The instructor introduced himself as Monsieur Gabonarde and offered a brief overview of what the class would focus on.
“Normally I focus purely on French wines, because, well, after all, this is France. However we have a guest in our midst with a deep knowledge of Italian wines, Chianti, in particular, so we’ll pay some attention to the wines of this region as well, to at least expose you to alternatives to the wines of my country. Which I would argue are far superior.” He nodded and gave a friendly wink to Domenico, who smiled.
“But first, we will begin with champagne, the world’s most famous sparkling wine.”
Glasses of champagne were passed around as Monsieur Gabonarde described the second fermentation in the bottle, the half turns the winemaker makes to ensure proper fermentation, and discussed the three grapes used for champagne: Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Pinot Meunier.
“You use all of your senses when you are tasting wine. Dégustation means tasting, la robe is the look of the wine, le nez is the smell, right? From the French word for ‘nose.’ Le gout is the flavor, the taste.”
He held up the straw-colored champagne, swirling it gently in his glass. “There are many flavors you will discern as you go through the step-by-step process of exploring each wine. You might notice a grassiness, perhaps a citrus-like undertone. There could be fruit, perhaps apple. Maybe the slightest hint of strawberry. Pay attention to these flavors, and as the champagne rolls on your tongue, you’ll pick up deeper flavor notes. Some of these will have layers of different flavors. It is the joy of wine.”
Domenico glanced over at Stella, who looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon. He frowned.
“You don’t like it?”
She pursed her lips. “I hate champagne. For that matter, I don’t like wine. I don’t understand how people like it. Give me a good mixed drink any day over this swill.”
“Swill?” One thing Domenico didn’t like was someone insulting a perfectly good wine.
“Perhaps you’ve not had the right wine to appeal to your fickle palate. To reject wine would be akin to rejecting mother’s milk.”
“I was bottle-fed.”
“That was a euphemism.” He frowned. “You must like some sort of wine. Have you ever tried a Super Tuscan?” He didn’t dare suggest his own family’s wine; she’d probably throw her champagne glass at him.
She shook her head vehemently. “Nope. I think wine sucks.”
“Then why are you in a wine class?”
“I think the better question is why are you in a wine class, Mr. Oenophile? Are you stalking me or something? Because honestly it doesn’t thrill me that you just showed up here.”
Domenico knit his brow. Mr. Oenophile? He wondered what had gotten her panties in such a wad.
“I didn’t know you were going to be in this class when I registered—I didn’t know you existed at the time! I signed up for this completely independently of you. And quite frankly, how would I have known you would be here if I did know of you then? You failed to respond to any of my voice mail or text messages. For all I know you were trapped in your apartment, unable to walk for the past several days, starving to death.”
“Thanks for your concern for my welfare.”
“One can only attempt to communicate so much before it becomes a moot point.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look, Domenico. I appreciate your help the other night, and yeah, we had a fun little time of it. But I’m not looking for something with a guy, especially one I’m never going to see again after a few days. To be truthful, if I’d have known you were going to be in this class, I’d have never let things get so out of hand. I hope you’ll understand.”
I hope you’ll understand. If she was going for clichéd brush-offs, he’d have rather she said, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
But if she’d rather blow off a good man who was interested in her, well, that was her choice. There were plenty of women knocking at his door. He didn’t need to beg.
Except something inside him kind of wanted to beg for her. Desperately.
Chapter Thirteen
Stella was ready to hurl her phone against the wall. She was now into the double digits for number of phone calls trying to track down her missing carry-on bag, which was still nowhere to be found.
“This is starting to tick me off.” She made a growling sound.
“Starting to?” Alexa lifted an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine, it’s making me angrier. I was already ticked off.”
“Much better,” Alexa said. “At least you’re not blaming that sweet Domenico guy.”
Stella stared at her through slitted eyelids. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I know you said that. But a) I don’t understand it and b) I think deep down you don’t mean it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Stella threw her arms up in the air. “What’s not to understand?”
Alexa held up her pointer finger, beginning to enumerate. “Um, first off, he likes you. Second, you like him. Third, he’s a sweet guy. Fourth, he’s got a rockin’ body. Fifth, he has this interesting family history that would be so fun to explore. Sixth—”
Stella shook her head. “I feel like I’m watching a counting segment on Sesame Street. Enough with your ‘hundred reasons why Stella should marry Domenico’ debate.”
“I didn’t say marry the guy,” Alexa said. “I only mean give him a chance.”
“I gave him a chance!”
“I didn’t say bang him till dawn, Stel. By give him a chance, I mean maybe you could go on another date.”
“That would mean I’ve already been on a date with him. Which I haven’t, thanks.”
“You had drinks, you went dancing—”
“Let me clarify: you and I went for drinks where one or both of you bombshelled me with his presence.”
“Bombshelled?”
“Sorry, couldn’t think of a better term. But you know what I mean. The last person on the planet I wanted or needed to see was that Romeo man.”
“I could argue, judging by how the evening turned out, that he was precisely the right person on the planet for you.”
Stella was going to get a headache from rolling her eyes so much. “Come off it, Lex. A hookup doesn’t mean it was a match made in heaven. It means I was horny, he was horny, and I needed help getting up the stairs.”
Lexie smiled. “I know one thing that didn’t need any help getting up.”
“Stop!” Stella swatted at her friend. “Go away. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Which is precisely why we’re talking about this.”
“About what?”
“About your habit of self-sabotage in relationships.”
“I didn’t know I was rooming with Oprah.”
“I’m serious. You know that you avoid anything that slightly smacks of having to open yourself up to a man.”
“Besides, with Domenico, we just had a thing.”
“By ‘thing’ you mean you got scared because relationships require, well, relating? And you don’t want to find yourself in the position of having to do that with a man?”
Stella put her fingertip up to the tip of her nose. “Ding. Ding. Ding. Give the girl a cookie.”
“And they thought armchair psychology was a challenge.” Alexa puffed some air on her nails then buffed them against her chest. “Who needs advanced degrees in clinical psychology? Stick with me and I can figure out all your emotional baggage in ten easy sessions.” She laughed, but Stella simply frowned at her.
“It’s not a big deal. Besides, as long as things are good in bed, that’s all that matters.”
“I think what matters is that you need to open up to a man you’re with.”
“I’d say I opened up to him quite willingly.” She covered her mouth with her hand, surprised she actually said that.
“I don’t mean sexually,” Alexa said. “That’s easy. It’s much easier to sleep with someone you hardly kn
ow than to forge a bond and truly expose yourself emotionally.”
“Ugh,” Stella said. “Emotions are so messy. Who needs ’em?”
“Says the woman who needs them the most but doesn’t recognize it. And instead chooses to suppress them.” She placed her hands on her friend’s shoulders and looked hard into her eyes. “Look, Stel, you know I’m only saying this because I care about you, don’t you?”
Stella glanced away, hating to hear the truth. “You just like to be a matchmaker.”
“I could care less about being a matchmaker. In fact it’s a real pain in the ass if whatever little I’ve done with you and Domenico is any bellwether. Trust me, there are easier lines of work. Like being a chef.”
They both laughed at that, knowing as they did what a tough profession it was, for women in particular. Working in the culinary arts meant long hours on your feet, an aching back, and rough behavior from some in the kitchen. Often women had to outperform men tenfold to be accepted.
“You might have noticed I plan to go out on my own professionally as well,” Stella said. “I don’t like to be beholden to others. I like to rely on me. I know I can rely on me.”
Alexa pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “But there are lots of people rooting for you. People you can and should rely upon. We’re there for that very reason. We’re not going to abandon you like your folks did, metaphorically or literally. Can’t you see that?”
Stella shook her head. “Maybe I happen to prefer my brand of severe independence.”
Her friend laughed. “Severe independence. Right.” She shook her head. “I’m telling you, that’s gonna be boring if for no other reason then you’ll not have great sex.”
Stella threw her shade, giving Lexie her best “you’re crazy, lady” look. “Uh, I had fabulous sex with Domenico several nights ago. Great sex and being stuck in a relationship do not have to go hand in hand.”
“Stuck in a relationship? Is that how you view it? Stuck?”
Stella nodded. “Well, of course I do. You’re trapped with someone else telling you how to live your life and what to do and when to eat and all that stuff. No, thank you, ma’am.”
“Are you telling me you’ve never been in a nurturing relationship with a man?”
Stella pursed her lips in thought. “Well, I had a super nice history teacher in sixth grade. Mr. Rutherford. I’d sometimes sit in his room and talk with him when my mom forgot to pick me up after school.” She grinned.
Alexa laughed and thumped her friend playfully on the head. “You are such a weirdo. And I’m sorry your mom forgot to pick you up. You know that’s her, not you, don’t you?”
Stella nodded. “Intellectually, yes. But emotionally? It feels pretty shitty when your father leaves, your mother drinks and no-shows half the time, and your stepmother simply wants you to disappear.”
“You definitely got a raw deal, no question about it. But it doesn’t mean your whole life has to be about rejection. Especially considering you’ve now flipped the table and reject men before—”
“Before they have a chance to reject me. I know, I know.”
“So you seriously haven’t ever been in a healthy relationship with a man?”
“Honey I haven’t been in a healthy relationship with anyone. Ever. Lest you forget from whence I sprang. Girlfriend, I was raised by wolves.”
Alexa wagged her finger at her friend. “I can tell you one healthy relationship you’ve had.”
“Oh, this should be rich.”
She turned her finger to point at her chest. “Um, yours truly.”
Stella winced. “Awww, Lex. I didn’t mean to exclude you.” She reached out to give her a hug. “Of course you’re my good friend. And I appreciate that. I do consider you my best friend. You know that. But I don’t think I’m capable of being in anything more than a fleeting ‘thing’ with a guy. It’s not part of my DNA.”
“I don’t believe that the inability to commit is a genetic thing. I think it’s all up here.” She pointed to her head. “And it comes down to choices. You can choose whether you’re going to let the terrorists win. And by terrorists, I mean all the baggage that haunts you—you don’t want to let it go.”
The buzzer rang from someone outside.
Alexa pressed the intercom button.
“I have a package here for Stella Whitaker.”
“I’ll buzz you up. We’re on the fourth floor.” She turned to her roommate. “You expecting something?”
“Not a thing. I’m only glad it’s not Domenico coming to woo me.”
Alexa shook her head. “You’re insufferable, woman. For the record, I think you’re making a big mistake. He’s one of the good guys. It will be your loss if you let that slip away for lack of trying on your part.”
“No such thing as a good guy. There are only guys. Period.”
Alexa started to say something but refrained.
There was a knock on the door and Stella hobbled over to open it.
The delivery person handed her an exquisite hot pink Tumi suitcase with an oversized bright yellow bow.
“What the hell?”
He handed her an envelope and stood there. She took the hint and pulled a couple of euros from her purse and tipped him.
She ran her fingers beneath the edge of the envelope and slipped a note from it.
I figured you could never lose a bag this bright,” the note said. “Not that I am admitting guilt by association, but rather I am disassociating myself by simply replacing these. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing the Leonardo of the cake world would be without her essential tools. But seriously, I’m sorry for whatever role I inadvertently had in the loss of the first one. I hope you’ll find the replacements to your satisfaction. Maybe if I’m lucky someday, you’ll use them for a cake for me.
Stella felt a little sick to her stomach.
“What?” Alexa said. “You look like someone just kicked your dog.”
Stella shook her head to refocus. “Oh. Hmmm. I’m sorry. I don’t know why.”
Alexa pointed to the suitcase. “So what’s up with that?”
“It’s from Domenico. He sent this as a replacement for my lost bag and all my baking supplies.” She looked up at her roommate. “But how would he know what was in that suitcase?”
Alexa, averted her gaze, pretending to distract herself by whistling.
“You colluded with him to do this?” Stella said, frowning.
Alexa held up her hands. “I didn’t collude with him! He asked me what was in there and I told him. He wanted to make things whole again.”
“But, Lex, this makes things so damned complicated.”
“Yeah. Sure. Complicated.” Alexa knit her brow. “You lost all your supplies. They cost a fortune. You don’t have the money to replace them. And he kindly does so for you. I totally get it. That’s super complicated.”
Stella stuck her tongue out at Alexa, then rolled the suitcase toward the sofa and sat down, opening the thing up. “It does because now how can I simply ignore him and pretend he’s not there when I go to class tomorrow?” She started sifting through the stockpile of supplies, checking to see if there was anything missing. The knives—from the bread knife to the chef’s to the paring and cake slicing, even the sharpening steel—were all a better brand than the ones she’d purchased. Spatulas, scrapers, a digital thermometer, whisks, top-of-the-line kitchen shears, decorating tips, the list went on and on. He didn’t miss one thing.
Her hands shook as she sorted through it all. “I don’t know what to say.”
Lexie held up her finger as if she’d just invented the light bulb. “I’ve got a brilliant idea. Why don’t you pick up the phone and call him? You could go out on a limb and thank the man.”
“Crap, you don’t understand,” Stella said as she burst into tears, stood, and ran from the room.
Chapter Fourteen
Domenico was in his hotel catching up on emails when he received a phone call from Alexa.
<
br /> “So? How’d it go?” he said, a tinge of hope in his voice. He looked out his window at the water of the Seine reflecting the late-day sun, thinking he’d go for a run. He needed some time to chill.
He heard a tsking sound, which didn’t bode well.
“I’m sorry, Domenico.” Alexa sighed. “I’m afraid it’s complicated. Stella’s a sweetheart, truly she is. But she’s been so damaged by how she was raised, I think she’s super scared.”
Domenico drummed his fingers on the desk as he stared out at the view of the magnificent cathedral of Notre-Dame in the distance. “I guess it’s a no-go then? I mean I’d like to take a chance to get to know her better, but I’m also not a glutton for punishment. It kind of feels like the universe is trying to tell me something here.”
“The universe has got nothing to do with this,” she said. “This is simply Stella being a stinker. Listen, I honestly think you two have got something. You both have that combustible feeling you get right before a storm blows in. I hope you won’t give up quite yet. You might be the catalyst for change that Stella has needed in her life for a long, long time.”
“How very romantic, being a chemical reaction.”
“Sometimes to get to the romance you have to have a breakthrough.”
“More like a chisel and hammer.”
“I’m not gonna lie. This is going to be harder than I expected. But I have an idea.”
“Please, don’t tell me it involves springing me on her unexpectedly. So far that hasn’t been too well received.”
“I would argue that it worked pretty successfully the first time. Perhaps too much and she ran scared. I’ve never seen her react that badly. It’s like you bring out the worst in her. In a good way.”
He nodded. “Gee, thanks. I think.” He let out a big sigh. “I mean, yeah. Ultimately, things turned out well that night. But obviously it ended up backfiring. Which would be fine if I was looking for a one-night stand. And it would describe most men on the planet. But for some reason, I’d like to explore the idea of more with Stella. God knows why.” He chuckled.
“So then let’s make it happen.”
“Good luck with that.”
Blue-Blooded Romeo (The Royal Romeos #6) Page 7
