“There are diplomats coming,” he said. “Tonight is the formal kick-off for the Christmas celebrations.”
“I know. Do you think I’m not prepared?”
Noel’s jaw flexed as he glanced around the kitchen. When his gaze settled on her, her pussy clenched. This man and his effect on her. They were dangerous.
“I think you’re prepared,” he said carefully. “I just need to reiterate that it must go off perfectly. This is the first event without my mother here. It’s very important to my father.”
His words sank into her, and all his talk about traditions came flooding back. His round, sad-looking father. She frowned, setting the bowl down.
“I promise. It’ll be spectacular,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. His gaze jerked down to where their skin touched.
“I believe you,” he said while glancing around the kitchen. “The whole family will be here. It’ll be fun.” He offered a tight smile before heading out of the kitchen, leaving a strange tension in his wake. One that she couldn’t figure out. Charlie sidled up to her, eyebrows raised.
“Were you in trouble or was that a social call?”
“I’m not sure.” Ana picked up her bowl again, whisking fervently. Charlie knew she’d gone on a few runs with Noel. He didn’t know how many, and he certainly didn’t know the run that morning had involved lips locking. “I’m not sure I want to know, either. I’m just here to do my job, and do it well.”
“Feedback has been consistently good, you know.” Charlie nudged her with an elbow, then swiped some of his floppy brown hair off his forehead. “People are liking your recipes. Blending the traditional with the new.”
“Yeah. Some people. But not all of them.” Her gaze found Segal, who seemed to intentionally work at the station farthest away from her. It kept him out of hearing range for directions and brainstorming. Including him involved extra steps, which sometimes slowed down the smooth functioning of the kitchen. She’d asked him twice to work closer, but he either acted like he didn’t hear her or claimed he was already set up where he was.
By this point, she wasn’t going to press the issue further. The message was clear. He didn’t like her. And he didn’t have to. They just needed to get through it together, in one cohesive unit.
Segal and his crew were working on the starters for that evening’s meal. Tempeh croquettes with a spicy hummus side. Some members of the kitchen had personally told her how good the croquettes were, but Segal himself had refused to opine on any of the recipes she’d sent his way.
His stoicism said it all. He was determined to not like her cooking.
She glanced over at him occasionally as she finished whisking the flax meal mix. Discontent simmered just below the surface. A few of the cooks helping Segal glanced her way, confusion written on their faces. She could tell something was up.
“I feel like they’re plotting something over there,” she murmured to Charlie.
“Like what? Non-vegan pasta?”
She snorted. “Something worse than that.” She watched from across the kitchen as Segal cleared his throat loudly, nodding with a grave face as he assessed something one of his cooks was showing him. Then Segal’s gaze turned to her, trouble written all over his face.
“Miss Ana,” he shouted across the kitchen. She set down her whisk, sending Charlie a look before she headed to Segal’s work station.
“Yes, Segal? Is everything okay here?”
“We are extremely short on tempeh,” he said. “Did you not order enough?”
His words clanked around inside her. They didn’t even make sense at first. “Tempeh? That’s impossible. I ordered practically a metric ton of it.”
He swept his hand toward the cooks behind him, who were watching with nervous eyes. “All of the cooks have searched every available space for it.” His voice was sonorous and grave, like he was delivering important lines for the apex of a theatrical performance. “The tempeh is nowhere to be found.”
She huffed, brushing past him to get to the main walk-in cooler where she’d absolutely, most definitely packed it away herself. The fridge door clicked shut softly behind her as she began rummaging on the exact shelf where she’d stored it.
She pushed aside bananas, apples, strawberries, then moved aside the mountain of vegan butter she’d stacked. There was no sign of the tempeh. Anywhere.
She stepped back and reassessed the shelves. This wasn’t time to panic. She had to stay laser-focused so she didn’t overlook it. Panicking would only stop her from seeing it. Maybe it had been moved to another shelf by one of the newer cooks. The door swung open and Charlie stepped in.
“What’s going on?”
“The tempeh is gone.” Her heart hammered and she took a calming breath. “We have to find it. This dinner is starting in an hour and a half, and this is the fucking appetizer.”
“Fuck.” Charlie launched into action, combing through the contents on the shelves on the left side of the cooler. “You take the other side, I’ll double check here.”
Ana did the same, going through every container of ketchup and each last box of firm tofu before she and Charlie met at the back of the fridge.
“It’s not here,” she said softly.
“That’s impossible,” he spat. “I saw you unload it myself.”
“I know. I know.” She clenched her jaw as she thought. “Someone has to have moved it.”
“Probably Segal,” Charlie muttered.
She swallowed a knot in her throat. “He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t sabotage me like that. It has to be here.”
“Okay. I’ll go scour the other coolers, and even the freezers, just to be sure. We’ll find it.”
Charlie pushed out of the cooler, and Ana followed in his steps. Outside, Segal and his primary cook assistants were gathered in a group, watching her with somber faces.
“I didn’t find it,” she reported in French, “But it has to be here. I unloaded it with my own hands. We will find it.”
“Hm.” Segal’s lips curved downward into a scowl. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“I’m more than sure, I’m positive,” she said, clenching her fists. “In fact, someone probably moved it without realizing it. Have any of you been moving things in the cooler recently?”
Not a single cook responded.
“You can’t blame your disorganization on my cooks,” Segal said, using a very informal French with her. He’d always used formal address previously, and the sudden switch was an added rebuke alongside his tone. “If you weren’t so slovenly, this wouldn’t have happened.”
She blinked, reeling for a moment as his words sunk in. “Slovenly? You’re crazy! How dare you accuse me of being slovenly.”
“Excuse me?” A new voice cut through the tension. Ana whipped around.
Noel towered over her, dressed to kill in a silken black suit with a pinstriped white button-down shirt. Her breath disappeared. He didn’t look happy.
7
Noel had entered the kitchen just as Ana had proclaimed she couldn’t find something. It took only a few words from Segal to know that a fight was brewing. He’d known the man his entire life, and he’d never heard such angry undertones in his voice before.
“What is going on in here?”
Despite the clearly escalating tensions, neither Ana nor Segal offered any response to his inquiry. Ana crossed her arms over her chef’s coat, nostrils flared.
“Just refining tonight’s menu,” she finally said, wiping her hands on a towel clipped onto her apron. Those plump, deliciously soft lips he’d kissed earlier that day were set into a thin, firm line. Segal straightened his back as she walked away, but he didn’t offer anything either.
“Is everyone okay?” Noel glanced around at the other cooks, but they all averted their gazes. There was an elephant in the room, and apparently everyone was keen on keeping it hidden.
Charlie emerged from a freezer a moment later and swore. “Not in there either.”
Ana must have shot him a look because Charlie ducked into a different cooler almost immediately.
“Ana.” Noel strode toward her work station where she was whisking furiously. “Can you explain why it feels like I’ve stepped onto the set of a soap opera?”
She sent him a sharp look. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Everyone knows something except for me. There must be an audience somewhere watching, eating popcorn.”
She cracked a grin but it faded quickly. “No audience, I promise. This is something for the kitchen to resolve. Don’t worry about it.”
Her words left no room for debate. After another moment of whisking, she slammed the bowl down and stormed away. The anger in her wake made him take a step back.
Kitchen things for sure. He knew better than to push any further. A knot yanked at his stomach, and he headed for Segal.
“The dinner will go off without a hitch, right?”
Segal didn’t meet his gaze. “Let’s hope.”
The kitchen was a dead-end. All he could do was step away and hope for the best…and not think about that sanity-stealing kiss he and Ana had shared on the mountaintop earlier that day.
Noel strode out of the kitchen, heading back to the large entertaining gallery off to the side of the formal dining room. Hors d’oeuvres had already begun circulating the large, oblong gallery. Waiters in long black robes carried platters of celery sprigs topped with curried cayenne cream and crispy tortillas stuffed with pesto. The chatter of conversation filled the room with joviality. Smiles everywhere, even on his father’s face, who entertained the top diplomats from Poland and Germany.
But he couldn’t squash the anxiety. Noel scooped up another flute of champagne and downed it in one gulp. Part of tonight’s dinner was showing the European countries that they could compete at their level. If Poland and Germany liked what they heard, ate, and saw tonight, then maybe they’d help Maatkare in their bid to send athletes to the Olympics. The small nation needed all the help they could get.
Despite Ana’s stern warning, Noel wandered back to the kitchen about twenty minutes later. The group was just about to make the move into the dining room, so he wanted to be doubly sure things were on track.
The kitchen was a madhouse. Ana worked with a determination he’d never seen before, her face creased with concentration. Charlie darted between work stations. Romaine lettuce was piled up in twenty bowls.
“Where’s the tempeh croquettes?” he asked.
Ana sent him a sharp look and then slid over to the next work station. She julienned a red pepper before she said anything. “Menu change. We’re serving falafel salad with two creamy dressing options.”
“Sounds delicious,” he said, but his voice disappeared in the commotion of the kitchen. Over her shoulder, Ana barked, “Charlie, I need the sprouts!”
Charlie appeared a moment later, a bowl of sprouts in hand. “Got it. Off to find the vegan parmesan.”
Ana glanced up at Noel. “Let the waiters know. In case they need to change the menu board or anything.”
“Got it.” He rapped his knuckles on the work space and sidled out of the kitchen. She had it under control, that much was certain. But the simmering discontent gnawed at him. She wasn’t telling him the full story, and neither was Segal.
If this dinner went off without a hitch, all would be well. For now. But all the rest of the dinners in the season needed to be damn near perfect as well.
Curiosity plagued him all throughout the dinner procession. While his father gave the opening grace prior to the appetizers being served, all Noel could think about was Ana. The steel determination in her eyes when she was at work. The softness of her face when he’d been just inches away from kissing her. Noel coughed into his fist as the table murmured Amen. He’d missed the whole prayer.
Waiters filed into the dining room, each one holding an immaculately prepared romaine salad topped with falafel and other exciting ingredients. He zoned out as the head waiter announced the dish to the room. Why had Ana nixed the tempeh croquettes? This seemed dreadfully simple for her tastes.
Dinner passed amid thoughts of her and lighthearted conversation with the foreigners at his side. The salad was a hit, as well as the main course of vegan tabbouleh, bulgur with curry undertones, and a pan-seared tofu concoction that nearly melted in his mouth.
But as always, Noel didn’t eat much. He tried enough to be able to report back, and that was it. He’d snack on some hummus and pita later.
He excused himself from dinner as soon as it was acceptable to do so. He’d gotten in his piece about the Olympics with both diplomats, with a promised follow-up phone call to come. Dinner was a success. His work here was done.
Noel headed straight for the kitchen and pushed open the door just far enough to peer inside. About half the staff was gone, and Ana was nowhere to be found. Just as he let the door swing shut again, Ana’s voice sounded from behind.
“Looking for me?”
He turned on his heels, relief washing over him. He was looking for her for more than just business. The kiss on the mountaintop that morning had been a mistake. He didn’t want to get involved with a single mother. He didn’t want to get involved with anyone. But it was all he could think about. It lurked in the background of nearly every other thought or decision.
“Just wanted to congratulate you on an excellent dinner. Everyone enjoyed it.”
She nodded but didn’t smile. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence blossomed between them. In the crippling seconds of doubt, he made a decision.
“Let’s go back to the market tomorrow.” He wanted to be near her in their off time, no matter how much he shouldn’t. And maybe part of it was that damn kiss that wouldn’t let him rest easy.
“For what?”
“To enjoy the day. To re-up your ingredients. For whatever you want.”
A slow smile crossed her face, and she fingered the lapel of her black chef’s coat. “Fine. After our run?”
The run was a reminder: they shared the same passion. Spending that time together didn’t have to mean anything beyond the fact that they both loved to run. Even if he was desperate to take it into his bedroom immediately upon their return, he wouldn’t do it.
He could control himself. She had a timeline. She had a daughter. And he was a man with Olympic aspirations and no room for anything messy.
“After our run,” he said, and it took everything within him to walk away without touching her.
8
Their run the next morning was exhausting. Noel kept to a long, flat trail that wound around the base of the mountain they’d kissed on the previous day. Ana struggled to keep up.
Noel had to be a robot under that pecan-brown skin. Sometimes she lagged behind him just so she could stare at the dark sprinkling of hair on his lean legs, the way that perfect ass rounded out his shorts. God, she wanted to see what the rest of him looked like. The glimpse of his legs was enough to send her into a fantasy free-for-all. Add in the magical mountain kiss, which he still refused to address, and she felt like the most hopeless teen lost in a hormonal crush.
It wasn’t fair, from the perspective of the hopeless romantic living deep inside her. But also, he was doing her a favor. One that she should be grateful for…even if he didn’t realize it.
They jogged straight to the market on their return trip. Her legs were wobbly by the time they reached the familiar sandstone perimeter walls that separated the center from the rest of the city.
“I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to run home,” she wheezed, resting her hands on her knees. Noel looked unfazed.
“I’ll call the car. Don’t worry.”
“Oh good.” She drew deep, hungry breaths. “How many years have you been running these eight milers?”
“This is nothing,” he said coolly. He wiped at a smattering of sweat on his brow. “I’ve been training with the Olympics in mind since I was fifteen.”
�
��And you’re…how old?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Twelve years.” She straightened, wincing as she stretched out her calves against the trunk of a nearby palm. “Does Maatkare even have an Olympic team?”
“Not yet. But soon.”
Her breathing evened out after they spent some time stretching. As they did, Paz ambled by, pushing a small cart while her daughter pranced alongside her. “Good morning, Paz!”
The pretty brunette turned at her name, and waved happily as she walked on. Every time she came to the center, which had included three solo trips since Noel first brought her, she ran into Paz. It was like the universe wanted them to become friends.
“She’s so nice,” Ana said. “I think she’s my first friend here.”
“Just from that run-in at the market?”
“Oh no. I’ve been coming here on my own. We always seem to find each other. A few days ago, we had coffee.”
An unreadable expression crossed Noel’s face as he stretched his left leg in a deep lunge. “Very nice.”
“I’ve managed to source some of the harder-to-find ingredients that I want for my more creative dishes,” she said, almost feeling like it was a confession. After the way he’d blown up about her list, part of her was hellbent on getting those ingredients anyway.
But she knew he was hawkishly watching the costs for the kitchen. Part of the reason she wouldn’t admit that thirty pounds of tempeh had gone missing…not until she could do her own detective work, at least.
“At a fair price, I hope?”
“Of course. I’m not some extravagant over-spender, you know.” His comment chafed at her. “It’s not like I’m going to run your palace into the ground just because I want to garnish my plates with a little bit of watercress.”
“But what about all that tempeh that didn’t get used yesterday?”
Her stomach pitched to her feet. “Listen. You have to trust my direction. That’s all I can say.” Because first, she needed to find the tempeh.
“Fair enough.” Noel squinted into the distance, standing tall and lean. The flush in his face had disappeared. He looked every inch the steely athlete who made her legs turn to butter. “Look, Christmas decorations are going up.” A genuine smile spread across his face, and it took her a moment to follow his gaze.
Christmas with the Yared Sheikhs: The Complete Series Page 5
