Page 50 of Stick Side
“When you makeconfit de canard,” Chef Henri whispered, “you use these peppercorns. Others will work, but they will lack theje ne sais quoi.”
Chef Henri made a show of holding the bottle out for them in a way that displayed the label prominently before surveying his domain once again. Having confirmed they were still alone, Chef Henri stepped away and returned the spice jar to his pantry. Ben noticed that he seemed to go to great pains to stuff it into the very back of the cupboard.
No sooner had Chef Henri closed the pantry door than the main door opened. “Special delivery!” Amy pronounced as she pushed through the doorway. Her arms were encumbered by folded white fabric.
“Here’s one for you, Melody,” Amy explained, as she passed her the top wad of fabric. “And one for you, Ben,” she continued, as she passed him the remaining fabric.
Melody gasped softly as she unfolded the bundle of fabric she’d just been handed. “It’s a chef’s apron with my name embroidered on it.”
She turned wide, wonder-filled eyes on him. “Did you do this, Ben?”
He revealed his own apron, which had been embroidered with his name on it. “I did,” he said as he pulled the loop over his neck and tied the strings behind his back. “I wanted to create the perfect evening for you. And, I confess, I wanted to provide you with a memento that would make you think happy thoughts about me whenever you saw it.”
“Seigneur,” Chef Henri whistled. He turned to face Amy. “You spoke the truth when you said this one was a true romantic.”
A gentle suggestion of triumph played around Amy’s lips. “And now you see why I approved his request for a private lesson with you, Chef.”
Ben was distracted by the feel of Melody pressing her hand into one of his forearms. Even though his arms were covered by the fabric of his shirt, he still felt her touch like an electrical jolt.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice whisper soft. “Everything is wonderful. Perfect, even.” She sighed.
Her face was so warm and open that, despite their audience, he couldn’t resist making contact by tucking an errant strand of hair behind her left ear. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured.
“I really do,” she returned somewhat dreamily.
Looking at her now, her eyes and smile soft and receptive, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go another day without sampling her sweet, tempting lips. He just had to bide his time and wait for the right moment. And find it he would. He was a patient man, but Melody was a temptation unlike any other.
“Et bien!” Chef Henri clapped his hands to gain their attention. “Now the work truly begins.Confit de canardtakes hours to prepare, so I have completed most of the steps in advance, so you will be able to enjoyun repas parfaitafter your lesson.”
“The perfect meal,” Melody supplied in a helpful undertone.
“We will go through all of the steps together, but I will tell you how long you would truly have to wait before moving on to the next step.”
Chef Henri slipped back and forth between French and English as he detailed their lesson plan. Melody translated as needed.
“I’m certainly glad one of us speaks French,” Ben admitted after what must have been at least her twentieth translation.
“And I’m glad one of us thought to plan this incredible evening,” she said as she tipped her head up to smile at him.
“I guess that makes us a great team, huh?” His words were innocent, but suggestive of possibilities to come.
Melody bit her lower lip and smiled shyly.
As he settled in beside her to follow Chef Henri’s instructions, he was determined to prove to her just what a great team they could be.
Chapter 22
Melody
Bythetimetheysat down at their table to enjoy the fruits of their culinary labor, Melody was on cloud nine. She could barely believe what a unique and thoughtful evening Ben had planned for them.
“Would you like some wine to go along with your dinner?” Amy asked after depositing their meals in front of them.
“Melody?” Ben inquired.
“I could go for a glass,” she answered, “but probably no more than one. I like wine, but I’m not a big drinker.”
“How about two glasses then,” Ben told Amy before returning his gaze to hers. “I try to keep my alcohol intake low during the season. I’m not a rookie anymore, you know.” That heart-stopping twinkle was back in his eyes.
