Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Honorine,” he called.
A tall, thirtysomething woman approached them, a chef’s hat perched on her blond curls, her name stenciled above her jacket pocket, a speck of yellow the only thing marring the pristine white.
Ransom took Ava’s arm. “Ava Harrington, I’d like you to meet Honorine Aubert,” he said with a French flourish. “Honorine is head chef here.”
Having talked about women in a man’s world, Ava was pleased to see he had a female chef in his highly prized San Francisco restaurant. “Nice to meet you,” she said, and the woman returned the greeting in slightly accented but perfect English.
Then he explained to Honorine, “I’ve agreed to cater Ava’s Bay Area retirement homes for the next few months.”
The next few months. All right, he certainly wasn’t thinking long term. But she’d already known that, and she’d guarded herself.
“That’s something new for us,” Honorine said, the furrow above her brow showing her consternation. Us. Ransom made all his people part of his team.
“It won’t change anything we do at any of the restaurants. But Ava was in great need, and I wanted to help out.” There was that smile, the one that turned her inside out and made anyone within its beam eager to do his bidding. “I want to make her one of the recipes on the menu I’ve created. Do you have sand dabs? And lemons?”
Honorine puffed out a breath. “Of course. It’s one of the regular dishes on our menu?” She made it a question, as if she thought Ransom might need the reminder.
Sand dabs in butter and lemon sauce. It was one of her favorites. And Ransom had made the dish a regular on his restaurant’s menu. It couldn’t mean anything. Lots of restaurants served sand dabs.
Ransom beamed that brilliant smile at her again, then put a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell Ava that,” he said, the joke in his tone. “I want her to think it was something special just for her.”
Honorine zipped her lips. “Of course. I’ve never heard of sand dabs. Is that some kind of fish?”
They all had a chuckle.
Of course he hadn’t created her new menus from scratch, but he had offered her favorite. And now that she thought about it, he’d included other favorites. Stir fries they’d made together, curry dishes, although with less spice to fit her residents’ palates.
Honorine flicked her fingers and sent her helpers scurrying for the ingredients Ransom asked for.
When he stood at the long stainless-steel counter, she waved her people over. “Venez, watch a virtuoso at work.”
As he prepared the meal, Ransom talked about his plans for the catering. When the sous-chef piped up with a suggestion, he listened and asked for more. He even listened to the woman who’d been whipping cream. No one was too lowly to provide a good suggestion.
Watching him now reminded Ava how much she’d loved being part of his cooking team.
When Ransom sprinkled a red spice into the sauce, Honorine made a noise. “We don’t put cayenne in our lemon butter sauce.”
Ransom laughed. “Let’s see how it tastes. Maybe we should try it.” He looked at Ava. “I know Ava likes it spicy.” And he winked.
Okay, that was definitely a sexual innuendo. She didn’t react, at least not on the outside. But a shiver ran through her as she remembered all the spice he’d added to her bed, to her life.
Honorine smiled thoughtfully as Ransom said, “Not that I’d add an overabundance of cayenne for your menus, Ava. Promise.”
He’d seen her in her environment. And now she saw him in his, the sous-chef and all of Honorine’s people watching with rapt attention. Even Honorine took note of everything he did. They respected him. They even expected that he would listen to them.
This was how he’d built his cooking empire, not by kowtowing to the rich, but by listening to and appreciating all the people who worked for him. The way she did.
Her estimation of the man he’d become grew a bit more.
* * *
Ransom examined the sand dabs, the egg batter in which he’d soaked them crisping lightly around the edges. “They’re perfect.”
He didn’t need to hear the murmuring assent from his audience. Plating the sand dabs, he drenched them in the spicy lemon butter sauce, leaving just enough to pour over the asparagus spears poaching in another pan.
He’d always loved cooking for Ava, especially her favorite foods. He’d loved cooking with her as well. And now he loved having her in his restaurant.
Leading her into the dining room, he pulled out a chair for her at the window table. Though it wasn’t dark yet, Jacob, the busboy, had lit two candles and added one rose in a bud vase, its perfume rising in the air between them.
Once they were seated, Honorine brought out the plated sand dabs, steam still rising off them. They would be perfection.