Just Add Spice (The Spice Series Book 1)

by Calista Fox

  “They’re extremely attentive. Gracious.”

  “Wait until we have them trained on the point-of-service software and computers I’ll be purchasing. This whole place will hum with energy and run even more smoothly.”

  “I noticed they still use old-fashioned green and white tickets and an order wheel in the back.”

  She laughed. “Rafe has difficulty with progression in a lot of areas. At any rate, I haven’t told him about the POS enhancement yet, so don’t spoil my surprise. I’m also putting two iPads at the hostess desk for reservation management and so guests can book online through the website and Open Table.”

  With a wicked glint in his tawny eyes, Tad said, “You just love to blow the man’s mind, don’t you?”

  “He’ll come around when he sees how much more productive his staff can be, and how quickly orders will come into and leave the kitchen. The customers will be happy they don’t have lengthy wait times as well.”

  “Any new thoughts on the color scheme?”

  “Not a one,” she said.

  “That’s too bad. These walls are killing me. There’s no contrast in this room. It’s all too soft and demure and…what a snooze-fest.”

  “The daisies help.”

  “Exponentially. But still, with these classic nineteenth-century Palladian chandeliers and that butter color on the walls, this is so very ancestral. Stately. Like we’re dining in first class on the Titantic. And we all know how that story ended.”

  “Yeah, this worked well back in the day, but currently…” She surveyed the room and shook her head. “It just doesn’t inspire me to order a bottle of wine—instead of just a glass—and stay a while. Oh,” she said as she placed a hand on Tad’s forearm, movement in her peripheral vision catching her attention and causing her to change the subject. “Ixnay on the critique of the restaurant. Some of Rafe’s family members have arrived. A very lively bunch. You’ll love them.”

  Tad’s gaze followed her. “Good Lord. What a gene pool that man comes from.”

  “I know. Disgusting, isn’t it? And they’re all as nice as they are attractive. Although…extremely loud.”

  As it was, Jenna had to resist taking a step back when Rafe’s Aunt Zelda and Uncle Joe spotted her. The older woman squealed at the sight of Jenna and soon the entire party of sixteen descended upon her and Tad. It was all she could do to stand her ground as they each squeezed her tight and gushed over how wonderful she looked and how fantastic it was to see her and dio mio! how famous she’d become.

  Ten minutes later, she got them all seated, though not settled down. As Gio swooped in to discuss wine, Jenna escaped to the kitchen for some much-needed air. She rubbed her throat absently, feeling on the verge of hyperventilating. She actually had to straighten her dress from all the hugs she’d received. And no dainty ones at that—when Rafe’s family gave a hug, it was of the hearty bear variety.

  “Jesus,” she mumbled, and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler.

  Rafe stepped away from the grill and Tonio moved in to finish the steaks. Rafe crossed to where she stood, dragging in deep breaths, and gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  She shook her head. Sipped more water. Sixteen people had groped at her, squeezed her hands, kissed her cheeks, all while lobbing a million questions at her at once…

  Likes, seriously—a million!

  Rafe groaned. “Aunt Zelda and Uncle Joe?”

  “Et al.”

  “They adore you, Jen.”

  “And vice versa, but geez…” She sucked down more water. Fought to compose herself. “I’ve been swarmed by fifty fans at a time who were less invasive. Your cousins Britta and Nadia even tried to fix the strands that had come loose from my ponytail with all that pawing at me.” She tucked a lock behind her ear.

  “Well, they are hairstylists,” he said in their defense, and offered her a conciliatory smile.

  “I’m not complaining, Rafe. They just overwhelm me.”

  “Take a few more deep breaths. Finish your water.”

  He stood by her as she did as he instructed. His nearness, while fanning flames in her belly, managed to calm her erratically beating heart. Nervous anxiety never set in the way it did when surrounded by Rafe’s family. She hadn’t given much thought to this in the past, but what was it about being the center of their attention that put her on edge and freaked her out so damn much?

  Was it because they were Rafe’s family? And being a part of his life meant being a part of theirs and that meant…what, exactly?

  She sighed. Someday, she’d honestly have to examine all of this. But today was not that day.

  Jenna tossed the water bottle into the recycle bin and said to Rafe, “Thanks for the support. I’ve got to get back out there. Tad will have them rolling on the floor with some tall tale, but there are other customers to seat. We’ve got six more reservations on the books before the kitchen closes at nine.”

  He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “You’re amazing.”

  She stared at him, perplexed. “I just hid out in your kitchen for five minutes because I couldn’t breathe.”

  “And now you’re calm and collected and heading back out.”

  “Don’t be surprised if you see me in here again before they all leave.”

  He grinned at her. “Just remember they fawn over you because they like you.”

  “I’ll try to remember how fortunate I am to not be wearing cement shoes.”

  “Ha, ha. They’re not like that.”

  “I know. I’m just teasing.” She gave him a quick smile, then returned to the dining room.

  Jenna handled the rest of the reservations and two walk-ins with Tad’s help, and endured the departure of Rafe’s family as they treated her to the same hugs, hand squeezes and kisses as when they’d arrived.

  Rafe found her later, wiping down menus as his staff wrapped up service at the remaining tables.

  He said, “You look wiped out again. Why don’t you take Tad out for pizza and have a couple beers to relax?”

  “I’ve been dying for North Beach Pizza.”

  “They’re open till ten. You have an hour. Go.”

  She smiled at him. “Not coming along?”

  “No. I have some things to do, and you and Tad should just chill out. Don’t talk shop.” He kissed her on the cheek.

  “That would leave us with very little to talk about, Rafe.”

  “Be inventive.”

  She dragged Tad out of the restaurant.

  “Pizza?” he demanded—or rather, lamented—when she told him her plan. “No limo and no room service at the Fairmont? You’re killing me, sugar plum.”

  “Trust me, you’re gonna love this.” They walked several blocks to the corner of Grant and Union, Jenna suspecting she wouldn’t find a closer parking spot than what they currently had. Not at this time of night, anyway.

  They settled at a table in the back of the cozy restaurant, drawing attention from diners along the way.

  “This smells heavenly,” Tad admitted.

  “Wait’ll you have a slice. You’ll think you died and went to heaven.”

  “When I walked into Rafe’s kitchen, I thought I’d gain ten pounds from the aroma alone. Is there anything about that man that doesn’t rock everyone’s world?”

  “No,” she said without missing a beat. “At least, not that I’m aware of. He’s a hell of a cook, as are many of his other family members, Vinny and Vesta especially. We’ll do a staff tasting when Rafe finishes with the new menu. You’ll want Italian every night after that.”

  “Mm, now doesn’t that sound delish?” His eyes sparkled. “An Italian every night? Oh, but you already know how yummy that is.”

  She dropped her face in her hands as heat tinged it. Luckily, she sat with her back to the other diners, and by the time the manager appeared at their table to personally welcome them, she was over her unexpected flush.

  He was friendly and professional
and offered their meals free of charge. Jenna was used to that. She didn’t always take advantage, but she said she’d blog about the pizzeria and everyone knew that was advertising worth its weight in gold. Not that this particular joint needed the publicity. It was a North Beach landmark.

  They ate salads and then Tad’s Verdi Special pizza with pesto sauce arrived, covered in spinach, onions and feta cheese. Jenna almost regretted placing her own order, it looked so appetizing. But as the server delivered her mushroom pizza, her mouth watered. The abundance of fresh portabellas, sourdough crust and the cheese that oozed from each slice made her selection a favorite at this establishment.

  She reached for her glass while inhaling—and savoring—the decadent scent wafting from her pie.

  Tad dove into his first slice and groaned. He swallowed a large bite, then said, “This is almost better than a hand job.”

  Jenna nearly spewed wine. She threw a glance over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard. Though the other patrons took interest in them, it appeared as though he’d kept his tone low enough.

  Turning back to him, she said, “Let’s keep it respectable, shall we?”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  She pulled a slice from her tray and the mozzarella dripped over the sides. She said, “My family and I came to San Francisco a few times when I was a kid, and The Original Front Room over by Russian Hill was one of my favorite pizza joints. The small deep dish had to weigh five pounds it was so loaded, and the Margherita was to die for. And Uno’s had a great Chicago style. Not sure if either are still in business. I’ll have to look them up while we’re here. But North Beach is definitely my favorite.”

  Jenna took a bite of mushroom-laden pizza and made nearly the same sound as Tad had. “This is so damn good. My sister Linney and I used to crave this place when we were a thousand miles away from here.”

  She chewed, marveling over the rich, zesty sauce. She took a few more bites before she realized Tad wasn’t eating. He returned his half-eaten slice to its tray.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Because I know it’s not the pizza.”

  He gazed at her with a hard glint in his tawny eyes and once more, something clicked into place.

  “Oh,” she said as she set her own slice aside. “Shit.”

  His dark brow lifted. “Yes, sugar plum.”

  “Tad—”

  “You have a sister?”

  She groaned inwardly. What a huge blunder she’d made. She sat back in her chair and said, “Yes. She’s three years older than me.”

  “I have known you for eight years, and I’m just now hearing about this? About a sibling?”

  Jenna reached for a napkin and wiped her mouth. Then took a big gulp of her wine.

  Finally, she repeated, “Yes.”

  Tad seemed to force his jaw to unclench. He said, “You realize I work with you almost every day. That we travel together, dine together, shop together…and occasionally get drunk together. And yet you never once mentioned you have a sister. Are there others? Do you have brothers?”

  His suddenly bitter tone aside, he had a point she couldn’t dismiss. “I’m sorry. I don’t talk about Linney as a rule. And no, there are no other sisters. No brothers. No other family that I can speak of, because both my parents were only children. They had Linney and I later in life. My grandparents are dead.”

  He simmered. “And where does this sister of yours live?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Jenna said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat under his disapproving and hurt gaze. “We’re estranged.”

  “Gee, that surprises me so.”

  Her stomach twisted. “Don’t be an ass, please. It’s a very touchy subject. The reason I’ve never brought it up.”

  “Well, I’ve lost my appetite.” He tossed his napkin onto the table.

  Jenna sighed. “Yes, I keep things from you, Tad.”

  “That is not what best friends do.”

  “Call it self-preservation.”

  “Call it plain selfish,” he snapped, albeit under his breath. “For God’s sake, Jenna. You know everything about me.”

  “But do your own parents?” she suddenly challenged.

  He glared at her, not a Tad trait, so she knew to heed the warning. “We are not talking about parents. We are talking about best friends. You and me.”

  “And I know I’ve upset you. I truly am sorry.”

  “That’s twice today. What other bombshells do you have for me?”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “You’re being melodramatic.”

  “Am I?”

  Her lips pressed together. “Okay, it’s warranted.” Then she tried to make amends. “What do you say we take our pizzas back to the hotel and raid the mini bar? We can have a slumber party and eat a ten-dollar short can of Pringles and drink vodka straight from the tiny bottles.”

  His eyes lit up, despite his obviously prickled feelings. “That is my absolute favorite thing to do.”

  “I know.” She smiled at him. “And we have adjoining suites. So let’s box all of this up and go, okay?”

  Regardless of his delight over her suggestion, he gazed at her dubiously. “You’ll tell me all about Linney?”

  Jenna resisted the urge to grind her teeth. “If I must.”

  He cocked his head at her.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell you all about Linney.”

  “Goody. Now, say something remarkable to the manager so he knows we loved the pizza.”

  “Your near orgasm pretty much spoke volumes.” But she shared a private moment alone with the manager and their server, anyway. Tipped the latter generously.

  Back at the Fairmont, Jenna changed into a short black nightie and robe and then piled all of her hair on top of her head and secured it, though several curly strands hung loose about her face and shoulders. She went through her ritual body lotion routine in the gorgeous marbled bathroom before strolling into Tad’s suit through the opened adjoining doors.

  They frequently reserved suites next to each other when traveling because they worked late into the evening on ideas, Jenna’s website and project plans, and started again early in the morning.

  She settled on the sofa. Before her sat a coffee table and Tad had laid out the pizza on actual china. He brought her a martini.

  “You called room service for the dishes and full bottles of alcohol,” she said.

  “You know how I enjoy being civilized. Silverware, linen napkins and all. And I had a feeling there wasn’t enough vodka in both our mini bars to get us through the night.”

  She gave a half-snort that was very unladylike. “You’re probably right.”

  “So Miss Lonely Hearts,” he said as he pulled up a plump armchair on the opposite side of the table. She never gave him hell for this particular pet name, primarily because he didn’t use it in public and because it was a true sentiment she could hardly dispute.

  Jenna sipped the dirty martini, with extra olives—and a healthy dose of vodka, which burned its way down her throat and warmed her belly.

  “You know I grew up in an RV,” she told Tad. “When I was really little, it wasn’t a big deal. I mean, what did I know about living in a house or having a bedroom or lots of stuff? You don’t miss what you’ve never had or don’t know anything about.”

  “I simply cannot fathom how your parents thought raising a family in an RV was a good idea.”

  Tad came from a wealthy line of Montgomerys, his parents owning three homes. And a yacht.

  She said, “It was kind of fun in the beginning. As though we were perpetually on vacation. Always camping. We’d fish and hike and barbecue. We had a Jeep that we’d take on day trips. I’ve seen the vast majority of this country, and it is damn beautiful, so it’s not all one big regret.”

  “But you were never settled anywhere for long.”

  “No. Two weeks here, a month there. Linney and I were homeschooled for the most part. We had our lesson plans and tons of homework. That’
s what occupied a lot of our time when our parents took off to parts unknown, without us.”

  Tad gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. He wore elegant silk pajamas in midnight blue. “Leaving you alone?”

  Jenna nodded. “Yes. Who was going to report them to child services, right? No one knew our business. No family, no friends. Just people we met along the way.”

  “I’m appalled,” he said, offended for her. As a best friend would be.

  She smiled at him. “We got used to it. And I think we were pretty safe inside the RV. Plus, we’d get to eat as much ice cream as we wanted and make forts out of our sheets and pillows. Sometimes, we’d sit in the front seats and gaze out at the stars. It didn’t totally suck.”

  He scoffed.

  Jenna continued. “Anyway, Linney and I had nowhere to go and no way of getting there if we did at that point, so our parents didn’t fear we’d run off. And, truthfully, it never occurred to us to wander on our own. I guess we were lucky in that respect.”

  “Anything could have happened to you.”

  “Thankfully, it didn’t.”

  Appreciating Tad’s mixology skills, she took a deeper sip of her martini. He dove back into the pizza as she said, “I had no idea what other kids’ lives were like until I turned seven. We’d rolled into Savannah and my parents had been instantly enamored. They told Linney and I we’d be staying a while, and they actually enrolled us in school. That was a challenge at first—all that structure. But the homework was much lighter than what we were used to, so we excelled in our classes.”

  Tad sipped, then asked, “Were you excited to be in school with other kids?”

  “Oh, definitely. To me, it was akin to Disneyland. All those new sights and sounds and people. I couldn’t wait to get to school every morning, and I didn’t mind hanging around the playground until our parents picked us up if they were late coming back from someplace. It was a whole new world.”

  “So you were happy?” He finally perked up.

  Jenna drained her martini and he fixed her a new one while she took time to consider his question.

  It wasn’t exactly an easy one to answer.

  After another gulp and a nibble on an olive, she dropped the toothpick into the glass and stood. “We both were for a while. But the bloom fell from the rose when I made my first friend. Her name was Abigail and she was a delicate southern belle with springy blonde curls and a smile brighter than the sun. ‘Course, now I understand why she was such a deliriously happy child.”