When I Fall in Love(93)

“Go out to the deck with Jace. We got this,” Grace said, wishing she felt her words.

Max looked at her, winked.

Oh, boy.

She put the butterfish in to bake, then plated the poke. Meanwhile, Max warmed the cakes in the oven, then made the coconut sauce.

“Did I hear correctly that you’re Maxwell Sharpe, from the Blue Ox?”

The writer had come in off the deck, nosing around the kitchen. A blonde with curves, wearing black slacks, a white blouse and vest, she leaned over Max, a little too much interest in her posture.

“I have a pretty delicate sauce here,” he growled.

Grace shot him a look but didn’t say anything. For a second, memory flashed. He’d used that same tone on the last day of competition.

“Are you involved in the catering company or just helping out a teammate?”

“Excuse me; I don’t want to burn you,” he said, taking the saucepan off the stove. He poured the sugary syrup over the cakes, each on its own dessert plate.

“Oh, that looks good,” she said.

Grace pulled the salad fixings from the fridge, began to assemble it.

“What kind of salad is this?”

“It’s called Waimanalo salad, from the Ko‘olau Range area in Hawaii. It’s a mix of romaine, red kale, red oak leaf, arugula, and lollo rosso. There’s also some curly cress and tatsoi, an Asian green, along with some island favorites—oranges, avocado, goat cheese, and macadamia nuts. On it, I’m drizzling a dressing made from Maui onion and olive oil.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“I hope so.” Grace went to the oven, pulled out the butterfish, moved it to the broiling rack, and set the heat to broil. “We’ll be setting the table in five minutes.”

The photographer had moved in, started snapping shots, and she cringed. No one told her she’d be in the shot, and she wore her jeans and pink Evergreen Resort T-shirt.

A real beauty.

But then Max came up next to her. “Ignore them. Smile. You have a pretty smile, 9B.”

Oh, Max. He had the terrible ability to knock her off her feet. She never knew when she might get blindsided by his tease, his devastating smile.

She carried the salad to the table, then went after the poke. By the time she returned, Max was plating the butterfish. Perfectly caramelized on the top, the broiler had blackened the edges and turned the fish to a beautiful burned-butter color.

The smell was so good it could roll her eyes back into her head.

Max added the plates to the table and uncorked a bottle of white wine while Grace garnished the cakes with whipped cream, kiwi, shaved coconut, and a dusting of macadamia nuts. She set the cake plates on the table. Max lit a long silver taper candle.

“Wow.” Eden had come in off the deck and stared at the meal. “That is beautiful. Isn’t it, Jace?”

He stood behind her, his expression looking like a mixture of feigned happiness and dread. “Is that fish?”

“Butterfish. We had it flown in from Hawaii and marinated it for the last two days in misoyaki sauce,” Grace said. “The salad is made from local greens, and this is poke. It’s seared and served with a spicy Asian mayonnaise sauce.”

“Grace, this is amazing,” Eden said.

She felt Max slip his hand into hers, and for a moment, she stood again before the judges. She wrapped her fingers around his.

The photographer zeroed in on the food, taking shots from every angle. Finally he suggested a pose of Eden and Jace eating.

They pulled up chairs, lifted their wineglasses. Another shot. Then, while Eden tried the butterfish, Jace speared the poke.

Grace couldn’t read his expression. Max’s hand tightened on hers.

“This fish is delicious. Try it, Jace,” Eden said.

He looked like he might be going in for gallbladder surgery, the way his face twisted. A darkness began to spread through Grace.

He cut the butterfish, forked it. Slid it into his mouth. Swallowed.

“See?”

He nodded. “Delicious.”

“Let me get a shot of you eating the fish, Mr. Jacobsen,” the photographer said.

Jace took one bite, then another, finally asking, “You need a third?”

“One more.”

But to Grace’s eye something didn’t seem right. Jace’s eyes had started to water, his voice turning raspy. She untangled her hand from Max’s, ran to the fridge, poured him some water, and returned.

“Jace, are you okay?”

He coughed. “Yeah.” Except his voice sounded as if it had been run over a washboard. He drank the water, then got up. “I’ll be right back.”

Eden put down her napkin and followed him from the room.

Grace stayed for a moment, her eyes on Max, then followed Eden.