The Perfect Ingredient (Dare Valley) (24 page)

That sounded like Jill, so he laughed. “Absolutely. She’s quite a pistol.”

“Indeed. I’m a lucky man. Hey, Elizabeth. Good to see you.”

“Hi, Brian,” she said, tracing the condensation on her glass.

“I see the dance challenge had a happy ending,” Chef Brian said. “Good for you two. Now, let’s get down to business. Are you up for a private tasting?”

Was there any other kind when he went to a restaurant for the first time? Chefs always rolled out the red carpet. “Of course. What do you have in mind?”

“I was tempted to go Latin since you seem to like that sort of thing, but this is a French establishment.”

Terrance laughed. Okay, now that Dr. Evil’s lessons were behind him, he was starting to see the humor in the whole dance drama. “What were you planning? Turning on salsa music and having your server jimmy an aspic so it looks like it’s shaking its hips?”

Brian chuckled, and a few customers leaned forward in their seats, straining to hear their conversation. Everyone had pretty much been staring at them since they’d arrived, taking discreet photos too.

“Does an aspic jimmy? I might have to try that one out. No, I thought we could go for something else. How about we start you off with a charcuterie plate of some artisanal cheeses, meats, and my house-made venison pate?”

“Sounds excellent,” Terrance replied. “I’m developing a new appreciation for venison.”

“And since Elizabeth likes soufflés,” Brian said, winking at her, “I made one with goat cheese. I also have seared beef tenderloin with a divine cognac peppercorn cream sauce, followed by a traditional walnut oil salad from the Périgord region.”

Terrance was liking this more and more by the minute. The man knew his regional French cooking, something he appreciated.

“And for dessert?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, I know you and Jane love your desserts. I made a clafoutis with wild cherries, which I flambé with an aged French brandy.”

“I like the variation,” Terrance told him. “Thanks for putting this together.”

They were going to be waddling out of here from the sounds of it, but he’d known better than to expect a rising chef would serve him a croque-monsieur sandwich and French fries and be done with it.

“It’s my pleasure. Jill is really happy to be working with you. When the twins start sleeping more than two hours at a time, we want to have you guys and Mac and Peggy over for dinner.”

You guys.
He glanced at Elizabeth. The look in her eyes told him that she knew what he was thinking. Holding hands. Going to dinner parties together.

They were a couple, and while it was still new for them both, it felt
right
.

“What’s your perfect ingredient?” he asked Brian, enjoying the shop talk. “The one you know you’ll have in your pantry as long as you can cook because it settles down everything inside you.”

“I know it’s not very inventive, but it’s herbs de Provence. When I receive my shipment from Paris and open the bottle, I just…it’s like I’m there. Home. You know?”

When he was a punk kid working as a dishwasher and busboy in his first restaurant, Terrance had thought it unmanly the way the male chefs in the restaurant waxed poetic about spices and other ingredients. What self-respecting alpha male did that?

But over time, something had changed within Terrance. The making of each new dish had unleashed new aspects of him until he had a sacred appreciation for cooking and all it encompassed. Passion. Sustenance. Community. Pleasure. Beauty.

He’d succeeded in his craft because he believed in the magic and artistry of cooking. It sounded like Brian was a kindred spirit…even if he was married to Dr. Evil.

“Yes, I know.”

“What’s yours?” Brian asked him.

“Haven’t found it yet, but I’m still looking.”

With a clap on Terrance’s back, Brian gestured to the server who’d just emerged from the kitchen door. “It’s a great adventure. How about we bring out the first course?”

Terrance settled back into his chair. “We’re looking forward to it.”

When the venison pate arrived, Terrance spread a thin layer on a slice of the perfectly crisp baguette that was still warm in his hand. When it hit his tongue, he tasted game, spice, and a little cognac.

“Delicious. You should try it.”

Elizabeth only buttered a slice of baguette. “I don’t eat Bambi.”

“Ah, come on. It’s remarkable.” He prepared a slice and nudged it toward her. “You didn’t think you’d like snails either.”

How he’d always delighted in exposing her to new dishes, new tastes.

“It’s the garlic and butter. Otherwise, they’re still snails.” But she took a bite of the pate and shrugged. “Not my favorite.”

“Okay.” He could respect that. Not everyone had the same tastes. “You’ll have to excuse me then for eating it all.”

“Eat away,” she told him, and because her voice had turned sultry, reminding him of how hot and wet and tight she’d been making love with him in the sunshine, he slid his leg forward and caressed her calf.

She licked her upper lip and played with the top button on her blouse. Yeah, she’d always been able to give as good as she got when it came to this type of foreplay. He slid his leg away. Everyone was still watching them, although they’d resumed eating, and he didn’t need that kind of moment captured on Twitter. After all, he was supposed to be acting like a good boy for Lane.

As the meal progressed, Terrance’s admiration for Brian’s talent only grew. The man had a way of bringing together typical French ingredients with his own personal flair. Every dish stayed with him after he finished eating it—the hallmark of a great chef.

When Chef Brian returned at the end of the meal, as they were finishing the cafloutis, Terrance said, “Are you sure you won’t consider working with me at The Grand? I could use a chef like you to handle the day-to-day.”

Brian’s mouth might have parted a little in shock, but he quickly recovered. “Thanks, Chef T. Coming from you, that’s a real honor, but I love running my own house even though working with you would be an incredible opportunity. I look forward to seeing your new menu at The Grand.”

“You’re welcome to come by as my guest any time. You can even bring my former dance instructor.”

Chef Brian shook his hand. “She’d love that. Thankfully, we have lots of babysitting help, so we might be able to make it.”

“Thank you for a wonderful meal,” Terrance told him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up with a Michelin star here.” And he meant it. He would even tweet about Brasserie Dare later to boost reservations. It wouldn’t hurt his own list at The Grand. He’d never believed in cutthroat competition.

The chef’s chest puffed out like a rooster. “That’s what I’m working toward. Be nice to have one grace my house. It was good to see you again, Elizabeth. Tell Jane and Rhett ‘hi’ when you see them next.” Again, he nodded to a server, who came forward with a white paper bag. He handed it to Elizabeth. “Since you and Jane like my croissants so much, these are on the house. A couple of chocolate and plain ones for you to enjoy.”

She stood and kissed his cheek. “That’s so sweet. Of course, I won’t be hungry until tomorrow after all of that incredible food.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ll see you both out.”

After they said their goodbyes, Terrance walked to the sidewalk with Elizabeth. The sunshine was still pouring down on them, and all he wanted to do was go back to her place and make love some more. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Go,” she said, reading his mind. “You have a job and so do I. We can pick up where we left off later.”

He leaned in to kiss her. “I’ll text you when I’m heading out to your place.”

“How about I meet you at yours?” she asked. “Just to mix it up.”

Music to his ears. He thought about it for a second—only a second—and dug into his pocket. Fishing out the extra key to his house that he’d been carrying in anticipation of the right moment, he held it out.

“This is yours. Come whenever you’d like. Bring some things over.”

They both knew it was a big step, but it wasn’t like their relationship was brand-new. Her eyes seemed to zero in on the key.

He held his breath, suddenly nervous. Was it too soon for her?

“Okay,” she finally said and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

No key in return. Well, there was still time. At some point, she would trust him enough to give him one. He was counting on it.

As she walked away, she looked back, her blue eyes twinkling. “Maybe I’ll cook you macaroni and cheese. From the box.”

He knew he was grinning like a fool, but he was powerless to help it. “If you do, you’d better run for your life. I don’t do ‘box’ anything.”

“Snob,” she called and then disappeared from view.

He was parked in the opposite direction, so he took off at a brisk pace. Checking his watch, he winced. It was three o’clock.

“Shit.”

Great. He’d cursed. For a while there, he’d thought he would make it through the day without having to fish out a Ben Franklin.

When he reached his car, he drove down the side street to intersect with Main Street. Turning right, he spotted Elizabeth standing on the sidewalk, her face pale and stricken, talking to a man he didn’t recognize.

He slowed his car. When the man’s hand reached for her arm, she tried to pull away. He didn’t let go of her, caging her in as he kept talking. Terrance’s hands gripped the steering wheel. She was afraid of this guy. He could tell from the look on her face—the same look that had been there the night he came to her house and saw the baseball bat by the door.

Slamming to a halt in the street, he popped his hazards on and ran toward them.

“Hey!” he shouted at the guy. “Get your hands off her.”

There were a few people on the street, and a woman gasped. The man’s head jerked around, and he froze in place.

“I was just trying to talk to her,” he told Terrance when he reached them.

Elizabeth was trembling as she edged away from the man. Terrance pulled her close. Her skin was like ice.

“Are you okay? Is he bothering you?”

“He’s…” She took a breath and shook herself. “It’s okay. I’m handling it.”

Clearly she wasn’t. He turned back to the man.

“Leave her the fuck alone.” He was too keyed up to care about cursing. Every protective instinct in him was raging.

“I was just talking to her,” the guy said again, and Terrance even hated his voice.

“Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you, so you’d better leave her the fuck alone.”

He didn’t have to flex his fists. As a kid, he’d known that his voice could be as intimidating as his body, and he’d learned to use both. The image of the other guy who’d laid hands on Elizabeth came to mind. Terrance forced himself to relax, knowing how much his violence scared her.

He could control this situation. He had to. For the sake of everything they were becoming.

The man took a few steps back and bumped into a lamppost. “I was just trying to see her again. We went out.”

She’d dated this loser? “Well, she doesn’t want to go out with you anymore. She’s with me now, so leave her alone, or you’ll answer to me.”

He could say it. He didn’t have to follow through.

The guy nodded and back peddled a few more steps before turning and running down the street.

Terrance turned to Elizabeth and cupped her shoulder, rubbing the muscles there to bring her gaze to him. “Are you okay? Talk to me, babe.”

Her body was still shivering with fear, and her blue eyes were troubled. “You shouldn’t have done that…I was handling it…I need to go.”

He hadn’t even hit the guy, and she was still running?

She was halfway down the street by the time he caught up to her. “Elizabeth, I didn’t hurt that guy even though I wanted to. Badly. Come on, babe, let’s go talk. I can drive you home.”

He would leave the dinner prep and any other business that came up to Jeremy tonight. She was too important to him to do otherwise.

She shook her head, making him want to grind his teeth. “No. I need…some time by myself. To think. Go to work, Terrance.”

Then she took off, leaving him on the street as people wandered past him, whispering feverishly.

“Dammit!” he said under his breath.

Helpless, he stood there another minute, letting his blood cool. He was raring for a fight, but he’d restrained himself this time. He wasn’t the pissed off street fighter he used to be, cruising the Big Apple, ready to use his mouth and fists to trample his way through life.

Terrance had curbed his impulse to beat the shit out of the guy who was bothering her. He had tried a different tack, but it hadn’t mattered. Elizabeth was still scared of him.

He lowered his head, his heart heavy.

She hadn’t told him about this asshole bothering her. That hurt. Just when he thought they were getting so close. Well, if anyone would know about this guy, Jane definitely would. Keeping Elizabeth safe was too important to put this matter to rest without any follow-up.

Even if she didn’t like his tactics.

Chapter 27

After checking on the dinner prep, Terrance discovered his sous chef had everything running smoothly. Telling his staff he would be back by six, he ventured out again.

When he pulled into Jane’s driveway, she was playing in her yard with the three dogs Elizabeth had told him comprised her new canine family post-Raven. Annie, her Chinese Crested, was dressed up in a pink doggie T-shirt, which made Terrance grimace. Why did people dress up their pets? He just didn’t get it. While the golden Labrador, Henry, took off running for the car, the older chocolate lab, Rufus, stayed where he was, next to his owner like Mr. Chill himself.

As he got out of the car, Jane shielded her eyes and called out, “Terrance? Is everything okay?”

Yeah, she’d know he was supposed to be at The Grand.

“I need to talk to you about Elizabeth,” he said as his feet ate up the distance between them, Henry jogging by his side. “There was a guy harassing her on the street today, and it sounded like it’s happened before. She’s upset, and I don’t freaking know what to do for her right now.”