Power and Possession(39)
“It’s never too late, I guess.” Henny grinned. “Although I would have appreciated some warning. This is going to cost me.”
“You bet on this?”
“Of course.” He shrugged. “Mireille’s a romantic.”
“Serves you right then to have so little faith in miracles. Yours included. You’re lucky your wife puts up with you.” Rafe smiled. “Are you going to need a loan?”
“Uh-uh.”
Rafe chuckled. “You bet something other than money, didn’t you? Tell Mireille she may thank me—actually, Nicole—for my new tender sensibilities.”
Henny snorted.
“Watch and learn.” Rafe gave him a mocking smile, then turned to Nicole. “Tell him, tiger. We’re both burning bright.”
Nicole reached up and lightly traced the curve of one dark brow with her finger. “You’ve definitely become a matter of riveting curiosity for me.” Her gaze was warm, faintly teasing. “That much I know. When all else is chaos.”
“But a good chaos,” he said very gently.
He was staring at her, no teasing in the depths of his golden eyes, no smile, waiting. “Yes,” she said, feeling such pleasure at the sight of him that it took an act of will not to embarrass herself in front of his friends and tell him she was fly-me-to-the-moon happy and off-the-charts sexy. “There’s a new kind of real pressing in around me, like the world is wonderful and terrifying at the same time.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “Leaving me breathless and giddy.” A sudden catch of her breath. “Ridiculous, right?”
He gave her a full-on grin. “Nope. It’s grand, full of a million different possibilities, all good.” He had his hand on her back, just lightly, felt her soft warmth on his thighs, against his chest, smelled the perfume in her hair, saw the unprotected need in her eyes, and almost said, I can’t wait an hour. Neither of us has to wait.
Henny closed the distance to the table in two long strides and dropped the plates he was carrying on the table with a clatter. “Crostini with fresh cheese and honey for the first course,” he announced in a tone capable of reaching the last row in the gallery. “We had some for supper so it’s still warm.”
Rafe glanced up, blinking.
“You’re waiting for Aleix to call,” Henny said, taking care of Rafe as he would for him, as they both did for Basil, their protective bond forged in their troubled childhoods. “I have two nice steaks I’ll cook with thyme. Your favorite.”
“Ah.” Rafe took a breath, then nodded, his equilibrium restored, the strange layers of feeling safely unstacking. Reaching for the plate of hors d’oeuvres Henny pushed his way, he picked up a crostino layered with fresh cheese drizzled with honey and held it to Nicole’s mouth. “You have to try this. Henny learned to make this local cheese from an old lady in Nice.” Rafe looked up. “What was her name?”
“Madame Bardet. May she rest in peace.” Henny made the sign of the cross over his stained T-shirt. “I was fifteen, she was ninety-five and the best cook I ever met.”
“We hardly saw Henny that summer. She took him under her wing, told him he couldn’t swear in her kitchen, and set him on his path to culinary glory. She was the grandmother you never had—right?”
Henny glanced up from arranging half shells of chilled mussels on two plates. “The family I never had. Rafe likes lots of mayonnaise.” Dipping his head toward Nicole, he closed the door on any discussion of his family. “Do you have a preference?”
She swallowed. “Lots is good.”
Rafe grinned, then offered her another bite of crostino. “Really, I’d say separated at birth if it wasn’t illegal for us.”
“Mmmpf,” Nicole said through a mouthful of delicate honey and cheese.
He understood her mumbled reply was another one of agreement and for the first time in his life believed in good fortune over and above the casino table.
As Henny put a dollop of mayonnaise on each mussel, Rafe picked up a toast, popped it in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and sighed. “Jesus, that’s good. I think I forgot to eat today.” And later, after Nicole had eaten her fill, he finished the remaining appetizers.
The mussels were a rustic specialty consumed tête-à-tête to the continuing astonishment of Rafe’s friends. Although Henny’s and Basil’s raised eyebrows went undetected by Rafe and Nicole as they devoured the tasty morsels between kisses and soft murmurs.
With perfect timing acquired in the best restaurants in Europe, Henny whisked away the plate of empty mussel shells and served a salad of baked fresh figs with crumbled goat cheese and hazelnuts. But after setting down the plates, he pulled out Nicole’s chair and gave Rafe a pointed look. “Play Romeo and Juliet later. My food deserves your undivided attention.”