The Perfect Ingredient (Dare Valley) (11 page)

From there, it had only been onward and upward. At sixteen, he’d become a busboy. At seventeen, Manny had let him make some dishes one slow Sunday afternoon, and discovering he had a knack for combining ingredients without using a recipe, gave him a job as a line cook. With Manny’s help and recommendation, Terrance had applied for a scholarship at The Culinary Institute of America.

The rest was, as they say, history.

“Back to Elizabeth’s class,” Jill said, clapping her hands to regain his attention. “Why do you want to go?”

His face was heating like a stove set to broil. Jill struck him as a romantic, so he went with the truth. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Elizabeth, and she said it was the only way she would go out with me.”

“That’s so sweet,” she said softly, pressing her hand to her heart.

“Shit.”

He drew out another hundred.

“Ah, you’re embarrassed,” she cooed like he was one of her baby twins.

That caused him to curse more fluently under his breath. He drew out a few more bills.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt your masculine pride or cost you a bundle.”

Her knowing glance said different. “Sure you did.”

She leaped off the couch and sashayed over to him like a giddy schoolgirl. If she agreed to teach him, it was going to be pure torture.

“So Elizabeth agreed to go on a date with you if you went to her dance class?” Laughter bubbled out of her mouth, a force that grew stronger until she was guffawing so hard she had to hold her stomach. “I love that girl. She makes you work for it.”

Funny, but she hadn’t before. Everything had been straight-forward and consensual.

“I bet you never have to work to get a woman to go out with you.”

He met her gaze, and his blush faded, thank God.

“Okay, I’ll help you. I just can’t resist. I’m actually a good choice. I taught Brian how to dance.”

“This has to be a secret between us,” he told her. “She can never know how I learned the moves.”

“That’s going to cost you extra,” she said, crossing her arms.

Terrance leaned against her desk. “Mac said you were a fierce negotiator. Fine. What do you want?”

Her finger rubbed her lips for exactly thirty seconds, according to the frightening monkey clock on the back desk.

“I want lunch brought to my office every day for a month. Chef’s choice. And a chocolate lava cake at four o’clock when all I want to do is take a nap.”

Talk about negotiating. “I’m only asking for a few lessons. Two weeks.”

“Done. And I want you to promise me that you won’t quit our training, no matter what.”

Now that surprised him. “What do you mean?”

Her face went all wistful and soft. “Brian hated learning how to dance at first. All he did was complain and want to give up. You have to promise you won’t, or I’ll tell everyone I know. I may even tweet about it.”

His stomach curdled at the thought.

The women in her class might tweet about it anyway. And wouldn’t that go over like a fart in church. Chef T, the badass, dancing Latin. The kids in his old neighborhood would laugh their asses off—not that he hung around that crowd anymore.

“Fine.”

“Good,” she said, bouncing up and down. “Now how do you feel about Abba?”

“
Why?
”

“Because I suggested Elizabeth use it for a new routine, and she’s thinking about it.”

Did he even want to ask which song she’d suggested for Elizabeth to include?

He was a man. He could take it.

“Which one? ‘Dancing Queen’?” Women loved that song.

Her smile was feral, the kind women used when they knew a man was about to be flayed alive for their entertainment.

“No. Too obvious. It’s ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme A Man After Midnight.’”

He was doomed.

Chapter 12

Every morning when Elizabeth woke, she couldn’t help but count down the days until her Monday dance class.

Until she would see Terrance again.

God, she needed a distraction. Thank goodness she was meeting Jane for lunch today. Now that the primary was over, her friend had more free time. She pulled on some designer jeans with a rhinestone fleur de lis on the back pocket and threw on a fitted gray cashmere sweater. The day was already in the fifties, and she was happy to leave her coat at home.

Main Street was busy with people enjoying the nice weather, and she had to park a couple of blocks from Brasserie Dare. Her black knee-length boots didn’t slide on the snowy street like they usually did, since all of the white stuff was thankfully gone.

Jane was already at the restaurant when she arrived, talking to her fellow wine connoisseur, Chef Brian McConnell. Three glasses with one-ounce pours were arranged in front of her friend, and she was sipping a fourth glass when Elizabeth joined them.

“I see he has you doing blind tastings again,” she commented as she slid into the chair. “Hi, Brian.”

“Hey, Elizabeth,” he said, shoving back some of the brown curls around his ears. “This will be the highlight of my day. I’ve never met someone who’s so good at identifying wine.”

“I should come here for lunch every day,” Jane mused, twirling the ruby red liquid around in the glass and inhaling its nose again. “Wonderful vintage. Château Destieux. Ah…2010, I would guess.”

“Incredible!” Brian cried. “If you didn’t already have a job, I would lure you into being my new sommelier.”

Jane smiled that million-dollar Audrey Hepburn smile of hers. “You’re going to hire one?”

Brian puffed out his chest. “Business is good. Real good.”

“I’m so glad,” Jane said. “You know it’s my favorite place.”

Brian made room for the server who set down water glasses with lemon, no ice, just the way they preferred it. “I’m not sure if that will change now that Chef T has taken over The Grand, but we’ll see. Right now, I’m focusing on what I can control.”

“A place like Dare can handle two gourmet restaurants, I think,” Jane said.

Brian picked up the wine glasses. “I know he’s tight with Rhett and Mac, and since he’s going to start coming to our poker nights when his schedule changes, I’m sure I’ll get to know him. Heck, we might have to start a drink night after one of our shifts, like I did with some of my buddies in New York City. There aren’t a lot of chefs in Dare, and it’s fun to talk shop with other people in the biz—even if they’re competitors.”

“That sounds like a healthy attitude,” Jane said.

“Now that Elizabeth is here, I was going to tell you about something special I had in mind for you two. I know how you love quiche.”

It had been a favorite ever since their first vacation together in France. “Tell us,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her hands together, her taste buds already watering.

“Well, I have some morel mushrooms that just came in fresh, and I wanted to add some Gruyere and finish it with black truffle oil.”

“Yes, please,” Jane said, holding up her hand. “Elizabeth?”

“Does it come with a wheel barrow? Because I’m likely to ask for a second piece.”

“How about I send you both home with whatever you don’t finish?”

“That works,” Jane said. “Thanks, Brian.”

“Absolutely. Now, I’ll serve you up your favorite appetizer to share and bring you salad with the quiche.”

“You know how we like it,” Jane said. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but you may be my favorite customers.” He winked and walked back to the kitchen.

“He really is too cute,” Elizabeth said. “Jill scored herself a prize when she married him.”

“Matt told me they’d known each other since childhood. They’ve had some rough patches, but it’s nice to see how happy they are together.” Jane downed her water in a couple of lusty swallows.

That kind of thirst only came from one thing. “So how’s the winning-the-primary sex?”

Jane waggled her eyebrows. “Pretty ridiculous.”

Her smugness had Elizabeth laughing. “You’re too much.”

“Of course, Matt was pretty upset for a while about his dad showing up at the party. His brothers and sisters were rattled too, and I’ve never seen April look so vulnerable. Uncle Arthur stood by her like a knight in shining armor. I was afraid he was going to dress down his nephew in front of everyone, but April took hold of him and sent him a silent message to keep the peace. It was hard to see them like that. Especially Danny. That kid looked like he’d lost his best friend when his grandpa barely hugged him.”

“Families, right?” Elizabeth said.

Jane nodded. “I tried to tell Matt that at least his dad came, but he wasn’t feeling too open-minded. I had to backpedal a bit. It’s hard to image how awkward it must have been for Mr. Hale. You know, he hasn’t seen April
or
his kids since the breakup. Not that I’m excusing the way he let April walk out without a word. Apparently Matt’s sisters ended up drinking all of April’s vodka. They left for Denver later than they’d planned the next day.”

Unlike the Hales, there was no soft landing in her family. Her parents sucked, and she had no siblings. “I like Matt’s sister a lot. Natalie ran interference with Terrance for me.”

“She did? That raises her to a whole new status of cool. She gets having history with a man. She and her ex, Blake, were apparently pretty volatile when things went bad between them. Speaking of volatile, what’s going on with Terrance anyway? You haven’t said much about him, and I know you…” Her finger lifted and she pointed it straight at Elizabeth. “What are you hiding?”

Their appetizers arrived before Elizabeth could answer. Brian’s decadent homemade foie gras with a golden, crispy baguette and the best cornichon pickles this side of the Atlantic. Delicious, but not enough to distract Jane, who gave her a
don’t bullshit me
look.

“Well, if you must know, Terrance asked me out, and I told him the only way that was happening was if he came to my dance class.”

Jane’s laughter burst out, causing nearby patrons to glance over. “You’re kidding! He’d never do that.”

Elizabeth spread the mixture on the sliced baguette and added a cornichon on top. “That’s what I thought, but he says he’s coming. We’ll see. He might wimp out or
storm
out once he hears my new dance music.”

An evil smile spread across her face as she told Jane about her plan. They had a laugh over it, and then she popped the bite she’d prepared into her mouth. “Seriously,” she said through a moan, “nothing that spreads like this should taste this good.”

“If Rhett was here, he would no doubt make up some dirty joke about that.”

“So would Terrance,” she said. And yes, she missed that part of him. The sexy, playful flirt.

“You still want him,” Jane said as she made up a slice of baguette with foie gras.

“Of course I do. He’s still sexy beyond words, funny, and ridiculously sweet at times. But I can’t keep things casual with him.”

Jane bit into her baguette slice. Her eyes fluttered, and she moaned too. “Brian is a genius with foie gras. Okay, give me a moment to let my brain return to normal.”

“Eat away.”

They both feasted on the appetizer, and pretty soon all that was left were crumbs. The server came and swept everything away.

“You were never casual with Terrance, Liz. I was there at The Peacock.” She folded her hands on the table. “I saw the way you looked at him. The way you acted. You’ve never done that with anyone else.”

Girlfriends always spoke the truth. “I don’t like feeling that way. Unhinged.”

“Good for you, love is,” her friend said in the worst Yoda imitation of all time.

“You’re using Star Wars now?” Elizabeth burst out laughing. “This has to be Matt’s influence.”

The waitress set their salads and quiche in front of them. They both thanked her, but neither made a move for the decadent-looking quiche.

“Liz, what I’m trying to say is that Terrance was never a jerk to you.”

She picked at her salad and dropped her fork. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Maybe you’re underestimating him…and yourself.”

Elizabeth’s hand clutched the edge of the table. Could a serious relationship between them really work? Terrance wasn’t Vince, but he did have violent streak. Plus he liked women—a lot of women—and that wouldn’t change. He might want her now, but after a while, he’d want someone new. Wouldn’t he?

“Brian’s special quiche is getting cold,” she finally said and reached for a slice, serving Jane first and then herself.

The quiche was luscious, but they didn’t eat with their normal gusto.

“What if he actually stays for your dance class and you have to go out with him?” Jane finally asked.

Her thighs clenched.

Her brain might not know what to do, but her body clearly had its own ideas.

Chapter 13

Terrance was in dance hell. Those were the only words for it.

And Jill Hale… Well, she was devious, mean, and unrelenting. He’d named her Dr. Evil after their first lesson.

“Dammit, Jill, I am not some fuc…Rockette.”

Jill picked up the notepad she had on her desk. “That’s four hundred dollars, Terrance, and we’ve only been at this for ten minutes. For crying out loud, you men are such babies. You could never give birth.”

Give birth? What man had ever envied that? “I just can’t wiggle my hips like you want, Jill. I swear.”

“Yes, you do swear. Loud and often.”

She jumped off the corner of her desk where she was sitting. Her director’s perch, as she called it. Jill had been helping him for two days during her lunch hour. So far, he was sure he’d pulled a groin muscle and possibly a butt muscle from all of the wiggling and hip thrusting she’d thrown at him.

“For a man who’s supposedly good with the ladies, I thought you’d be a master of the bump and grind.”

The bump and grind was the most embarrassing move on the planet
outside
of the bedroom, especially when Jill was playing Cher’s “Do You Believe In Love?’”

Elizabeth had upped the ante by changing her music to songs guaranteed to castrate any man.

Someone shoot him now.

“I prefer to be naked when I’m doing that move,” he said, putting his hands on his hips as he gave the motion another try.