What Love Tastes Like (10 page)

“Is he in?” Angelica's question was perfunctory, asked only as a courtesy to Nick's assistant. Angelica knew she was special to Nick, but she also knew protocol. She didn't want to barge in and interrupt something important.

“Angelica!” Christina said, genuinely surprised. “You look nice.”

“I know.” And she did. Angelica knew that the firered Ralph Lauren suit fit her 5'7", size-six body to a tee, that the short-cropped jacket emphasized her generous breasts and narrow waistline. She'd had the skirt tailored so that it fit her butt snugly and stopped a couple inches above the knee. She wore the teardrop diamond that Nick had bought her, along with his favorite perfume. She didn't wear underwear; didn't need them, for the visit she had in mind. “Is he with someone?”

“No, but it's Monday and you know how crazy it is after the weekend. He said not to disturb…”

Angelica was already halfway to Nick's closed door. She gave a brief knock, opened the door, and went inside. “Hey, handsome,” she said, casually tossing her freshly twisted locks over her shoulder. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” She slithered over to Nick's desk, sat in his lap, and tried to stick her tongue down his throat.

Nick was too stunned to move, but not for long. He reached behind his neck and unlocked her arms before pulling his face away from hers. Her blatant actions had instantly aroused him, but her presumptuousness had angered him as well. “What are you doing here, Angelica?”

“Isn't that obvious?” She attempted to kiss him again.

“What is this about, Angelica? This isn't us anymore, remember? You don't want what I want, so I don't know why you're here.”

Angelica reached down and started rubbing Nick's penis through his slacks. “Can't a former lover remain a good friend? I'd think what we shared deserves that, at least.”

“Fine, we can be friends. Platonic friends.” Nick moved Angelica's hand off his dick and placed it in her own lap. “Get up, Angelica.”

Angelica took Nick's hand and placed it under her skirt, onto her bare skin. “You sure you want me to?”

Nick took a deep, patience-inducing breath. “Positive.”

“Fine,” Angelica said. She got up abruptly and straightened her skirt. Deciding on another tactic, she walked toward Nick's office windows, which faced the ocean. “I always loved this view.” When Nick remained quiet, Angelica turned around. “So how have you been, Nick? Besides busy.”

“Fine. And you?” Nick felt pretty sure that Angelica didn't know that he knew about her and Bastion. He decided to keep her ignorant of this fact, for now.

“Good…besides missing you.”

“Spare me that line. A woman like you doesn't stay lonely for long.”

“You always were smart. But there's only one Dominique Rollins, you know that.”

“Is that what you came to tell me? That you've finally realized what I tried to get you to see for four years?”

“I came for a few things. To congratulate you, for starters. I saw your name in
Black Enterprise.
One of the most up-and-coming Black men in America.”

“That list is overrated.”

“Spoken like someone who's on it. But really, congratulations, Nick. I know how hard you work. And congratulations on this hotel. You and your partners did a bang-up job.”

“Thank you, Angelica. So…now that you've congratulated me…”

“…you can take me to lunch. I'm starved, and I hear there's a five-star restaurant not far from your office. I love the name, Taste, very clever. Your idea, I'm sure.”

“Yes, I named the restaurant, which doesn't open for another week.”

“But that doesn't matter when you're the owner, now does it? I'm sure your kitchen is up and operating. I heard about the taste testing for the staff and journalists last week.”

“From whom?”

“Bastion,” Angelica said, recovering quickly from her faux pas. “I ran into him and his wife at Stanfords.”

Nick knew firsthand that Bastion and Jill hadn't eaten out in weeks. Not since Jill's diagnosis. But there was no need to tell Angelica this. “Oh, really,” he said instead.

“Yes, and he told me how impressed he was with the new chef, Wang, I believe he said his name was.”

“You and Bastion had quite the conversation. What did you do? Join him and Jill for dinner?”

“Ha! Hardly. I simply commented on the dish he was having and he told me that it was nothing compared to a similar one made by Chef Wang.” This conversation had actually happened, but it was Bastion and Angelica having dinner at Stanfords, in one of the private dining rooms, the ones that came with their own entrance. Jill had been nowhere around.

“I see.” Nick hesitated in whether or not to take Angelica down to the restaurant. He didn't want Tiffany to see them together and get the wrong idea. Nick knew Tiffany hadn't returned his calls because she was angry, and he didn't want to chance further pissing her off. Her anger was justified. He'd been a jerk, staying on the phone so long. He hadn't intended to.
But the call was important!

“Uh, hello?” Angelica interrupted Nick's reverie. “This isn't a complicated request, Nick. Just because we've broken up doesn't mean we can't eat together.” She walked over, grabbed Nick's hands, and tried to pull him up from his chair. “Come on, darling, one hour. That's all I'm asking.”

“I'm pretty busy here, Angelica.”

“All the more reason to join me. A busy man has got to eat.”

Nick knew how bullheaded Angelica could be, and how conniving. If she found out that a woman who worked there was why he didn't want to take her to Taste, she'd quite possibly become a permanent customer—just to annoy her.
I don't have anything to hide. Chances are, we won't even see Tiffany.
“All right, Angelica, one hour. And then I have to get back to work.”

 

Tiffany wiped a bead of perspiration away from her face with the sleeve of her white uniform jacket. It wasn't that the kitchen wasn't well ventilated, but the steam from the boiling water that cooked the pasta she meticulously stirred was quite warm. The fact that she'd been told this dish was for her boss, who'd brought in someone to try the food—a client, Tiffany assumed—had her a bit hot under the collar as well. Were it not for the fact that she was a consummate professional, she would have laced Nick's ravioli with enough cayenne to burn off the tongue he used so well. Her inability to ruin perfectly prepared pasta, however, kept him safe.

“How much longer for pasta?” Wang barked to Tiffany.

“One minute, Chef!” She gingerly fished out a freshly made ravioli, placed it on a waiting saucer, speared it with a fork, and took a bite.
Thirty more seconds and they will be perfect.

“Once you plate pasta, Tiff, chop basil.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Roger, cheese freshly shaved?”

“Waiting for your go-ahead, Chef.”

Wang gave a curt head nod.

Tiffany smiled, enjoying the easy way this team worked together, and how Wang bravely navigated his second language. He rarely saw use for articles such as “the” and “a,” since there were none in the Chinese language.

Moments later, Nick and Angelica were served. The delicious aroma from Nick's crab-stuffed ravioli nestled in a lemon basil butter sauce wafted under his nostrils. Angelica's tarragon-infused salmon also smelled divine. For a couple moments, the tinkling of silverware on china was the only sound to be heard.

“The verdict?” Nick asked, after taking his napkin to wipe his mouth.

“Divine,” Angelica answered honestly. “This place is going to be the talk of the town, Nick. Those other hot spots had better watch out.”

“I don't know about all that,” Nick replied, even as his chest swelled. He had to admit it, the food tasted excellent, especially his ravioli. He took another bite and then remembered why. Tiffany had been trained under Chef Riatoli, which meant that she probably prepared the pasta.

“Would you like to try a bite of pasta?”

“Sure.” Angelica finished her bite and took a drink of lemon water to cleanse her palate.

Nick nodded at his plate. “Help yourself.”

“My fork has bits of that wonderful salmon on it, Nick. I won't get a pure taste.” Angelica batted her lashes seductively. “Feed me.”

Nick speared a stuffed ravioli with his fork and held it out. Angelica slowly wiped the fork clean, and closed her eyes while she chewed.

“Melts in your mouth, doesn't it?”

“My gosh, where did you get this chef?”

“Stole him from a place in New York where I've eaten for years. I wanted someone else, but…”

“Let me guess. That chef in Italy.”

“Exactly. But Emilio loves Rome.”

“Well, Chef Wang is no slouch.” From the corner of her eye, Angelica saw someone watching them from the hallway that led to the kitchen. Someone Black and female. “Here, try some of my salmon.”

“Okay.”

Angelica cut a piece of salmon, placed it on her fork, and lifted it up to Nick. Like her, he slowly eased the fish from her fork and savored the bite.

“Here, you have a little sauce on your mouth.” Angelica leaned over, showing an ample amount of cleavage, and wiped the nonexistent dab from Nick's lip. She then took her finger and ran it over the same spot. “I miss these, you know,” she said, her smile dazzling.

Nick looked at his watch. “Ten more minutes. I'd better eat up.”

Angelica looked toward the hallway. The woman was gone. She leaned back in her chair, satisfied that she'd accomplished her goal. “I guess you're right. We wouldn't want our food to get cold.”

Tiffany walked to her car and swore to herself that she wouldn't cry. Even if she had to peel a thousand onions when she returned to the kitchen tomorrow, not one more tear would she shed for Dominique Rollins. How was he going to sex her to within an inch of her life and not forty-eight hours later bring his ex to her kitchen? Okay, Chef Wang's kitchen in Nick's hotel, but still.
I know how he did it. The same way he sexed me then forgot I was there as soon as the phone rang. I'm just one of the many women he's screwed and scrapped.
Tiffany had seen the way Christina's eyes followed him everywhere, when the witch could barely speak to anyone else. And she'd heard other females whisper. They all thought Nick Rollins was the cat's meow. Yes, he'd made her cat meow, but that was beside the point. Tiffany didn't have time to have her heart speared like a fresh piece of asparagus. As much as it hurt, she was glad the night with Nick ended the way it did. His abrupt change of focus had brought her back to reality, shattered all illusions. It had been crazy to dream that she could have a relationship with a man like Nick and after seeing how quickly his taking care of business put her on the back burner, she realized she didn't want to.

As she pulled out of Le Sol's employee parking lot, Tiffany's thoughts were interrupted by her vibrating telephone. Her first thought was that it was Nick calling, this time to probably explain how lunching with Angelica was just
business.
“I could care less, Mr. Rollins,” Tiffany said aloud. Her phone was buried at the bottom of her bag, so she simply clicked her headset. “Hello?”

“Tiffany, it's Dad.”

Tiffany swerved, narrowly missing a white Beemer as she turned onto the boulevard. She hadn't heard his voice in a year. “Dad?” she asked incredulously.

The smile on Keith's face was heard in his voice. “I deserve that, pumpkin. I know I'm a rotten father who's neglected his only child her whole life. But believe it or not, the hard work's all for you.”

“No, Dad, I don't believe it.” Tiffany took a breath. “But I don't want to argue. Why'd you call, since you didn't feel the need to do so while you were in town last month.”
Dangit.
The last part of that sentence had come out of its own volition.

Keith sighed heavily. “Look, your mother's already cussed me out for that. Can you not beat me up, even though I deserve it?”

Tiffany was silent a moment before answering. “I'll try.”

“So…how are you, Tiffany?”

Angry. Exhausted. Hurting.
“Fine.”

“Your mom tells me you're working at a restaurant.” Keith tried but failed to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Yes, Dad, I'm a sous chef for one of the leading chefs in the country, Li Wang. His contemporaries are people like Emeril, Alton Brown, Mario Batali, Masaharu Morimoto, Bobby Flay. What am I doing? I'm sure you don't know who I'm talking about. But they're all famous chefs,
millionaire
chefs,” she added, knowing that nothing got her father's attention like the mention of money.

“Wait, just hold on now. While I don't care much for the kitchen, you know I love food. I know the name of that Flay guy you mentioned. Sasha and I ate at one of his restaurants when we were in New York, a year or so ago.”

“Wow, Dad, I'm impressed.” And she was. Not only for the fact that her dad knew about Bobby Flay, but that she and her dad could possibly talk without arguing. “Which one was it? Mesa, Bar Americain…”

“Mesa.”

“Cool. What did you have?”

“Baby girl, we eat out so much, I don't remember. Sasha has many talents, but cooking is not one of them.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes and then remembered she was driving. She could just about imagine what talents the stepmother who was just a few years older than her possessed. Still, this was a civil conversation with her father, the first one in a year. She'd forgotten how cordial her father could be, and how much she missed him. “When are you coming back to LA?” The question was out before she could stop it. “I know you were just here, so I imagine it will probably be a while.” She didn't want her father to know how much she needed to see him.

“That's one of the reasons I called, Tiffany. I've been thinking about how wrong I've treated you, how instead of waiting for you to make the first move in patching up our relationship, I should have been the one doing it. I'm the adult, you're the child, but I was the one acting immature.”

Tiffany silently agreed with everything her father said. He had acted immature and selfish, like someone else she knew.

“Tiffany, you still there?”

“Yes, Dad.”

The awkward silence continued, but Keith suppressed his discomfort. He was determined to make things right with Tiffany, especially after what he'd witnessed the past weekend when he'd attended the wedding of his partner's daughter. As he walked her down the aisle, it was obvious the two adored each other. His partner, Tim, looked so proud. It was a feeling Keith realized he might not ever get to experience if he didn't take action. “Baby girl, it's time for me to fix things. Make amends. How long has it been since I've seen you?”

Four years, ten months, thirteen days…
“It's been a minute. About five years,” she added.

“That long? No, couldn't be.” Keith sighed audibly. “I'm so sorry, Tiffany. I feel like such a knuckle-head. But the fact of the matter is, you're grown, with your own mind, goals, and dreams. I think that's been the problem in our relationship. I didn't want to accept that you're your own woman. There's some other things I need to say to you, but I want to do it face-to-face.”

Tiffany navigated the streets of LA in stunned silence. Was it possible that she could finally have the father/daughter relationship she'd always wanted?

“I was wondering if you'd like to take a vacation, just the two of us. We could go wherever you want, stay a few days. Get to know each other again and make up for the time we lost.”

How do I get back a childhood, and all the times I needed you, but you weren't there?
But for the first time, her father was trying to reach out to her. She decided to reach back. “Okay.” The word was barely audible.

“Huh, pumpkin?”

Tiffany cleared her throat. “That would be…okay.” Then she remembered her grueling schedule. With the hotel officially opening next week and the restaurant waiting list almost three months out, Chef Wang had warned them: no vacations for anyone in the foreseeable future. “Oh no, Dad, I can't.”

“Why not?”

“It's work. See, the hotel opens next week and we're going to get slammed. There's no way I'll be able to get time off for months.”

“Surely you can get a three-day weekend, Tiffany.”

“Weekends are our busiest time, Dad.”

“I don't like it, Tiffany. Sounds like they're working you like a slave, probably over a hot stove, griddle, or whatever you cook on. Baby, I could line up a nice management job for you—”

“Dad…”

“All right, all right, I'll let it go. But I can't help but to think what an excellent manager you'd make in my company. Probably triple what you're making now. At KJB, the sky would be the limit. I'd groom you to take over when I retire.”

“Ha! Like that will ever happen. For you, work is like breathing.”

“You're probably right. But for sure, you'd be my right-hand daughter.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at his words. For a split second, she considered it. If nothing else, working side by side would definitely give her more time with her father. But the world of finance was his world, not hers. Keith loved to crunch numbers. She'd rather crunch a carrot. “Do you think you could maybe come to LA?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know. We'll see. Tiff, I need to take this call. It's one of my managers.”

And there it was; the moment of camaraderie was over. Now it was back to business as usual.

“Bye, Dad.”

“Wait, Tiffany?”

“Yes?”

“I'll, uh, I'll try and get to LA soon.”

“Yeah, okay.” This time it was her headset that beeped. “I have to go, too, Dad. Hello?”

“How's my brown sugar? Can I come over and taste some of your sweetness?”

“I don't know, Nick,” Tiffany replied. “Will you be using the same fork that Angelica used to feed you?”

Tiffany's unexpected comment, and the venom with which she spoke it, sat Nick straight up in his office chair. “You saw me in the restaurant?”

“I work there, remember?”

“Of course, Tiffany. I just didn't see you, that's all.”

“Well, you were rather busy.”

Nick leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Having lunch, baby, that's all.”

“And were your hands broke?”

“Tiffany. You're angry, and you should be. I'm sorry about the other night, neglecting you when my phone rang.”

“No need to apologize, Nick. I've experienced a lifetime of neglect.”

“Don't judge every man by your father's yardstick, Tiffany.”

“Don't you dare tell me what to do!” Tiffany fired back, forgetting she was talking to the man who authorized her paycheck. “And don't presume to know about my life, or my father!”

“Well, let me tell you what I do know,” Nick countered, his voice stern before turning soft, seductive. “I know that what we shared the other night was magical. I felt it, and I know you did too.”

Tiffany's heart constricted. She had experienced the magic. But it was over. “This isn't going to work, Nick. I have a rule of not mixing business with pleasure and have learned from recent experience that it's one not to be broken. I love working at Taste, and plan to stay and learn as much from Chef Wang as I can. My earlier reaction was uncalled for. Who you dine with is none of my business.”

She's more hurt than angry, although a lot of both.
But anyone who knew Dominique Rollins knew he never backed down from a challenge. He simply changed tactics, and proceeded.

“Angelica came to the office because she'd seen my name in a magazine. She'd heard about Chef Wang from one of my partners, Bastion Price, and wanted to check out his skills. When I tried the pasta, I was sure you'd made it. I wanted her to taste the work of LA's finest sous chef. That's what you saw.”

“Like I said, Nick, it's none of my business. You dated her a long time. She's beautiful. It's not hard to figure out why you're still in love with her.”

“We were together a long time. And while I'll always love her, Tiffany, I'm not
in
love with her.”

Tiffany snorted. “Same difference.”

What on earth is wrong with this girl? I know I screwed up but…
Nick's brow furrowed as his awareness heightened.
No, there's something more.

“Tiffany, is seeing Angelica today the only thing that's bothering you? You nearly took my head off when you answered.”

One thing Tiffany liked about Nick was that he was sensitive, and acted like he genuinely cared about her. “No, something else happened.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“I talked to my dad. For the first time in a year.”

“I'll meet you wherever you want.”

Tiffany knew just the thing that would make her feel better, and exactly where she wanted to meet Nick—his home, his master suite, his bed. But from now on, Tiffany intended to think with her head, not her heart.
Business first.

“Thanks, Nick. I'm really okay. Just tired. I just want to go home.”

“I can meet you there. Let me love you, Tiffany, help ease the pain, and make up for the hurt I caused you.”

Every fiber of her body urged her to say yes, as memories of how she'd felt beneath him crashed into her wall of resolve.
It would feel so good! How can I say no to what I want so badly?

And then Tiffany thought of the conversation she'd just had with her dad—the man who'd showed her what a workaholic looked like—and she knew how she would do it, how she would resist that which she craved so deeply. With three simple words. “No, Nick. Goodbye.”