An Uncertain Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (2 page)

My
first week at Pratt Photography was hell on wheels, as Dane had promised. He had
a huge shoot for an Easter magazine spread. It was mid-November, but in
magazine publishing, you had to be at least several months ahead of the season
to go to press. I learned a lot about my job and the studio very quickly, and
became fast friends with Dane’s food stylist, Valerie Essex. Valerie was the
woman in the kitchen the day of my interview. She was freelance, but they
referred to her as “perma-lance” because she was there almost every day,
prepping, shooting, or wrapping one job or another. Valerie was a trim twenty-something
with a bright red ponytail. She was very animated as she bounced to the music
while she worked. I watched in amazement as she tested the various colors of green
gelatin under the lights to see which one looked best as the mint jelly next to
the sliced lamb.
That’s
what she was making the day I was there. She
explained to me that real mint jelly would melt under the lights. Who knew?

The
week flew by as I watched Valerie plump the raisins and paint the icing on the
hot cross buns while Dane dappled light over dozens of pastel eggs on every
version of Easter grass you could imagine. On Friday afternoon, when the last client
was out the door, Dane cranked up the music and opened some wine. I was
exhausted. Dane and Valerie were surprisingly full of energy, considering the
workload of the past week. Dane handed each of us a glass of the crisp sauvignon
blanc and toasted us.

“Great
job, girls!” Dane said.

“I
had no idea shooting beautiful food was so involved,” I acknowledged, sipping
the cool wine and trying to relax.

“Valerie
makes my job easy,” Dane said, holding up his glass, toasting to Valerie. 
“She’s so talented at making the food look fabulous even before I get my hands
on it. We make a good team, don’t we, Val?”

“Yup.
We’ve been working together for, what, about three years now?” Valerie said,
clinking glasses with Dane. “We work totally in sync, so we make each other
look good.”

“Do
you work with any other photographers?” I asked Valerie.

“I
used to, back when Dane and I first started working together, but now it would
be like
cheating
on him if I worked with anyone else,” Valerie said,
joking with Dane. “I just couldn’t do it.”

Dane
got up and hugged Valerie on his way to refill our glasses.

“You
two are so cute together,” I said, teasing them.

Dane
raised an eyebrow and waived his finger at me. ”Don’t even breathe those words
around Steve.” Steve was Dane's boyfriend. “He gets seriously jealous. He might
think I jumped ship and started liking women.” We all laughed.

“What’s
everybody doing for Thanksgiving?” Valerie asked.

I
was silent, not knowing what to say. It took everything I had not to cry just
thinking about it. My family was supposed to be having a reunion, but since
Emily was dead, I could hardly show up for that.

“Steve
and I are going to his brother’s for the holiday,” Dane said. “I think his
parents may come for dinner on Thanksgiving, but they can’t deal with the fact
that he’s gay. They don’t particularly like me, either, so who knows if they’ll
show up.”

“How
could they not like
you?”
Valerie said in disbelief. “What about you,
Bridget?”

I
got up and started cleaning dishes from the shoot. I couldn’t look at them
while I lied through my teeth. “My family is all over the place this year.
Everyone has their own agenda, so we’re each going to do our own thing. I just haven’t
made any plans yet.”

“My
parents are in Ohio,” Valerie said. “I never make that trip for Thanksgiving. Maybe
we could hang out together over the weekend? I don’t mind cooking if you don’t
mind cleaning up.”

“That
would be awesome!” I said, feeling relieved I didn’t have to go through the
holiday alone. It actually sounded like fun.

Dane
spent the Monday before Thanksgiving getting me more oriented with the studio
and going through the Easter shots to determine which ones I should clean-up
for the magazine. Those would keep me busy for at least a couple days so Dane and
Steve could take off Tuesday for the holiday. Valerie took advantage of her
extended holiday weekend and did the food shopping for our Thanksgiving
celebration. When I finally called it quits for the week on Wednesday
afternoon, Valerie had the plans for the weekend well mapped out. We spent a
good bit of time together, cooking, drinking lots of wine, and watching old
movies. Life was beginning to feel almost normal again. By Sunday I was getting
restless, though, ready to get back to work.

When
I arrived at the studio Monday morning, there was an e-mail from Adele
Westbrook. Adele was the culinary director for the renowned chef Sergio Ramirez.
He’d been the dynamic crowd favorite and front runner on
Top Chef
a
couple of seasons ago, but he had dropped out of the competition when his wife
died suddenly. It was understandable that he left, but it would have been a
total game-changer for him if he had won.

Adele’s
e-mail said Sergio wanted to meet with Dane to talk about shooting the food for
his new book. I was
so
excited; I could hardly wait to tell Dane. The moment
he walked in the door, I practically accosted him with the news.

“Hey,
Dane! Sergio Ramirez wants to talk to you about the photography for his new
book. Isn’t that amazing!?”

“Hum,
really?” Dane said, with way less enthusiasm than I’d expected.

“What’s
wrong? Do you have a problem with Sergio?”

“Well,
I contacted his culinary director right after he was named one of the ‘Top Ten
New Chefs’ by
Food & Wine
Magazine
about five years ago. I
was just getting started out on my own and offered to take some shots for him for
free. I thought it would help him out and would make me more legit to show work
I had done for the hot, up-and-coming Sergio Ramirez. Nothing,” he said, waving
his hands in the air and shaking his head.

“Are
you sure he got your message?”

“A
secretary of his at the time sent me a note saying they would get back to me,
but I never heard another peep. I suspect I wasn’t a big enough fish.
Now
he’s interested, now that I’ve won some awards for my work. Well, it’s going to
cost him, big time.”

**

The
meeting with Sergio and Adele was set for the following week. Valerie and I cleaned
up the studio, and dressed it up with half a dozen impressive poster-size shots
from some of Dane’s best work. Valerie was polishing the food-styling kitchen, while
I researched any backstory I could dig up about Sergio.

“Wow,
did you know Sergio’s wife died from anaphylactic shock from a nut allergy?” I
asked Valerie.

“I
know. I have the same allergy, which is why it stuck in my mind. It had to be a
freak accident. Everyone I know who has it always carries an Epipyn. And when
you go out to eat, you
always
tell the servers about your allergy. They
take it very seriously. I don’t think they ever figured out exactly what happened
with Sergio’s wife. Sergio seems to be doing better now, though, with the new
book and all.”

“Yeah,
there are a number of articles here about his restaurant, Buena Comida. The
menu sounds awesome.”

 “That
place has certainly put him back in the spotlight. And he’s such a
hottie
I bet he won’t stay single long,” Valerie commented.

“Do
you know anything about his culinary director, Adele? Looks like she’s in that
association of culinary professionals you belong to.”

“Yeah,
I’ve met her at the convention and talked with her a couple of times. She’s all
business. She takes the work very seriously and doesn’t seem to have much of a
sense of humor.”

“Great!”
I was being facetious. “I guess we’ll just have to see if there’s any chemistry
between Sergio and Dane tomorrow. I hate that Dane has such negative feelings
about the whole thing.”

“He’ll
rally and be totally charismatic. That’s what Dane does best,” Valerie said. “You’ll
never know he had one bad thought about Sergio.”

“This
is going to be interesting,” I said skeptically.

Sergio
and Adele arrived a few minutes after our scheduled meeting time of 9:30. The aroma
of fresh-brewed coffee filled the studio, and the kitchen counter was covered with
colorful fruits and pastries. Valerie was on hand, too. If Dane got the photography
gig, Valerie would be the stylist. We were all psyched about it.

Sergio
glided into the studio with an elegant stride and captivating presence. He was
tall, obviously fit, and strikingly handsome. He greeted Dane warmly. His voice
was deep and sultry, with a distinct Latin accent.

“Mr.
Pratt, it is such a delight to meet you. I’ve admired your work for some time.
This is my culinary director, Adele Westbrook.” Adele was painfully serious. She
had the body of a swimmer: thin, but with broad shoulders. She nodded as she
pushed her horn-rimmed glasses back in place and held out her hand to shake
Dane’s in an obligatory fashion. Her entire persona was stiff, with her hair tightly
tied up into a meticulous bun – not one hair out of place.

“Thank
you, Mr. Ramirez. I’m honored to meet you and Ms. Westbrook. And please, call
me Dane.”

“Call
me Sergio. And who are these lovely ladies?” he asked, turning to Valerie and
me.

“This
is my studio manager, Bridget Stone, and my food stylist, Valerie Essex.” Adele
nodded at each of us but skipped the formality of handshakes. Sergio held out
his hand, but rather than shake, he held my hand in both of his. His touch was
firm but tender. A shiver went up my spine.

“It’s
nice to meet both of you,” he said, glancing at Valerie but holding my gaze for
a long moment.

“It’s
great to meet you, Sergio,” I said, my face flushing from his stare. “I’ve been
a fan for a long time.”

“Why,
thank you,” he said softly nodding at me. He turned and shook Valerie’s hand in
the usual manner. I took a deep breath trying to regain my composure.

“Why
don’t we sit down over here and talk?” Dane asked, leading Sergio and Adele to
the farm table. A thin railing along the back wall propped up the large images
of Dane’s work, creating the illusion that they were floating there.

Sergio
paused to admire them. “Dane, I think I owe you an apology,” he said, still
staring at the photos.

“Oh?”
Dane inquired.

“I
know you contacted me a long time ago and offered to take some photos for me. Things
in my life were a blur back then - everything was happening so fast. When
Food
& Wine
named me one of its ‘Top Ten New Chefs,’ my whole world changed.
Too many things fell through the cracks, and I’m afraid your offer at the time
was one of them. That was before I had Adele to help me. I hope you won’t hold
it against me,” he said, turning to Dane with a warm smile.

“Of
course not, Sergio. You’re a busy man and were then, too. I chalked it up to
the fact that I was nobody, and you’re a rock star. You certainly didn’t need
my help.”

Sergio
looked at me, his charismatic smile broadening ever so slightly, and said, “I do
hope we’ll have a chance to work together.”

Everyone
helped themselves to breakfast, and we got down to business. “This book is a
departure for me,” Sergio began. “The last couple of books covered the rustic,
traditional Latin dishes that we serve at Familia Cucina and Café de la
Esquina. This book is a collection of more upscale, elegant recipes in line
with the food we serve at Buena Comida. Many people have said they want to be
able to cook the more elegant dishes at home, so that’s where we started.”

Adele
chimed in. “This book has been almost two years in the making, and I think
we’ve nailed it. The recipes have been totally fine-tuned for the home cook and
are spectacular. The photography has to reflect that,” she said without even a
hint of a smile. Valerie was right; Adele was all business. She was obviously a
driving force in getting this book done and was not going to settle for
anything but epic photography.

Dane
watched her and listened attentively. When she finished, he headed for the library,
pulled three volumes from the shelves that contained photos he had shot, and returned
to the table. “I think these books are very much in line with what you’re
talking about.” He spread them out opening each one to a photo that embodied his
talent and passion for the work. Dane had won James Beard awards for his
photography on two of the three, and the third had been nominated. Sergio was obviously
impressed, but Adele nodded with far less interest.

“I
particularly admired the art direction for this book,” Sergio said, picking up an
Italian cookbook that had actually won multiple awards.

“Valerie
and I were very pleased with how they positioned our work, too,” Dane said.
Valerie beamed as Dane clearly credited her as his partner in creating the
beautiful work. Adele seemed almost annoyed at this remark.

We
talked about food and food philosophy for almost an hour, and then Dane started
driving the conversation to wrap up the meeting. “Why don’t you let Bridget and
me put a proposal together for you? We can get it to you by the end of the week.”

“That
would be fantastic!” Sergio said, in his elegant Latin accent. He and Adele
nodded in agreement and stood up to say their good-byes. Adele was out the door
quickly, but Sergio took my hand in both of his as he had earlier and stared
deeply into my eyes, his riveting gaze drawing me in.

“I
look forward to hearing from you at the end of the week, Bridget,” he said warmly.
I recognized a flutter in my stomach that I had not felt in a while.

“Thank
you, Sergio. We‘ll be in touch,” I squeezed out while trying not to collapse as
my knees went weak.

The
moment he was gone, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Dane seemed pleased with
how things had gone. We all sat down at the breakfast bar to recap.

“Do
you believe he remembered that I had offered to shoot for him way back?” Dane
said incredulously.

“You
nailed it when you pulled out your books to show them you’re in sync with their
ideas,” I said, high-fiving him.

“That
was very cool,” Valerie added. “So, did he ask you out, Bridget?”

Her
question caught me completely off guard. “What? No! Why would you even think
that?”

“Well,
from where I was standing, he sure looked enchanted with you,” she said sarcastically.

“I’m
sure he was just being polite,” I said, trying to slough off that I was totally
aware he’d paid extra attention to me, and I was diggin’ it.

“Okay,
whatever you say.” She wasn’t buying a word of it.

“Enough
chit-chat, girls,” Dane chirped. “We’ve got a proposal to write.”

**

Dane
and I spent the next three days taking turns writing, editing, and crafting a
proposal to position him as the perfect photographer for this book. Dane sifted
through hundreds of photos that he felt were in the same vein as what Sergio
and Adele had described. He wanted to present five killer shots to seal the
deal. While he made another pass at editing the text, I touched up the photos.
Dane was so talented, they didn’t need much, but a little Photoshop work took
them to the next level. Dane was ideal for the project, but selfishly, I knew I
was going to do whatever it took to land this contract so I could spend time
with the infamous Sergio Ramirez. His captivating brown eyes had etched a path
to my soul that I couldn’t ignore.

Friday
morning, Dane and I combed through the proposal one last time. We were about to
create a PDF and e-mail it to Sergio and Adele when it occurred to me, “Why don’t
we print this out, and I’ll take it to them?” I asked. “We don’t know how they’ll
try to review it, and if they have a crappy monitor or, God forbid, try to look
at it on their phones, it won’t have as much impact. It’s too important that they
understand what you’ll bring to the table…no pun intended.”

He
thought about it for a minute and said, “You’re right. We can put the whole
thing together in one of our signature photo boxes. It’ll be awesome!” He jumped
up and started putting the package together.

“I’ll
e-mail them to see if I can take it over there today.”

Hello,
Sergio and Adele,

We
have completed our proposal and I would like to deliver it to you in person.
Would you have time this afternoon for me to drop by your office and walk you
through it?

Kind
regards,

Bridget
Stone

Studio
Manager

Pratt
Photography

503-555-2345

An
“out of office” reply from Adele instantly popped up in my e-mail. Crap. That
probably meant I would have to wait until she was back to present the proposal
to them. The office phone rang.

“Pratt
Photography, this is Bridget.”

“Bridget,
it’s Sergio,” he said with a smile in his voice.”

“Hi,
Sergio. I just sent you an e-mail and --”

”Yes,
that’s why I am calling. I’m so excited to see what you’ve put together. Can
you come by Buena Comida around four? We’ll be in between shifts, and I can
spend a little time with you.”

My
heart skipped a beat. Of course I could go to Buena Comida, and I wanted nothing
more than to spend time with him. But had he forgotten Adele wouldn’t be there?
“I got an ‘out of the office’ e-mail from Adele. Don’t you want her to be part
of that conversation?” I asked, holding my breath, hoping he would say it
wasn’t necessary.

“She’s
gone until Tuesday. I don’t want to wait that long to hear what Dane is
thinking. I’ll fill her in when she gets back.”

“Four
o’clock it is. See you then,” I said, with probably way too much excitement.

Dane
was thrilled that I was presenting to Sergio without Adele there. “I know she
carries a lot of weight with Sergio and is his right-hand girl, but I just
don’t get a good vibe from her,” Dane confessed. “I think Sergio gets me. I’m
not sure she does.”

“I
know what you mean. She’s just so serious and by the book. You need room to let
your creative juices flow without too many ‘rules,’” I said, miming the
quotation marks around the word “rules.”

“That’s
exactly it! I’m so glad you can see that, and I’m so glad you’re here,” he said,
hugging me.

“I’m
very glad to be here, Dane. More than you can imagine.”

**

I
stopped at home to freshen up, trying to stay focused on the presentation. Even
though it was a business meeting, there was no harm in dressing up a bit. I had
a brown suede skirt that was the same color as Sergio’s alluring eyes. Those
eyes. I longed to capture his gaze again, so I strategically selected a green cashmere
sweater that I knew accentuated my green eyes. I had to remind myself,
this isn’t
a date.
But it was hard not to be excited about seeing Sergio, regardless
of why we were meeting.
Refreshing my lipstick, I thought about his soft
lips and how tender he was as he held my hand to say good-bye the other day.
Stop
it!
This was the first time since I was torn from Adam Comstock’s arms to
enter witness protection that I’d even glanced at another man. I missed Adam
desperately, but it was painfully obvious when I left New York that I would
never see him again. This was my new life and I might as well embrace it.

I
arrived at Buena Comida at the strike of four. The door to the restaurant was
locked and the hours on the door indicated they would reopen at six. I peered
through the glass and saw a bartender restocking the shelves. I knocked, and he
came to unlock the door.

“Ma’am,
we’re closed until six o’clock.”

Before
I could explain, Sergio came around the corner from the kitchen. “Bridget! Joseph,
I have an appointment with this lovely lady,” he said, urging the bartender to
let me in.

“My
apologies, ma’am,” Joseph said, stepping aside.

“No
problem,” I said as he nodded and headed back to the bar.

“Let’s
go over here where we can spread out.” Sergio led the way to a circular booth that
could easily hold six. He held out his hand, inviting me to slide in. He worked
his way in behind me until he was right next to me - closer than he needed to be,
but I wasn’t going to complain. He called to Joseph to bring over a bottle of
Prosecco. “Will you join me in a sip of wine?” he asked. His eyes were
mesmerizing.

“I
suppose that would be okay,” I said, trying to keep somewhat of a business
protocol.

Joseph
arrived with the Prosecco in an ice bucket and two champagne glasses. He put
the bucket near Sergio’s side of the table, poured the wine, and replaced the
bottle in the ice.

“Thanks,
Joseph. I think we’re set.” Sergio nodded, dismissing him. Joseph nodded in
return and disappeared.

Sergio’s
eyes lit up when he opened the photo box and saw the stunning images Dane and I
had meticulously prepared to go along with the proposal. Every detail for
Sergio’s book was considered. He let me talk for almost forty minutes walking
him through the proposal, stopping me only once with a question. I realized as
I was wrapping up my pitch that we had been alone since Joseph left us.