His Christmas Gift ; Decadent Holiday Pleasures

by Janice Sims

  Rosario had insisted he attend the executive chef auditions and Giovanni didn’t want to disappoint her. Though next week he planned to cut back his work hours at the club. If he wanted to be ready to hit the field for the start of polo season in January, he had to get back in game shape, and that meant increasing the duration, intensity and frequency of his daily workouts.

  Giovanni, you’ve done significant damage to your body. The next time you get a concussion, it could cause irreversible damage and severely affect your quality of life...

  To escape the voice playing in his mind, he pressed his eyes shut and gave his head a shake. Giovanni didn’t care what Dr. Kaddouri said. Polo was his life and he wasn’t giving up his career because his medical team was worried about the injuries he’d sustained last season. He had worked hard for everything he’d accomplished, for every championship and title he’d won, and he refused to let fear rule his life.

  Warm memories filled his thoughts. He’d learned to play polo at twelve years old and had instantly fallen in love with it. Committed to being the best in the sport, he’d turned pro at nineteen and spent countless hours practicing, training and studying film. He’d won tournaments around the world, including in his native Argentina, and quickly become the face of the sport.

  Two years ago, he’d been ranked the best polo player in the world, had several lucrative endorsement deals and a gorgeous wife, but everything had changed at the US Open Polo Championship. Thinking about one of the worst days of his life made his palms sweat. Anger infected his six-foot-four frame and a bitter taste filled his mouth.

  A female voice speaking in Spanish seized Giovanni’s attention and he surfaced from his thoughts. Straightening in his chair, he regarded the statuesque woman with the doe-shaped eyes, pecan-brown complexion and delicate features who entered the dining room, waving at the group. His gaze lingered on her crimison lips. They looked luscious and, when she smiled, he noticed there was a small gap between her two front teeth.

  “You speak Spanish.” Feeling like an imbecile for stating the obvious, he smiled in greeting. “Welcome to the Hamptons Polo Club, Ms. Jennings. Tell us about yourself.”

  Rosario kicked him under the table, but Giovanni ignored his sister. He’d hijacked the interview and for good reason. Elise Jennings was an exotic beauty with a warm disposition. Giovanni could tell by the way the restaurant manager and sous chef were gawking at Elise that they were smitten, and he didn’t want them to embarrass him when they spoke. In addition, there was something about Elise Jennings that put him on edge, and since his instincts were rarely wrong about the opposite sex, he listened carefully to her response.

  “It’s an honor to be here,” she gushed in an animated tone. “I know you’ve probably interviewed dozens of people for the executive chef position, but look no further. I’m the perfect person for the job. I’m an outstanding cook who’s passionate about haute cuisine, and once you try my tasting menu you won’t need to interview anyone else...”

  A scowl curled his lips. Someone has an inflated ego! he thought, cocking an eyebrow. And more pride than the world’s most decorated chefs combined.

  Turned off by her speech, Giovanni leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He didn’t care if candidate number six was the female version of Wolfgang Puck. They couldn’t hire her. He didn’t want to bring anyone on board who’d create conflict or drama in the kitchen, and he suspected Elise would. Furthermore, in the seventy-year history of the polo club, the restaurant had never had a female executive chef, and his stubborn, old-fashioned father still thought European men were the best chefs. Yesterday, he’d advised them to find someone experienced, who knew about international cuisine, but Giovanni seriously doubted Elise Jennings was who their father’d had in mind.

  “What do you want us to know about you?” Rosario asked, reaching for her water glass.

  “I’m a hard worker who values and respects everyone in the kitchen, regardless of their position.” Elise placed a hand on her chest. “Cooking is my life, and being named the executive chef at the Hamptons Polo Club would be a dream come true. Vencedores is the best restaurant in the Hamptons, and I want to be part of this incredible team.”

  Giovanni gave a polite nod. Elise spoke with a drawl, in a voice that was pleasing to his ears, and he guessed she’d been raised in the South. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rosario was beaming and he hoped his sister hadn’t been fooled by Elise’s effusive speech. He sensed Elise was acting, feigning sincerity, and he wondered what she knew about his family. Had she googled them? Was she telling the truth or saying what she knew they wanted to hear? Or was she an opportunist looking out for number one? Giovanni studied her facial features for a long moment. Did Elise know their net worth?

  Of course she does, chided his inner voice. Everyone is blinded by your family’s wealth, and Elise Jennings is no different! Like all the other staff, she’ll say and do anything to gain your trust.

  Giovanni sniffed the air. Recognizing the spicy aroma tickling his nose, he straightened in his seat and peered into the kitchen. Two servers entered the dining room, pushing silver carts. Wearing a proud smile, Elise gestured to the spread with a wave of her hand. Seeing plates of barbecued meat with sautéed vegetables, stuffed tomatoes and humita made his mouth water.

  “For the first course, I prepared favorites such as pan de atún in my creamy secret sauce, sándwich de miga and la torre de panqueques. I hope you enjoy every rich, flavorful bite.”

  “You created a traditional Argentinian meal for Christmas Day. Why?” Giovanni asked.

  “Because the holidays are right around the corner...”

  Don’t remind me, he thought, stabbing an olive with his fork. “Thanksgiving is still weeks away,” he pointed out. “Isn’t it too early to be thinking about Christmas?”

  “Not to me. The more time I have to think, plan and prepare, the better.” Her eyes twinkled and a smile brightened her face. “I wanted my excitement for the holiday season to shine through in the menu I created, and I hope you’ll agree that it does.”

  Giovanni tasted the beef. Savoring the spices, he was impressed with how succulent it was. He took a bite of the veal, then another, and cleaned his plate within seconds. Wow, Giovanni thought, nodding in appreciation. Elise Jennings cooks as well as my mother!

  He wanted to ask for more food, but rested his utensils on his plate instead, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Giovanni didn’t think Elise was the right person for the executive chef position, but he was impressed with her cooking. Blown away by her tasting menu. Awed by her talent. Elise was the youngest person they’d interviewed, but the most creative. She’d added her own unique twist to each dish, creating a winning combination, and he’d loved every delicious bite.

  Someone groaned and Giovanni cranked his head to the right. Oh, brother. The restaurant manager, Antoine Lecomte, was furiously licking his fork; the sous chef, Knox Bianchi, was snapping his fingers in the air; and Rosario was dancing in her chair, oblivious to the wide-eyed expression on his face.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the first course, but I hope you’re not full because there’s more...”

  Giovanni listened to Elise with rapt attention. His eyes strayed to her curves and his body failed him. Sweat clung to the back of his crisp white dress shirt and an erection stabbed the zipper of his pants. Her fitted uniform outlined her fine, feminine shape, and it took supreme effort to concentrate on what she was saying about the dessert menu. His intense physical attraction to Elise Jennings surprised him, and even though Giovanni was a single man, he felt guilty for ogling the Southern beauty.

  As his tablemates sampled the items on the dessert tray, they moaned and groaned.

  “I took the liberty of creating sample menus for the Holiday Cocktail Party, Breakfast with Santa and the Family Fun Buffet,” Elise said, holding up a thin white booklet. “You’ll
see that I included decor ideas for each event, as well.”

  Cocking his head to the right, Giovanni shared a puzzled look with Rosario, then addressed the overconfident chef.

  “I think you have us confused with another establishment, Ms. Jennings. We rarely host Christmas events at our club, and we don’t have a seasonal menu, either.”

  “I know, but you should.”

  “Are you telling me how to run my club?” Giovanni asked, stunned by her gall.

  “No, of course not. I’m simply giving you some free advice. This is a gorgeous facility that’s being underutilized, and this is the perfect time to do something about it.” Elise pulled out a chair at the table. Sitting, she took off her chef’s hat, revealing lush honey-blond locks. “Host weekly Christmas events, and open the club to the public at a discounted rate—”

  “This is a private club for a reason, Ms. Jennings. Not a community center.”

  “I understand that, Mr. Castillo, but it’s the holidays—the season for giving—and if you open the Hamptons Polo Club to the community, you’ll attract even more business and ultimately increase your bottom line.”

  “What an interesting perspective. One we’ve never considered, but definitely should.” Rosario put down her fork, wiped her mouth with a napkin, then leaned forward in her chair, as if eager to hear more. “Elise, is there anything else on your mind?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact there is,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’d like to know more about the role of the executive chef, the specific responsibilities and duties of the position, and the benefits and compensation you offer, because none of those aspects were covered in the online job posting.”

  Giovanni cocked an eyebrow. This was a first. They’d interviewed five other candidates, but none of them had been bold enough to inquire about the salary.

  He listened as Rosario spoke, but his gaze strayed to Elise. It was hard not to imagine himself kissing her—Giovanni slammed the brakes on his thoughts.

  Mad at himself for fantasizing about the know-it-all chef, he tore his eyes away from her. He didn’t want to see Elise at the club every day. Not because he despised her, but because he was scared his desires would get the best of him one day, and he’d cross the line—or worse, jump over it and into her bed.

  Worried Rosario would offer Elise the job on the spot, Giovanni realized he had to take control of the interview and plotted his next move. Elise had an impressive résumé and outstanding cooking skills, but she’d rubbed him the wrong way from the moment she’d opened her mouth—and Giovanni had to get rid of her before it was too late.

  Chapter 2

  Giovanni stared Elise down, thinking she’d wither under his blistering glare, but she smiled brightly, showcasing every pearly white tooth, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He tried to remember what Rosario had shared about Elise’s background but drew a blank. Curious about her story, Giovanni stared at the résumé on top of Rosario’s iPad and skimmed the first page. His suspicions were right; Elise had graduated from a culinary school in North Carolina before relocating to New York, and had been a the sous chef at an upscale Hamptons restaurant known for its celebrity clientele.

  A troubling thought passed through Giovanni’s mind. Had Elise been fired? Had she left of her own volition or had management forced her out? If he asked her point-blank, would she tell him the truth? He opened his mouth, but Rosario interrupted him.

  “Elise, what are your salary expectations?” Rosario asked, dusting crumbs off her lap.

  “Based on my experience in this field, and my research on the current market, I’m expecting a six-figure salary and complete creative control in the kitchen,” Elise explained, her tone matter-of-fact. “Is that something you’re prepared to do? Or should I take my talents elsewhere? I don’t mean to be blunt, but I want you to know exactly where I stand.”

  “I appreciate your transparency, Elise, and I want you to know the salary, the start date and the terms of employement are all negotiable...”

  They are? Since when? Giovanni thought, astounded by his sister’s words. He scowled—couldn’t help it. Elise wanted ten thousand dollars more than they were offering, and that was reason enough to show her the door. It didn’t matter that she had an impressive résumé; Elise was high-maintenence, a diva in an apron, and he wasn’t going to give her his seal of approval.

  Antoine and Knox questioned her about her leadership style, her weaknesses and strengths, and Elise responded with humility. Wearing identical smiles, they nodded as she spoke.

  “Also,” she said, raising a finger in the air, “we’ll need to revamp the current menu.”

  “Why?” Worry lines creased Antoine’s forehead. “We’ve had the same menu for years.”

  Elise wore a sympathetic smile. “Can I be frank?”

  Giovanni grunted. Why stop now? You’re on a roll, Ms. Bossypants!

  “I checked out Vencedores’ menu online while I was preparing for this interview, and the reviews were brutal. Diners’ tastes and palates are constantly changing, and offering tired, boring dishes will turn people away. We need to be aware of food trends and shake things up from time to time, or customers will get their cravings fulfilled elsewhere and our business will suffer.” She gestured to the empty restaurant with a wave of her hand.

  Giovanni wanted to point out that Vencedores didn’t open on Fridays until noon, hence the reason why there were no customers in the dining room, but Elise continued full steam ahead. He secretly hoped she’d talk herself into a hole and Rosario would dismiss her.

  His cell phone buzzed and he glanced down at the table. The text was from Vincente, whom Giovanni suspected was anxious about the interviews. His father wanted to know if they’d hired someone, if the chef was from Europe, and the start date. The restaurant had been thrown into chaos with Chef Cruz’s sudden departure and Vincente was worried that if they didn’t hire someone immediately, the club’s reputation would suffer and profits would slide. Deciding to text his dad once the interview ended, Giovanni returned to the conversation.

  “If you hire me to be the executive chef, the first thing I’ll do is revise the menu. And decorate for Christmas, of course. I love all things Christmas, so that’s at the top of my list.” Elise laughed then snapped her fingers. “I’d also have weekly staff meetings. I want to know what the restaurant employees are thinking and feeling, and ensure that their needs are being met.”

  Rosario picked up a white-chocolate truffle, inspected it for a moment, then took a bite. Her eyes fluttered closed and a moan rose from the back of her throat. “Oh, my, this is divine.”

  “I know. I had three!” Antoine chuckled. “Do you have any other thoughts you’d like to share with us, Ms. Jennings? As you can see, we’re open to hearing your ideas.”

  “For me to do my best, I need to have a strong team behind me, so I want to be involved in hiring my staff when the need arises,” she continued. “Is that something you would be open to? If so, I’d like that stipulation included in my contract.”

  Contract? What contract? We’re not hiring you! Flabbergasted, Giovanni sank back in his chair. Who was interviewing whom? he wondered, scratching his head. In a matter of minutes, Elise had seized control and now she had his sister in the hot seat.

  “That’s certainly something I would be open to,” Rosario said with a nod. “I admire your initiative, Elise, and your candor. It’s refreshing, and you’re just the kind of person we need at the Hamptons Polo Club...”

  Giovanni almost choked on his tongue. Refreshing? No, she’s a sassy know-it-all with a huge ego. He’d expected Rosario to put Elise in her place, but she stared at her in awe, as if the woman had just pulled a rabbit out of her hat. In the three months Giovanni had been acting CEO, he’d never seen his sister bend over backward to appease a potential employee. He wondered why Rosario was so desperate to hire
Elise Jennings.

  The interview forgotten, the women spent several minutes discussing their favorite Christmas dishes and traditions, and upcoming holiday events they were excited about.

  “Every year, my husband and I attend the tree-lighting ceremony in the city square.” Rosario had a faraway look in her eye, as if she was reliving a treasured memory. “It’s always a special, magical night, and I love seeing the brilliant lights, the adorable, wide-eyed children and all of the elderly couples kissing and cuddling.”

  “You could have a similar event at the club and create your own Christmas traditions,” Elise proposed. “I can see it now. The crackling fireplace, Santa and Ms. Claus posing for pictures with families, the mouth-watering aroma of apple cider and gingerbread cookies, and lively Christmas music playing in the background.”

  Interest sparked in Rosario’s eyes. “I love the idea of cultivating our own traditions...”

  Giovanni shot to his feet. He’d had enough. He didn’t want to hear about creating new traditions or hosting holiday-themed events at the club, either. Not today, not ever. Christmas sucked. If he could sleep through the entire season, he would. The Hamptons Polo Club was one of the most expensive and exclusive polo clubs in the world, and he wasn’t going to let Elise Jennings fill his sister’s head with preposterous ideas.

  And, contrary to what Elise thought, Christmas wasn’t a time of goodwill and grand gestures of love and kindness. For him, it was the memory of broken promises, hurt and regret, and there was nothing to celebrate. His marriage was over, he had more aches and pains than a UFC champion, and his relationship with his father saddened him. He’d wanted to confide in his dad about his fears for the future, but Vincente hated talking about feelings, said it was a sign of weakness, and since childhood had advised Giovanni not to—so he hadn’t.

  “Thanks for coming, Ms. Jennings. It was a pleasure to meet you,” he lied, leveling a hand over the front of his navy blue suit jacket. “We’ll be in touch.”