He’d just stood when his computer beeped.
Address?
She’d added a heart icon.
That was enough to force his heart to skip a beat.
He fist-pumped the air. “Yes!”
“You okay, Chef?” Adam stood in the doorway to Philippe’s office.
He pulled himself together and straightened his chef’s jacket. “Of course. Can I help you, Adam?”
“I hope so. I’m having an issue with the choux pastry.” His eyes were downcast.
Philippe sighed inwardly, but knew he shouldn’t – choux pastry was difficult. “Did you leave the heat on while adding the flour?”
Adam’s face drained of all color, and Philippe felt for him.
“Sorry, Chef. I turned off the heat after the butter and water began to simmer.”
It was a rookie problem, but Adam was still learning. Despite that, he was proving to be a star when it came to pastries.
“Bin it and start over. Follow the recipe carefully.” Philippe touched his apprentice’s shoulder. “You are here to learn, and will learn by your mistakes. You will be a master one day if you work hard – you might even be as good as Philippe!” He laughed at his own words.
The look on Adam’s face was reward enough for Philippe. What was a bit of food waste compared to the joy he’d just produced? It was nothing.
He turned the apprentice around and sent him back to his work station.
Philippe wandered about, looking over the shoulders of his sous-chef and kitchen hands, nodding his head in appreciation as he went. By the time he arrived at Adam’s work station, he was about to add the flour.
“Is this heat low enough, Chef?” he asked.
Philippe was thoughtful. “What do you think? You’ve done this before.”
Adam glanced at him, trying to gauge his opinion. “Yes, it’s the right temperature.” He began to slowly add the flour and beat it into the melted butter and water mixture.
“Perfection,” Philippe said, then went back to his office, leaving Adam to finish his task alone.
He sat at his computer and replied to Melanie’s question.
Pick you up at your office? We can go via your place if you want to change.
He added a cute little chef icon.
Philippe felt like a teenager pursuing his first crush. He hadn’t dated in years, if you could call this a date, and he was scared out of his mind.
There was so much at stake here, not the least Amelie and how this would affect her.
He sat at his desk and worked out his menu for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but not too plain either. If he started at the top of the ladder, there would be nothing more for him to aspire to.
He grimaced. He was thinking like a crazy man.
He grabbed the sheet of paper and screwed it up, then threw it in the recycle container. Slapping his forehead he realized Melanie wouldn’t be expecting something akin to what he’d serve at the inn. Would she?
He shook himself. Of course she wouldn’t. He could serve up fish with salad and fries and she’d be happy. At least he thought she would.
So why did his brain fail him when he was trying to come up with a meal plan for tonight? It never had before. He prepared meals for hundreds of people at a time, and did it well. Their weddings were proof of that.
But when it came to impressing, Melanie…
Is that was he was doing? Trying to impress Melanie?
Perhaps. But it was giving him brain freeze.
He wandered out into the kitchen. “Listen up, minions,” he said. It was a term of endearment with his staff, and they all knew it. Loved it, in fact. “Two-course meal, quick and simple to prepare, but good enough to impress. Go!”
Notepad in hand, he jotted down all the ideas thrown at him. As he began to return to his office, someone called out. “Hot date tonight, Chef?”
He turned back and grinned. “Perhaps,” he said mysteriously, and continued on his journey, a grin still on his face.
* * *
Melanie sat at her desk in anticipation, praying her phone wouldn’t ring.
She tidied her desk, checked her diary, and closed down her computer. Then she just sat back and tried to relax.
Philippe should be here any minute.
Her phone rang. She grimaced. She did not want to pick it up, but felt compelled to. Checking the display screen she saw it was the man in question. “Hi Philippe,” she said brightly.
“I apologize,” he said. “I shall be there shortly.” Then he hung up.
She grabbed her things and waited in the foyer. Philippe arrived soon after she did.
They walked toward the entrance without a word. The moment they were outside, Melanie let out a sigh. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“Did you want to go home and get changed,” Philippe asked.
“Yes please. I want to get out of this uniform.”
He nodded, then led her to his car. They drove the short distance to Melanie’s little unit in silence. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long,” she told him, then strolled into her bedroom to change, trying to look as casual as possible.
Little did he know how much turmoil she was experiencing.
She flung open the wardrobe. What should she wear? She pulled out six different outfits and threw them on the bed.
She couldn’t make up her mind.
Melanie eventually settled on denims with a soft pink shirt. She snatched up a casual jacket in case it got cool later. She let her hair down and brushed it, then quickly freshened her light make-up. Lastly she slipped into some flat shoes.
As she walked back into the loungeroom, she heard Philippe whistle low.
“That work uniform doesn’t do you justice,” he said quietly.
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but said nothing.
“Are you ready,” he asked, moving next to her. “I like your home, by the way,” he said as an afterthought. “It’s very cozy.”
“Thanks. I like it.”
He put his hand to the small of her back to lead her outside. It did crazy things to her. Things like the zing that was currently spinning its way up and down her spine, the tingle she felt when his arm brushed against hers. Not to mention the warmth that whooshed through her just having him standing near.
How was she going to survive an entire evening with him being so close?
The little voice inside her head told her to stop lying to herself, she was enjoying it. But another much louder voice told her this was too great a risk to take.
What if he turned out to be like Jefferson? She swallowed hard, and losing concentration, almost tripped. Philippe was there to stop her falling.
Would he always be there for her? Or would he turn out to be like Jefferson, and try to get whatever he could from her?
She turned to look at Philippe. This gentle man with his beguiling accent and his soft demeanor was nothing like Jefferson.
He actually liked her. When Braxton had shielded her and shown Jefferson the door, he’d spat out that he’d never liked her anyway. It stung. She was really hurt at his words, but was more embarrassed that she’d let herself be taken in by a snake like that.
Philippe stared into her eyes. “You have beautiful eyes, mon amour,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” she said, and brushed a stray hair back behind her ear. He would never understand what his words meant to her.
He opened her door before going around to the drivers side. She noted the booster seat in the back. She looked forward to seeing Amelie again. The kid was cute. She had brown eyes, just like her papa.
“We live about fifteen minutes drive out of town,” he said. “Not too far. I have to call into the supermarket on our way, if you don’t mind.”
She nodded.
He laughed. “If you do, you’ll starve tonight – I have to pick up some supplies.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She loved his funny little ways. The small t
hings he said and did that made her laugh. Made her heart soar.
After parking in a nearby space, they went into the supermarket together. Philippe was particular about his purchases, checking everything carefully.
Melanie stood silently alongside him, taking in everything he did. For a moment she wondered if he was so precise about the inn’s supplies, but instinctively knew he would be. The man was a perfectionist.
“I am done,” he announced, then headed toward the register. Melanie glanced in the shopping basket, but couldn’t work out what he was preparing to cook.
“No peeking,” he said jokingly. “It is to be une surprise.”
She felt her resistance melt every time he dropped a French word or two. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man – he was charming, caring, and a real gentleman. And that didn’t take into account he was handsome. So very handsome.
As he paid for his purchases, she looked him up and down. From his shoes right up to his curly black hair.
He glanced sideways at her and caught her watching. She felt the heat in her face and was sure she would be as red as a beetroot! How embarrassing.
He reached out and put an arm around her shoulders. “Do you like what you see?” he whispered in her ear.
Melanie wanted to run far away and hide. But then she realized he’d done the same thing to her in her unit.
“Just reciprocating,” she said boldly.
“Touché.” He chuckled as they walked back to the car. He filled the trunk with the supplies, then they were on their way.
“What are you making?” she asked cheekily, knowing he wouldn’t tell her.
“No, no, no,” he said playfully. “You have to wait and see.”
Melanie admired the scenery as they drove toward his property. “Do you like it out here?” she asked. “I know you haven’t been here long – only since the inn opened.”
“It is wonderful. For Amelie it is an amazing place to grow up. The city? It is not good for children. Here she can run around and play.”
“But do you like it,” she asked again.
“Oui. I adore it. Especially the past few weeks.” He briefly turned and winked at her as he continued to drive.
She knew exactly what he meant. That’s how long they’d known each other.
“My little Amelie, she waits at the gate with aunty Danielle.”
Melanie looked up to see child and aunt at the gate. How sweet. Right then she felt a pang to have someone anticipating her arrival home. How great would that be?
Stop it! She wasn’t interested in getting married or having children – it was all about her career.
Philippe parked his car, then almost ran to his sweet child. She wondered what it would be like to be so loved by another person.
“Say hello to Melanie.” He swept his hand toward her.
“Bonjour, Melanie,” she said in her little voice, then slapped her hands to her mouth. “I mean, hello.”
She wrapped her arms around her father’s legs. “It is alright, little one. I’m sure Melanie understands bonjour.”
She laughed. “High school French. I understand a few words. Can’t remember most of it though.” She smiled at Amelie, who brightened at the knowledge she wasn’t in trouble.
Philippe unpacked the groceries and headed inside. “Come, Melanie,” he instructed as she stood at the gate. “Make yourself at home.”
Melanie followed him into the spacious kitchen. She’d expected it to be a reasonable size, but not like this.
“I adore your kitchen,” she said, looking about.
“Oui, I had it custom made before we moved in.” He indicated the large windows that took up the width of the kitchen. “These windows too. The view is too beautiful to cover up, no?”
“Yes. Yes it is.” She looked out across the valley toward the mountains. No doubt snow covered the peaks in the winter months. “The view is stunning.”
He unpacked his groceries and lined them up on the counter. As Melanie watched, she noticed how meticulous he was about where each item was placed.
His lips curled as he noticed her staring. “They are in the order I need them,” he said. “We do the same at the inn. It is more…time economical that way.”
Ah! That made sense. Perhaps it was something she should think about doing. Melanie’s cooking efforts were always so haphazard. When she bothered to cook that was. Frozen dinners and cheese toasties were much more convenient.
“First we sit and spend some time together. Amelie will go to bed soon.”
Melanie was surprised. “She’s not eating with us?”
The lopsided grin came into play. “We will eat grown up food. Amelie has eaten age-appropriate food earlier. This time of night is too late for such a small child to eat.” He raised his eyebrows asking her an unspoken question.
“I have no idea,” Melanie said. “I’ve had little to do with children.”
“So it seems.” He reached over and patted her hand. “Do not worry. It is of no consequence.”
The moment his skin touched hers, a zing went through her body. Why did this man make her feel the way she did? No one had ever affected her in this way.
“Melanie?”
She was miles away.
When she looked up, Amelie was standing right in front of her. “This is Elena,” the child said, holding up a rag doll. “She is my baby, and I have to look after her.”
Melanie stared at the doll. “She’s very pretty.”
Amelie pouted. “No she’s not – she’s beautiful!”
She scampered away before Melanie could say another word. “She’s sweet,” she told Philippe. “You are very lucky.”
“I am,” he replied, but his expression didn’t convey his words. “We will talk later. Not while Amelie is around.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. Her insides did all sorts of crazy things. Melanie stared into his eyes.
His eyes that always seemed to read her mind, and see all the way to her soul.
Without warning, the child was back, and sitting on Melanie’s knee. Elena, the rag doll, was shoved into her hands. “Can you look after my baby?” she asked, then scampered off again, leaving Melanie bewildered.
“She’s full of energy,” she blurted out, not meaning to.
“She certainly is,” Philippe told her. “She is four. Four-year-olds are full of energy, until they are not. Then they sleep.”
“Papa?” Amelie climbed up onto her father’s knee. “I am tired, Papa,” she said, rubbing both eyes with her little hands.
She had changed into her pajamas, and had a story book in her hand. She pushed the book into her father’s hands, then leaned across to Melanie and retrieved her ‘baby’.
“You do what you have to do,” Melanie told him.
Philippe stood, Amelie holding tight, and began to walk away. “I won’t be long,” he said.
The sight of father and child was heartwarming. She’d never thought of Philippe as a father, and today’s revelation had shook her up.
“Wait!” Amelie shouted. “I must say goodnight to Melanie.” Philippe bought her closer, and Amelie wrapped her little arms around Melanie’s neck, kissing her on the cheek. “Goodnight Melanie,” she said softly, finishing off with a yawn.
“Goodnight, Amelie,” she replied softly.
As they left the room, she was surprised at the feelings the tiny human had evoked in her. she had similar feelings for Cody, but he was Sierra and Braxton’s baby, and they were related.
This little one was totally unrelated, and they’d only recently met.
She shook herself. She must be going soft, and that would never do.
Besides, she may never see the child again. There were certainly no plans on her part to have further contact.
“That didn’t take long.” Philippe strolled back into the room. “You should feel privileged – she has never offered Elena to anyone before.”
“Never?”
Philip
pe stared at her, then smiled. “I do not lie to you. Amelie has taken a liking to you, which is not hard to understand.”
Melanie decided to change the subject. She wasn’t keen on having the child take a shine to her. She wouldn’t be around much, and didn’t think an attachment would be a good idea.
“You wanted to talk,” she said abruptly.
His smile disappeared and was replaced with a frown. She’d said the wrong thing and felt immediately guilty.
“First we eat.” He stood and headed for the kitchen. “You stay. I don’t make my guests prepare their own food.”
He grinned at her and she felt relief. She had clearly upset him, but she had no idea why.
“I’d like to watch the magnificent Philippe cook if that’s okay?”
“Philippe does not cook – Philippe creates!” he said with a flourish.
She couldn’t help herself – a giggle bubbled up from deep inside, and she couldn’t stop. Her laughter was apparently contagious because Philippe joined her, and they were both bent over with joy.
Danielle appeared out of nowhere. “What is so funny?” she asked, then waved her hands. “No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” She smiled, then stared at her brother.
“I’m off now. Amelie is sound asleep,” she said. “I am meeting some friends and going to the movies,” she told Melanie.
Melanie stepped forward. “It was lovely to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. “I hope you have a wonderful evening.”
Danielle stepped forward and kissed both her cheeks in the European style. “I am sure we will be meeting again,” she said, glancing across to her brother.
And then she was gone.
Philippe began to prepare the food. First he cut potatoes, slicing them carefully and adding them to the oven. He chopped carrots, adding some honey and put them onto cook.
Melanie watched as he cut the chicken into large pieces and covered it with a mixture of garlic, black pepper, herbs and spices, then seared it in a pan. He skillfully cooked the chicken, turning it over as necessary, then threw in some sliced mushrooms.
Last of all he added wine, and let the mixture simmer while he checked the progress of the potatoes.
“Wow, you really are amazing.”
A Husband for Melanie Page 5
