by Janice Sims
Chapter 7
Elise stood at the prepping station inside Vencedores’ kitchen, mixing a bowl of walnut-cranberry muffin batter on the countertop, her thoughts a million miles away. Three days ago, she’d celebrated Thanksgiving with the Harris family, and she’d enjoyed the elaborate meal, the charming guests and the lively conversation. But her first week as the executive chef at the Hamptons Polo Club had been filled with one problem after another, and Elise was so stressed out she hadn’t slept well since being hired.
Her gaze strayed across the room and pride flowed through her veins. A quiche, baked French toast, spicy Italian sausages and tropical fruit covered the counter, and pitchers of freshly squeezed orange juice were in the fridge. Peppermint tea was brewing and coffee was percolating, creating a tantalizing aroma in the restaurant kitchen. The staff meeting was in an hour and Elise wanted to make a healthy breakfast for her hardworking colleagues.
Elise admired her handiwork. Coming to the restaurant early had been the right decision. She wanted the restaurant staff to know how much she needed and appreciated them, especially Antoine. If not for his guidance, patience and support, she never would have survived her first week.
Elise considered the highs and lows of the past week. On Monday, she’d accidently cut her thumb with a steak knife. On Wednesday, she’d scolded a line cook for being twenty minutes late for her shift and the redhead had burst into tears. Yesterday, Elise had felt light-headed during the dinner rush and needed to take a break in the back office.
As the executive chef, Elise had a mind-blowing list of daily responsibilities, and even though she was overwhelmed, she was determined to make Giovanni and Rosario proud of her. They’d taken a chance on her, hired her when no one else would, and Elise felt indebted to the brother and sister management team. Rosario had welcomed her to the Hamptons Polo Club family with open arms, and stopped by the kitchen daily to touch base with her. Oddly enough, Elise hadn’t seen Giovanni since she’d thanked him for hiring her, and she regretted hugging him in the lobby.
Wiping the frown from her face, Elise refused to let her thoughts wander. She told herself not to sweat it, to forget about the dashing CEO who gave her goose bumps, but she was curious about Giovanni and wondered how he was doing—or rather, who he was doing. He turned heads everywhere he went, and several of the female employees had a huge crush on him. According to Knox, the star polo player used to eat all of his meals at the restaurant and would visit with the employees after closing, often entertaining the group with stories about his illustrious polo career. But not anymore. And Elise couldn’t help feeling responsible. She’d tried to hide her attraction to him, but failed, and now she suspected he was avoiding her.
Elise added a dash of nutmeg to the batter and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Inhaling the sweet aroma relaxed her. She smiled. Food wasn’t just her passion, it was her life, and there was nothing better than connecting with people through meals.
Elise loved being in the kitchen at the first light of day. The fridge hummed, the floors gleamed and the pots glistened in the sunshine steaming through the windows. Prep lists hung from above each workstation, deliveries would soon arrive, and hungry employees would fill the restaurant within the hour. But for now, it was quiet, and Elise was in her element, at ease. The kitchen was her refuge, had been since she was a nine-year-old cooking with her parents, and it would always be her favorite place.
Memories warmed her heart. Soul music was playing on her iPhone, and hearing her mother’s favorite song took Elise back to her childhood. Every time Aretha Franklin’s voice came on the radio, she’d dance around the breakfast bar with her mom, singing and laughing hysterically. They’d always had a special relationship and Elise wished her mom were still alive so she could talk to her about what she was going through.
Yawning, her eyes teared up and her shoulders drooped. To avoid thinking about her parents, Elise kept herself busy 24/7 but her furious, nonstop schedule was sucking the life out of her. Thank God for concealer or I’d scare small children, she thought, staring at her tired reflection in the stainless-steel pots lined up above the stove.
Elise poured the batter into the metal muffin tins and put them inside the oven. She set the clock timer then washed her hands. Glad it was Friday, she mentally reviewed her plans for the weekend.
She’d planned to sleep in tomorrow and spend the afternoon doing chores, but Demi’s baby shower was at one o’clock and during Thanksgiving dinner, the mother-to-be had threatened her with bodily harm if she didn’t attend the party. Pregnant with twin girls, the YouTube sensation and first-time mom was more popular than ever, and Elise wished she had as much energy as the Philly native. She’d met Demi Harris at a networking event last year and they’d exchanged business cards. Once a month they met for cocktails at their favorite lounge, and Elise always looked forward to catching up with her bubbly, effervescent friend.
Swaying to the beat of the music, Elise washed the dirty dishes then cleaned the prepping station. She snapped her fingers and shimmed her shoulders. Grabbing a spatula from the utensils rack, Elise used it as a microphone and sang at the top of her lungs. She spun around the kitchen, her hair whipping across her face. Her muscles loosened with every twirl of her arms and shake of her hips. Every day, she did it all: checked the inventory, ordered the necessary items and ingredients, managed the budget and oversaw the kitchen staff. She deserved to have some fun, and gave herself permission to kick up her heels for a few minutes. Dancing around the kitchen was the ultimate stress reliever, and Elise suddenly felt light and free.
Elise swiped her iPhone off the counter and punched up the volume on the music. A reggae song came on and she shook her hips to the strong, pulsing beat. Elise whipped around, spotted Giovanni standing in the doorway and shrieked. Her knees buckled and she sank against the counter. Their eyes locked and her pulse soared. Attractive in a gray turtleneck, slim-fitted suit and dress shoes, he smelled of expensive aftershave and his gaze made her tingle from head to toe.
Elise snapped out of her haze and pulled herself together. Her hands were shaking, but she stopped the music and shoved her cell into the back pocket of her navy pants. Moistening her lips, she ripped off her apron and dropped it on the counter. Cold air flooded her skin and Elise frowned. Glancing down at her clothes, she noticed her navel was exposed and yanked down the bottom of her scoop-neck sweater.
“Giovanni, good morning,” she said, trying to sound natural but failing miserably. “What brings you by?”
Giovanni vigorously clapped his hands, and Elise wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She couldn’t remember ever being so embarrassed and wondered how long he’d been standing in the doorway watching her. A minute? Two? At the thought, heat burned her cheeks.
“Wow, Elise, you’re got great moves.” Mischief brightened his eyes and a grin curled his lips. “Ever consider taking your one-woman show on the road?”
“And leave all of this behind?” she said, spreading her arms out at her sides. “Never.”
Giovanni chuckled. “I have two left feet, so I have great admiration for people who can dance well, and you’re obviously a pro. How did you learn to move like that?”
“MTV, of course!” Elise laughed. “When I was a teenager, I used to spend hours in front of the TV, perfecting the latest dance moves and routines. I had dreams of being the next Rihanna, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
“What stopped you?” he asked, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I was a tall, curvy teen with kinky hair, and my dance teacher said I didn’t have the right look. Thankfully, I decided to become a chef and never looked back.”
The timer buzzed and Elise grabbed her oven mitts off the stainless-steel stove, anxious to see how her mother’s walnut-cranberry muffin recipe had turned out. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to watch me dance around the kitchen or hear about my childhood aspir
ations, so what’s up, Giovanni? What can I do for you?”
* * *
You can do me right now. Striking the thought from his mind, he coughed to clear his throat and buried his hands in the pockets of his tailored dress pants. Aroused by the sound of her Southern drawl and the twinkle in her eyes, Giovanni feared if he opened his mouth, a groan would fall out. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than embarrassing himself in front of the sexiest woman he’d ever met.
His gaze strayed to the wall clock hanging above the storage room door and Giovanni realized his break was over. He had emails to read, phone calls to return and memos to write. He hadn’t planned on coming into the restaurant, but he’d noticed lights on in the kitchen and assumed Antoine had come in early to prepare for the day. When he saw Elise dancing around, he’d smiled from ear to ear. Wouldn’t have moved even if the fire alarm had sounded and the sprinklers had come on. Mesmerized, he’d stood in the doorway for several seconds, watching her intently. Elise was all curves and legs, and his temperature had climbed every time she’d whipped her hair and shaken her hips. Remembering why he’d come to the restaurant in the first place, he straightened his shoulders and leveled a hand over the front of his suit jacket.
“I have a meeting tomorrow at three o’clock, and I thought it would be a nice touch to have some drinks and appetizers on hand for my Venezuelan guests,” he explained, forcing himself not to stare at her backside. “I know it’s been crazy busy in here as of late, but is that something you think you can do, or will it be a burden for you and the staff?”
“Not at all. Consider it done.” Elise took the metal muffin trays out of the oven, shut it with her hip and put them on the stove top. “We’re prepping the appetizers for the Holiday Cocktail Party tomorrow afternoon, so it won’t be a problem at all.”
“The Holiday Cocktail Party?” he repeated. “That’s still a go?”
“Yes, it’s Sunday afternoon from three to six.” Elise stared at him as though baffled by his question. “You didn’t know about the event? But you’re the CEO of the club. You’re supposed to know everything that happens around here, especially the scandalous stuff!”
“That’s Rosario’s role, not mine.” Eager to change the subject, Giovanni pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and glanced at his watch. “Why are you here so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come in early and make breakfast for the staff,” she explained, smiling at him. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry!” he said, patting his stomach.
“Good, then grab a plate and help yourself.” Gesturing to the prepping station with a nod, she explained each dish. “There are cold drinks in the fridge, coffee and tea if you’re interested, and fruit, as well.”
Giovanni sniffed the air then licked his lips. His mouth was watering and his stomach was growling so loud he feared Elise could hear it from across the room.
“Go on,” she urged. “Don’t be shy. There’s more than enough.”
Giovanni shook his head. “I better not. The last time we grabbed a bite to eat, you bolted, and I don’t want to do or say anything to upset you.”
“I shouldn’t have left the pub that night. I was wrong and I’m sorry.” Elise wore an apologetic smile. “Please stay. I’d love the company, and I want to hear more about your polo career.”
“Why?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you a budding polo player?”
“Absolutely not! I’m an adventurous girl, but polo is basically hockey on horseback, and I don’t want to hurt myself. I like my feet on solid ground, thank you very much.”
The air held an enticing aroma, and when Elise handed him a gold-rimmed plate, his resolve wavered. He hadn’t seen her all week and he liked the idea of sharing a meal with her.
“Breakfast time,” she quipped, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Let’s eat!”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Chuckling, he filled his plate, pulled a stool up to the counter and sat. “Thanks, Elise. Everything looks and smells incredible, and I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” she confessed, sitting across from him. “I’m glad you dropped by. Meals taste better when you have someone to share them with, and we have a lot to discuss.”
Giovanni glanced up from his plate. “We do? Like what?”
“For starters, I’d love to discuss ways to boost staff morale and recognize employees who go above and beyond the job.” Elise cut her sausage into small pieces and then forked one into her mouth and chewed slowly. “I know I haven’t been here long, but since I’ve been given complete creative control of the restaurant, I want to shake things up around here.”
“Do as you see fit. You’re the captain of this ship, and Rosario and I trust your judgment.” Giovanni tasted his French toast and nodded in appreciation. It was moist and melted in his mouth. “How have things been overall? I hope Antoine has been answering your questions and showing you the ropes as you settle into your new position.”
“Everyone’s been incredibly helpful, and it feels like home.”
Surprised by her confession, he stared at Elise with keen interest. He wanted to hear more about her first week at the club, so he asked her to elaborate. Talking with her about the staff and her short-term goals, Giovanni saw Elise in a different light. At her interview, she’d come across as being pushy, but now it was obvious she wanted the restaurant and the employees to succeed.
Conversation flowed smoothly while they ate, and his admiration for Elise grew as she talked about her formative years in Charlotte and her large Southern family. She spoke about her parents, Rhett and Coralee, with deep reverence, and her love and respect for them was evident in her smile.
Giovanni enjoyed her outrageous stories about culinary school, and her bubbly laugh warmed him all over. Even though Giovanni had just met Elise, he recognized she was a woman any man would be thrilled to have on his arm. Thoughts of kissing her bombarded his mind, but Giovanni vowed to control himself during breakfast.
“Would you like some more?” Elise asked, reaching for her coffee mug.
Licking his lips, Giovanni eyed the food on the counter. He wanted more sausages and French toast, but he remembered he was supposed to be eating smaller portions, and dropped his napkin on his empty plate. “No thanks, I’ve had more than enough.”
Hip-hop music filled the air. Elise took her iPhone out of her pocket. Beaming, she tapped the screen and then put her cell to her ear. “Hi, Antoine! How are you? I hope you slept well because we have a long day ahead of us...”
Giovanni frowned, watching Elise on the sly. Her voice is higher, he thought, dissecting her body language. And she licked her lips—twice. She was sitting taller on her stool, straighter, and there was a twinkle in her eye. Was Elise dating Antoine? Were they lovers? Giovanni gave his head a shake. It was none of his buisness what his employees did in their personal lives. Even if he discovered Elise and Antoine were an item, there was nothing he could do about it. More important, he couldn’t sit around in the kitchen for the rest of the day playing detective. He had work to do and needed to return to his office.
Giovanni finished his coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Feeing full and satisfied, he picked up his plate, put it in the sink and washed it. He’d had his fun, but now it was time to leave. He wanted to thank Elise for the delicious meal, but he didn’t want to wait around for her to end her phone call.
“Okay, no worries, I’ll go check.” Elise surged to her feet, plucked a pen out of a drawer and grabbed the clipboard dangling from the wall. She strode through the kitchen, into the storage room, and flicked on the light. “I’ll call you back.”
Glad Elise was off the phone so he could say goodbye, Giovanni joined her in the storage room and inspected the wide, bright space. Built-in shelves lined the walls, colored containers filled with fruits, vegetables and dry good
s covered the metal racks, and the refrigerator was positioned beside the freezer. The door had a chalkboard attached to the inside and several notes were scrawled on it for Elise.
Frowning, he folded his arms across his chest. Giovanni recognized Antoine’s handwriting, and peered intently at the board. Reading the messages confirmed his suspicions and, for some strange reason, his spirits sank.
“Sorry about that. It was Antoine. He wants me to double-check the food order.”
I bet that’s not all he wants, Giovanni thought, his mind returning to the day of Elise’s audition. Antoine had stolen glances at her ass when he’d thought no one was looking. The restaurant manager definitely had feelings for Elise and Giovanni wondered if their colleagues knew about their illicit affair.
“You’re an incredible talent... Your truffles give me life!... After-work drinks at my place!” Giovanni read out loud, gesturing at the chalkboard with an index finger. What Elise did on her days off was none of his business, but his curiosity got the best of him and he asked her point-blank about her love life. “Are you dating Antoine?”
Elise stared at him with wide eyes, as if he’d just sprouted a horn in the middle of his foreheard. Leaning against a produce rack, he tried to appear casual, even though sweat drenched his shirt. Giovanni wanted to know the truth and he wasn’t leaving the restaurant until he got to the bottom of things.
“No, of course not. We’re colleagues.” Checking the labels on the fronts of the containers, Elise tapped her pen absently on the clipboard. “Besides, Antonie’s dating an adorable masseuse named Trinity, and I’d never do anything to break up their happy home.”
