Proud to Serve Her(9)
“You shop at a Kroger’s or an Albertson’s on your way home from the office. It’s always late when you swing in there, you always have work to do, and a box will keep for days if you need it to. You probably choose the zinfandel because it’s sweet, and if it’s an indulgence, then it should be sweet.” He cleared his throat and gave her silverware a pointed look. She reached out for the fork and sat forward, posture relaxing.
Nodding with approval, he continued. “You carry it back to the Styrofoam palace housed in your fridge. You probably drink it in a mug that you can rinse out and have fresh coffee in if you have to work late. But you have your cup while eating cold noodles from a dinner two days before and working at the kitchen counter.”
Yes. He could totally envision that.
Her mouth opened and closed. “I’m not sure whether to be impressed or terrified.”
“As I said, wine says a great deal about a person. But you are not dining at your Styrofoam palace, you’re having dinner with me.”
Her wariness gave way to a flash of trepidation that vanished under a wider smile. “I am, aren’t I?”
“Yes, and about your date….” Time to come clean, fantasy or no fantasy. It was her birthday and what began as a fanciful tease wasn’t fun anymore.
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No. Let’s not. I’m really enjoying this…now…just the way it is.”
His conscience argued against the idea, but she looked so pleased that he was hard-pressed to push the issue. It was dinner.
It’s her birthday….
“Very well, it’s your birthday. We’ll do it your way.” He turned away from the niggling worry of common sense and focused on the fantasy. “Now, what you see in front of you is a filet, butterflied thin and cooked slowly with red wine. A burgundy.” He emphasized his earlier selection and grinned at the warm sparkle in her eyes. “And au jus, allowing the meat to absorb the flavors of both as it’s slowly turned on a low fire. The lettuce is romaine, cooled to thirty-eight degrees to preserve freshness. The idea is to slice into the steak, spear a small section along with the lettuce and to bite into both simultaneously.”
He demonstrated, spearing a sliver of his steak with one crisp lettuce section and leaned toward her, fork aloft. His gaze never left hers as her mouth parted beautifully, accepting the offering and he glided the meat home to her tongue. His abdomen tightened as her lips closed on the fork and she took the whole bite.
Her low groan lacked any hint of artifice or drama. Instead, her eyes shimmered, surprise filling them. With two fingers to her lips, she chewed and spoke at the same time. “Oh, my God….”
“The steak is rich, but the lettuce is cool, it’s an assault. Save the wine for when you are done, or it will change the flavor subtly on your palate.”
“I’ve never had anything like this before….”
“That’s why tonight is all about new experiences.” She picked up her knife and fork and began to cut into the steak. The echoes of Blue Star’s experimental melodies rolled into the quiet air around them, muting the hum of the restaurant beyond the heavy curtains.
Yes, sitting down to dinner had been the best plan. Her pink tongue flicked out to catch every morsel of steak.
He couldn’t wait for the next course.
***
In very fine restaurants, and she’d eaten in enough of them, the salad didn’t come until after the meat, and the cheese typically came after that. But nothing about this evening or the meal, seemed to be following what she would normally expect. By the time the hedonistic steak and salad course was swept away and a bread bowl laden with soup was set before her, she didn’t care.
She immersed herself in the evening, in her pretend date with the waiter, and the wildly delicious food. It was past eight, she should be home reviewing case files, but Judge Albert was going to issue a continuance in the morning no matter how prepped she was, the plaintiff’s case wasn’t ready and her client had been dealing with nuisance suits for years.
Damon poured a third glass of wine and gestured to the bowls. “Sweet potato bread, cooked hard, cored out to serve as the bowl for sweet potato soup. There’re diced Idaho potatoes with a dash of paprika and a pinch of salt for flavor. The soup is a palate refresher, it will relax your taste buds and prepare them for the next course.”
She loved the way he talked about the food and didn’t hesitate to dip her spoon for a taste. The soup was rich and creamy with a hint of sweetness, but to her utter surprise she could taste the paprika.
“You like?” He swirled the wine in the glass, leaning back in the chair. He’d angled his seat until they were sitting closer together. The stretch of his long legs beneath the table warmed hers and she’d compensated to sit slightly twisted, taking advantage of her front row view. He really was the whole delicious package from the white shirt contrasting with his olive complexion. Although not a huge man, the elegance and precision in his movements emphasized his musculature.