“This is good.”
The surprised exclamation from Cale drew Alex away from her thoughts. She glanced curiously his way to see him lifting the top bun of his burger to peer at what was underneath as he enthusiastically chewed the food in his mouth. Smiling slightly, she said, “It’s just a cheeseburger. Have you never had one before?”
Cale shook his head, too busy biting into the burger again to actually answer with words.
Alex chuckled softly and took another bite of her own burger, watching with amusement as Cale once again opened his burger to look at the fixings.
“A burger is beef,
oui?
“ he asked, peering at the patty.
“Yes,” she said with a laugh.
“And these little white things?” he asked, poking at the fixings on top.
“Reconstituted onions,” she answered.
“Reconstituted?”
“They dry them out and ship them to the restaurant, where they’re soaked in water to reinflate them before putting them on the burgers.”
“Why?” he asked with surprise.
Alex shrugged. “Perhaps they feel real onions would be overpowering on the little burgers. They use real, fresh onion on the larger burgers.”
“Hmm.” Cale took another bite, apparently not bothered that these onions had been dehydrated and then rehydrated before landing on his burger.
Alex watched him for a moment, surprised by how much he seemed to be enjoying the simple meal. He was eating like a starving man, she thought, and then shook her head and turned her attention back to her own food.
“So,” Cale murmured as he swallowed the last bite of his burger and turned his attention to the little packet of fries. He took one of the pale sticks out and peered at it curiously, then continued, “If you found someone who would manage both businesses at a low wage, you could return to cooking? ”
“In my dreams,” Alex muttered, and popped a fry into her own mouth. A good business manager to oversee both restaurants would cost at least twice what she was paying either of her head chefs, who while carrying the title head chef, were actually working as
sous-chefs
or even station chefs. She herself was still making all the decisions, creating the menu, managing the staff, handling scheduling and payroll and doing all the other things a head chef usually dealt with. She just wasn’t getting to cook anymore.
“This would make you happy,
oui
?” Cale asked, and his accent was thicker than usual.
Alex glanced up to see that he was watching her solemnly as he awaited her answer. That, as well as the fact that his accent had thickened, made her suspect that her answer was important somehow.
“Of course it would,” she answered honestly. “I hate the business end of things. I am not an organized type person by nature. I’m more a creative sort, used to chaos.”
“Chaos?”
Alex nodded. “Flour and other ingredients everywhere, the clang of pots and pans, the clack of dinnerware, the smell of Italian seasonings or spicy herbs from the entrées competing with the vanilla and lemon from the dessert area.” She shrugged. “It’s usually controlled chaos in the kitchens every night, and I love it. Sitting in an airless little office trying to make the debit and credit columns balance is like some sort of torture to me.” She sighed. “Besides, while I’ve always thoughtof myself as an easygoing, diplomatic sort, I’ve found that I’m really not very good in a crisis.”
Alex grimaced, and told him, “I’m afraid I’ve been reduced to shrieking a couple of times this last week when things went wrong. I guess the stress is getting to me.”
“Hmm.” Cale cleared his throat and said, “Then I think I can help get you back to cooking, Alex.”
“How?” she asked with surprise.
“I am not really a chef.”
“What? What did you just say?”
Cale considered Alex’s expression, and said more slowly, “I’m not a chef. I am a businessman.”
“But you—I hired you to—Oh my God!” Panic on her face now, Alex stood up and began to search her pockets.
When she came up with her phone and began to punch in numbers, Cale frowned and stood up as well. “Who are you calling?”
“Bev,” she snapped. “I have to see if you’ve ruined me or not.”
“I haven’t ruined you,” he assured her quickly. “Please, Alex, put that away and hear me out.”
“No. I—” She paused and peered at him narrowly. “You cooked the Trout Amandine. It was perfect.”
“Er … yes … well …” Cale frowned, trying to decide how best to handle this. Obviously, he shouldhave taken a moment to think this through before opening his damned mouth. His only thought had been that she loved cooking and he enjoyed business, so why not switch and let him help with managing things rather than the cooking? Cale had thought she’d be pleased to get back to cooking and leave the business issues to him. And he suspected she would be, but starting with “I’m not a chef” probably hadn’t been the cleverest way to go. Alex wasn’t ready for the “I’m not a chef but a vampire” speech, and he couldn’t explain that he wasn’t really a chef without explaining how he had then managed to keep from ruining her restaurant’s reputation tonight.
Jesus, I’m obviously not on my game tonight,
Cale acknowledged, and suspected it was this life-mate business that was at fault. Despite Marguerite’s “feeling” and Sam’s excitement, and even Bricker’s taunts, he really hadn’t been prepared to walk in there and discover Alex was indeed his life mate … and he wasn’t handling the situation with his usual aplomb. He needed to turn this around and quickly, or he suspected she’d be tossing him out on his ear at any moment.
Before Cale could quite decide how to save the situation, Alex stopped glaring at him to concentrate on the phone as it was obviously answered on the other end.
“I’m sorry I woke you, Bev,” Alex said grimly. “But I need to know what happened at the restaurant tonight.”
Cale didn’t have to hear the woman’s voice to know what she would say. They had made sure that neither she nor the other staff was aware of Marguerite and Leigh’s presence in the kitchen. Still, he was relievedas he listened to Bev assure Alex that everything had gone like clockwork and Cale had been a great success. Everyone had raved about his food, the woman told her, and one of the city’s most respected food critics had been a diner at one of the tables and had been so pleased he’d revealed himself and promised a very complimentary review in Saturday’s food section.
Alex was looking more and more confused as the woman spoke, and when she ended the call, she turned that confused look on Cale. Her expression shifted to grim, however, as she slid the phone back into her pocket. “Was that your idea of a joke? Bev said everything went well tonight. Better than well. What—?”
“Just sit down, Alex,” Cale interrupted quietly. “I’ll explain everything.”
She hesitated, but then settled back where she had been. Cale immediately sat across from her, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this … and then inspiration struck. “I fear my English isn’t as good as I would wish, and I occasionally misspeak when trying to explain things.”
He was just congratulating himself on coming up with that when she said dubiously, “It sounded pretty clear to me.
I am not a chef
is pretty plain.”
Cale grimaced. “Yes, well, I meant to say that I am not a chef like you. You said cooking was your first love, while business is not. I am the opposite, I love managing the business end of things and would rather not be cooking.” When her eyes narrowed, he added, “Unlike you, I was not following a dream when I got into cooking.”
But he was actually following a dream when he’d agreed to be the chef Alex needed tonight, he realized. The dream of getting close to and claiming his life mate. It was a lifelong dream, really. One every immortal had.
“I got into cooking due to family pressure,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Sam had gotten him into this, and she was Alex’s family. If he were lucky, she would be his family soon as well.
“Ah,” Alex murmured, nodding solemnly. “I see. A family restaurant … pressure from the folks to train as a chef and take over the business …” She nodded again, apparently sure she had it all figured out. “Cooking isn’t in your soul, but your blood.”
“Blood certainly has a lot to do with my situation,” Cale muttered.
“What was that?” Alex asked.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “The point is I really dislike cooking. I prefer the simple logic of business and would much rather tend that end of things for you and leave you to the cooking.”
Alex tilted her head slightly, uncertainty on her face. “I really didn’t expect you to spend your entire vacation helping out at the restaurant. I thought—well hoped really—that you would be willing to cook for just a couple of nights until I could find someone to replace Peter.”
“I am happy to help for as long as it takes,” he assured her. “And as the business manager, I would be pleased to take care of the matter of a replacement for Peter if it is necessary.”
“If it’s necessary?” she asked with surprise.
Cale hesitated, but then decided it might be pushing his luck to tell her he was hoping for a much more permanent situation with her. Besides, if he did manage to convince her to be his life mate, he didn’t know what that might mean for both their lives. He had been feeling the need for a change and would be happy to leave his companies in Europe in the hands of his managers, merely overseeing it from Canada as he helped run her restaurants, but Alex might change her mind about the direction of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for new life mates to do so.
Shrugging, he merely said, “I will look into available people for the position and leave the final decision up to you.”
She relaxed and nodded slowly. Her expression turned thoughtful, and he was sure she was about to agree, but Alex was a businessperson and apparently had learned some caution when it came to such decisions. It seemed that, as tempting as the idea of returning to cooking must be to her, she wasn’t going to leap at the opportunity because she said, “I need to think about this.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
“And I don’t have time for that right now,” she added with a glance toward the waiting walls. A little sigh slid from her lips and she moved toward the tray and roller she’d left earlier. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t just let the first handsome face convince me to hand over my business.”
“You find me handsome?” Cale asked with a grin, kneeling to open the can of paint for her.
Alex flushed, but rolled her eyes and ignored the question, merely taking the now-open can from him to pour the thick liquid into the tray, as she continued, “I’ll need to know your qualifications and what experience you have. I hate to ask for a résumé, but it would really help me with the decision.”
“I shall give it to you orally while I help you paint,” he said solemnly, and Alex set the can down and glanced to him with a frown.
“That isn’t necessary. I don’t expect you to help with this. It isn’t under the job description of either a chef or a business manager. Besides, you aren’t exactly dressed for it,” she pointed out.
Cale glanced down at his designer suit, and then shrugged and began to remove the jacket. “I have several of these and this one is old anyway. Besides, in my experience, a good business manager does whatever needs doing. As you have done.”
Alex grimaced. “I didn’t really have much choice when the painters took off.”
“There are always choices,” he said solemnly. “Not always good ones, but there
are
choices, and here you made the responsible one.”
“That’s me, responsible Alex,” she said with a little self-derision, and turned to start back up her ladder with the tray. She set it on the holder at the top of the ladder and then glanced down to him. “Can you hand me the roller, please?”
“Certainly.” He picked it up and passed it to her, watched briefly as she began to run it through the paintin the tray, and then glanced around. “Is there another tray and roller?”
Alex paused and glanced down to him. “You really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he interrupted firmly.
She stared at him for a moment but then shrugged and pointed to a corner near the front of the room. “There’s another tray and roller there. I don’t have another ladder though, so you’ll have to do the lower half while I do the top.”
“You’re the boss,” Cale said lightly, and moved to find the extra tray and rollers. He had set himself up with paint and was starting on the lower half of the wall beside her when she asked her first question.
“So, I gather you run the business end of the family restaurant in Paris as well as cook there on occasion? Or have you managed to get away from cooking altogether? “ Cale frowned at the wall he was painting, knowing he would have to be careful here. He suspected Marguerite was right, and a relationship based on lies was not a good thing, so he really didn’t want to lie any more than necessary. Finally, he said, “Until tonight I have not cooked for a very long time.”
That was true enough, he
had
cooked before. He had roasted meat over an open fire several times in his youth. It wasn’t exactly Cordon Bleu cooking, but was cooking nonetheless.
“So you just run the restaurant now?” Alex asked curiously over the quiet shush of her roller running up and down the wall.
Cale grimaced, his hand automatically moving his own roller over the wall as he thought. He didn’t run a restaurant at all, but didn’t think saying that would be too smart, so instead said, “I run several businesses in Europe, most of them having to do with the travel industry and transport of goods.”
“Travel and transport? How did you go from a restaurant to travel and transport? “ she asked with surprise.
“They are not that dissimilar,” he said, and thought that was true. Argentis Inc. and Argeneau Enterprises held sway in Canada and the US, as well as the UK, but Cale had his own version of the company in France, Italy, and Spain called Valens Industries.
He ran blood banks and saw to the blood’s distribution, feeding the masses … at least the immortal masses. He also catered to immortals’ needs in other ways. One company was purely for travel, with flights that started and ended in the evenings so immortals needn’t travel with mortals if they did not wish. It also assisted with recommending and booking places for them to stay at their destination, transportation while there, the supply of blood during their stay, and provided them with booklets of the local haunts catering to their kind.