence, he continued. “She has a
huge
bed.” He glided his eyes over to Julianna, innocently chopping mushrooms, then back at me. His teeth gleamed white. The oven beeped.

Oh, so now I was supposed to think that Brit was going to get me
and
Julianna in bed? He was going way off and he was working my last nerve.

I untied a bag of
walnut halves and threw the twist-tie across the counter. I dumped the walnuts onto a baking sheet, pushed it into the oven, and set the timer for ten minutes.

As I pulled a bottle of
Champagne from the boxes, Michael moved closer. “Look,” he said, his face less smug, “I can see that you’re here for one purpose only. So let me give you some advice. Brit can be very persuasive. If you don’t want to fuck things up with cutie over there . . . ” He jutted his chin out in Julianna’s direction. “You have to be strong.”

“What
are
you talking about?”

As if on cue, Brit breezed in from the elevator, toting several shopping bags that looked like they came from very
exclusive boutiques, the kind I could never even dream about shopping in.

“Hey, Michael!” She put her bags down on a chaise near the entrance. Michael went to greet her and she threw her arms around him.

“Hey, babycakes. How went the shopping?”

“Awesome! I got the hottest dress and shoes that are on fire.”

“Oh, yeah? Planning on doing some burning?”

With a
devilish expression, she said, “Maybe.” Just then, she noticed me. “Chef! It’s so nice to see you.” She entered the kitchen and surveyed all the supplies. “I see you’ve got everything under control.”

“Hi, Brit. Yeah, everything’s taken care of. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“Oh, I know I will be.” She scrutinized the boxes of Veuve Clicquot. “Is that enough Champagne?”

“Oh, yeah—”

“Cuz if it isn’t, I’ll call for more.”

“No, it’s enough.”

“Okay.”

Julianna waited politely.

Realizing my rudeness, and feeling awkward, I quickly tried to correct myself. “Brit, you remember Julianna. From class.”

Brit looked at her. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Hi.”

“Julianna’s my assistant for tonight.”

“Well, you must have taught her well. That’s great.” She glided over to the boxes of
Champagne and placed a hand on the top box. “I can’t wait to try what you have for me.”

The glint in her eyes made me nervous. Everything that Michael had said, as
preposterous as it was, seemed very possible now. I hoped I was just being paranoid.

I
started backing away from her to continue my work. As I turned, I said, “I promise, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I hope not,” she murmured as she walked back to her
bags. She picked them up and disappeared down the hall toward the far end of the apartment, where I assumed the bedrooms were.

Julianna and I prepped in silence for a while. When she’d cut up all the mushrooms, she turned to me, wiping her hands on her towel. “Okay, the mushrooms are done
,” she said. She seemed aloof as she gathered the boxes and wrappers for the trash.

“Hey,” I said, pulling her back by the arm. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She looked everywhere but at me.

Okay, I was done playing games. I didn’t want to mess up
what I had going with her. Time to stop being coy or dense or whatever it was I was being.

“Julianna, I don’t know what you think is going on between me and Brit, but I promise you,
there’s nothing.” I pulled her closer. “I’m crazy about you, and you’re the only one I’m interested in. Okay?”

She
searched my eyes and after a moment, smiled cautiously. “Okay.”

I kissed her and
promptly forgot where we were. I pressed her up against the stove and she whimpered, so I jumped back. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“
Yes, I’m fine. Just a little hot.” She winked and we both got back to work.

Six hours later
, the apartment swam with dozens of people. It seemed a lot more than forty people and I began to worry that there wouldn’t be enough food. The students who had volunteered to assist me had arrived two hours earlier and I instructed them to keep an eye on the food consumption.

The DJ, set up in the corner of the
massive living room, spun a constant stream of dance music that had Brit’s guests wild with energy. The mellower people sat around, chatting and drinking. Outside on the terrace, daring guests skinny-dipped in the lighted pool. Brit had actually placed a bartender at the poolside wet bar, in addition to the indoor bar. The lights that Michael had strung outside made it look like a tropical tiki hut.

Inside, the
multitudinous white lights illuminated the room enough so that no other lighting was necessary. The soft glow was enough to let some people move around, and simultaneously gave others the darkened privacy to whisper, touch, and flirt.

Most of the food had been cooked
. Now, it was a matter of keeping hot things hot and cold things cold until needed. Michael had set the buffet table with a gold silk tablecloth, a nod to the Champagne theme, and the coolest-looking chafing dishes. No sternos for this shindig.

Julianna was keeping an eye on the table for me and
ran refills as necessary. The buffet seemed to be crowded all the time. Some people, fascinated with what chefs do, gathered around the island in the kitchen, cocktails in hand, and watched as I prepped the remaining food. It was probably the first time many of them had actually seen someone cook in real life and not just on TV. The ones who appeared to be ten to fifteen years younger than me had to be Brit’s sister’s friends while the ones who seemed older and slightly less wild—but still younger than me—were probably Brit’s. I hadn’t spotted anyone who might have been their parents or relatives, and I didn’t ask.

I briefly got to meet her sister during a drive-by introduction
in the dining room. “Lana, come meet the chef,” Brit said. She pulled her sister over as she was being ushered past us by a group of giggling, laughing friends. “This is Chef Jo. Chef, this is my sister, Lana.” I held out my hand and she threw her arms around me. “Oh, my god. This is, like, so amazing. The food was
sick
! Thank you so much. I’m sure Brit is taking care of you.”

I didn’t get a word in before she was whisked off. And that was the last I saw of Lana.
Sick
. There’s another word I preferred didn’t get used in reference to my food, but I accepted it for what it was.

Brit turned to me and got close enough to brush her breast against my arm. She had on a
black dress that suggested that she’d prefer to be wearing nothing at all, seeing as how minimal the amount of fabric was. The little black dress was little indeed. It swooped down low between her breasts and was just long enough to cover her ass, and it hung on her with two strings that went around her neck. The strings were probably longer than the dress.

“Thanks so much. Everything is great,” she said in a low, purring voice
. “When you’re done, come join the party,” she added before she moved away.

I
went back to the kitchen, my neck itchy with sweat.

When the
main dinner period ended, I asked the assistants to remove the food from the table. Julianna and I packed and refrigerated the leftovers and began sending out the desserts. Platters of chocolate truffles, which I’d made the day before, glittered with gold leaf and gold glitter, evoking Champagne. Mini cupcakes filled with Champagne ganache and topped with Champagne-strawberry cream were stacked on a tiered serving piece, while raspberry tartlets with Champagne-poached figs adorned a long gold platter like jewels. It was a veritable dessert wonderland, the kind that only rich people indulge in without hesitation. Once all the desserts were on the table, I did some clean-up. Brit had told me that the housekeepers would take care of it the next day, but I didn’t want to leave a huge mess for them. That wouldn’t have been fair. As for the students, I gave them twenty bucks each. I wasn’t supposed to because they were earning credits for school, but they had busted their asses all night. I dismissed all but one.

Julianna and I change
d our clothes and joined the party—I into a black button-down shirt and Julianna into a gorgeous midnight blue cocktail dress that looked amazing on her.

By this time, it was 10 p.m. and I needed a good strong drink. I had just gotten Julianna a martini and myself a screwdriver
from the indoor bar when the music stopped and the first rumblings of “Happy Birthday” began, picking up steam until the entire room was belting it out. People who were outside on the terrace wandered in to join the singing.