Chapter Five
Saturday turned out to be sunny with just a slight crisp feel in the air, perfect, especially for the Bay Area in the late spring. Gabe was very tempted to ride his Harley, but instead, he drove his SUV Hybrid. He doubted Stephanie would be up for a bad case of helmet hair. Gabe knew she expected to spend the night with him. He hadn’t asked her, but neither had he disabused her of the notion. By the time he pulled up in front of her building and parked his car, he had decided to play the evening by ear. He might as well, he thought. He couldn’t get out of it anyway. Maybe he would regain some of the initial interest he’d had in f*cking her. When she opened her door wearing a low-cut pale peach sundress and high-heeled sandals, Gabe assessed the woman appreciatively. Not bad. Not too bad at all. Things might just work out between the two of them, at least for the night. He decided that all options were back on the table, so to speak.
Gabe kept up his end of the conversation on the drive to Napa, but as he usually did until he knew a woman well, he was careful not to disclose too much too soon. They chatted about business, family, plays she’d seen recently, clubs and restaurants she favored. Stephanie flirted, not shamelessly, but she made it clear she was interested. Gabe wondered how old she was. Thirty? He stole a sidelong glance at her face. Twenty-eight, maybe. It was hard to tell. She’d put on large sunglasses the minute they’d stepped outside her apartment building. He noticed that her dress had ridden up her thigh, exposing a great deal of skin. Gabe didn’t know if that had happened deliberately or by accident, but he suspected the former. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to adjust it.
Gabe found it odd that the closer they got to his Napa Valley home, the less enthusiasm he felt for Stephanie’s company. He caught himself wishing he’d decided to spend the weekend by himself. It disturbed him. Usually a woman this attractive would kick his lust into overdrive. Damn, he thought, what the hell is my problem?
“Oh my God, your place is gorgeous,” Stephanie said, stepping inside the front door. “Who did you hire to decorate for you?”
Gabe shrugged. “Most of the interior work had been completed when I bought it. I just added a few pieces and hired a gardener.”
As Stephanie wandered from room to room, Gabe glanced around, curious, wondering if Eva had left any hint of herself, a stray hair, perhaps, a whiff of fragrance if she wore any. Something he could gauge her by. He was eager to check out his bedroom to see what she had planned for him. He escorted Stephanie onto the patio and pulled out a chair for her. After assuring her he’d give her a tour of his gardens, he excused himself for a moment. He took the stairs leading to the loft two at a time.
She’d remade his bed. That was the first thing Gabe noticed. She’d plumped his pillows, turned down the quilts. He leaned over and inhaled… Gabe smiled. He caught her. She’d been there. She’d lain on his bed. His little chef had lain on the duvet. He could smell her. Curious, was she? Gabe inhaled again, running his palm across the soft cover. Amber. Cinnamon. Chilies. Mint. Chocolate. Coffee. Musk. Like a fine wine. God, Eva smelled f*ckable. He looked around. She’d set up a table at his bedside. On it sat a galvanized tin bucket filled with ice and a bottle of what looked like French champagne. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and pulled it up to check out the label. She had good taste. It was of his favorites. He wondered how she knew. Sitting in the ice next to the bottle of champagne was a bowl of fresh strawberries. He popped one into his mouth. The sweet-tart flavor exploded on his tongue. Just picked from his garden. She’d probably left moments before they’d arrived.
Alongside the bucket, she’d placed a plate of delicate shortbread cookies. Beside the cookies were two candles. Suspended above each candle on a metal rack sat a ceramic bowl. Each bowl was filled with something that looked like ice cream topping. Gabe assumed she intended them to light the candles and dip the cookies into the bowls or maybe spread the warm stuff on… Gabe stuck his little finger into one of the bowls and brought it to his mouth. He tasted maple, caramel, maybe a little balsamic vinegar, and the barest hint of salt. The second bowl contained a deep, dark, delightfully bittersweet chocolate mixture. He recognized the flavor of his own Cabernet. Gabe took another taste of each. He felt himself grow very erect very quickly. He knew exactly who he wanted to spread the stuff on and it wasn’t Stephanie Lindstrom.
“Gabriel?” Stephanie called to him from the foot of the stairs. “Gabriel, are you up there?”
He heard her begin to ascend. He quickly adjusted his jeans and hurried downstairs to meet her.
“Sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes, “Just picking up a message.” He quickly steered her toward the kitchen. Gabe’s initial impulse was to distract her by suggesting that they select a wine together, but he realized that wouldn’t be fair. To her. Gabe wondered if he’d lost interest because he’d been so busy lately, but he dismissed the thought. Business had never before interfered with pleasure of this type. He’d lost interest because his interest lay elsewhere.
Gabe took Stephanie’s arm. He turned her toward him and he studied her face. She returned his gaze, confident, poised, eager. For a moment he faltered. She expected him to take her to bed.
Why on earth, he asked himself, can’t I do that? She’s beautiful, intelligent, successful. And it doesn’t have to mean all that much.
“Stephanie,” Gabe said, “I’m taking you home.”
“Wha…what?” she stuttered.
“I’m sorry. I’m taking you back to the city.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t explain,” he said. “Look, I feel terrible about this, but tonight just isn’t going to work out.”
“Are you seeing someone else, Gabriel? That message you picked up… was it from a woman?”
“No,” replied Gabe quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“I don’t understand.” Gabe heard the anger and the hurt in Stephanie’s voice.
“Look, Stephanie, I can’t explain. Something’s come up. There’s something I have to take care of. I’m sorry. I’ll try to make it up to you.” Who knows? Maybe I will, he thought. Just not tonight.
They drove back to San Francisco in silence. Uncomfortable silence. He grabbed the small bag Stephanie had brought and escorted her to the door of her apartment. When he leaned over to kiss her cheek in apology, he caught the resentment in her eyes. He fully expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. She turned her mouth to his and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his. Gabe felt nothing but embarrassment as he gently disengaged himself. He wasn’t quite sure who he was more embarrassed for, Stephanie for kissing him so wantonly, or himself for his inability to respond to a beautiful woman. He wondered what in the hell was wrong with him. He squeezed her hand.
“Goodnight. I promise I will call you as soon as I get this figured out.”
Stephanie looked for an instant as if she’d tasted something nasty, but she quickly flashed him a smile. “I’ll look forward to it. I’m sorry things didn’t work out tonight, Gabriel.”
Gabe drove home and parked his car in the parking garage. He stopped in his apartment only long enough to grab his helmet, a leather jacket and the keys to his motorcycle. He headed back to Napa, driving his bike as fast as he dared.
Gabe sat in his kitchen, alone. He’d read Eva’s note several times, tracing the neat printing with his fingertips, as if her handwriting might give him some clue as to the kind of woman she was. Her note was brief and professional and left him entirely in the dark as to her character. Gabe followed the instructions to the letter, serving himself each course in the order she’d intended him to serve it to his guest. He started with the chilled melon soup in a martini glass, garnished with a sprig of his own spearmint. God, it was cold, fresh, not too sweet. The perfect opening course for a meal. He swore he could taste some Riesling in it, but it wasn’t a wine he recognized from his collection. Eva must have brought it. He searched through the fridge and he found most of a half-bottle of an expensive German wine. Gabe ignored the Chardonnay she’d selected, one of his own, and instead poured himself a glass of the Riesling and sipped appreciatively while he considered her next course. It was a salad course. Eva had artfully arranged her offerings on a narrow, lightweight bamboo plank.
On one end of the plank, she’d placed a small salad of tiny spring radishes. The radishes had been sliced paper-thin. They were almost transparent, and they’d been sprinkled with fresh chives, also from his herb garden and sea salt. At the other end was a tiny pile of bitter micro-greens, topped with a few snips of Italian parsley and cilantro. Eva must have toured his entire property. Gabe wondered if Luis showed her where to find everything or if she discovered them on her own. He was willing to bet she’d found them on her own, like the strawberries she’d left at his bedside.
In the center of the plank, she’d molded finely minced, bright red, wild salmon tartar. Nothing added. It glistened in the light from the candle he’d lit. On one side of the salmon sat a small pile of delicate pink flakes. Gabe dipped his finger into the pile, brought it to his mouth and licked it. Salt. Some kind of pink salt. On the other side, she’d mounded coarsely cracked black pepper. He picked up a tiny white ceramic pitcher and sniffed. Toasted black sesame oil, ginger, and rice wine vinegar. Gabe’s mouth watered. He wished he had someone to share this meal with, but he was glad he’d taken Stephanie home.
He picked up the small fork and took a taste of the salmon. The mouth feel was smooth, soft. Gabe savored it. The salmon tartar felt exactly like a woman, like he was tonguing a woman. The same sweet salt, the same tenderness. It seemed to him as if he was tasting Eva. He found himself growing erect and his swollen cock pressed uncomfortably against his zipper. Gabe stood up and stretched. He grabbed his glass of wine and stepped out onto the patio. The sun had set an hour before. The night was cool, as nights tended to be in the hills above the valley. He wanted to finish everything she’d prepared for him, but he didn’t know if he could stand it. One more bite and he might come in his pants. Gabe laughed out loud. He wanted to meet this mysterious Eva, but there were so many ‘ifs’, the biggest ‘if’ being, what if she was nothing at all like he imagined.
Gabe listened to the night noises for a few minutes before he returned to the kitchen and his dinner. He finished the salad course and found the herb sorbet she’d left for him in the freezer. It was intended as a palate cleanser. Lemon balm. She’d used the lemon balm from his garden.
The main course, accompanied by a spicy Zinfandel, consisted of a miniature filet mignon, cooked to perfection, seared on the outside, juicy and bright pink on the inside. Eva had sliced it thin. The meat melted like butter in his mouth. He dipped one piece in the wasabi cream Eva had provided. The bite of the wasabi was nice, without the unpleasant searing sensation of true horseradish. She’d accompanied the steak by equally miniature new potatoes, oven-roasted in olive oil with fresh rosemary and thyme, and bright green asparagus spears, steamed until they were just tender-crisp. Gabe ate them with his fingers. He took a break before he tackled the cheese course. His interest in Eva Raines had once again grown in direct proportion to the size of his erection, the erection induced by the images tasting her food brought to mind.
Gabe shook his head. This was a first. Food meant a great deal to him because going hungry as a child had meant something. Listening to his little sister’s stomach growl on the bus to school because they’d had nothing to eat for breakfast that morning or supper the night before meant something. Watching his mother sacrifice so she could scrape together enough money to feed her two children meant something. Over the past ten years, Gabe had come to appreciate a fine meal as much as the next man, maybe more because he’d been deprived as a child, and because by necessity he’d taught himself how to pair his wines with food. But he’d never experienced this sort of physical reaction to anything he’d put in his mouth, aside from a woman, that is. Only a woman, the right woman, tasted this good.
Eva had scattered fresh fruit casually across the cheese tray. Cherries, raspberries, plump California blackberries. She’d poached fresh peaches in what tasted like a lemony, sugar syrup, peeled them, sliced them, and spread the slices neatly on the tray. The slices were gold as a harvest moon. Gabe ignored the utensils and used his fingers to eat his fill of the fruit, licking the sticky, sweet syrup from his fingertips. Finally he pushed the tray away, completely sated.
Gabe stretched his arms over his head and leaned back. He closed his eyes. That was the most sensuous meal he’d ever eaten. He’d heard his assistant comment that food could be as good as sex, but he’d never before believed it. Eva’s food was foreplay, pure and simple. It was a build up to orgasm. She’d intended sex to be the dessert. The sweets she’d left in his bedroom were for drizzling on someone… on Stephanie. The only person Gabe could imagine drizzling them on was Eva herself. He wanted to drip warm chocolate into the hollow of her throat. Between her breasts. He wanted to watch himself pour caramel over her nipples, swirl it around them with his fingertips and then suck it off. He wanted to slowly trickle both down her belly, all the way down, to her *. He would pour the warm toppings over her and he would bury his face in her p-ssy and lick her until she begged him to stop.
Eyes still closed, Gabe brought a hand forward and ran his palm down the front of his jeans. Jesus Christ. If her food could make him this hard…
* * * *
Eva was f*cking some man, some incredibly hot, hard, relentless, faceless man. He bit down on her erect nipple and she felt her mouth open on a scream of pure pleasure. She was about to come when a phone rang somewhere and the man disappeared. Eva reached for him desperately, but he had vanished. Eva opened her eyes as she bolted upright. She was in her own bed, alone, her damp tee shirt clinging to her, and her cell phone was ringing. It had been a dream.
Eva pushed the button on her phone to answer. She tried to slow her breathing. She cleared her throat.
“Hello?” She wondered how hoarse her voice sounded.
“Eva.”
“Gabe? What? What are you…?”
“I loved the dinner, Eva. Thank you.”
“Oh. You’re…you’re welcome. I’m glad.” Eva glanced at the clock. It read one a.m.
“Thank you for the granola.”
“Of course,” she replied. “It’s part of my service.” Eva waited to see if there was anything else. She got the distinct feeling that Gabriel Abbott wanted to ask her something.
“What you left in the bedroom,” he said, his voice mellowing, “I liked the thought of it.”
Eva felt herself blush from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She realized she was wet, very wet, both from her dream and from the sound of him. He liked the thought of it? Did that mean he hadn’t used it for its intended purpose? She wanted to hear him repeat that.
Before Eva could stop herself, she blurted out, “Did you?”
“Yes,” she heard Gabe say. “Very much.”
“I’m glad… I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She heard him laugh softly. “I didn’t say I enjoyed it. I said I liked the thought of it.”
Oh my God, Eva panicked. I messed up. Maybe this was a business dinner and I totally f*cked up. I completely misread the situation. Shit.
“Mr. Abbott—”
“Gabe.”
“Gabe, I’m totally sorry if I overstepped. I’m so sorry. I assumed… I made an assumption…maybe I shouldn’t have…”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Eva. The dinner was perfect. That’s all I wanted to say.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely certain. I’d like to use you again, if you don’t mind. How about next weekend? Are you free?”
Eva felt her heart skip a beat.
“I would need to run it by Tom and Marcus, but as far as I know they haven’t added anything to my schedule.”
“Then plan on next Sunday,” he said. “I’ll call you this week with the details.”
“All right.”
“And Eva…”
“Yes?”
“I’ll try not to wake you up next time.”
Eva laughed into the phone. “Goodnight, Gabe. I’m glad your dinner went well.”
“Goodnight, Eva. Sleep tight.”
Eva clicked off and leaned back onto the pillows. What just happened? What on earth just happened? Did Gabriel Abbott call at one in the morning to thank me for helping him seduce someone? Or was this dinner something else entirely? Eva didn’t know what to think. The only thing she knew was that the arousal she felt from her dream still lingered. She closed her eyes and tried to recapture the feel of the faceless man moving inside her. She gave him Gabriel Abbott’s voice. As her hand slid beneath the loose boxers she slept in, and her fingers found her aching *, Eva fantasized that it was Gabe’s hand touching her. She came in seconds.
* * * *
Eva woke to bright sunshine. It was a perfect day for a bike ride. She made herself a quick bowl of oatmeal, washed her face and applied sunscreen, then she brushed her long hair and pulled the auburn locks back into a ponytail. She donned bike shorts, a sports bra, and a green, black and red bike jersey. Eva filled up a water bottle and she rolled her bike out of the garage. She snapped her helmet into place and headed Up Valley, crossing Highway 29 at
Oak Knoll Road
so she could ride the Silverado Trail north. Since she’d gotten very little sleep, she decided to forgo the longer ride to Calistoga and instead turn back just beyond St. Helena. She thought it might be nice for a change to ride past Honig Vineyards and maybe stop to do a little olive oil tasting at their neighbor, Round Pond. She could cut back over to 29 and head south, maybe pay a brief visit to the duck pond at Domaine Chandon before she picked up the frontage road leading back to Napa.
Eva needed a distraction. Her late-night conversation with Gabriel Abbott kept replaying itself in her mind. She had been so certain that he’d planned a seduction dinner. She wondered what had happened. Did his guest bail on him? Did he change his mind? Was she simply so clueless that she’d misunderstood? Or had she become so horny over the past year that she had sex on the brain and she’d stupidly generalized and assumed he did too? God, she felt like an idiot. But his words when he mentioned the dessert she’d left in his bedroom—I liked the thought of it—made her tingle all over. His voice alone practically made her… Eva felt her hands unconsciously loosen their grip on the handlebars and she inhaled sharply, reminding herself to pay attention or she’d end up smashed on the side of the highway. She pumped her legs faster, eager to outrace her thoughts. It wasn’t safe to lose focus on the Silverado Trail. Especially on a weekend in late spring with all the half-drunk crazy tourist drivers on the road.
* * * *
Gabe decided he needed a distraction. After his conversation with Eva, he’d tossed and turned all night. He’d used his fist, twice, but it didn’t do him any good. He didn’t want his fist, he wanted her, or at least, he wanted the idea of her. The morning was bright and he decided to take out his Harley. He’d prefer to ride his mountain bike but he’d left it in the city. It was a perfect day to enjoy the winding highway past Calistoga. Maybe he’d spend a little time in the redwood forest there. Get in a short hike. He thought he’d return the long way, via Napa, past the offices of ATAP. He’d found their address online. Gabe was hoping maybe she’d be there. Checking in or something. Working on Sunday. He could sneak an anonymous look at her. Yeah, dream on, he told himself. He wondered why he hadn’t just asked Eva to stop by his cottage today. It would have been so easy.
Jesus, I’m pathetic, Gabe thought as he headed up Highway 29. Beating off because of a woman’s food. Because of the sound of her voice. For all I know, she’s sixty years old and a grandmother who happens to like biking. He snorted. I’m perverted, that’s what I am. Lusting after someone who’s probably married and has kids and a dog and a house with a white picket fence. The bike skidded on some gravel and Gabe corrected. Pay attention, he admonished himself, or you’ll end up with a nasty road rash. Too damn many tourists in St. Helena. Gabe reminded himself that tourists paid his bills and made his charity work possible. He made an effort to regain his composure and just enjoy the day. The weather was great and the fresh air would clear his head. Then he remembered the feel of that salmon tartar on his tongue and he was right back where he started. F*ck. At least the farther north he rode, the fewer cars he saw.