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The restaurant was in a state of disarray, with tables and chairs stacked in the middle of the dining room and covered with dust cloths. Half the walls were painted, while the other half had color swatches attached to them where he and his team were testing new looks. Some of the light fixtures were missing, wires hanging from the ceiling where they’d eventually be installed. A faint smell of paint and sawdust filled the air, interrupted by the aroma of the meal he was preparing for their dinner.
“Not for a few months, and I’m in no rush. I want everything to be perfect when I reopen. I have big plans for my little bistro, including a brand new marketing campaign.”
The Wine Cork was the type of place where patrons came to see and be seen. The open design included bistro tables in the dining room and a bar where patrons could watch the chefs as they cooked. Several of his restaurants had a similar layout because for him, cooking was a performance art. It made sense they should have an audience to the intricacies of creating each dish.
“You can place your bag there,” Bruno said, pointing at the bar, “and join me in the kitchen. I’m going to put you to work.”
She let out a moan that should have indicated displeasure but came out sounding sexy as hell. The sound arrowed to his groin and gave him pause. Damn.
Completely unaware of the impact she had on him, Marissa added an exaggerated sigh. “I should have known there was a catch to the invitation for free food.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the hard parts, and you’ll be assisting. By the way, I’m using you as a guinea pig. I’m testing new menu items for when the bistro reopens. Normally, I try new recipes on my family, and they give honest answers that help me make final tweaks or eliminate dishes that don’t work. I expect the same honesty from you.”
“Don’t you have an executive chef for this location?” Marissa asked, washing her hands.
Bruno pulled ingredients from the cooler to make a dressing for their salad. “I do, but I like to experiment and push my creative boundaries. I can’t ever completely give up my time at the stove, though I work much less in the kitchen now than at the beginning of my career.”
“Well, I have good news for you,” Marissa said, as she dried her hands on a paper towel. “I have a new list of women. A couple I pulled from the database, but I also conferred with my colleagues at the office and Rick—one of the other matchmakers—said he has someone you should meet. After reviewing her profile, I agree. She’s a model by the name of Yanique. She’s currently out of the country on a shoot but will be back soon.”
The last thing Bruno wanted to do was discuss potential dates. The very idea bothered and annoyed him.
“Let’s hold off on discussing my options for a wife until after dinner.”
“Oh, okay.” She sounded surprised but folded her hands in front of her. “What’s on the menu tonight?”
“A chicken sandwich with a homemade sauce, served between brioche buns from the bakery I own.”
“I didn’t know you owned a bakery.”
“I do. They supply bread to my restaurants and have contracts with others in town. The bread will be accompanied by an arugula salad with a simple mustard dressing. We’re also having house fries with Parmigiano-Reggiano, grilled romaine hearts, and ribeye steaks. Strawberry bread is in the oven for dessert.”
Her face lit up. “You’re feeding me good tonight. I can’t wait.” She rubbed her palms together.
He found her excitement endearing. Adorable. What would kissing her be like? he mused.
“You’re going to make the dressing while I plate the first meal. Would you hand me four plates from over there, please?”
He spread out the dishes on the stainless steel countertop and then gave her instructions on making the mustard dressing. While she worked, he topped a sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and his homemade sauce and sliced it in half. He placed a half on each plate with arugula salad. He topped the greens with shaved Parmesan and then Marissa spooned the mustard dressing on top.
Bruno walked to the cooler. “What would you like to drink?”
“Water.”
“I have wine and beer,” he offered.
She wrinkled her nose. “Water is fine.”
He handed her a bottle of water and took a bottle of beer for himself.
They carried their plates to the stainless steel prep table and sat on stools.
“This looks good,” Marissa said, examining the sandwich.
“Time for the taste test. After you.”
Bruno watched her take a bite and waited for the verdict. She chewed slowly, as if savoring the flavors.
“This is good.” Marissa spoke with her mouth full, pointing at the sandwich. She finished chewing and swallowed. “I can’t find anything wrong with this sandwich. The bun is perfectly toasted, the chicken patty is delicious and cooked to perfection.”
