The Perfect Dish (4 page)

Inside, a server offered them glasses of sangria. Meredith passed, but the other girls helped themselves as they looked around. Tiny twinkling lights set in the indigo ceiling gave the impression of a vast night sky. Huge wrought iron stands held flickering tapers, washing the dusky purple and warm red walls with a soft glow. A sultry Spanish guitar softened the clink of glasses and buzz of voices. A warm, spicy scent promised delicious food not far away.

“Something smells good,” Celia said, her gaze darting around the room. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Celia, why don’t we mingle while Meredith delivers her book? Maybe we can find something to nibble on.” Viv said.

“Great idea.” Celia headed for the crowd, but Viv held back. “Be sure to introduce me to Chef Spicer, won’t you? I feel a benefit coming on.”

“Will do. Go have fun, I’ll find you.” Meredith waved as Viv went after Celia. Time to find the chef and his sister and get this over with.

She wandered in search of the pair, but when things started to look familiar and she still hadn’t found them, she waved down a bartender. “Excuse me, could you tell me where Chef Spicer is? I’m supposed to give this book to his sister.”

The man finished wiping out a glass. “He’s probably upstairs. Let me find out.”

“Thank you.” A second floor? The place was bigger than it looked.

The bartender hung up the phone. “Yep. He’s upstairs, in the VIP dining room.” The man pointed toward the way she’d come in. “Go back that way and take a right. Follow the hall to the end. There’s an elevator there. Tell the VIP hostess ‘tortilla’ and she’ll let you up.”

“Tortilla?”

The bartender gave her a lazy grin and shrugged. “I just work here.”

She pushed back through the crowd, aware of the occasional male glance that raked over her low-cut neckline. The attention caught her off guard, jangling her nerves.

The girl at the hostess stand greeted her with guarded smile. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“I think so,” she said, feeling a little silly. “I’m supposed to tell you tortilla.”

Like magic, the girl’s grin turned genuine. “Let me call the elevator for you, ma’am.” She slid a key card through a black box on the wall. A few seconds later, the doors opened. Meredith walked in.

“Have a great evening,” the girl called as the doors closed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Meredith mimicked softly. She smirked, overcome with the cloak and dagger silliness of a password-protected elevator. Heaven forbid some of the unwashed masses sneak into the VIP dining room. Or worse, party-crashing groupies.

The doors opened and she stepped out beneath another twinkling night sky ceiling.

In one corner, a man perched on a stool playing the Spanish guitar she’d heard downstairs. Small groups of people stood around chatting beneath sparkling glass stars dangling on invisible line. More silver stars decorated the indigo walls, and cranberry glass votives lined the bar, flickering like tiny beating hearts. The place was beautiful but oozed seduction.

“Impressive,” she breathed. No wonder Chef Spicer did so well with the ladies. He had his own personal lair.

“Glad you like it.”

She turned, recognizing the twang, and stared up into infinitely blue eyes and a dazzling smile. His crisp white shirt opened at the neck to give a glimpse of tanned skin. Faded blue jeans with a large silver and turquoise belt buckle and well-loved cowboy boots accentuated his lanky lower half. A lesser woman wouldn’t have stood a chance.

He stuck out his hand. “Kelly Spicer. Welcome to the party.” His brow furrowed. “You look familiar. Are you press? I’d be happy to do an interview.”

So much for great first impressions. He didn’t even remember her. Viv’s description of blah rang in her head. Meredith held up the book instead of shaking his hand. “I’m a guest. Your guest. You invited me.”

The smile faded. He looked at the cover, then her, back at the cover then at her again. “Meredith?”

“Yes.” Wasn’t this a fun evening.

“Man, you look a whole lot different. Don’t I feel the fool?” He ran a hand through his sandy blond waves. “I guess I was expecting the suit and the hair and—anyway, I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

She inwardly cringed at the mention of what she’d worn that day. She hated when Viv was right. “You’re forgiven.”

He looked her up and down again, adding a whistle. “Damn, you fix up good.”

To her utter dismay, her face warmed. Annoyance crawled up her spine. Had she looked that bad before? He’d definitely noticed her this time. She fussed with the book jacket, anything to buy a moment to compose herself. “Where’s your sister?”

“Running late.” His mouth quirked. “Can I get you a drink?”

What was he smiling at? “I guess.” Maybe a drink would take the edge off these weird nerves.

“Have you ever had champagne sangria? It’s amazing. We make it with apricots, peaches and raspberries.”

“Sounds fine.” She held out the book. “Can you hold this behind the bar? I don’t want to get anything on it.”

“Sure.” He took the book and motioned toward the bar, waiting for her to go first. As she walked by, his fingers brushed the small of her back. The unexpected sensation wobbled her knees. She bobbled on her stilettos like a marionette and reached for the nearest support. His arm.

“Whoa there!” Kelly slid his arm around her back, forcing her hand to lose its grip and coast to his chest. The scent of rosemary tickled her nose as his warmth seeped through the fabric of her dress. The body beneath her fingers was granite hard.

She pulled her hand away, got her balance and found her head. “I guess it’s my turn to feel like a fool. That wasn’t exactly graceful, was it?” Screw Jimmy Choo. A woman could break her neck in these stupid shoes.

He leaned closer. “Between you and me, those shoes are damn sexy, but if you wanna go barefoot, I got nothing against that either.”

The heat of his whisper against her ear shivered down her back. “I think I’ll keep them on.”

He released her, removing the comfortable strength of his arm, and smiled. “I’ll be sure to stay close by then.”

“Why’s that?”

He winked. “In case you need catching again.”

She inhaled hard, in need of more air. He pulled out a seat at the bar for her, waited until she’d sat, then took the one beside her. He nodded to the bartender. “Charlie, two champagne sangrias.”

“Sure thing, Chef.”

“I’m really more of a beer man but champagne seems better for celebrating...” Kelly shrugged.

“I don’t drink much,” Meredith said. “But you should have a glass at your own party.”

The bartender set the flutes in front of them. Kelly picked his up and held it in the air until she’d raised hers as well. “To you for agreeing to meet my sister. Means a lot to me.” He clinked his glass to hers.

She took a sip. The cold, fruity bubbles tickled her throat. “Mmm, that’s good. And you’re welcome. This is a beautiful place. I’m impressed for the second time.” She smiled a little. “Speaking of which, don’t you owe me something?”

After a second sip of sangria, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do. Charlie, get me that plate from the walk-in, will you?”

“Sure thing, Chef.” Charlie disappeared around the corner.

Kelly leaned in. “I made a box for you to take home, too. I’ll give them to you when you’re ready to leave.”

“That was very kind of you.”
Now I’m impressed a third time.
“So you’re from Texas?”

He laughed. “Accent gives it away, huh?”

She glanced at the walls, her mouth curving. “That, the Texas belt buckle, the boots, the stars...”

Charlie slid a small platter of chocolate pepita clusters between them. “There you go.”

Meredith reached for one but before she made contact Kelly picked up the plate and his drink. He gave her a spine-melting grin. “Grab your glass and follow me.”

With careful steps, she followed him to a roped off alcove. A server moved the rope out of the way as they approached. Kelly stepped aside and motioned with his glass to the velvet banquette. “Much comfier over here.”

A new heat spread across her skin. Was he flirting? Or was it just a southern hospitality thing? He’s a bed-hopping playboy. Probably flirts with every woman he meets. Wines them and dines them until they melt into puddles of willingness. Meredith stiffened her spine.

Time for Kelly the Cowboy to meet Meredith the Unmeltable.

Chapter Four

Kelly set the chocolates on the table then slid onto the banquet. He couldn’t believe he was sitting next to the same woman he’d met at the book signing. Had that twisted hair really held those whiskey-colored strands? Had her eyes been that big? He’d thought the suit had been hiding a wild woman but damn if that dress and those shoes didn’t beat all.

He forced himself not to stare at her cleavage, but her pale skin made him think of mounds of freshly whipped cream. His mouth watered. He pinched his leg, hoping a little pain would refocus his thoughts. “You look real nice. Red is definitely your color.”

“Thank you.” She stared at her drink, now almost half gone.

He got the attention of one of the cocktail girls and pointed to their glasses. The girl nodded and headed for the bar.

Meredith’s cheeks looked flushed, but in the muted lighting it was hard to tell. “Am I embarrassing you?” he asked.

She looked up then. “No, of course not.” She sipped her drink. “This is really good. I don’t drink very much, but I like this.” Her flush deepened. “I mentioned that already, didn’t I?”

“Thanks. It’s my own personal concoction.” He tried not to laugh but her sudden loss of cool tickled him. He scooted closer. “Hey, have you eaten? There’s tons of food.” The sangria was strong stuff. Wouldn’t do to have her tipsy before Shelby got here.

She wet her lips with her tongue and shook her head. “The only thing I want is right in front of me.”

Her words sent a warm jolt through him until she reached for the chocolates and he realized she hadn’t meant him.
Damn
. She put one in her mouth and tipped her head back as she chewed. The move exposed the same sexy expanse of skin he’d noticed at the bookstore, except this time, there was a hell of a lot more of it.

The temperature in the room shot up. He shifted in his seat, thoughts of nibbling on the pale column of her neck making him squirm. She was here for Shelby, not him. Still, the idea of an older woman turned him on. He downed the last of his sangria. Maybe she could teach him something. An image of her smacking a ruler against one hand and looking at him sternly while dressed in red lace underthings made him choke on the wine. Gram always said he had an active imagination.

“You okay?” Meredith asked around a mouthful of chocolate.

“Yeah, just um, went down the wrong pipe is all.” He cleared this throat for effect.
Pull it together. You’re not gonna impress her sporting wood like some pimple-faced boy.

“I love these things.” She licked a smudge of chocolate off the corner of her mouth and leveled her gaze at him. “Don’t you want one?”

“Nah, I’m okay.” One bite and the spell of persuasion would lose its power. He couldn’t take that chance. If Shelby didn’t show, he’d need more of Meredith’s time.

“You’re pretty good in the kitchen, I take it.” She giggled, then looked surprised at her own reaction. He suppressed the urge to join her. The sangria must be kicking in. “That was a dumb thing to say. It’s your job to be good in the kitchen.”

He rested his arms on the table. “I’m good at everything I do.”

She raised one brow and her lips curved. “Everything?”

The cocktail server returned before he could answer. She replaced their empty glasses with fresh ones. Kelly asked for a plate of hors d’ourves on her next visit. Couldn’t have the doc drunk. The girl nodded and left.

Meredith lifted her glass. “Congratulations on your book.”

“Thanks.” Kelly gulped the cold liquid, then checked his watch while Meredith sipped her new sangria. Shelby should be here soon. He leaned back and rested one arm along the banquet. “You usually go by Meredith? Seems like an awful big name for such a petite woman.”

She screwed her face up. “I’m not that petite.”

Not everywhere you’re not.
His gaze skimmed her chest and when he looked up, he realized he’d been caught. He started to apologize when she burst out laughing.

Her laughter faded as she shook her head. “I knew this dress was trouble.”

The kind of trouble I want to get into.
“I think that dress looks mighty nice on you.” He had to behave himself if she was going to help his sister but a little flirting never killed anyone. “You sure look different than the day I met you. Different in a good way.”

A curious and slightly perturbed expression crossed her face. “Do you really have a sister or were you trying to lure me here and get me drunk?”

He nodded, reminded of the evening’s purpose. “I have a sister.” He sighed. “I better ring her and see what’s up.” He swung his legs out of the booth, then stopped and twisted around. “Weren’t you bringing friends with you?”

She adjusted one of her straps. “They’re downstairs mingling.”

“Which is what I should to be doing. Let me make this call then we can head down together. You can introduce them to me.”

He went back into the hall by his office and called Shelby’s apartment, but she didn’t answer. He sent a quick text, not that she’d probably answer that either. He tucked his phone and way and returned to Meredith, who was happily eating the hors d’ouvres that had been delivered. She still had half a glass of sangria left. He was glad to see she’d slowed down. She’d probably blame him if she got drunk, and he needed to be on her good side.

He held out his hand. “Let’s go meet these friends of yours.”

Meredith placed her hand in his as she slid out of the alcove. “What about your sister?”

“No answer. Hopefully she’s on her way.” He sighed and helped Meredith to her feet. She wobbled slightly, squeezing his hand, so he cupped her elbow. “You okay?”

She flattened her palm against his chest. The lightness of her touch surprised him. “I don’t know if it’s the shoes or the sangria.” She glanced at her feet before looking up at him.