Authors: Robyn Carr
He promised. “What’s Kelly like?” he asked.
“She’s very beautiful,” Jill said. “Maybe it’s for the best you’re only going to spend a couple of days with us—you might find yourself hopelessly in love with her.”
He couldn’t help it; his eyes got as big as hubcaps. “Whoa, Jilly! In my mind there isn’t anyone on earth more beautiful than you—inside and out.”
She smiled sweetly. “And this is why I let you hang around, Colin. Because you always say the most intelligent things.”
As Kelly made her way toward Virgin River she couldn’t help but wonder if her younger sister had found true love. Oh, she’d been told it was love with an expiration date, but would that really come to pass? If it was real, something would have to change. He would stay or she would give up her garden and go with him. Simple. If you found The One, you did what you had to do.
Fortunately for Kelly, she’d found The One. Unfortunately, he was not available to her. Professionally, they were close—he was a mentor and a good friend. They were in touch all the time and had many long discussions that always started with food and went from there. All Kelly could do was exactly what she was doing—perform as an exceptional sous-chef and try not to take these intense discussions too seriously or too personally. She tried not to let it show that he’d already swept her off her feet and she was consumed with him.
Luciano Brazzi, an Italian chef with his own restaurants and merchandising food products, was a wealthy man; a beautifully sexy man; a charismatic man who spoke to her inner chef and inner woman. He was eighteen years older than she, but it didn’t seem like there was an age difference at all and she knew in her heart that he would prove
to be incredibly virile. “Italians, you understand, do not grow old
there,
” he once told her in a joking manner.
He romanced her with food and they often cooked together, either at her restaurant or in one of his kitchens. When they did, sometimes he would feed her, slipping a morsel past her lips. He loved to spoon tiny bites into her mouth; she fantasized about being free to let him kiss the taste from her lips. He shared his most secret recipes with her; she made some of her great-grandmother’s best for him. For chefs, this was almost as intimate as foreplay.
He praised her talent and promised to help her get her own kitchen, perhaps her own restaurant—something she’d lived for and worked toward for years. If anyone could make that happen, it was Luca; he was very influential and
very
rich.
She dreamed about what the sex would be like. They would surely come together like mating cyclones. She wanted him with all her heart. They seemed completely compatible.
But there was one glitch. He was married.
Now was a good time for Kelly to be away. It was to be a busy week in the Brazzi household. Luca’s children, who were either married or had been away at school, would all be at home and Luca would be completely unavailable. They wouldn’t even have a phone chat, much less a cooking session.
Kelly had heard all about Colin, but she’d kept Luca to herself. Kelly had never once mentioned his full name or the details of their professional friendship. Chances were good Jillian would have heard of him or even seen his name on the side of a deli container.
It wasn’t quite four in the afternoon when Kelly pulled up to the front of the Victorian. She parked and followed the drive around to the back where she thought she might
find her sister—and she was right. She could see her prowling around a huge garden inside a five-foot cyclone fence with a large gate at each end. Kelly watched. Jillian would walk a few feet, crouch and examine a plant, pinch a bud or flower, stand to walk a few more feet, crouch again, and so on.
As she neared, Kelly saw that the garden flourished; some of the plants were growing tall, full and dark green. There were vines winding up parts of the fence and small trellises. Some plants were staked to hold them up, some had strong stalks, some were covered with porous cheesecloth, some were bushy. The rows were immaculate and the color rich.
“It actually looks like you know what you’re doing,” Kelly said.
Jillian jumped and whirled. “Kell!” Jillian ran down the row in her red rubber boots and cargo pants, out through the gate and threw herself on her sister, hugging her hard.
Kelly laughed and returned the hug. Then she held her sister away from her eyeing her gardening clothes. “Not exactly what I expected,” Kelly said, “but close. When was the last time you wore a bra or panty hose?”
“Panty hose—once. And a bra now and then. I have this sports thing on. It does the trick.”
Kelly just laughed. Then she turned full circle to take in the yard—things had certainly changed since she’d first seen it almost a year ago while out here on vacation with Jillian and their girlfriends. The house was beautifully groomed, for one thing—freshly painted and sparkling in the late-afternoon sun. There were two new aluminum storage sheds nestled between big trees and a road cut through the trees out back. Just then, she saw a young man on the road driving a golf cart toward them.
When he pulled up to Jillian and jumped out she said, “Denny, meet my sister, Kelly. Kelly, my assistant, Denny Cutler.”
Kelly put out her hand, but he just stared down at his. “Um,” he said, wiping it on his pant leg. “Sorry, I’m kinda dusty. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Kelly said with a laugh.
“Grab those flats off the bed, Denny,” Jillian said. “Jump in, Kell, and I’ll give you a tour. This is my garden-mobile.”
“This is quite the operation,” Kelly said as she climbed in beside her sister.
Jillian drove them through the trees to the back meadow. There were two freestanding greenhouses and just past them, someone had begun clearing another garden plot. “We put up these greenhouses a couple of months ago and are using lights and irrigation to start plants. We’ve been moving half of them into the outdoor garden and leaving half inside so we can monitor the difference in growth, gestation and quality. I have another shelter ready to put up when that plot is cleared, tilled and fertilized—but the new one is made of screen with retractable panels, and it’s very large. We might be trying it with smudge pots as the weather cools. Everything is experimental right now—but so far it’s working exactly as I’d hoped. We have some heartier early vegetables coming through and I’m cutting lettuce, pulling a few carrots and scallions, but the special heirloom starts are another month from appearing.”
Kelly gazed at her little sister in wonder. “Okay, I already know this, but tell me again how this all started.”
“I remembered being here last autumn with you and when I arrived here I just wanted to come over and see the back porch and garden, which was looking a little
neglected. I was literally crying into the mud, crying over my losses in San Jose….”
“Kurt…?”
Jillian shook her head. “When you get down to it, it wasn’t about Kurt. I was upset over the demise of my career, my loss of innocence, missing my mentor—all the things I had put sixty to eighty hours a week into. I was so hurt and angry, and instinctively I started digging. Next thing I knew I was sitting at Jack’s bar having a glass of wine, talking about the stuff Nana used to grow and a guy at the bar asked me why I didn’t grow that stuff here. He said they grow pot year-round up here—using grow lights run on a generator. He said the special plant seeds I was talking about had to be available somewhere. I found them online, I ordered many varieties and I got moving.” She smiled. “I hired Denny so I could catch up with the planting season and I’m keeping him as long as I can.”
“And Colin?” she asked.
“Oh, I found him painting out back here. I was sitting up on the widow’s walk trying to figure out how to access this area through the thick trees when I noticed a guy had driven up here and was painting. He liked this meadow because it was large and there were no shadows from the trees. I clawed my way through to find out what he was doing here. And, little by little… Well, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
“When do I meet him?” Kelly asked.
“Now, if you’re ready. He’s here. Painting upstairs in the sunroom. Waiting for you to get here.”
C
olin had never before met a woman who traveled with spices, condiments and recipes. He supposed it should come as no surprise that Kelly had stopped at the grocery store on her way into town to buy the food she wanted to prepare and eat—she was a chef, after all. Wherever she went, she cooked. But recipes in a locked box, the case of spices and another of condiments—this was interesting. And her cases were more like tool boxes with handles so she could carry them with her wherever she went. And then there were her knives—special knives that could slice your finger off if you didn’t know what you were doing. She always had a set of her own knives with her in case she’d be cooking, and if she was going to be eating, she’d probably be cooking.
After meeting Kelly and visiting for a while Colin had taken a place at the kitchen table with his laptop, watching and listening as the girls cavorted around the kitchen. Their choreography combined with chatter was interesting; they had a system for everything. Kelly was the leader in this venue: “Chop this tomato very small, no bigger than your baby fingernail. Mince the parsley and I mean
mince.
So this Denny helps around the garden? I don’t remember you telling me about him.”
“This size?” Jilly asked. “Sure you do—I told you all about him. Did I tell you I thought he asked me on a date?”
Colin’s ears perked up at that.
“That size is good. No way! A date?”
“I misunderstood—he was offering to take me to Jack’s for supper because he thought I wasn’t getting out enough. So I told him I had Colin.” She shot him a look with a smile. “Now he feels better about things. He didn’t really want to date me at all. Which is good because I wouldn’t have considered it under any circumstances, even if I didn’t have Colin. And I’d hate to fire him—he’s indispensable.”
“And awful young,” Kelly said.
“Awful,” Jilly agreed. “You still seeing that cook?”
“Chef, not cook. Preacher’s a cook, Luca is a chef. We’re really just friends. Friends with potential. We talk on the phone, text, email and sometimes cook together, but neither of us has much free time. Those pieces are getting too big, Jill.”
“Sorry. Maybe you should find a way to have more time. Is he well-known, your chef?”
“In culinary circles I suppose he is. That’s probably what attracted me in the first place. We talk food.”
“Hmm. I guess that can’t be any more boring than talking seeds….”
Colin laughed out loud and both women turned to look at him. “Is that so?” he asked, grinning. “Just so you know, Jilly
never
bores me.”
It was interesting to him that Jilly had referred to Kelly as very beautiful, as though she could be more beautiful than Jilly. They were different enough that if you hadn’t
looked at their eyes and smiles you might not think of them as sisters. Jilly was tall and trim with chestnut hair that was smooth; her eyes were large and brown and, as Colin knew only too well, they could become even darker and sultry when she was getting turned on. Kelly, by comparison, was shorter, rounder, had blond hair full with loose curls and blue eyes. But their eyebrows had identical arches. Their teeth—perfect and straight—were the same shape. Their lips were different, but their smiles were alike.
It made sense to him that a gardener would be slim, muscular and tan while a chef would be more curvaceous, fuller, rounder, her skin more ivory. It didn’t take much observation to appreciate how much hard work it must be to create dish after dish in a busy kitchen, yet he thought the gardening was still more physically demanding. Kelly looked like a gorgeous chef while Jilly looked like a heart-stopping athlete.
He realized Jilly looked as if she could ski the Alps, jump out of an airplane, dive in a coral reef…go on a safari. Play with him by day, heat up his sheets by night, pass the quiet time in sweet camaraderie, challenge him with her wit, appreciate those qualities in him that no one else ever took the time to notice…. What was this? A mate? He saw a partner, a friend, a lover impossible to forget or replace.
He shook his head absently. Colin didn’t mate. But then, according to her history and what she told him about herself, neither did Jilly. While he’d had many women and assumed he’d never settle down to one, Jilly had had few men in her life and thought that one day there might be one for the long term, but she didn’t count on it. Neither of them had ever had a romantic partner who’d tempted
them to a permanent relationship. He and Jill were so alike…yet so different.
There was one thing tickling the edges of his mind, however. He was falling in love with her. This was a first. He wondered if this might have happened to him long ago if he had just slowed down enough. He searched his memory, but he couldn’t recall a single woman he wanted in the way he wanted Jilly.
His
Jilly. He had a very real urge to make her his so that no other man would ever touch her, so that she would always belong to him.
“Can you close up shop now, Colin?” Jilly asked him, tapping the laptop. “Kelly has hors d’oeuvres ready and then dinner.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “She’s going to make our cooking look pretty pathetic, isn’t she?”
“Oh, worse than that. She’s a genius.”
For the past couple of months Jill and Colin had joined forces in the kitchen at mealtime, throwing together an evening meal. It was always plenty satisfying, but certainly nothing special.
When Colin reclaimed his seat, a place mat, plate, linen napkin and water glass had appeared before him. He fingered the place mat. “Is this something new?”
“No,” Kelly said. “Something from my trunk. I know Jill doesn’t bother with anything as pedestrian as presentation. I brought what I needed.” She put a platter in the center of the table. It looked like a sampler platter, a few bites each of mini lettuce wraps, meatballs, humongous stuffed mushrooms, little baby pears and—
“Stuffed grape leaves, ground lamb and garlic meatballs, mushrooms stuffed with bread crumbs, tomato, celery and onion, baby yellow tomatoes straight off the porch, soft shell crab and broiled calamari. And—” she put down a small bowl of what looked like salsa and a
small basket of sliced bread “—nana’s sweet relish and French baguette, thin sliced and lightly toasted.
Mangia!
Eat!”
Jill brought Colin an O’Doul’s and a chilled glass, but he waved it away. Kelly was pouring wine that she’d brought to complement the food and he wanted to participate. For a guy who was generally unimpressed with anything fancier than a grilled steak, or a burrito, this was intriguing. He suddenly wanted to experience it all and see if he connected with this whole passion—this transporting of special spices and condiments, this chopping a tomato a certain way, this seasoning and sautéing and then presenting the whole thing on a dish that had to be on a place mat.
He watched Kelly, then put a few items on his plate. He scooped a little of that sweet relish onto a thin slice of bread, bit down and said, “Jesus,” as if in a prayer. “What
is
this?”
Kelly merely shrugged. “Nana’s sweet relish. She used everything in the garden. Her first mission was to feed us, but her second objective was to pass on very old family recipes—her mother’s from Russia and her father’s from France. Then there were some from her American husband—Chester Matlock. The beauty of Nana’s recipes is that she never had access to the expensive delicacies—she only had what she could grow or buy cheap. She grew her own herbs in the windowsill and I remember she used to buy the cheapest ground meat and bring it home to grind it three more times. We had a meat grinder that was mounted on the counter—a bowl could fit under the spout. She worked hard to make her food delicious, but her first concern was that we be properly nourished.”
“That starts in the garden,” Jillian said. “We were very young when we came to Nana—we were the third
generation she would raise. First her only child, her daughter, then her grandson, then us. And we’re the only ones who have had the opportunity to take on her legacy in the kitchen and the garden.”
“Now for the chicken,” Kelly said as she cleared space on the table.
She served a chicken so tender and delicious, Colin had to catch himself before he let his eyes roll back in his head in a swoon. He had no idea how it might’ve been made.
“Marinated in virgin olive oil and saffron, spritzed in lemon, sprinkled with parsley, seared and then steamed with sliced mushrooms. The baby beans are garnished in slivered beets and almonds, the rice cooked with onions, peppers, chopped black olives and topped with paprika, the same lightly toasted baguette, and Nana’s sauce—kind of a salsa made with fresh tomato, tomatillo, peppers—I brought that from home because it takes hours. It’s got a kick. And I apologize—I didn’t have time for dessert.”
Jillian and Colin exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
“What?” Kelly asked.
“Oh, you’re forgiven,” Colin said. “But just this once.”
For the next couple of nights, Colin’s palate was indulged. His routine with his lover changed, but he wasn’t unhappy about it. After a large, satisfying meal he retired to the bedroom on Jilly’s second floor while the sisters stayed up way too late, drank a bottle of wine between them, talked and whispered and laughed wildly. Then they would crawl up the stairs, not quietly, and head to their beds. Jill would clamber in beside him and, even though she brushed her teeth and washed her face, he could taste the pinot on her lips—and it wasn’t at all unpleasant.
By day Colin would paint, Jilly would garden and Kelly
would shop, fool around in the kitchen and present them with a five-star meal. Her second night with them was Italian and her bruschetta was the most delectable he’d ever tasted. Then came an Italian chopped salad that left him weak in the knees and he wasn’t even fond of salad. In fact, vegetables didn’t do that much for him. Finally Kelly served an Italian dish made with eggplant, the very sound of which should have repelled him, but it was unbelievably delicious. Finally, a Tiramisu that brought tears to his eyes.
The third night brought one of Nana’s traditional French meals, and again, he was helpless. Again the girls laughed through a bottle of wine while he went to bed to leave them to their reunion.
When Jill came to bed, he pulled her against him and kissed her senseless. Nothing new there. But then he said, “I hate to leave in the morning. Please, freeze the leftovers!”
She laughed at him and promised she would.
He reached down to find her panties were still on. “What’s this? Is this how you plan to send me off?”
“Not exactly. I have something special for you.”
“Ohhh, I like to hear that….”
She reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a box. “It’s an iPhone—the latest.”
“I have a cell phone, Jilly.”
“I know, but you have an ordinary cell phone—this one will allow you to pick up your emails, has a GPS for directions, an iPod for your music. You can even download audio books to listen to while you drive.”
“I have to leave early, baby—how am I going to learn all that?”
“I’m going to show you how to make and answer calls before you go, how to use your GPS, and then you can play
with it while you sit in hotel rooms with nothing better to do. I’ve already loaded my numbers and Luke’s number for you—you can do the rest. You can learn how to take pictures and send them from this phone.” She shrugged and looked down. “I was thinking ahead, Colin. Thinking of Africa, but not because I have expectations. But if you wanted to send me pictures from there and you’re not online, maybe this will come in handy.”
He put the box aside and pulled her on top of his long body. He pushed her hair away from her face. “I plan to keep in touch, Jilly, but it might be difficult from Africa. From out in the Serengeti. Even with this.”
“I understand that, but I want you to have all the tools, and it’s small. You can charge it in the Jeep. That way if you feel like sending me an email and the laptop doesn’t work for you, maybe this phone will. Besides, it’s very fun. You’ll like it.”
“You’re fun,” he said. “You and Kelly together are a hoot. Don’t you girls ever fight? Like the Riordan boys?”
“I’m learning that no one fights like the Riordan boys. Kelly and I have had our little spats, but not too often. We had to stick together when we were young. Life wasn’t always that easy.”
“You have a division of labor. She rules the kitchen—you rule the garden.”
“I know, interesting how that happened. And fortuitous, since we’d probably fight like cats if we competed in the same territory.”
“And what are you girls going to do while I’m gone?”
“We’re going to feed Denny one night, feed Preacher and his family one night, go eat at the bar one night and then Kelly’s on her way home.”
“I like her,” Colin said. “She’s cute and a genius in the kitchen, and you’re right, she’s very pretty—but Jilly, she’s not prettier than you.” He slid her panties down over her hips. “You are the woman I wake up wanting, fall asleep wanting, reach for in the night. You. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Why, Colin,” she said with a smile. “That’s very romantic.”
“What’s strange about it is I’m not really the romantic type. I think you’re doing something witchy to me.”
“Ah, you found me out!”
“I’m going to love you slow tonight,” he said. “Slow and deep and easy, and I’m going to take a long, long time, so no screaming and begging….” He pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her. “This has to last me as long as a week, so let me have my way.”
“Don’t I always?” she asked in a breath. “So far, your way is my way.”
Colin had his Jeep loaded before dawn. Hearing voices in the kitchen, he went inside. Kelly offered to fix a big breakfast for the road, but Colin declined. “I want to move quickly now, get as much driving in today as I can, but I’m sorry to miss your breakfast. It’s my favorite meal.” Then he focused on Jilly. He smiled and touched her face. “I have my new phone plugged in. I have two phones now, two numbers, plus the laptop. Are you happy?”