Oliver cranked open the long narrow windows of the family room, letting in a rush of cool air that made the smoke swirl. “What
is
that thing anyway?”
Sienna fought back tears as she gazed at the blackened lump rising from the sea of foam that blanketed the stove and kitchen counter. “Chinese smoked duck.”
“It’s definitely smoked,” Olly agreed.
“It took me all day to prepare it,” Sienna moaned. “Overnight, if you count the marinating.”
The recipe had seemed straightforward, if lengthy. She’d steamed the duck, smoked it in tea leaves in a wok and then deep-fried it. That was when the skin caught fire.
“Maybe if you scrape off the burned bits you’ll still be able to eat it,” Oliver suggested.
“There’ll be nothing left! Olly, what am I going to do?”
“Make lasagna. Even you don’t stuff that up.”
“It’s so mundane. I told Jack I would make something wonderful. I let him think I can cook.”
“That was dumb.” Oliver hoisted his pack. “I’m going to Jason’s.
We’ll
be having pizza.”
“Just because I’m ungrounding you for the evening doesn’t mean you’re allowed to taunt me.” Sienna snapped her dish towel halfheartedly at him. “Go, before I change my mind and make you stay home and wait on us. See you tomorrow.”
She dumped the charred bird into the garbage bin in the garage and made sure the lid was on tightly. The smoke was clearing, so she lit some candles to get rid of the odor. But what would she do about a new meal?
She’d set the table earlier with her best china, silver and crystal. It was more formal than Jack’s house, but this was the way she did things. Tonight was supposed to have been perfect.
She put the dirty pots and pans in the dishwasher and wiped down the counters. Standing in the glow of the fridge light, she ruminated on the meager contents. What fabulous meal could she whip up in less than an hour from half a dozen eggs, ketchup and leftover rice?
She could look up another recipe, buy more ingredients… There was no time. She shut the fridge door and paced the kitchen. Panic ate at her. After hyping herself so much, she couldn’t crash and burn in front of Jack.
Oh! She had an idea. She could zip down to Instant Gourmet and be back with three courses before the first guest arrived. Okay, so it was cheating. So what? No one would ever know.
Half an hour later Sienna carried in shopping bags loaded with a feast. There were fresh oysters and Ligurian olives, spatchcocked quail with fancy French lentils and something rich and creamy for dessert.
She’d just got all the food out of the Instant Gourmet containers and into her own dishes for heating and serving when the doorbell rang. Hastily she ran out to the garage and dumped the containers into the bins. Then she walked slowly to the door, breathing deeply several times and smoothing back her hair.
She opened the door. “Glyneth, Rex. It’s so good to see you.”
Glyneth, a tall and willowy brunette in a designer dress and heels, hugged her fiercely. “You look fabulous. I like your hair down! And I love your new place.” She poked her head into the lounge room. “It’s small but very cute.”
Sienna turned to Rex, a short, barrel-chested man with a graying brush cut. His hand-tailored jacket and Italian shoes wouldn’t have looked out of place in the finest restaurant. “The Jag didn’t act up?”
He wrapped her in a bear hug. “Purred like a kitten the whole way here. Looking good, kid.” Releasing her, he handed over a bottle of wine. “We left home early in case there were any more car dramas. Are we the first?”
“The others will be here soon.” Sienna went to put their bottle in the fridge and removed a sparkling pinot gris, already chilled.
“Something smells delicious.” Glyneth followed Sienna into the kitchen and lifted a lid on a casserole dish. “What is it?”
“Um…” Sienna racked her brain. What was the French name for the lentils? She felt guilty about not coming clean with Glyneth, but her friend might think it was hugely funny and let everyone in on the joke. “It’s Puy lentils with um, pine nuts and…currants. The grilled quail are keeping warm in the oven.”
Sienna picked up wineglasses and motioned with her head for them to follow. “Rex, can you bring the olives? Let’s go into the lounge room. It’s less messy.”
“What are you talking about?” Glyneth said, glancing around at the gleaming tiles and granite counter. “Your kitchen is immaculate. A person would never know you’d even been cooking.”
“Well, I have. All day.” Just not these dishes. “It’s more comfortable in here.” Sienna set the wine bottle down and began to arrange white porcelain bowls of crudités on her dark wood coffee table.
Glyneth picked an olive and popped it into her mouth. “So where’s your hunky man?”
“What makes you think I have a man?” Sienna twisted off the cork, then remembered that the sparkling wine was supposed to go with the oysters. Luckily for her, Instant Gourmet recommended and stocked wines to accompany every course. “Just a minute, I’ll get the amontillado.”
“Amontillado,”
Glyneth repeated with a knowing grin directed at Rex. “She wouldn’t go to this much trouble if she wasn’t trying to impress a man.”
Sienna recapped the sparkling and put it in a wine chiller, then went to an antique Chinese cabinet for the bottle of Spanish sherry. “I don’t need a man to go to some effort. Cooking is my new hobby.”
Glyneth took another olive and waited, one eyebrow arched skeptically.
“It is,” she insisted, unable to admit the truth, even to her good friend. She wanted to be a gourmet cook and she would become a gourmet cook. Her smile started to feel strained.
“And what about the man?” Glyneth persisted.
“Jack and I are barely friends, let alone in a relationship.”
“Then why did you invite him?” Glyneth asked.
Because even though she knew he was wrong for her, she wanted to see him. It was that simple and that dumb. “It’s all very complicated.”
“Complicated is interesting. We like complicated.” Glyneth patted her husband’s pudgy hand. “Don’t we, Rex?”
“I prefer simple, myself,” Rex said, popping a feta-stuffed pimento into his mouth.
The doorbell rang again.
“Oh, goody,” Glyneth said, rubbing her hands together.
Renita arrived with Martin, a short man with sandy-colored hair who worked at the bank. Then Lexie breezed in with Peter, a musician friend with blond dreadlocks.
The next fifteen minutes were a flurry of introductions and getting-to-know-you chatter. Sienna made sure everyone had a glass of sherry and refilled the olive bowl. Nervous, she perched on the edge of her chair and tried not to gulp her drink. She’d never hosted a dinner party on her own. To make matters worse, she wasn’t serving her own food. She was cheating.
The doorbell rang. Sienna hurried to open it and found Jack on the doorstep, all rumpled dark hair and sexy grin.
A wave of relief and pleasure that she wasn’t prepared for flooded through her. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” she said.
“Steve dropped by as I was about to leave. He’s upset because Mum’s staying another week at her retreat.”
“You should have brought him with you.”
“Nah, he’s an old grump when he’s like this.” Jack touched her shoulder and leaned in to brush her cheek with his lips. He smelled fresh from the shower, with just a hint of aftershave. “If he hadn’t showed up I would have come early to help you cook.”
Thank God for Steve.
“Why, so you could say it was all your doing?” Her skin tingled from the imprint of his mouth. “Men are so arrogant.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten that tire changed without me.”
“
I
changed that tire.” She led the way into the house.
“What’s for dinner?” he said, following. “It smells delicious.”
“Oh, just a little thing I whipped up,” she said airily. “Grilled quail with Puy lentils and…a few odds and ends.”
“Sounds ambitious. Just your style.”
She threw him a glance over her shoulder. “Yes, it is.”
Sienna ushered him into the lounge room. Jack already knew Peter, so she introduced him to Martin and Glyneth and Rex, then left them chatting while she went around and topped up aperitif glasses with more sherry. She checked her watch as she hurried back to the kitchen, mentally ticking off her schedule. She’d give Jack five more minutes to settle in, then she’d bring out the sparkling wine and the oysters. At the same time she would put the quail on to heat through. Half an hour for the appetizers, then she’d call everyone to the dining room for the main course. As long as she didn’t forget to breathe everything would be okay.
She was juggling the platter of raw oysters and another bottle of sparkling wine under her arm when Jack came up behind her. “Oh! You scared me.”
“Oysters, huh?” He shot her a sly sideways grin. And took the wine bottle from her.
“I saw Paul down at the shops today,” she said, ignoring the innuendo. “He got a job with the municipal council.”
“Excellent.” Jack picked an oyster on a half shell from the tray. “What did you dress these with?”
Uh-oh. Sienna studied the oyster in its pool of clear liquid flecked with tiny pieces of red. One taste and Jack would be able to identify the ingredients. “You have to guess.”
He tilted his head back and slipped the oyster into his mouth, savoring the morsel before swallowing. “Lime and red chili.”
“Bingo!” She took one and tossed it down. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”
“Where’d you get the recipe?” Jack asked, reaching for another.
“I…I made it up. I mean, you can’t get much simpler than lime juice and chili.” She was such a bad liar; she felt sure her conscience showed in her pink cheeks and shifty eyes.
“Lime juice and chili, my favorite. Good work, Dr. Maxwell.” His sexy smile left her feeling guilty and gooey at the same time.
Everything was going swimmingly when they rejoined the others. The food was superb, the wine plentiful and the conversation buzzing. Glyneth and Rex were mixing easily with Renita and Martin. Peter and Lexie had found her collection of vintage vinyl and put a Billie Holiday record on the stereo.
“You own a turntable. I’m impressed,” Jack said.
With all the available seating taken, Sienna and Jack had to stand. She was backed up against the bookshelf with Jack forced inside her personal space by the cramped quarters. Every time she moved, she brushed his arm or his hip, feeling the heat of his body through his thin pullover and black denim jeans.
“It belonged to my aunt,” she explained. “When she moved out of her house into an apartment she was throwing things out. I rescued the record player and all her albums.”
“I’ll bring over my old swing records sometime.” His gaze drifted to her lips, to her breasts and back to her eyes. “I love to…dance.”
Oh. My. God. One more second of those hot dark eyes and she was going to spontaneously combust.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Sienna, is that a timer going off?” Renita asked.
“The quail!” She brushed past Jack, pressing him back with a hand on his chest. “Excuse me.”
“Want some help?” he asked.
“I’ve got it.” If there was any more burned poultry in her oven she wanted to deal with it on her own. “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes.”
She pulled the tray of grilled quail from the oven, set it on the counter and tugged off an oven mitt to test the firmness of one golden-brown breast. Done to perfection. With the quail plated on warmed china she then got the side dishes set out, candles lit and bottles of wine placed at intervals down the damask-draped table. When the table was perfect she called her guests.
Sienna had given some thought to the seating arrangement, but no one noticed her place cards and sat wherever they felt like it. Looking at the ring of glowing congenial faces, she decided she didn’t care. She was surrounded by friends, new and old. Nothing else seemed important.
Until Glyneth took a bite of her quail and went into raptures. “Oh, my God, Sienna! Summerside really has changed you. No offense, but you’ve never made anything half this good in your life.”
Jack glanced at Sienna with mild curiosity.
“Thanks, Glyneth.” Sienna cut into the quail breast. It melted in her mouth. Wow, it really was tasty. Glyneth was right; she could never have pulled this off. Yet. Give her time; she would learn.
“Mmm. You have to give me the recipe,” Renita said.
One by one, around the table, her guests complimented the meal lavishly. Guilt speared her with every tribute, but it was too late to confess now. If she made it through tonight without being caught, she resolved to take a cooking class.
Jack voiced his approval with the others, but mostly he was quiet.
And then Martin said, “I bought quail similar to this from the Instant Gourmet in the village last week.”
Sienna froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “You did?”