Grill Me, Baby

by Sophia Knightly

  The Miami Spice competition suddenly took on greater meaning, with even higher stakes. It was no longer a case of Paolo triumphing and gaining accolades and making pots of money. It was for his little sister and his nephew. Papá would have been proud to know that Paolo was caring for and championing Claudia and her baby.

  With hard-nosed determination, Paolo set his thoughts to the gimmick he’d been working on. He had to win—Claudia and Mikey were depending on him to protect them.

  Later that week, Michaela left work an hour earlier than usual. She drove by Ristorante Bella Luna and noticed Paolo’s red convertible parked outside. Perfect! Now that Paolo wasn’t home, she could visit Claudia.

  Claudia answered the door on the first knock and threw her arms around Michaela in a tight hug, as if she were her long lost relative. “Maki, I’m so glad you’re here! Come in, come in.”

  Hearing Claudia call her Maki made Michaela think of Paolo, but she quickly banished thoughts of him from her mind. “Where is Mikey?”

  “He’s sleeping.” Claudia gestured toward the bassinet in the living room where he lay, dressed snugly in sky blue terry pajamas, sucking his thumb.

  “Aw, he looks adorable! And he’s gained weight too.”

  “Yes, he has. I’ve already lost some baby weight because of his appetite. He’s insatiable,” Claudia said with a rueful smile.

  Claudia hadn’t only lost baby weight, Michaela noticed, but the trademark Santos luster in her expressive eyes had dimmed and there were dark shadows beneath them. She studied Claudia’s wan smile and pale face. She looked different from the robust girl she had been before giving birth.

  “Are you taking good care of yourself? Eating nutritiously, sleeping more?”

  “As much as I can, I guess. I’m just feeling a bit depressed,” Claudia said, motioning for her to follow.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Michaela joined her at the kitchen table.

  “Do you want some mate?”

  “What’s that?” Michaela asked, wondering at the smoky aroma coming from a small, silver-laminated gourd Claudia held up.

  “It’s the national drink in Argentina. We make it by infusing an herb called yerba mate.” Claudia took a sip through a metallic straw. “We drink it with a bombilla. That’s this straw. Would you like a sip? It’s good for you.”

  “Sure, I’d love to try it.” Michaela took a sip from the straw and smiled. “Tastes good, kind of like strong green tea but with orange and honey in it. Am I right?”

  “Yes, exactly. In Argentina, we normally drink it plain, but I like to add honey and a bit of orange rind for flavor.”

  Michaela regarded Claudia kindly. “Tell me what’s bothering you. You mentioned you were depressed just now.”

  Claudia sighed deeply. “It’s because I have big decisions to make. I’m worried about how I’m going to provide for Mikey. The hospital bills are astronomical! I can’t depend on Paolo forever. I already feel guilty about invading his space.”

  “I’m sure he loves having you here,” Michaela assured her. “Have you gotten in touch with Mikey’s dad yet?”

  “No, but Bobby’s parents came by earlier this week.” She made a winding motion next to her ear. “Ellos están locos. Crazy. They wanted to take Mikey to live with them!”

  “With you too?”

  Claudia grimaced. “No, just Mikey.”

  “What?” Michaela asked, shocked. What kind of people were they?

  “Yeah, can you believe it? They said their mansion was a better home for their grandson than Paolo’s bachelor pad. Paolo was furious when he heard.”

  “I’ll bet,” Michaela sympathized, stunned by the latest turn of events. “Claudia, you have to get in touch with Bobby right away! What’s holding you back?”

  Claudia shook her head morosely. “My husband doesn’t love me anymore. If he did, he wouldn’t have deserted me.”

  “Paolo said he’s working in the Canadian oil sands. Isn’t he coming back at some point?”

  “I guess so. But he thinks I went back to my family in Argentina. He left me an airline ticket promising to return for me in six months. I pretended I was going to Buenos Aires, but I warned Bobby if he left, we were through.” She looked down at her tightly clasped hands. “He left anyway. I don’t think we’ll ever be the same when he comes back—if he comes back.”

  “What do you mean by if?”

  Claudia’s eyes looked troubled. “I’m worried about his safety. That work is dangerous.”

  Michaela could see how she would be worried. “Bobby must be tough and courageous to take on that type of work. When will the six months be up?”

  “Very soon. Then he’s supposed to be off for six months, something like that.” Claudia wiped the moisture beneath her tired eyes with shaking hands. “I miss Bobby terribly. I think about him day and night and I wish I could be with him. How do I know he won’t enlist again to make more money?”

  “I doubt he will. Once you tell him about Mikey, things will work out,” Michaela soothed.

  “Bobby is adventurous. He’s a real daredevil. I don’t want him to feel forced to stay because we have a son together.”

  “He married you, so I’m sure he wouldn’t feel forced,” Michaela said. “This isn’t only about your marriage, it’s about Mikey now. Bobby deserves to know he has a son.”

  “That’s what Paolo says.”

  Michaela sighed. “For once I agree with your brother. Did the Woodbridges say if they’ve been in touch with Bobby?”

  “No! They don’t know where he is and I won’t tell them either,” she said defiantly. “Bobby wouldn’t want to talk to them anyway.” She gave a dismal shrug. “They disowned him because he eloped with me.”

  Michaela felt affronted on Claudia’s behalf, but she knew that unless the Woodbridges came around and made amends with Bobby, Claudia would never be truly content. After all, she came from a close-knit family and Bobby’s parents’ purposeful dismissal and alienation was foreign to the kind of family life she was used to.

  “This is unfair and so convoluted. But one thing’s for sure. You have to get in touch with Bobby and tell him he’s a dad before his parents do,” Michaela said firmly.

  Claudia blotted at another surge of tears. “I don’t think I can face him without falling apart.” She blew her nose and shook her head mournfully.

  “Yes, you can. He’s your husband! You must swallow your pride and do it soon,” Michaela urged. “Sounds like you’re still in love with him. If you save your marriage, Mikey will benefit. Think of it that way.”

  Mikey began to fuss and Claudia rushed over to check on him.

  Hearing his cries, Michaela yearned to nestle his soft little body close to hers. “Can I hold him?”

  “Sure, be my guest. I just fed him, so he’s not hungry. He probably just wants to be held.”

  Michaela smiled. “I can do that.” She washed her hands at the kitchen sink and then carefully lifted Mikey from the bassinet. Awed by how much he had changed in just one week, she gazed into his scrunched up little face and then kissed the downy, light brown fluff on his head.

  “What’s the matter, little guy? Aw, don’t cry,” Michaela cooed. Mikey found his thumb and sucked it as he looked up at her and blinked, his innocent blue eyes touching her heart. He was no longer crying, just calmly contemplating her. She wanted to tell him how lucky he was to have Claudia as his mother and Paolo as his strong and caring uncle.

  “He remembers you,” Claudia marveled.

  “You think so?” Michaela sat on the sofa and positioned Mikey against her chest with his little head tucked beneath her chin while he noisily sucked his thumb. She inhaled his clean baby scent, the sweetest fragrance she had ever smelled.

  “You’re so good with Mikey…you should have a baby of your own.”

  “Maybe in
the future. Right now I’ve got my hands full with too many things.”

  “You mean the competition, or my brother?”

  “Both. You’re not expecting Paolo back any time soon are you?”

  “Nah. He won’t be home till late.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “He has a meeting with that Bernice lady tonight for the dinner party she’s throwing.”

  “Oh.”

  Claudia gave her a pensive look. “I wish you two weren’t competing against each other.”

  “That makes two of us,” Michaela agreed ruefully.

  “It’s hard to see the two of you not getting along. I mean…you’re so cool together.”

  “Cool” was not exactly how Michaela would describe their relationship, it was more like scorching. But she knew what Claudia meant. “Did Paolo say we weren’t getting along?”

  “No, but when I asked him when he was bringing you here to visit us, he made a face and said it wouldn’t be any time soon.”

  Hearing about his reaction made Michaela feel bad. It was one thing for her to avoid Paolo, but it bothered her to hear what he’d said about her coming over. “What else did he say?” she asked, hating herself for asking.

  “Well…um…” Claudia stalled nervously. “I’d rather not say. I just wish both of you could win.”

  “Yeah, that would be nice if we could each have our own show,” Michaela commiserated. “Anyhow, go ahead and tell me the rest. I won’t get mad, I promise.” She tried to sound casual even though Claudia’s unease was making her apprehensive.

  “Okay.” Claudia took a deep breath. “When I asked if he was worried you might beat him, he laughed it off and said, ‘Are you kidding? My gimmick will wipe her out.’”

  “How modest of him.” Michaela felt like gnashing her teeth, but it was a wake-up call to stay on track and not let her guard down with Paolo. “I hope you don’t feel conflicted because Paolo and I are opponents. You can still count on me for anything.”

  “Gracias. It’s hard not to love you, Maki.” Claudia rushed over to give her a warm hug and they formed a cozy circle with little Mikey sandwiched in between.

  Chapter Fifteen

  What is Paolo’s blasted gimmick? Michaela wondered impatiently, as she stood at the spa kitchen stove, stirring the risotto with punishing strokes. A whole week had gone by since she had last seen or talked to Paolo, but her plan to keep him out of sight, out of mind wasn’t working. They were weeks away from the competition and he had kept a tight lid on his gimmick so far.

  “Give the risotto a break, goddess. You’re supposed to stir it, not beat it to death,” Elliot wisecracked, giving her a haughty, raised eyebrow look. When Michaela didn’t respond, he added, “Tell me, lovey, what has your apron in a tangle, your bra in a vise, your thong in a twist—”

  “Enough, Elliot. I get your drift,” she said dryly.

  Elliot cackled and moved away from her to taunt Dan instead. Michaela relaxed her tight grip on the wooden spoon. Lately, whenever she thought of Paolo her hands clenched—it was an automatic response. Somehow, he had gotten a TV appearance yesterday on the South Florida morning show following the Today Show. Giddy with excitement, Aunt Magda had called Michaela last night with the news about how “that scrumptious hunk of a man” had looked amazing on TV.

  Michaela had to find a way to get some publicity—but how? A press release to the Miami Herald? That could hardly compare to Paolo being on TV, and there was no guarantee the newspaper would pick it up. She had to find a way to get on TV or a radio show ASAP! Maybe Tiffany had a connection. She would call her tonight, and if Tiff couldn’t help, then she’d consult Aunt Magda as a last resort. The woman was shameless and utterly relentless when she pursued something. But first, Michaela had to come up with a gimmick.

  “Goddess, you have a visitor,” Elliot called out.

  She turned her head toward the entrance and saw Lisa rushing toward her.

  “Hey, Lisa,” Michaela said, brightening at seeing her friend.

  Lisa looked stressed. “Can you take a quick break? I need a huge favor,” she said anxiously.

  “Of course. Elliot, please take over the risotto.” Michaela handed him the wooden spoon. “Make sure it’s glossy and creamy.”

  Elliot slammed the wooden spoon on the counter and covered his ears. “I won’t hear such blasphemy! When have I ever failed you?”

  Michaela ignored Elliot’s theatrics and ran after Lisa who was waiting at the spa entrance. “What’s up?” she asked her.

  “I was on my way to massage Paolo when I got an urgent call. He’s in the massage room waiting for me, but I don’t have time to go back and tell him I’m going to be late. I have to deal with an emergency first.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My roommate called to say that the bathroom is flooding.”

  “Oh, no!”

  Lisa pointed to the empty receptionist’s desk. “I have to run over there and get a plumber and Francine isn’t anywhere to be found. Would you go in and tell Paolo that I’m running about ten minutes late? He’s in room number five.”

  “Of course,” Michaela said without hesitation.

  Lisa exhaled a sigh. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Michaela watched Lisa run outside to make the call. Paolo was alone in the room waiting for a massage—she desperately needed a massage herself. Lately, she’d had a bit of a stiff neck from not sleeping well.

  Hmmm. She was suddenly tempted to do something crazy and a bit twisted by her standards, but if it worked…she’d be way ahead of the game. A scheme began to formulate in her mind that made her giggle nervously. If there was ever an opportunity to find out the bragging showman’s gimmick, this was it! She thought gleefully, rubbing her hands with relish.

  Paolo lay face-down on the massage table, naked save for a small towel draped over his butt. He was looking forward to the massage after the stressful week he’d had. He was tired, but mostly he was horny as hell ever since Michaela had put the brakes on him. Just when things had heated up between them, she had doused his libido with ice water. Now, he couldn’t think about anything else but having her and it was driving him nuts. Damn the caliente redhead! He was wound up tighter than a steel drum and ready to explode.

  Adding to his problems, he’d had to deal with the arrogant Woodbridges and their plot to take Mikey away from Claudia. They had pushed hard for her to divorce Bobby on grounds of abandonment and then tried to bribe her with a large sum of money. Paolo hadn’t had a good night’s rest since Claudia and Mikey had come to stay with him, yet he was so attached to Mikey that he’d be damned if he couldn’t provide a good life for his little nephew. That kid would not want for anything; Paolo would make certain of it.

  The soft, tinkling Asian music began to lull him to sleep. He was about to doze off when he heard the door open and quiet footsteps approach his side. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Hey, Lisa.”

  “Lisa late. I massage,” a young female voice said. She sounded eastern European, maybe Russian. Paolo tried to lift his head to look at her, but a soft hand firmly held his neck anchored on the headrest of the table so he could only look down.

  “Do not move,” she ordered.

  Paolo heard her uncap a bottle and squeeze the contents. She began to massage his back and shoulders with feather light strokes. Instead of relaxing him, her silky touch was making his rigid body respond in ways he would rather not… Damn, after that last session with Maki, all he thought about day and night was making love to her and this girl’s feathery touch was reminding him of Maki’s soft hands.

  “That’s too soft. Press harder. I’m tied up in knots,” he said, his voice garbled.

  “Why?” She pummeled his shoulders with tight fists.

  “It’s been a stressful week. That’s it,” he grunted. “Give it to me harder. Much harder.”

 
“Gladly.” She doubled up the pressure.

  “That’s more like it. What’s your name?”

  “Irina.”

  “I’m Paolo. Where are you from?” He rarely heard an accent like hers on Flamingo Island.

  “Ukraine.”

  There was something familiar about the masseuse. She smelled like roses, just like Maki. There was also something familiar in her intonation, even if she had a heavy, low-timbered accent. Paolo tensed. If he wasn’t mistaken, that voice belonged to Maki! Who did she think she was kidding? He knew her soft touch, her delectable scent… He almost shouted with laughter when he realized it was indeed her, but lying buck naked and trapped in the treacherous hands of his rival, he chose not to. Two could play her little game of deception. Paolo decided not to expose her, especially since he was in danger of being exposed himself—literally.

  “Never been to the Ukraine. I’m from Argentina.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “I’m the chef competing against Michaela in the Miami Spice competition. Do you know her?”

  “Yes. Michaela great chef.”

  “Eh, maybe, but I’m sure to win,” he boasted. He held his breath waiting for her reaction.

  “Why?” Her voice sounded snarky already.

  “She only serves up rabbit food.” Paolo relished the sound of Maki’s strangled groan.

  “Rabbit food better than lard.” She punctuated her words by vigorously thumping his shoulders with her balled up fists.

  Paolo’s shoulders began to shake with mirth. If Maki thought she was hurting him, she was delusional. Her pounding massage actually felt good, revved up his blood.

  “What’s funny?” Her voice sounded close to his ear.

  “I was laughing because that bossy little spitfire doesn’t stand a chance over my gimmick.”

  She dug her nails into his shoulder blades and worked handfuls of his flesh with a vengeance.

  “Watch it, Irina! Your nails are sharp.” Their game was fun, but Paolo wasn’t willing to become Maki’s human pincushion. He tried to turn around, but she quickly threw a lavender-scented towel over his head. When he reached to pull it off, her hand firmly pressed down on his nape.