What Love Tastes Like (22 page)

“Ooh, I know I didn't just hear you say you were going to Vegas with Nick.” Joy spoke into the phone while shuffling a stack of papers at her new office space.

“Yes, you did.”

“I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from that lovin'. You held out for a minute, girl, but I'm glad you've finally started acting like a woman with sense.”

“This is business,” Tiffany responded, remembering what Nick had told Chef. “I'm just calling so you'd know where I am. Speaking of, you at work?”

“Yep.”

“How's that going?” Tiffany placed the cordless phone under her chin, pulling items off their hangers and packing while she listened.

“Better than I could have imagined.”

“Randall know yet?”

“Told him last week, just before I gave him the four tickets Myron gave us to last night's game. We were in the fifth row. Randall and Deuce went to the locker room afterward. He came out talking about a gym membership. Five minutes around those buffed-ass athletes did more than two years of my nagging him to lose the beer gut.”

“Only you, Joy, could have a twisted scheme work out in your favor.”

“Honey, that's only the beginning. Randall laid the pipe last night like he's on a city contract. Guess he noticed the cute little outfits I've worn to work. Now it's as if he is in competition with Myron, Jamal, and the rest of the team. He's trying to win the prize!”

“And y'all just might get a prize while you're at it…another little Parsons.”

“Tiff, don't even joke like that. I'm having fun and not even trying to hear any baby talk right now.”

“Well, I'm happy for you, sistah.”

“I'm happy for you, too. And listen, I want you to let Nick hit it until your coochie hurts, okay? Your face needs that pushy glow.”

“I do miss sleeping with Nick, Joy, but that's not us anymore.”

“What about the other day? In his office?”

“A momentary lapse in judgment.”

“When it comes to Nick, you're always having those lapses. And you need to have another one when y'all hit the strip.”

“Goodbye, Joy Parsons.”

“Bye, girl.”

Tiffany continued to smile as she hung up the phone.
Admit it, Tiffany. You're happy because of Nick.
While designated as a business trip, with Tiffany assuming she'd be cooking private meals for the six men who were renting out a nine-bedroom, gated villa just outside of Las Vegas, Tiffany couldn't help but admit that she wished more could happen between her and Nick. But it couldn't. Not now. Not when having her own restaurant was on the line. She and Nick were cordial again, getting along. Tiffany decided it best to leave it at that.

Three hours later, Tiffany was aboard her first chartered plane. A company car had picked her up at her apartment and whisked her to the private plane strip at LAX. When she arrived she didn't see Nick, and she felt a bit uncomfortable. Two men, she assumed Nick's partners, were quietly conversing next to the plane's stairs. A woman and another man had looked up when she exited the car, but had gotten on the plane. Was she supposed to get on the plane? She didn't have a ticket. Did someone have her name? If there was one thing Tiffany didn't like, it was feeling out of control. She reached into her purse and was just about to call Joy when she saw a stretch limo coming toward them. Was it Nick?

With all the stress he was under regarding the stakes in China, Nick felt he probably shouldn't be so happy about or preoccupied with Tiffany. Fact was, he was delighted she was coming with him. Something about her presence inspired Nick. He simply felt better having her around. He smiled as he noticed her countenance, a slightly raised chin, eyes shaded with large glasses, offering a confidence Nick was sure she didn't feel. His Tiffany. Strong, yet supple….

Nick exited the car. The two men immediately waved and began walking toward him. He stayed them with his hand and walked over to Tiffany. Her heart swelled.
Who was I trying to kid about not wanting this man in my life?
In that moment, Tiffany absolutely knew she wanted Nick in her life and hoped, in time, she could share these feelings with him.

“Ms. Matthews,” Nick said. His voice was business-like even as his eyes drank her in like water.

“Mr. Rollins.”

After exchanging brief cordialities, Nick glanced at his watch. “Please board the plane. We'll be leaving in about ten minutes. I'll be sitting up front with my partners, but if there is anything—anything at all that you need—just let me know.”

Tiffany hoped her face didn't reveal just how much she needed what she needed! Figuring that distance was the best way to calm her nerves and her desire, she simply nodded, turned, and boarded the plane.

The trip was mercifully short. It was apparent from the beginning that the two other ladies sitting in the back of the charter were friends, and that they didn't like Tiffany. To drown out what Tiffany felt was mindless chatter, about designer dresses and luxury cars, Tiffany pulled out several cookbooks and her ever pres ent three-ring notebook. She still wasn't sure which meals would be her responsibility, or if all of them would, so she wanted to be prepared for any scenario. By the time the plane touched down forty-five minutes after boarding, she had designed several food combinations that would satisfy any meal request.

When Tiffany stepped onto the stairs leading from the plane, she was surprised to see Nick at the bottom, obviously waiting for her. “How was your trip?” he asked as she reached the last step.

“Fine,” she answered, taking the hand he offered. “Definitely better service than I get on a regular airline.”

Nick smiled. “With the money we spend to have them at our disposal, I sure hope so. Come this way.”

Tiffany frowned slightly as Nick directed her toward a waiting limo. She'd assumed the execs would ride together and the ladies would ride in their own car, the same way they'd been separated on the plane.
Of course, the menus,
Tiffany concluded.
He wants to go over what I've planned for dinner tonight.
As soon as the driver closed their door, Tiffany began asking the needed questions: how many would be dining, what time was dinner expected, and if there were any dietary restraints or concerns. After Nick had answered these questions, she outlined her proposed menu. “It's late, and you gentlemen will probably be working into the night. So how about something light yet nourishing? I'll have to check how the house is stocked, of course, and, wait, will I have an assistant? If not, we may need to push back the time. Not trying to arrange your schedule, you understand, but—”

“Tiffany.”

“I know you're trying to impress these men, and it sounds like this meeting is important, so—”

“Tiffany,” Nick said, a little louder.

“I just want things to be perfect, Nick. I'll need scallops, of course, the freshest. That's my signature appetizer, you know. Well, of course you know! I—”

Nick's sigh was barely audible before he leaned over and extinguished Tiffany's nervous chatter with a searing kiss. His probing tongue left her breathless, but as soon as she recovered, Tiffany spoke again. “What did you do that for?”

“To shut you up,” Nick said, with a laugh that softened the harshness of his words. “Do I need to do it again?” When he saw the scowl that formed on Tiffany's face, he quickly continued. “I didn't bring you with me to cook, baby. I intend for things to get hot, don't doubt that. But not in the kitchen, not for you and me.”

As Tiffany digested Nick's words, her frown deepened. So this wasn't all about work?
It's about you being presumptive, and thinking that just because you might help me open my own restaurant that I'll open my legs?
Tiffany crossed her legs, because for Nick, right now, her legs would fall open on command. But she couldn't let Nick know this. Now that she'd cooled down from their afternoon tryst, it was time to set Nick straight again. And she didn't care if her job as the sous chef at one of LA's most sought-after restaurants was on the line.

“Look, Nick…”

“No, Tiffany. I know what you're thinking, and you're mistaken. I didn't fly you out here just for physical release. I can get that anywhere, anytime.”

Tiffany's eyes searched Nick's.
Can I believe you?

“I miss you, Tiffany,” Nick went on, showing a rare face of vulnerability. “I miss us.”

Tiffany remained quiet, but instead of looking at Nick, she gazed out the window at the passing scenery. Abstractly, she thought of how dull the rest of Las Vegas appeared compared to the strip.

“I've been thinking a lot about what you said the day you walked out of my house. The day you compared me to your father, said I sounded just like him putting business first. In a way you were right, Tiffany. No matter how I rationalized the trip to New York, and even though I felt it had to be done, I did put business first. Before pleasure, before you.”

Tiffany turned her attention to Nick, but remained silent.

“I lost my dad when I was thirteen,” Nick continued, his voice lower, softer. “It was a very hard time. He'd been the leader of the family, the breadwinner. His passing threw our house in turmoil, because his was a lingering illness that chewed up their retirement. By the time he died, their savings were gone. My mother, a homemaker, realized how lost we all felt without my dad's physical, emotional, and financial support, and how quickly all you had could be taken. With the help of our grandparents, we made it through this tough time. My mother took a secretarial course, got a job at the local bank, and was one of the vice presidents when she retired. But almost from the time they laid my father's body in the ground, she drummed the importance of education, hard work, and financial security into us. Even after the promotions, when our family was once again solid financially, my mother still maintained that money was the means to all-around security. She told us over and again that we could never rest on our laurels, that something could happen at any moment to snatch away all that we'd built. Her words are what has driven me for the last twenty years. And it wasn't until you said what you did that day that I actually took a step back and dissected just where this blind ambition, this tremendous drive I have to succeed that makes me a workaholic comes from. It comes from losing my dad, and my secure world, at thirteen.”

Tiffany lowered her eyes, awash in a sea of emotions. Her thirteenth birthday again flashed before her. She knew how vulnerable one felt at that age. Nick's story also reminded her of the one her father had told, how the lack of a father figure had played a part in his drive to succeed. This thought gave her perspective, yet frightened her at the same time. Keith Bronson had never been able to outrun the demons of his childhood, and was working on his fourth marriage as a result. Was this to be Nick's fate—jumping from woman to woman, and relationship to relationship? Sure, he'd had a relatively long-term affair with Angelica, but her parents were married for ten years. Tiffany's on-again, off-again relationship with her father let her know that if she ever found love, she wanted it to be the once-in-a-lifetime kind. Before she could articulate these thoughts, Nick spoke again.

“One of my favorite movie lines comes from
Mahogany.
Have you seen it?”

“I've heard about it,” Tiffany replied. “With Diana Ross, right?”

“Uh-huh, and Billy Dee Williams. It's a great movie. The role Diana Ross plays reminds me a lot of myself—driven, ambitious, wanting to escape surroundings and circumstances. I won't spoil the story-line for you, but at one point Billy Dee Williams, who plays Diana's love interest, delivers this line: ‘Success is nothing, without someone you love to share it with.' It's true, Tiffany. I can go anywhere, buy anything. I'm content, but not truly happy. Because I want it all—financial and career success, yes, but also marriage and family. I want to share all that I've achieved with someone else…with you.”

The limo door opened. Nick's frown was apparent as he turned to the intruder. “We're here, sir,” the driver offered quickly, realizing he'd interrupted. Nick gave a curt nod and turned back to Tiffany. Neither of the two backseat riders had realized the car had stopped, and the driver closed the car door so softly that they barely heard it.

But Nick obviously had. He began speaking as soon as the large door clicked into place. “I'm sorry for that interruption.” He took a deep breath and reached for Tiffany's hand. “This deal is very important to me, and not just for the significant return on investment that it represents. This is going to be my last deal for a while, Tiffany. I'm going to speak with my partners about it shortly after this meeting, but I've already made up my mind. Once this deal closes, which should be in the next few weeks, I'm going to bring on an assistant who can manage the day-to-day of my business affairs and cut my workload in half. And in about ninety days or so, after the transition, I'll be able to focus on creating the future I want. I don't want to be that man for whom business is his life. I want my life to be about my wife…”

At the word “wife,” Tiffany's eyes widened.

“…and children.” Nick became quiet then, even as his eyes bored into Tiffany's, probing, questioning.

Five seconds passed, fifteen, thirty. A full minute went by and no one spoke. Tiffany's mind whirled with too many thoughts to process, much less speak out loud. When she'd left work, the last thing she'd been prepared for was a conversation like this one. She'd been ready to slice and dice vegetables, not hear Nick's recipe for a happy life. Deep down, the life Nick described was the one Tiffany wanted, but it was also the one she felt she could never have. People got hurt when they fell in love, people who married didn't stay together. That's what life had taught her. Being with Nick had taught her something else—it was hard to stay in control around him. Tiffany liked being in control.