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“Tasha, love, I’ve been working over a hot stove all day for you.”
“You have no idea how excited I am.” Tasha jumped up and kissed Chef Jose Alpin on both cheeks.
“Jose catered the set forChaos Principle. We shot it here, at Shepperton,” Cole explained in a whisper to Maggie. “We’ve wanted to check out this place ever since he started it.”
Cole’s breath made Maggie’s cheek tingle, and it was hard not to trace the path of the sensation with her fingers.
“And who did you bring along without giving me a heads-up?” Jose asked, his tone mild.
“Hiya, man.” Cole stood up to shake Jose’s hand. “This is Maggie. She’s our intimacy coordinator.”
“Your what?”
“See.” Tasha snapped her fingers decisively. “This is my point. How can you need something if you don’t understand what it is?”
The chef rolled his eyes at the starlet before leaning across the table to shake Maggie’s hand. “I’m sure Maggie’s indispensable if Cole brought her along.”
At that, Maggie hit her limit for the number of smoldering men she could handle today.
But Jose was still smiling that panty-melting grin, and Maggie had to saysomething. Trying not to sound breathless, she offered, “If me being here messes up your menu, I’m happy to just have a salad.” She’d perused the menu online, almost died when she’d seen the prices, and then told herself that you only live once. But it would be far healthier for her bank account if she ate like a rabbit.
“Nonsense.” Jose shot Cole a look. “I get why you needed intimacy coordination at dinner. I may get one too.”
Tasha threw herself back into her chair. “Less chitchat, more eating.”
“Your wish is my command, princess.”
Jose held the door open, and three servers entered. In unison, they set a plate and a cocktail down in front of Tasha, Cole, and Maggie.
“To start, we have carabineros,” Jose explained. “It’s an Atlantic prawn, and I’ve prepared it with a sauce made from Sardinian Camone tomatoes and a tomato vodka that we make here on site. The drink pairing for this course is a caipirinha. Enjoy.”
When Cole had said they were going to a Brazilian restaurant, Maggie had imagined steaks, salsa verde, and potatoes. Had she ever heard a chef mention what kind of tomatoes a sauce was made with before?
No, but then again, she’d never seen a sauce that was so vividly, almost painfully red. It smelled like sunshine, with the barest hint of pepper and the beach.
Jose and his merry band of servers exited, and Tasha immediately scooped up her prawn. She took a bite and moaned. “This is why we put up with Jose.”
Cole reached for his cocktail. “You just don’t like that he isn’t impressed with you.”
“I know, right? It’s fucking uncanny. But so is this carabinero.”
Seafood wasn’t Maggie’s favorite, but it wasn’t as if she’d ever have the chance to eat the supersecret, superspecial chef’s tasting menu at a two-Michelin-star restaurant ever again. And it was so beautiful, her mouth was watering despite herself.
She took a tentative bite, and it turned out Maggie didn’t mind seafood if Jose prepared it. Intense tomato flavors exploded in her mouth, perfectly balanced between sweetness and brightness, with the prawn—lightly salty and buttery and not at all fishy—harmonizing with it all.
“What do you think?” Cole had watched her trepidation, and he hadn’t touched his own food while he’d waited for Maggie’s response.
“I don’t normally go for seafood, but this tastes like summer in the best way.”
“Catering can be hit or miss,” Cole said, “butChaos Principleis the best I’ve ever eaten on a set.”
When they finished their first plates, those were instantly whisked away, and another set was delivered.
“How many dishes is Jose planning?” Tasha asked one of the servers.
“Fifteen.”
Maggie emptied her glass.
