Just Add Spice (The Spice Series Book 1)

by Calista Fox

  She stopped abruptly and declared, “I have it!”

  Excitement shot through her.

  “Have what?” he asked quizzically.

  “Never mind. Let me surprise you. Um…why was I in here? Oh, yes! Quickly,” she said as she rushed to the high top in the corner. “I have to show you something, then I’ve got to get everyone moving in the dining room. Here.” She pointed to the picture she’d pulled up on the iPad.

  Rafe eyed the small white dishes and said, “They look like espresso cups.”

  “They’re a bit larger. For soup. Five or six spoonfuls each. I found these contemporary white plates with squared, lifted edges. Place a Samponga’s cocktail napkin on the plate and then three of the soup mugs in a cluster, as a sampler. Your velvety lobster bisque with brandy and chunks of fresh lobster…your decadent New England clam chowder…your creamy asparagus puree. Jesus, I’m about to orgasm again.”

  He chuckled. “That’s damn sexy, babe.”

  She got lost again in his glowing gaze. But then remembered herself. “Gotta go.” She left the iPad on the table and hurried out of the room. She grabbed Tad. “Swatch book?”

  He retrieved it from his designer briefcase. Jenna dropped it on a table and flipped it open. A dozen people milled about the room, taking measurements and making mental assessments. She was about to bring the entire project together.

  She flew through the pages, in the blue hues. “No… No… No…” She whisked more pages aside. “Too blue. Not blue enough.” She sank into a chair. “It’s not quite cobalt. Not teal. It’s deep and rich and…aha!”

  Jenna tore the swatch from its Velcro strip and handed it to Tad.

  “This is it.” A gorgeous combination of a darker teal enhanced by blue rather than tinged with green. “I want the napkins in this color, spilling from wine glasses. No flatware rolled up in the napkins—too formal. And for that matter, I want hammered silver. The really heavy, good stuff. And Artland Iris wine goblets—or some derivative thereof. Mouth-blown glass. Light, see-through citrine on top with thick, sculpted clear stems. Don’t skimp, Tad. I want everything to look expensive, yet welcoming. New, yet with a hint of old world.”

  Her mind continued to whirl.

  “I don’t have the tablecloths yet,” she said, “but the pattern is on the tip of my tongue. Meanwhile, I want to see wood samples for wainscoting. A medium shade. The paneling should be waist-high, polished and gleaming. The walls above the wood need to be the color of the swatch, textured, with a shimmer of gold and bronze infused into it. The sofas in the new lounge area and along the wall need to be in the same color family, obviously. A shade or two lighter.”

  She rattled off a dozen other ideas. Tad didn’t need to write them down. When they were both in the zone, the visuals meshed.

  “No flowers on the tables,” she finally said. “Oil lamps instead. Small, but filled with sand and tiny seashells and sand dollars. This is the City by the Bay, after all.”

  When she was done, she stared up at Tad. He grinned at her. “When you’re on, you are so on, sugar plum.”

  “Feels as though I just gave birth.” Not that she would know, but still…

  “That’s because it’s Rafe’s restaurant, dear sweet girl, and you want it to be perfect.”

  “I want every remodel to be perfect, Tad.”

  “But this is personal, Jenna. A gift for him. Not a job.”

  Damn that sting of tears again, she thought. Was she PMSing, or what? She’d been in emotional overload since she’d arrived in San Francisco.

  “Well, anyway,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We can substantially warm this place up. Make it nice and cozy, yet with an energetic—rather than a formal—vibe. If the Carnelian Room didn’t survive the economic downturn, and it was the height of formality and elegance in this town, we don’t want to follow suit.”

  They went back to work. The lighting expert, Tom, asked her, “What about the chandeliers?”

  “Much too austere for the new look.”

  “I’ve got a few suggestions,” he told her.

  “Excellent. Just… Let me do one thing.”

  She returned to the kitchen and asked Rafe, “Anything special about the chandeliers I should know about? Heirloom? Personal favorite? Vesta would disown you if they suddenly disappeared?”

  His mouth dipped at the corners as he shook his head. “My grandmother picked them up at a fire sale at one of the hotels in Union Square that was being remodeled right around the time they were about to open Sampogna’s.”

  “So they weren’t imported or part of the family estate?”

  “Nope.”

  “Great.” She kissed him quickly, then spun around.

  She was just about out the door when Rafe called out to her. “Hey!”

  Jenna turned back to him. “Yes?”

  He grinned. “Thanks for asking, babe.”

  She blushed at the term of endearment used in front of his kitchen staff. But they were his family—and not a one of them even snickered.

  Three days passed. All of the prep work for refurbishing the dining room had been completed, with the exception of the tablecloths being sewn—Jenna still hadn’t settled on a pattern—and the ornate bar wasn’t finished yet. Tad had drafted a schedule for closing the restaurant for a few days to execute the remodel, once the remaining details were finalized.

  Jenna presented the schedule to Rafe as they settled in her suite with wine and a light dinner. They had silently agreed to alternate nights between the loft and the hotel. The unspoken compromise had surprised Jenna, but she was ecstatic Rafe made the concession to spend time with her in her element, and she returned the favor.

  Following dinner, he drew a bath and she slipped into the tub, situating herself between his parted legs. She leaned against him, her back to his chest as he massaged her shoulders.

  In an excited tone, Jenna said, “I ought to have everything good to go in two days, and then we close for three for the near-round-the-clock makeover. Tad supervises that entire process. He loves to crack the whip.”

  “That almost scares me.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I know. It’s his chance to strut his stuff. He thinks it’s the time he proves his worth. He never quite grasps that I can’t do what I do without him. From the first time we worked together, I knew I’d never survive if he wasn’t by my side on a job.”

  “You met in New Orleans?”

  “A sleazy dive that needed a complete overhaul. The very prim and proper sister of a shady character inherited it when her brother was murdered. She didn’t know what to do—the clientele was a bit rough and you couldn’t walk a foot or two without crunching a cockroach under the sole of your shoe.”

  “Nice,” he said in a droll tone.

  “Well, there was a lot of potential in that building. When she emailed me photos on my DIY blog, I thought, no way in hell could she tackle this herself. I popped in one night and sat in the back. I watched the staff and my God, did they give it their all. Honestly worked their asses off for their tips. Especially Tad. It was a hardcore crowd and he had them tied in knots with his sarcastic wit. I was in awe.”

  “He is a rare breed.”

  “Yes, a true gem. And when I asked him to help with the project… Geez. You should have seen the hands flapping and the tongue wagging—like I’d just told him he’d won the lottery. He had a million ideas. I needed several aspirins by the time he was done. But once I waded through all that he’d said, I was mind blown and just knew we’d been destined to meet. And I’m sorry I never introduced you two before. I compartmentalize, you know that. I kept my professional and personal life separate. Helped me to focus on what needed to be done.”

  “He thinks the world of you, Jen. Doesn’t take being around the two of you for long to see that. Every time he looks at you, there’s worship in his eyes.”

  “Don’t choke me up, please. I’m not sure I can take much more.”

  He kissed
her temple. “It’s been a tough week for you.”

  Jenna gave this some thought, then shook her head slightly. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Rafe, I am so happy to be here and to be doing something for the restaurant.”

  “I can’t even begin to thank you enough. To—”

  “Please don’t,” she said. “Don’t thank me. I wanted to do this, Rafe. You can’t even imagine how thrilled I am to do this for you. And for the family. I didn’t really pitch in when we were married. I’d fill in for Reesa on her nights off, but then I landed the TV show and I couldn’t be a part of Sampogna’s. That’s just…awful.”

  “Why?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “You had your own career before we married, Jen. I never expected you to ditch it in order to work fulltime at the restaurant.”

  “No, and you never asked me to, either. But your family works there, Rafe. And the friends you’ve hired, who are pretty much your family as well. Why wouldn’t I work there?”

  “Because you had your own life, Jenna.”

  She sighed. “Maybe this was our biggest problem, Rafe. Not just that I’ve always had a crazy career, but that…I’ve always had my own life.”

  He was quiet a few moments, then said, “I knew what I was getting myself into with you, sweetheart. So let’s look at the facts as they stand. I wanted you the way you were. Until we came back to the loft and I wanted you to be a part of my entire world.”

  In a soft voice, Jenna admitted, “I want to be a part of your entire world.”

  His arms tightened around her. “You always will be. Even when you leave next week.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. Yes, the clock still ticked in her ear. Seven days down. Seven days to go.

  And she would leave at the end of her two weeks. She’d committed her time to someone else. She wouldn’t back out just to be with Rafe, even if she wanted to.

  Question was… Did she want to?

  Chapter Eleven

  Rafe set two cappuccinos on a table for Jenna and Tad and then straddled the back of a chair as he eyed the papers and schematics covering the six top.

  “I feel as though I should be doing something,” he said. “Can’t I help in some way?”

  Jenna smiled, then sipped. She told him, “You’re keeping us caffeinated.”

  He smirked.

  Tad said, “The brainstorming is over and now it’s time for execution. Sugar plum even had an epiphany on the tablecloths.”

  Rafe glanced at Jenna.

  She laughed. “I know it’s not on par with curing cancer, but good Lord was it painful to solve this one. I had a massive blockage over something that usually comes so quickly and naturally to me. And then boom! I woke up this morning with the perfect idea. Incredibly simple and sensible, yet…perfect nonetheless.”

  Rafe’s eyebrow lifted. “And?”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “This is all going to be a surprise, Rafe. I want you to walk in here and be completely blown away. No preconceived notions. Just gut reaction—which I already know will be fantastic, because this place is going to be so you.”

  He flinched. “Is that really such a good thing?”

  She laughed again. “Trust me, hmm?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “Would I let her do anything hideous?” Tad interjected. “Not that she would. But my reputation is at stake here too.”

  Rafe shook his head. “I’m not doubting anyone. I guess I’m just anxious to see the outcome.”

  Jenna leaned over and kissed him. “Soon.”

  Tad rolled his eyes dramatically. “Get a room.” He chuckled, then said, in a more serious tone, “That’s actually a great idea. You two should go away for a couple of days. Stay out of my hair and—”

  “You don’t have any hair,” Jenna pointed out with a spirited look.

  “Do not get me started, bestie. Now, the project work is my forte and I’m in charge for three whole days. So why not take in the sights and just…enjoy each other?”

  “We’ve been doing that, Tad,” she deadpanned.

  He simpered in his sassy way. “Somewhere outside of the city where Mr. Tall, Hot and Hunky here isn’t tempted to steal a peek at the progress within these walls. You know I’ll call if I need anything or if there are any complications.”

  Rafe said, “I wouldn’t mind the break. We’ve been slammed this past week and I hope it continues. I could use a breather before the real storm hits.”

  “You’re right,” Jenna conceded. “You should take a few days to prepare for this. I already have my publicity team plugging the reopening, and with the reservations we’ve booked, there won’t be an empty table or sofa the entire evening. You’ll get more of the same going forward. The servers will be trained on the POS system during those three days, and the chefs will be mastering the new menu.”

  “And what will you be doing?” Rafe eyed her suspiciously.

  Tad immediately said, “Something that keeps her from being underfoot. Let me handle this one on my own, Jenna.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Tad.”

  “I want to pull this all together,” he insisted, conviction in his eyes. “For you and for Rafe.”

  Rafe grinned. “I have no doubt it’s going to be sensational.” To Jenna, he said, “Why don’t we take in some local flavor and then spend a night or two in Sonoma?”

  Her teeth sank into her lower lip. It practically made her hyperventilate to think she wouldn’t be in the city while Tad worked.

  He seemed to know the direction in which her thoughts ran and contended, “You won’t be far away, Jen. If I need anything at all, you’ll be back in a flash. Though… I won’t need anything.”

  She smiled. “I know you won’t.” Not only did Tad excel as a project manager, more than capable of keeping everyone on schedule, but the contractors they worked with were highly skilled at accelerated timelines, and she and Tad had partnered with them on numerous occasions.

  “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll go to Sonoma.”

  More intimate time with Rafe really was too tempting to pass up.

  They spent the afternoon sightseeing around the city. They strolled along Pier 39, randomly popping into shops. They took in the bay views from Fisherman’s Wharf, along with the delicious scents of seafood and freshly baked sourdough bread wafting from the restaurants, and the sounds of tourists wowed by the scenery and the entertaining street life.

  They walked down to the cable car turnaround on Hyde Street and had a glass of wine at the Buena Vista, a one-time boarding house and saloon in the early 1900s turned trendy restaurant, with gorgeous views and the Powell-Hyde cable car line running alongside it, the bells clanging upon arrivals and departures up the hill.

  For dinner, they stopped into Vinny’s seafood restaurant, Sampogna’s Too. His wife Macy served as hostess and she greeted Rafe and Jenna with a warm smile and a big hug, all but engulfing Jenna in her robust embrace.

  Macy seated them by the window with a sensational display of the water beyond and then said, “I’ll get Vinny. He’ll be so excited you’re both here.”

  She ambled toward the kitchen. Jenna surveyed the dining room, noting it was only partially full at seven o’clock. She opened the menu and cringed.

  “Yeah, these prices are a bit steep.”

  “Agreed. His overhead is a bitch, though.”

  “He still leases the building?”

  Rafe nodded. “The owner refuses to sell, and Vinny doesn’t want to relocate. Unfortunately, this isn’t a rent-controlled property.”

  “Hmm.” Jenna gave some thought to the prime locality and the stellar menu, the prices notwithstanding, and decided something should be done to help bring in more people.

  It wasn’t just about her job…that wasn’t what truly had her mind churning with fresh ideas for this particular establishment.

  It was about family.

  And no matter what path Jenna had taken, the way she’d veered off from her marriage and this lo
ving, boisterous group, these people were still special to her.

  Sentimentality and even a hint of nostalgia tickled her throat. She washed it down with a sip of water the server delivered, just as Macy returned to the table with Vinny. More hugs ensued. Vinny was a big guy and practically squeezed the air out of Jenna. Rafe had to tactfully rescue her.

  “Careful there,” he said to his cousin, “you’re gonna make Macy jealous.”

  Macy laughed heartily. “Yeah, right. I’d finally get a full night’s sleep if he found a little side action.”

  Vinny kissed her forehead. “Didn’t hear you complaining last evening, my love.”

  Macy’s cheeks flushed. Jenna smiled.

  Vinny said, “This is a treat to have you here, Jenna. Sit. Let Macy pour you some wine and bring calamari and salads while I whip up a couple VIP dinners for you two.”

  When they were alone again, Jenna asked, “How long have they been together?”

  “Married when they were eighteen—so twelve years.”

  “Wow.” She sipped some more, then asked, “What about your grandparents?”

  “They married the year my grandfather opened Sampogna’s, sixty-five years ago.”

  She whistled under her breath. “That is amazing.”

  “They had a rough patch, my Aunt Vesta once told me. After their fifth child was born. Uncle Danny created a few complications before and after the birth, and the doctor told my grandmother not to have any more children. Not that she couldn’t, but that it’d be best if she didn’t. She’s a tiny woman, you know. And though she’s strong, there’s only so much the body can take.”

  “What happened? Because I know she had a sixth child. Your dad.”

  He nodded. “She wanted another one. Had her heart set on a half-dozen kids. My grandfather said, ‘abiammo finito—we’re done. No more children.’ She chased him out of the house with a broom. He slept in the office at the restaurant for a few nights, but that was the most he could stay away from her. And was completely miserable the entire time. When he finally returned home, he pleaded with her, but she insisted on one more child. He held out as long as he could but eventually caved.”