Inferno Anthology (12 page)

He returned moments later with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. “Truce,” he said as he sat beside her and handed her a glass. Keeping one foot on the floor, he leaned back, stretched one leg out behind her on the sofa, and pulled her back to recline on his chest. “How’s that for a truce?”

“This does little to explain or excuse how you’ve treated me.”

“Come now, Taryn.” He wrapped one arm around her waist. “You’ve enjoyed it just as much as I have. Don’t play so innocent.”

He was right and she had little in the way of argument. For a long while they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they sipped their wine. When they’d emptied their glasses, Errol poured a little more.

“Nana’s name was Simone,” he finally said. He almost choked up on the words. “I don’t know how old I was when I finally learned that. For the longest time, I really thought her name was Nana.”

Smiling wistfully, Taryn nodded.

“Her husband died and left her with seven kids to clothes and feed. For the longest time she’d tell me he’d had a heart attack, but she finally admitted, when I was of age to drink, that he’d gotten into a drunken brawl. He was thrown out of the bar, hit his head and died a few hours after that.”

He took a long, slow sip of wine, sighed and remained silent for a while. “Whenever I complained about things being too hard, about not wanting to do a particular chore of something, she’d remind me of all the things she’d had to do. Going to the market, alone, on foot, carrying heavy bags of groceries back. She did all the cooking, cleaning, gardening… she even killed her own chickens.”

“Really?” Listening intently, she ran her hand absentmindedly over his.

“And if I ever dared say how much harder life was these days, like when I had to bring firewood in… boy, she’d let me have it. She could spend an hour reminding me how easy I had it compared to when she was a kid.”

“Seems like you had a pretty great childhood. Did you resent your parents abandoning you? I mean, maybe it was for the best.”

He swirled his glass of wine around, took a swig then swirled it around again. “It took a little while before I finally ended up in Nana’s house.”

“You said she taught you how to make an omelet at six.” Could he really have been abandoned much younger than that?

“I was two, maybe three when my parents ditched me. Talk about the terrible twos.”

“Do you remember them?”

“Not really. I mean, I get flashes now and then, but I don’t know if it’s really my memory or just my imagination. You know, sometimes you just make up stuff, an imaginary world, because the real one sucks so much. Now, when I look back, some of the imaginary stuff almost seems real.”

“What happened to you when your parents left?”

He shrugged. “My mom brought me to the babysitter’s like usual; she was this nice woman, Carol, who cared for five or six kids in her house. I don’t remember much, but I always thought I was her favorite; maybe because I was the youngest. Anyway, one day my mom just never came back to pick me up. At first Carol kept me. The authorities were out looking for my parents, trying to figure out what had happened. I think she thought it was just a temporary thing, you know? Like an accident and my parents would come back in a day or two.”

Taryn’s heart broke as she listened to him. The pain was evident in his voice. She couldn’t imagine being so young and feeling so lost.

“When they finally figured out that my parents were long gone, the authorities took me out of Carol’s house. I never found out if she wanted to keep me or not. Either way, I hated having to leave.” He fell silent for a while. “During those few days, I tried so hard to be a good boy. I thought that was why my mother left me. I think, somewhere, somehow, I knew. I knew my life was about to change. I knew something was wrong.”

Leaning his head on Taryn’s, he gave her a light squeeze and she thought he’d end his story there.

“They sent me to live with this foster mom, a Miss Bender. I don’t remember much about her except that I didn’t like her. I was always hungry. I was always cold. I was always scared. When a neighbor complained about the little boy left all alone in the front yard, I was taken out of that home and put in another. Things weren’t much better. There were a few older kids. The foster parents had a heavy hand when it came to keeping us all in line. When I wasn’t getting a beating from the adults I was getting one from the older kids. I think I was there until I was five and a half. I guess the good thing there is that I learned to defend myself. Not very efficiently at first, but it was a good start.”

“I never could understand why the authorities leave children with people who have no idea how to raise a child.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s the parents who are really good actors. They can put on a great show when they have to. Other times it’s the authorities who don’t do their jobs properly. The last home I went to before finally finding Nana practically had us kids as slaves. They sat around doing nothing but playing video games, drinking and eating while we cooked, cleaned and did everything else they asked us to do. At night, when they were through with us, they put us all in this small dark room; no windows, no beds, no heating.”

“It’s a wonder you survived at all. How d’you finally find your grandmother?”

“Just after my sixth birthday, I was taken to the hospital. I was helping one of the older kids do the dishes and I’d climbed on the counter to put the dishes away. I fell and broke my arm. Probably the best thing that could have happened. At the hospital a dedicated social worker dug deeper into my family history and finally found Nana. Right out of the hospital I was put on a plane, rode a train for two hours, was in a cab for twenty minutes then in a horse and buggy for another hour.”

Taryn sat up and turned to look at him. “A horse and buggy?”

Chuckling, he ran his hand through her hair and leaned in to kiss her. “Nana lived in a small, undisturbed village in northern France. Okay, I’m exaggerating about the horse and buggy, but you get the idea. I mean, it was the kind of place where I had to go out every morning to pump water and stuff. It was rough, but a whole other kind of rough. Nana made me work and sometimes I hated her for it, but I was rewarded for the work I did and now I appreciate all she taught me.”

“A lot of character building stuff, huh?”

“Yeah. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Damn right.”

“She taught you how to cook?”

“In a rudimentary sort of way. I mean ingredients were crude and raw, but I learned how to do a lot with little. When I turned sixteen I moved to the city and got a job as a short order cook. A year later I lied my way into the junior chef position on a cruise ship. That led me to the Bronx where I had to literally fight my way into a job. Everything I ever did revolved around cooking, but I knew I didn’t just want to be a cook. I wanted more. I tried to get some sort of internship in a big, high class restaurant, but they weren’t into that, so I called up the guy I’d worked with on the cruise. He told me the answer to my problem was at the Institute here in Paris, so I worked, saved up some money, and voila… here I am.”

“That’s quite a journey.”

“And, I owe it all to Nana.” He gave Taryn a heartfelt squeeze. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you in. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you with me. It was just something I had to do alone. I wanted to re-immerse myself in the life I’d known with her.”

“I understand. I was just worried about you.”

“Just worried?” He chuckled softly and kissed her temple. “That didn’t look like worry to me.”

“Okay, at first I was worried, but after a day or two I got annoyed, then finally tonight… well, I was just plain mad.”

“You don’t say.”

Taryn looked at him, pleased to see the life back in his eyes. Playful mischief had returned to make his eyes sparkle again. “I’m happy you’re back.”

“So am I.”

“Were you really out there alone the whole time?”

He grinned and set his glass of wine on the end table. “You heard about Veronique?”

Taryn tried to shrug off the rumors she’d heard about him and an ex-lover, but she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that suddenly filled her.

“Veronique lived in the city closest to where my grandmother lived. We knew each other a long, long time ago.”

Hating the thought of asking for more information, Taryn waited a moment before turning to look at him.

Errol laughed and kiss her brow. “Veronique moved to Nice five years ago, got married and has twin girls. Does that answer your question?”

He kissed her lips and pulled her in tight. If there were any lingering doubts about where he’d been and who he’d been with, they were all erased as his mouth covered her lips and his tongue twirled around hers in a wet and warm dance. Groaning with pleasure and anticipation, Errol slid his hand into the opening of her shirt, pushed aside her bra, and grabbed her breast.

Taryn almost spilled the remains of her glass as her hand lost its ability to hold on. She quickly set it on the table before letting her hand run over Errol’s chest. She realized just how much she’d missed his touch these past days. Her body had become accustomed to daily stimulation and now craved the complete satisfaction only he could bring her.

“I missed you,” he said between heated kisses.

“Good.” She turned to completely face him, kneeling between his legs. With ravaging hands, she pulled apart his shirt, exposing his chest.

His eyes darkened with lust as he licked his lips. “I think my absence has done you some good. Look at how hungry you are.”

She couldn’t deny it. Her body was obsessed with the thought of touching his. With quick and completely un-romantic moves, she stood and peeled off her clothes then took care of ridding Errol of his.

“You’re rushing, honey.” Sitting up, his eyes roved over the length of her body as one solitary finger trailed from her nipple to her navel and down to briefly part her lips before dropping to the length of her thigh.

“Yes, okay.” She looked pointedly at him. “I want you… now. I’m horny and I want you to fuck me, Errol.” She swatted his teasing finger off her thigh. “We can linger over drawn-out foreplay later. Now, I just want…”

He took a rough hold of her hand and pulled her down to straddle him. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” In one quick motion he was inside her, pushing her down hard over the length of him.

Taryn rode him, fast and furious as her breasts jutted out in his face. His fingers gripped her hips, digging in as he groaned his oncoming release.

“Damn it, woman. It’s not going to be over this quick.” He pushed her off him and threw her to the floor, pinning her hands high above her head. “You wanted me to fuck you…” He licked her face then trailed down her neck and onward to clamp down on a nipple. As her sigh of ecstasy brushed past him, he drove his erection deep into her.

She thought she’d explode, the sensations were so strong. Was it the week without him? This week of abstinence? Or was it the rough hand he took with her?

“You want me to fuck you, Taryn?” he hissed as he pounded into her, driving her apart with each hard thrust.

“Yes!” Her orgasm swept over her, blocking out anything and everything that could have ever been important in her life. In that moment, under him, with him, fucking him… it was all that mattered.

If his relationship with Veronique was over and done with, his connection to Xaviera wasn’t. Madmoiselle Xaviera Tourneau was tall, with long dark hair that curled stylishly around her face. She had bewitching dark eyes, a sensual mouth and an hourglass figure that was tightly wrapped in a chic black dress that accentuated every attribute.

The moment she saw her, Taryn hated her. And when the woman came to stand close as she spoke to Errol, she hated her even more.

Le Festivale des Arts Culinaires de Paris
was the place to see and be seen by the culinary world. As ecstatic as Taryn had been when Errol had invited her, she now stood between Errol and this Xaviera woman seething with what she could only describe as jealousy, not to mention a humbling dose of inadequacy.

“Xaviera, this is Taryn Cummings. She came all the way from New York to attend the Institute.”

“
Ah, comme elle est mignonne
.” The plastered ruby red smile on the woman’s face said it all. Xaviera was on the prowl, Errol was her target and Taryn was of little consequence. As if Taryn weren’t there at all, Xaviera draped her arm through Errol’s and looked down at Taryn. “You are a student of Errol’s, no?”

Touché
, Taryn thought. She was here as his student and assistant, not girlfriend or lover.

Before she could answer, Xaviera turned to Errol. “And here you are,
mon cher Errol
, special guest speaker. You have come a long way, haven’t you?”

Errol looked at Taryn. “Xaviera and I studied together a few years ago.”

Xaviera leaned suggestively into him, her large breasts pressing against Errol’s chest. Her eyes smoldered and her lips pouted with promise. “We did a little more than study, no?”

Taryn saw Henri in the distance and felt a wave of relief. She needed a distraction. She needed to get away from the pair before she ripped the French woman’s head off.

“Hey,” Henri said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Keeping her eyes on Errol and Xaviera, Taryn smiled at Henri. “I’m surprised Err… Uh, Chef King didn’t invite the whole class.”

“Yeah. I guess he wanted to keep this whole guest speaker thing low key.”

Taryn wanted to laugh. Errol was anything but low key. “Seen anything interesting since you got here?”

Errol and Xaviera walked away and Taryn suddenly regretted moving away from them. She wanted desperately to follow them, but knew it would raise too much suspicion from Henri.

But her mind raced with uncomfortable questions. Mainly, what was this woman up to?

“I met the owner of this high end restaurant in the south of France,” Henri said. “We talked a bit, exchanged a few ideas, and, well… who knows where it will lead?”

Taryn brought her gaze to him. He was such a sweet young man; good looking in a boyish sort of way. Why in the world hadn’t she simply gotten to know him a little better instead of getting all wrapped up in the turmoil that was Errol King?