What Love Tastes Like (8 page)

To say she had experienced first-day jitters at Taste was an understatement. Less than two hours into her new job, Tiffany had broken a nail, cut her finger, and shattered a glass mixing bowl. She wished she could have blamed her clumsiness on Chef's harshly barked orders. But Chef Riatoli had been a taskmaster as well, and possibly because she'd worked as a line cook in a super-busy restaurant while earning her culinary degree—and not buckled under that insane pressure—she'd blossomed under his heavy hand. Unfortunately it hadn't been the man barking orders in the kitchen who had Tiffany all discombobulated; it was the man who occupied the largest of the executive offices on the second floor.

While she tried to convince herself otherwise, Tiffany knew it was because of Nick that she'd gotten the job. Why else would she have gotten a call the day after her interview, before the chef would have had time to check her references and review her school transcript? She even wondered if it was her imagination that the chef seemed a bit cold and aloof toward her. Often, chefs were temperamental at best, but the last thing one would want was to be told who to hire in his or her kitchen. Because Tiffany felt this might be the case was all the more reason she determined to be the best sous chef in LA.

Fortunately for her, the fast pace in the kitchen had made her first week on the job fly by. She'd been too busy to think, for which she was grateful. Because if she'd given herself time to do so, then she'd have to give in to the hurt and disappointment she'd experienced yet again when her father had come and gone without calling her. Then she'd have to think about how angry she was at herself for being hurt and disappointed. She knew better. Keith Bronson was simply being true to form.

Another blessing: in the two weeks that had gone by since she'd started at Taste, she'd only seen Nick once. Considering how her kitty meowed at the very thought of him, this single sighting was a good thing. Having seen his picture on the Internet, Joy thought Tiffany was crazy not to date him. But Tiffany knew that if she saw him after dark, tackled him in the parking lot, and demanded he sex her real good in the backseat of his car—which was what she wanted to do—he'd think she was crazy, too.

Now, there were only two weeks until September, and the hotel's grand opening. Besides learning the way Chef liked his vegetables cut, pasta formed, and sauces prepared, Tiffany also had to familiarize herself with a new kitchen and cooking devices and get back into the groove of working in a fast-paced environment. The hotel had been accepting reservations via e-mail for over a month, and some of Nick's well-placed connections, along with an A-list Hollywood premiere Chef Wang had catered, had created a buzz about the restaurant even before its doors opened. It was the anticipation of this onslaught, combined with Chef Wang's Type-A, perfectionist personality, that kept everyone frenzied, frazzled, and moving at a furious pace.

By the end of her third week, however, Tiffany began to feel her rhythm in the kitchen, and to develop the timing and anticipation necessary for a sous chef to meet his or her chef's demands. She'd also begun to interpret Chef's grunts and eye movements. One long grunt meant you hadn't done it right, rapid eye movements meant “are you kidding, throw it away and start over,” and a brief head nod meant “good job.” Today, Friday, Tiffany had gotten three head nods and only one grunt. She felt she was getting the hang of this job.

Feeling more comfortable in the kitchen meant that she could relax. But that wasn't the only reason, especially today. On her way into the building, Tiffany had overheard two secretaries talking. One, whom she assumed was Nick's assistant, seemed happy that Nick was going out of town. She was looking forward to not having to run some unexpected errand or set up a telephone conference in the middle of her Saturday afternoon. The other commented on how she'd set anything up at any time for their tall, dark, and handsome boss. The rest of the conversation faded as the ladies entered the building. But Tiffany had heard what she needed to. Nick Rollins was nowhere around. She could breathe easy for the next couple days before enjoying her first day off, two days from now. She reached for a large bowl of organic tomatoes, several bunches of fresh organic herbs, onions, peppers, and cloves of garlic. She was getting ready to make the basic tomato sauce that Chef had entrusted to her earlier in the week. She'd held her breath as he tasted it. He'd swirled the sauce, let it rest on his palate, swallowed, and tasted it again. Then he'd given one of his nonverbal signs, her first head nod.

Forty-five minutes later, Tiffany slowly stirred the sauce, thickened by a continual, low-burning flame. She knew from the smell alone that it was perfection, a fact that made her proud. Especially since tomorrow was such an important day. They would be feeding a select group of reporters and journalists from across the country. Everything had to be spot on. Tiffany reached for one of the smaller wooden spoons and dipped it into the sauce. After waiting a second for it to cool, she slowly placed the spoonful of sauce into her mouth. She tasted the concoction with a chef's palate, making sure that each herb held its own space, that the peppers, onions, and garlic didn't get lost in the tomato, and that there was just the right amount of raw sugar added to break up the balsamic vinegar that provided the right amount of acid to the pot. Closing her eyes, Tiffany rested back against the table and slowly ate the rest of the sauce off the spoon.
Umm, this is delicious.
“You've done it again, Tiffany Matthews.”

“
I'd
like to do it again,” a low voice murmured. “Can I have a taste?”

Tiffany froze in mid-lick. An involuntary shudder went down her spine and lodged itself just above her buttocks. Why now, in a rare moment when she was the only one in the kitchen, did Nick have to come around? She put what she hoped was a casual look on her face as she opened her eyes and turned around. “Hi, Mr. Rollins. What can I do for you?”

As soon as the words were out, Tiffany recognized the double entendre. But it was too late. Nick was advancing on her like a cat would a mouse. She retreated as he advanced, and stumbled over her words. “I-I mean…Chef's not here.”

“I'm not looking for Chef.” Nick kept advancing.

“Oh,” Tiffany panted as her butt came in contact with the counter. She couldn't go any farther, but crossed her arms in an unconscious gesture of self-protection.

Nick stopped directly in front of her. “It looks as if you've been hiding out in the kitchen. So I thought I'd come say hello.”

“Me? Hiding? Why would I need to hide from you?” Tiffany asked. Her voice was full of sistah-girl attitude, even as she scooted around him and virtually ran to the other side of the room. “We're just busy here, as I'm sure you're aware.”

“Oh, I'm very aware.” Nick began covering the distance between himself and Tiffany in long, sure strides.

But before he could reach her, Tiffany made a beeline for the stove and began vigorously stirring the sauce. “I'm really busy,” she said, her voice coming out much higher than she intended, almost like a squeak. “Chef Wang is going to want to taste this sauce when he gets back.”

“And I want a taste right now,” Nick said, once again covering the space between them. “Of the sauce, that is.”

Tiffany reached into a drawer for a spoon and stayed at arm's length as she gave it to Nick. Nick's smile was predatory as he placed the spoon in the sauce, pulled it out, blew on its contents, and then savored the flavors. His eyes never left hers.

“How is it?” Tiffany tried not to react to the sight of Nick's tongue wiping the remainder of the sauce from his lips. She imagined her tongue doing it instead, and immediately stepped back to put more space between them. “Is it good?”

“It's delicious,” Nick replied.

“Well, I'd better get back to work. Chef and the others will be back any minute.”

“In that case, there's no time to waste. I'd better hurry up and get what I really came after.” Nick took a step and closed the rest of the distance that existed between them.

Tiffany closed her eyes and braced herself for the kiss. Truth be told, it was what she wanted. She had been running from her own desires just as much as she'd been running from Nick. But he was right here, right now. And she didn't want to run anymore. Nick licked his luscious lips before lowering them toward Tiffany's already parted ones. She closed her eyes, barely breathing…and heard the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen.

“There you are!” Chef Wang sang in his choppy Asian accent. Seconds later he and the other crew members rounded the corner. “You're just the man I'm looking for, Mr. Rollins. The menu is ready for a taste test, as you requested, sir. I know you're anxious to try the food. Would you like it scheduled for later this evening?”

“No, I'll be busy this evening,” Nick said casually, even as he adopted a business persona. “Have Christina check my schedule for sometime tomorrow afternoon. I'll make sure Bastion, the hotel manager, and other appropriate personnel are there as well.” He nodded at the group and walked away.

Tiffany didn't let out the breath she'd been holding until Nick left the room.

When her workday was over, Tiffany had only one thing on her mind—avoiding Nick. That's why after putting her things into her work locker, she rushed toward the employee entrance, keys in hand. With any luck, she thought, she'd be in her car and on her way within minutes.

Ha! The coast is clear.
Tiffany made a beeline for her car, popped the lock with the button on her keychain, and slid inside. She started the car and reached for her handsfree at the same time. It was time for a convo with backup. Smiling, she pulled out her BlackBerry and headed toward the parking lot entrance. But before she could punch in Joy's number, her phone rang.

“Meet me at Stanfords, I'll be there in five minutes.”

“Nick? How did you get my number?”

Tiffany looked at the phone and knew she'd have to get the answer to this question in person. Nick had hung up, and the single line he'd issued before doing so hadn't sounded like a request, but an order. Tiffany copped an attitude immediately. She hadn't liked taking orders from her father and she had no intention of doing so with Nick.
But he's your boss.
Tiffany took a deep breath, and headed toward a new destination.

A few minutes later, she stepped inside Stanfords, waiting momentarily until her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. She also took this time to try and cool her ire, reminding herself yet again that Nick was her employer.
I don't care. He might have licked the kitty, but he isn't going to push me around!

Tiffany followed the hostess into the restaurant. Nick was waiting for her in a corner booth, busy texting away on his iPhone. Tiffany approached the table slowly, taking in the rich décor of the restaurant/lounge she'd heard about but never frequented. It was reportedly where celebrities and professional athletes hung out, and while Joy had often begged her to come, Tiffany had always declined. She had no desire to be with a man who was more high maintenance than her.

“Mr. Rollins,” she said, sliding into the booth opposite Nick.

“Ms. Matthews,” Nick drawled. “Let's shed the formalities. Yes, at work I'm Mr. Rollins. But you are the exceptional employee who may call me Nick.”

Dang, why does he have to look and sound so sexy?
Tiffany cleared her throat. “I guess you looked at the employee records to get my number.”

“I did. Do you have a problem with that?”

“That depends. Is this a professional or personal meeting?”

Nick's smile lit up the dimly lit room. “Definitely personal. Do you have a problem with
that
?” When Tiffany didn't immediately answer, Nick continued. “I've wanted to get you alone for a long time…”

Tiffany raised her eyebrows.

“…to apologize for the abrupt way I had to leave you in Rome. It was business, couldn't be helped, but I'm sorry.”

Tiffany shrugged. His excuse sounded much like the ones she'd heard from her father for years, sans the apology. “I heard about the fire.”

“So you understand.”

Tiffany's smile was bittersweet. “I understand. You don't owe me anything, Mr. Rollins.” When Nick's eyes narrowed, Tiffany corrected herself. “I mean, Nick. Business comes first, right?”

Nick rubbed his chin as he listened to Tiffany. Her voice sounded strong and firm, but he detected hurt in her eyes. Had he caused that? He remembered the teddy bear. “How's Tuffy?”

The unexpected question made Tiffany laugh out loud. “He's fine.”

“So what's up with a beautiful woman like you traveling with a raggedy teddy bear?”

Tiffany's smile disappeared. “What's it to you?” She hadn't intended the question to come out so rudely, but this man didn't know her well enough to talk about her friend like that! Since she was talking to the man who signed her paycheck, however, Tiffany tried to regroup. “We have a history,” she said, glancing at Nick's handsome face to gauge his reaction. “It is a gift that has sentimental value.”

“From one of your parents, I presume?”

“My dad.”

Nick nodded, noticing the tightening around Tiffany's mouth. He also noticed how the pink lip gloss sparkled against lips he'd love to kiss again. “Are you close to your father?”

“Not really, but, Nick, I don't see how this is any of your concern. I don't mean to be rude, and I appreciate that you felt the need to apologize for how you left me in Rome, but now that you've done that, I probably should go.”

“So it's you who's going to run away this time, huh?”

“Why would I have to run away from you?”

Nick grabbed Tiffany's hand and gently rubbed his thumb over the inside of her palm as he answered. “Because you're trying to deny this almost overwhelming attraction you're feeling for me, trying to hide the fact that even at this moment you're getting wet for me.” His eyes darkened as he continued to stare at her lips, wetting his own.

“Don't flatter yourself,” Tiffany retorted, even as she tried to ignore her throbbing nub and, yes, now damp thong. She gently but firmly removed her hand from Nick's, then grabbed her purse. “I'm leaving.”

Tiffany was fast but Nick was faster. He grabbed her arm before she could run. “I want to go out with you.”

“Why? You have your pick of any woman at the hotel.”

“And I'm sure all of those women are special in their own way. But I want you.” Nick released the grip he had on her arm, but did not remove his hand. Instead he stroked the inside of her forearm with his finger. “You're an incredible woman, Tiffany, and I'm attracted to you. I think we started something beautiful in Italy, and I'd like to see if what we felt there was real or just my imagination.”

She couldn't think while he touched her. Tiffany crossed her arms, staring into eyes she could drown in, and a man with whom she could easily fall in love. “I don't know, Nick. Mixing business with pleasure can be a risky proposition. And then there's your work. It will always come first. I understand that,” she hurried on before he could interrupt. “But I'm not sure if I want to be with someone who's…you know…”

“Wealthy, successful? A man with varied national and international businesses, including a five-star hotel?”

“Don't sound so cocky.”

“Don't sound so scared.” Nick softened his tone. “I'm only speaking truth, love. What about me frightens you so?”

That you're just like my father!
“I'm not frightened, I'm focused. I just started a new job and am determined to be a success there. I can learn a lot from Chef Wang. He's as skilled as Chef Riatoli, even more innovative in some areas. Besides, you don't really have time for a relationship.”

“Maybe not.” Nick looked at his watch. “But I do have time for dinner. Will you join me?”

Tiffany hesitated for a moment before relaxing her back against the booth's rich leather. “I guess so.”

Nick's smile reached his eyes as he reached for Tiffany's hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed it. He flagged down the waiter and ordered two glasses of Chardonnay. As they sipped the wine, he and Tiffany settled into an amicable conversation, learning more about each other. Tiffany learned that Nick was born Dominique LaSalle Rollins in Paris, France, where his Army father had been stationed. His family moved a lot before settling in Pasadena, California, where “Dominique” became “Nick,” thanks to his high school b-ball playing buddies. He went back east for college and then, armed with a degree in business, set out to fulfill his dream of becoming a wealthy man. He bought his first property at twenty-one, Tiffany learned, an apartment building of ten units that he still owned. Along with various rental properties, both residential and commercial, Nick was a partner in various enterprises ranging from technology to agriculture. Hotel Le Sol was his latest venture, his first hotel, and the one of which he was most proud.

Tiffany found out a great deal about Mr. Rollins, but when the tables were turned, Nick learned that Tiffany didn't talk much about her private life.

“There's not much to tell,” she answered, when asked to tell a little about herself.

“Uh-uh. I've sat here and told you everything that's happened to me since the age of five, and you're going to give me that? I don't think so.” Nick eyed Tiffany thoughtfully as the waiter removed their dinner plates and set dessert menus in front of both of them. “I have a feeling there's a whole lot you can tell me about you, Tiffany Matthews. Now, I know you learned to cook from your grandmother. But what about your parents? Are they still alive? What do they do?”

“They're both in business, too,” Tiffany responded, immersed in the menu. “Like you, it occupies a great deal of their time. Growing up, I hardly saw them. My mother was always at the office and my father was always away on business. They divorced when I was little. I guess you can say my grandmother raised me, mostly.”

“But what about now that you're grown? Have you gotten closer to your mom and dad?”

“What is this, the
Dr. Phil
show?”

“No.” Nick grinned. “It's the Nick-trying-to-learn-something-about-the-woman-in-front-of-him show. But if you're uncomfortable sharing who you are with me…”

“I shouldn't be, but your questions are making me realize that I don't talk much about my family. There is some pain in my past connected to my parents, especially my dad.”

Nick sipped his wine slowly, drinking in the sight of this beautifully vulnerable woman sitting across from him. “Is that why you're scared of a relationship with me, scared I'll turn out to be just like your father?”

Tiffany was startled at the accuracy of his question, but chose to be honest nonetheless. “Yes.”

“Will you give me a chance, at least?”

“I might give you a second date.”

“Oh, is that what this was, a date?”

“No, this was dinner. Our first date was in Italy, or don't you remember?”

Nick allowed his eyes to travel slowly from Tiffany's eyes, down her face to her breasts and back up. “How can I forget?”

The waiter interrupted. “Would you two care for dessert?”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Nick and Tiffany spoke at once.

“Thanks, Nick, but I'm full, really, and I need to get home. We're preparing the personnel tasting for lunch and serving the journalists at dinner. It will be a long day.”

“Just bring the check,” Nick said to the waiter. “I'll get my dessert later,” he said to Tiffany.

Nick walked Tiffany to her car and despite her mild protest, seared her with a kiss before opening her car door. “Keep Saturday night open,” he said, as if she had no choice in the matter. “I'll call you.”

“What if I already have a date?” Tiffany asked. She didn't like the way Nick assumed she'd be free.

Nick was already walking away from her car. “Cancel it,” he said without looking back.

Demanding, just like Dad.
“This will never work.” Tiffany sighed as she started her car, but she couldn't help the smile that broke across her face as she watched Nick's lean, sure strides over to his Maserati. He must have known she was looking because before he got into his car, he turned around and waved. Tiffany waved back, turned on her engine, and steered in the other direction, out of the parking lot. Nick got into his car and sped off down the street, back to the hotel.

Somebody else turned on their car and headed down the street. Somebody who'd been sitting in the booth behind Tiffany and Nick, and had heard everything they said. Somebody who hadn't liked Tiffany from the beginning, and who hadn't been able to put her finger on the reason until now—because Tiffany was a threat to her own plans of climbing the corporate ladder.

The woman-turned-detective reached for her cell phone. “Angelica, this is Nick's assistant, Christina. I've got some news.”