The Winemaker's Dinner: Dessert (The Winemaker's Feast) (2 page)

Ivan cleared his throat and closed his eyes, blocking out the tempting scene on the bed before him. “I would love to, but I have to get up early tomorrow. I have patients to see.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” one of them moaned through building ecstasy. “You work on the weekend?”

Ivan knew it didn’t matter what tale he told. So he’d been caught in a careless and quick lie. So what? Indifferent to the girls’ feelings or the web of lies he was spinning, he bent over to pull on his pants and shirt. “Yeah, concierge medicine,” he finally said. “I work when I have to.”

“That’s too bad,” Ms. Freshly-Fucked moaned, continuing to bring her friend to climax.

It occurred to him that she seemed rather indifferent about whether he stayed and participated, left, or just stood beside the bed and took in the show.

Quickening her pace, she looked up at him, momentarily taking her attention away from the body writhing beneath her. “Lock the door on your way out, will you?”

“Have fun, ladies.” Ivan chuckled and felt his dick twitch, asking him one last time if he was serious about leaving. He scolded himself for falling prey to the weakness within him, but he had nowhere to turn but an endless string of warm bodies that kept him sated for thirty minutes a night. This heaven was his hell.

He slipped his shoes on and paused to say a final goodbye, but what was the point? They’d already dismissed him and were on about their business of fucking each other. He breathed out a soft laugh and headed for the door, sport jacket in hand. Rather than mentally high fiving such a sexual conquest, Ivan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing some unknown injustice to himself and a relationship that no longer existed.

As the door creaked open and he stepped into the hallway, the sounds of a white-hot female orgasm echoed after him, taunting him. But what was left of his conscience urged him toward the elevators. After pressing the call button, he ran his hand along the scruff of a beard on his jaw, trying to block out the images of the black-haired, green-eyed goddess that haunted him before, during, and after each and every deviant encounter.

The elevator arrived, and he quickly stepped in. A feeling of familiar numbness washed over him as the doors slid shut, leaving him alone with his thoughts in a small metal box. The images that raced through his mind chased away all lingering effects of his sexual fix, and he knew it would soon be forgotten, just as he’d forgotten all the others. The elevator descended and so did Ivan, once again plunged into his own personal hell.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, shaking his head and trying to clear it of all thought. The doors of the elevator opened, and forcing one foot in front of the other, Ivan strolled out through the lobby and into the night—alone and still searching for that place he was before.

Chapter 2

“Time to Move On”

“S
O
, D
O
Y
OU
H
AVE
A
NY
big plans for the next few months?” Kevin peered at Jaden across his oversized desk.

This was their final wrap-up meeting of the season. They’d had strategy sessions and critiques already, so this one was really just a formality—and a formality Jaden was wondering why she had to bother with. It was her last remaining obstacle before she and the rest of the
One Hot Kitchen
crew would be released on a two-month hiatus, and she wouldn’t see Kevin until shooting for the next season commenced. Jaden smoothed her hands over the thin cotton fabric of her green sundress, forced her lips into a smile, and looked at him with as much enthusiasm as she could gather. Though her eyes were the same emerald green they’d always been, she now saw things so differently than when she’d first arrived in L.A. and sat in this exact spot, talking to the same man. No matter how hard she tried, there was no way she could be that stars-in-her-eyes-excited girl Kevin had welcomed more than a year ago.
A whole year. Has it really been that long?

“I’m planning on heading back to Miami for a while. I’ll visit friends and unplug for a bit.” Even as the words rolled out of her mouth, a stab of pain flashed through her mind at the thought of crossing paths with the man she’d singlehandedly broken. Images of Ivan’s face the last time she saw him filled her head and replayed in slow motion. It was a face filled with sorrow, confusion, and complete disappointment.

Kevin looked at her for a moment, almost as if he sympathized with her situation. But he’d been careful to keep their relationship strictly professional lately, and in an instant it was back to business as usual for the head of the network. “That sounds great,” he said cheerily. “A little sun and fun will have you looking good as new. Plus, it’ll give you time to prepare for next season. Miami has some great food and wine festivals, so I’ll be sure to set up some appearances for you, maybe even a hosting job or two. You need to maximize your time as much as you can during the off-season and come back here ready to go at it. You’ve got some big shoes to fill now that you’re flying solo again.”

Big shoes? Looking as good as new? Ugh.
Clearly Kevin had different feelings about Damian Gris’s departure—and perhaps about her—than she did.
I’m the one that made this show, and I’m the reason there’s still a show to come back to! The fucking nerve of him.
He seemed to have rewritten history and no longer remembered the train wreck the show had been by the end of the season. Whatever on-camera chemistry she and Damian had managed to fake for a while had pretty much unraveled after she punched him. And though she’d been careful to be nothing but cordial and professional on the set, Damian had refused to play ball. A show just doesn’t work when one host doesn’t really know much about cooking and is focused only on sabotaging the other.

Kevin was lucky she was coming back at all.
One Hot Kitchen
just wasn’t that much fun anymore, and it had cost her more than she could ever afford. It did amuse her a little that Kevin’s solution to the problem had been giving Damian his own show,
What A Man Wants
. She was thankful not to have to deal with that son of a bitch messing around in her kitchen any more, but he was still associated with the network, and now they’d be competing for time slots. But there was no point in saying any of this right now, so she just sighed.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to some time off to clear my head,” Jaden said. “But I’m sure if you wanted to plan an appearance or two for me while I’m in Miami it would be beneficial for the show.”
Just don’t get too carried away
, she added silently.
I really do need a break.

“I just want you to be on your game next season. I anticipate that we’ll surpass last season’s numbers, and who better to promote the show than our shining star? I expect you’ll attend whatever events I can arrange, especially since you’re still under contract.”

With that, the elephant in the room flexed its muscles. Kevin had pulled the ace of spades from his sleeve.

“I know everything that happened between you and Ivan must’ve been very difficult, but this is a business and—”

“Kevin, I get it,” Jaden said, cutting him off. There was certainly no need to go
there
.

“Okay, good. I just wanted to be clear. When next season starts, I expect you back in L.A. with a clear mind and ready to go.”

Jaden couldn’t help but wonder if Damian had also received this sort of “Professionalism 101” pep talk. Probably not, though he’d shown he needed it. But why was she even thinking about him? At the root of things, she’d created this mess. She’d brought her personal life into
One Hot Kitchen
, and as much as she might resent Kevin’s insinuations, she’d opened the door for this all by herself.

She just needed some time to get past it, to recharge, and frankly, that time couldn’t come soon enough. She managed a nod and a smile. “Is that it?”

Kevin looked back at her as if he might say something else, but then nodded.

“Great. Thank you.” In one motion she was on her feet and heading for the door.

“I’ll be in touch!” he called as the door closed behind her.

Propelled by a growing desire to be out of L.A., Jaden crossed the vast expanse of the lot and entered the building that housed the set. On the way to her dressing room, she passed a swarm of crew members transforming the set of
One Hot Kitchen
into whatever show would take its place for the next few months.

“Jaden!
Jaden!”

Her name echoed down the hall in time to the sound of heels clicking against a tiled floor, and she knew instantly who was calling.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

Jaden turned to face Stacey, dressed in her typical designer cougar attire. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to say goodbye before you left. What are your plans while the show is on hiatus?”

“I’m going to Miami to spend some time with friends and maybe even do some cooking at Bianca for fun. Plus, I think Kevin has a few events he wants me to attend while I’m there.”

“You’re going to Miami?” Stacey sounded surprised, as if Miami were the last place she expected Jaden to go. “Are you going to see Ivan? That boy hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

Me neither,
Jaden thought, remembering the countless phone calls, text messages, and emails that all remained unanswered. Her heart sank all over again as she pictured her last contact with Ivan: she’d been screaming at the top of her lungs about sleeping with another man.

Did Ivan even know that she’d been mistaken? That nothing had happened with Damian that terrible night? Surely he must—she’d told him over and over in her unanswered correspondence. But had he even read her messages? Probably not. Or else he had and that detail didn’t matter. Either way, Jaden felt rotten to the core.

“No, I haven’t talked to him,” she told Stacey. She looked at the floor. “I doubt I’ll be seeing him.”

Mercifully, Stacey changed the subject. “Oh, okay, well, I’m sure you’ll have fun visiting with your old friends. Try to recharge while you’re there, okay? Relax and enjoy the weather.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll see you in two months, Jaden. Take care.”

“Thanks, Stacey. You too.” She watched Stacey click her way on down the hall and realized she’d seemed genuine. How strange to be at odds with Kevin but perfectly understood by her over-the-top former nemesis.

After collecting the last of her personal items from the dressing room and saying a surprisingly teary farewell to Kat, she made her way outside to the cab she’d called for earlier. Adam was on vacation with his family, and she wouldn’t have the opportunity to see him before she left for Miami. Of course today she could’ve used one of his front seat/backseat therapy sessions, but it would have to wait.

She slipped into the back of the black and gold cab and gave the driver her address, then shifted her attention to the passing scenery as the cab weaved through the heavy L.A. traffic. Tom Petty sang on the radio about moving on, and though she tried to keep her mind blank, she couldn’t help but rethink her upcoming trip to Miami. Was it the best idea? If she ever had any hopes of getting over Ivan, Miami was probably the last place she needed to be. She would likely run in to him at some point. The thought of it terrified her, but nevertheless, a sliver of excitement crept up her spine, along with the word that defines the most distant of hopes:
maybe
.

Maybe she would run into him. Maybe he would run into her. Maybe they’d run into each other. Maybe he had forgiven her. Maybe he was finally ready to talk. Maybe he wanted to see her. And maybe, just maybe, they could work it all out somehow. The world was at her fingertips, if she could just get herself together and prevent it from slipping away. Perhaps this trip was her chance to mend two broken hearts.

As the cab pulled up to her house, she handed the driver some money and ran to the front door of her apartment. She was once again ready to go.

Chapter 3

“Grace is Gone”

I
T
U
SED
T
O
B
E
T
HE
T
RANQUIL
S
OUNDS
of thunder and soft rain drifting through the speakers of his stereo that lulled him to sleep, but like everything else in the past six months, that too had changed. Now the steady and monotonous tick of a metronome provided the only possible respite for a mind that raced a million miles a minute and often refused to shut down. Lying in bed, Ivan squeezed his eyes shut against the far off city lights that glowed through the blinds of his new apartment. He couldn’t help but think how much
she
would love the view from here. Sure, the rent was way more expensive at this end of the island, but the old place had constantly dredged up unwanted memories. Plus, he was at the helm of his own business—his own medical enterprise—now, and he needed to look the part. He deserved to enjoy what his hard work had made possible.