Chapter Four
Eva put in her ear buds and clicked on her iPod. She cranked the volume way up. The Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore. Jimmy Hendrix. Eric Clapton. Tom Petty. B.B. King. She’d thrown in some Eagles and Credence so she could sing along. Eva preferred to listen to the old guitarists when she was cooking. It kept her energized. She flipped the play list to random and began the task of putting together everything she’d prepped the previous day. She planned the menu to be the essence of simplicity. She wanted to keep the flavors of the food light and clean.
It seemed pretty clear to Eva that Mr. Abbott intended this to be a seduction dinner. During her visit on Friday, she’d taken the liberty of exploring the loft that doubled as his bedroom. She told herself that she was just doing her job, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but give in to the curiosity she felt about the man—the curiosity that had only been increased by his late phone call. After she’d said goodnight, Eva had tossed and turned. For the first time in a long, long time, she’d felt, well, aroused. She’d wondered what the man looked like. His voice had the same rich tone as deep, dark maple syrup, and it was just as smooth. The sound of the man had actually given her an idea about an addition to the treats she planned to leave in his bedroom. She’d already wondered how often he slept in the cottage and she’d been concerned that his bedding might be a little musty. If it was she Gabriel Abbott intended to seduce, she’d want to be made love to on crisp, clean, fresh-smelling sheets.
Gabriel Abbott’s bedroom was quintessentially masculine. The walls were painted a taupe, almost a mushroom, plain, stark, clean, like the rest of the cottage. His dresser was black, the hardware brushed steel. In the corner near a floor to ceiling window, sat a desk with a computer, a few pencils and a pad of paper, nothing else. At the foot of the bed was a large chest. Eva lifted the lid slightly and inhaled. Her nose was assailed by the scents of leather and wool. She lifted the lid higher and leaned over the chest for a moment. In her mind’s eye, she watched a tall, faceless man with a hard muscled frame, pull on a favorite wool sweater and toss a worn soft, brown, leather jacket over one shoulder. The idea made Eva shiver. She quietly closed the lid.
The bed, a wrought iron, four-poster queen-sized bed, looked scrumptious. After checking to make sure Luis wasn’t in the vicinity, Eva threw herself across the mahogany-colored duvet. She wiggled deep into the quilt, hoping to catch the man’s scent, but it didn’t seem as if anyone had slept there recently. His housekeeper, if he had one, had probably washed the bedding after his last visit.
Gabriel Abbott certainly appreciated comfort. Eva figured his mattress must be top of the line. No matter which position she lay in, it felt as if the bed hugged her, supported her every curve. It was an utterly delicious sensation. She lay there a long time, imagining the man who would be using the bed this weekend. It was with great reluctance that she climbed down and stripped the linens.
Eva tried to view her work dispassionately, yet she couldn’t help but picture herself as the recipient of what she imagined would be Gabriel Abbott’s undivided attention. Eva wondered what, exactly, Gabriel Abbott’s undivided attention would involve, and she felt a tingle slide up and down the length of her spine. She stood still for just a moment, the sheets bunched in her arms, before she decided she’d better get a move on. She tossed the sheets in his washing machine and hung the remainder of the bedding in the sun that shone on the patio. Eva hoped Mr. Abbott, and whoever his guest was, would appreciate her extra effort, but she wasn’t counting on it. She was quite certain they’d have other things on their minds.
Now, working in the kitchen, she remembered remaking his bed, smoothing the sheets, turning down the quilts, plumping the pillows to make the bed even more inviting. She’d already set up a small table at his bedside. She’d covered it with a linen cloth and placed a galvanized tin bucket on top, ready to be filled with ice for the sparkling wine she’d brought. She hadn’t found exactly what she had in mind among Mr. Abbott’s wines, so she’d looked through her own collection and pulled out a bottle of one of her favorite French champagnes made from Rose grapes. Its color was indeed a lovely rose, the color of love, the color, when you got right down to it, of a woman. Eva thought it would be perfect. The wine was crisp, not too sweet, not too dry, with a nice, long, smooth finish. She’d already carried up two champagne flutes and she’d left room on the table for the dessert Gabriel would serve his guest.
Music blasting in her ears, Eva headed into the garden to pick the herbs she needed while the air was still cool. She spotted Luis cleaning the pool and she gave him a smile and a wave. He waved back. She watched his mouth moving and she realized he was speaking to her. Eva couldn’t hear a word he said. She pulled the ear buds out and approached him.
“Buenos días, Eva,” Luis said.
“Buenos días, Luis. Cómo está?” she replied.
“Bien. Y usted?”
“Muy bien. What time do you expect Mr. Abbott?”
Luis shrugged. “Later. He called last night.”
“Oh? He called me too.”
Luis’ eyebrows lifted slightly. “This dinner must be important to him,” he commented.
Eva hesitated for a moment, then she asked, “Do you know who his guest is?”
“Yo no se. I have heard nothing.”
“Well,” Eva responded, “I hope what I’ve planned meets with his expectations.”
Luis gave her a reassuring pat on the arm. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
Eva found that she liked the older man very much. “Why don’t you come in and taste later? I plan to make more than enough. Please, come into the kitchen, maybe around two o’clock, and taste. I would love your opinion.”
“I don’t know that I have much of an opinion about food, but I will be honored to taste anything you make,” Luis said with a smile.
Eva laughed. Luis reminded her of a more serious version of her father. He didn’t have much of an opinion about food either, but he knew what he liked. Eva had used him to test recipes when she was a teenager.
Eva picked her herbs and returned to the kitchen. She completed each course in the same order it would be served, setting aside a small portion of everything for Luis. Between the music and her intense focus, time flew by. Hours later, Eva glanced up and she found Luis standing in the open kitchen door, literally hat in hand, staring at her with an amused expression on his face.
“Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed. “What time is it?”
“Three.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
Luis smiled. “I looked in an hour ago, but you didn’t notice me, so I went back to work weeding the garden.”
Eva laughed. “All right, I’m almost done. C’mon. I’ve got a tray prepared for you and you’re going to taste, right now, before I get distracted by anything else. I’ll meet you on the patio.”
Eva opened the refrigerator and grabbed the tray. She’d replicated the entire meal for Luis. This was the first time she’d been hired to act as private chef for someone with Gabriel Abbott’s reputation. She wanted everything to be perfect. Luis may not be a gourmand, but his reaction would be telling. Eva watched his face as he tasted the first course, her chilled melon soup. She’d pureed honeydew melon, a tiny bit of sea salt, a few splashes of a light German Riesling, a squeeze of lime, half a seeded Serrano chili, cilantro and a bit of palm sugar. The soup was garnished with a sprig of fresh mint from Gabriel’s herb garden. Luis closed his eyes and rolled the puree around in his mouth as if tasting a fine wine. Eva almost expected him to spit it out.
Finally he declared, “Exquisita,” and he finished the soup quickly.
Eva grinned as she handed him the next course.