The kiss had meant nothing. It had been spontaneous, a congratulatory kiss after they’d won the Annual Cordovian Union Day Pie Making contest. He had likely forgotten about it. Probably had never thought twice about it. Jan wished she could say the same.
She couldn’t. She still vividly remembered the press of his lower lip into her upper lip. The brush of his upper lip against her nose as he pulled away. The taste of his breath, cherries and black peppercorn, lingered for hours, days after. Probably because she kept making recipes with the two ingredients to keep the memory alive.
“That was a great start,” Alex said. “Now what’s for dinner?”
“You want more?”
Of course, he did. He’d been ravenous for her food since the day he’d walked into her pie shop and ordered a slice of each of the national pies she’d made for UN Day, and subsequently eaten them all. In Cordoba, he’d eaten his way through the high street showing her the country’s exotic spices. Through all of that, he hadn’t gained a single pound. Men.
“That only whet my appetite,” he said. “I’m a man. I need meat. What do you have in here?”
He slid off his chair and reached for the handle of her small fridge. Everything seemed small in her apartment with Alex in there. The place was a study in efficiency. Her full bed took up most of the space. She’d brought up two bar stools to sit around the kitchen counter in lieu of a dining set.
She rarely had people over, so she didn’t see the point. She spent most of her time downstairs in the kitchen. Her apartment was only meant for sleep. But now a prince squeezed his form around her and angled for her fridge.
Jan swatted at his hand. “Hey, you can’t just go into a woman’s fridge. It’s private.”
Alex lifted a single brow which would’ve been devastating if she was attracted to him. Which she wasn’t. Despite herself, she liked Alex.
Only as a fellow foodie. He loved to try new foods. He had an adventurous palate. And he loved anything that came out of her oven.
But he was not relationship material. Just as his palate was open to trying anything new, so were his arms. She’d read the tabloids. She’d even seen him in action back in Cordoba. Women threw themselves at the Prince of Cordoba. Men walked away from a girl like Jan.
Jan understood Alex’s draw. He was rich, handsome, and oozing charm. He was also the type of man that had no incentive for settling down.
Not that Jan wanted to settle down. She’d tried it once. Being left at the altar had been enough for her to never put that much faith in a person again.
“Most women are dying to let me into their cupboards, Chef Peppers.”
“Not this one, your royal highness.”
He cringed. Jan had noted in their short time together that Alex hadn’t preferred to be addressed formally. He had little interest in his royal duties unless they involved a meal.
“Personally,” Jan continued, wanting to recapture the light mood of a moment ago, “I need at least an hour of prep time before I’m ready.”
Alex let go of the handle and bent forward with laughter. When he straightened, there were tears in his eyes.
Jan wasn’t sure where the quip had come from. She was a terrible flirt. But Alex had a knack for making everything a bit dirty.
When his laughter died down, he ignored her warning about her fridge and pulled the box open. Before she could stop him, he began pulling out ingredients.
“Sit,” he commanded. “You made the appetizer. I’ll make dinner.”
Those were words Jan was not used to hearing. She sat back on her stool and watched as Alex cooked for her. She knew he had some skills in the kitchen. He’d helped her prep for the pie making contest. Not just with the chopping and dicing. They’d come up with the winning recipe together. That win had been as much his as it had been hers.
What he pulled out of her small oven twenty minutes later smelled delightful. It tasted even better. Jan had the urge to moan and slam her own hand down on the counter.
“I’m stuffed.” She threw down her fork, wishing she could unzip the back of her dress to give her belly the needed space.
“You have to admit it was a great pairing with the pie.”
Alex had made pigs in a blanket with crescent rolls and a pack of Oscar Mayer wieners. Inside the rolls, he’d wrapped the wieners in ricotta cheese and sprinkled them with apple cider vinegar. On the side, he’d made a hash of carrots and potatoes seasoned with Old Bay crab mix.
Jan forgot her manners and licked the salty seasonings from her fingertips. Alex grinned at her machinations. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He slung the dish rag from hand to hand as he took careful steps toward her.
“That’s why we get on so well,” he said as he leaned his elbows on the counter, bending his powerful body down so that it was level with her gaze. “We instinctively pair the right spices together.”
She nodded at that. They did get on well in the kitchen. If she’d found a man like Alex before her self-imposed exile from the land of relationships, she might have not left.
“Jan, have you thought more about my proposal?”
A kernel of salt went down the wrong pipe, and Jan coughed. Alex handed her a glass of water. She drank mightily before she was able to speak again.
“What proposal?”
“Back at the airport when Leo proposed to Esme. I asked you to open a restaurant with me.”
She did remember that. Mainly because he’d leaned down and whispered in her ear. The smell of cherries and pepper had made her feel dizzy then, but she had her wits about her now. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“I was. I am. What is it you say; only iron can sharpen iron.”
“Yes, my dear prince, but you prefer your women to be plastic.”
She’d meant it as a joke. The aim had been to put them back on their silly banter because surely that’s where this particular conversation was leading. Only for the short duration of it, Alex had been dead serious. And now, his easy grin fell, like she’d actually hurt him.
He turned away from her, taking her unfinished puff pastry with him. He tossed the remaining half eaten blanketed wiener into the trash. Instead of addressing her, he turned on the faucet and began scrubbing at the plate.
Jan hopped off her stool and approached him like a wounded animal. He was a wounded animal. He was a man whose ego she’d bruised.
“Alex, you have an amazing palate. You’re a really good cook. But …”
He turned and faced her. “But?”
“But you’re a prince.”
“Prince is a noun.” He turned off the faucet and tossed the dish towel on the counter. “I want to verb. I want to do something with my life.”
Alex reached for her hand. She gave it. Her hand felt warm in his.
“I know you think I’m a flake.”
“I …” But she let the sentence trail off.
“I’ve only ever been loyal to food. I’m serious about this. I want to open a restaurant. And I can’t see myself doing it with anyone but you.”
It felt like a proposal. A proposal, and a walk down an aisle was the last thing Jan wanted to face again in her life. She pulled her hands away from Alex’s and ducked them in the dirty dish water.
“People break their word all the time,” she said. “I can’t afford that.”
“I’ve never broken my word to you.”
“You’ve never had to give it.”
“I’m offering it now.”
“I don’t want it,” Jan snapped.
The tether holding all the pain of standing in the aisle, the misery of others whispering behind her back, in front of her face, all the looks of pity weighed down on Jan, and she broke apart. Anger spilled out of Jan. Pure, red, hot anger. Unfortunately, it scalded the wrong man.
Alex had turned from her. He was putting his jacket on as he headed toward the stairs.
Jan shut her eyes. It took a few breaths before she carefully and meticulousl
y retied the knot of her anger and disappointment and betrayal. Once the bow was pulled tight, she went after Alex.
“Alex, wait.” She caught up with him as he placed his hand on the door knob. “I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“I believe that’s my line.” He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
They stood at the door, staring at each other. Jan chewed at the inside of her lip, unsure what more to say. Alex peered down at her in the darkness, trying to see things she showed to no one.
“Is it my word you don’t want?” he asked. “Or the business opportunity you don’t want? Are you really content to stay here for the rest of your life making cherry pies? I know you. It’s not what you’re meant for.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m meant for.”
“It’s not a mediocre life with no spice.”
She had no rebuttal to that. Prince Charming was offering her, an insignificant pastry chef, the opportunity to cook the way she wanted, in a new place, with a new flavor profile, for a clientele that liked the new and exotic. Why wasn’t she even considering it as a possibility?
“I have an investor interested,” he said. “That’s how serious I am. Just let me bring him by tomorrow.”
“An investor? But you’re rich.”
His grimace touched his eyes, and he winced. “I want to do this the right way. I don’t want to rely on my family, my name, my connections, or those bank accounts. I want to do this as me, as Alex, not as the Prince of Cordoba.”
There was so much earnestness in his eyes. Jan understood that. No one back home saw her as anything but Chris’s ex. Poor Jan who was left at the altar. Poor Jan who wasn’t someone’s first choice. But Alex had said she was his only choice.
“Why me?” she asked.
“Though you’re as brittle as plastic,” he said, his grin returning, “we work well together. You get my vision. You’re a beast with a baster. A rebel with a rolling pin.”
Now she winced at the memory of nearly knocking him unconscious.
“Just meet with the investor tomorrow? I’ll bring him by the shop for lunch.”
Jan swallowed. She was unafraid to take a risk in the kitchen on a daily basis. It had been a long time since she’d taken one personally.
“What should I cook?”
Alex brought her into a hug. He squeezed her so tightly her nose mashed into his neck. And there it was again; the smell of cherries and peppercorn.
“I’m so happy I could kiss you,” he said pulling away.
He gazed down at her as though he were about to. His sweet and spicy scent was clouding her judgment so much at the moment, Jan thought she would let him. It took a flash from outside the shop’s window to jerk them apart.
Chapter Seven
“So, the plan I have is to start the flagship restaurant in Cordoba on the high street.” Alex indicated in the digital presentation he’d had made for him before his flight across the Atlantic. “We’ll get the wealthy elite on the inside of the establishment in the evenings. Since we’re on the high street, we’ll get a lot of tourist traffic. Later in the year, I’m very interested in launching a series of food trucks for more affordable fare for families, the working class, and the young adults.”
Alex had had the best meals on the streets of Bangkok and Istanbul and, of course, New York City where they all currently were. Some of the most innovative chefs had no degrees. They measured by pinches and eyeballing, not cups and scales. Their kitchens were only as big as his bathtub in the palace.
He’d also dined at some of the most elite restaurants in the world where a single bite of food might set the diner back a commoner’s weekly wages. Alex was living proof that the two worlds could exist in the same place and on the same palette.
“Cordoba has a history of blended cultures,” he continued. “The menu and the flavor profile will reflect that.”
“And the name?” asked Gordon Rogers. The man leaned forward, eyes shining with excitement.
Alex smiled sheepishly. Though he wasn’t embarrassed. The smile was for effect. He may not want to use his family’s fortune, but he was savvy enough to know he needed to leverage his family name.
“The Prince’s Palate.”
“How clever,” said Phoebe Morgan. The real estate developer who only dealt with million dollar listings leaned back in the high-back chair and crossed legs covered in a bold red, high power suit. “I’m sure many women would line up to taste what has touched your lips.”
She didn’t have the decency to blush at her innuendo. Why would she? Power made not only men but also women heady with machismo. Alex had met her type many times before. Powerful women in leadership, those who had clawed their way to the top with no connections and had no qualms against putting their expensive heels in the chest of the next man. He’d had his fair share of the nouveau riche and long ago lost his taste for it.
“The slogan will be; Where diners can eat like royalty,” Alex said.
“And will you cook as well?” asked Cody Walsh. The young man was barely past his quarter life but looked like he could easily pass for forty.
Alex had also known his fair share of tech millionaires who couldn’t handle their newfound fortunes. Cody, with his blood-shot eyes and twitchy fingers, looked like he was on the verge of crashing and burning. From overwork, excessive play, or too much recreational substances? Alex would’ve put his money on all three.
“I know my way around a kitchen—” Alex began but was interrupted by Cody.
“I’m sure you do.” The young man waggled his brows, but it came off looking as though his eyes were irritated.
“I’ll have a hand in the daily menus,” Alex said. He knew he’d be the face of the business, mostly. He was fine with that, so long as it was Jan in the kitchen, and he could discuss each day’s meal with her. And maybe chop up a few veggies and toss in a couple of pinches of spice every once in a while.
“I hear you’re quite the adventurer,” Cody continued as though he hadn’t heard Alex. “If you ever want to spice it up …”
The young man handed Alex a card which read that he was a CEO followed by an unprofessional expletive.
Alex smiled and went to place the card in his pocket. At the last second his fingers slipped, and the card fell to the floor. Luckily no one saw it.
Alex was done with his wild days. He was a business man now. Just like he’d promised Jan. The thought of her made him smile, just like the first bite into a newly baked loaf of bread straight from the oven.
“Speaking of spices,” he turned the conversation away from his past and toward his future. “I’ve found an amazing chef. I’d love to bring you to her restaurant for a taste test. Lunch if you have no other plans. It’s not far.”
“A female chef?” said Cody. “How women’s lib of you.”
Phoebe grimaced at the younger man. “I’m free and famished. I’ll get my coat.”
“Hey, Alex, let me get a selfie with you to post on the Gram.” Cody whipped out his phone, wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulder, and clicked off a few shots.
Gordon shot Alex an apologetic frown. Alex gritted his teeth and smiled for the camera. It was tough to do both. The unnecessary flash of the cell phone camera in broad daylight sent him back to last night.
He’d been able to shield Jan from the paparazzi. He’d shut her in to the shop and made his getaway. The paparazzi followed him back to the hotel, and he’d left them in the street. Of course, they’d been up and at it early that morning and had followed him here. It was par for the course. They’d get bored when they saw he wasn’t sneaking off to see any actresses, socialites, or super models.
“I’m very excited about this,” said Gordon once Cody let Alex go to send off his Instagram posts.
“I have to admit, I’m a little confused,” said Alex. “I thought I’d get to work with you directly.”
“All of my deals are done using investment groups. You want to
spread your money around and not put all your eggs in one basket. It mitigates any potential loss.”
“I’m sure that by the end of the year, you’ll see a positive return on your investment.”
“Oh, I believe you. This is a very low risk investment that’s why I’ve only brought in two of my partners.”
“I’m humbled that you have this much faith in me.”
“Oh, it’s not just the business idea, which I believe in. But if this does fail, and you can’t return the investment, your inheritance will be collateral.”
Alex froze. He had to swallow a couple of times before the words would rise to the surface. “My goal is to do this as my own venture and, apart from the name of the restaurant, keep the venture separate from the crown.”
“I admire that. But I’m also a realist. You can’t expect me to put all my eggs in the basket without any security.”
Yes. Yes, Alex had actually thought that. How was he going to tell Rogers that he never had any intention of getting married, which was a necessary step in acquiring his inheritance?
“I assume this female chef, what was her name again? Jan Peppers, was it?”
Alex had never said Jan’s name out loud. How did Rogers know?
Rogers tapped at the face of his cell phone. He pulled up a gossip blog. The picture showed Alex and Jan locked in an embrace. The hug had been innocent. Mostly. Though Alex couldn’t admit that his body had warmed through holding Jan close. But theirs could only ever be a business relationship.
Alex didn’t know the whole story, but he knew Jan’s heart had been broken to bits and pieces. Unlike her Disney princess card carrying bestie, Jan was not a believer in fairytales and happily ever afters. It was probably another of the reasons they got along so well.
“My daughter showed me this before I left this morning,” said Rogers. “I’m not usually one for gossip magazines, but she knew I was coming to see you. I assume this is the special chef you are partnering with?”
“Yes, that’s Jan, but that picture … it’s …” Alex’s tongue tied. The picture was what?
The Prince and the Pie Maker: a Sweet Royal Romance (The Rebel Royals Series Book 2) Page 4
