Her Las Vegas Wedding. Andrea BolterЧитать онлайн книгу.
know, Reg, perhaps I’m not a hundred percent clear on what our contracts state about my role concerning the PR specifically for the restaurant.”
“I’ll have my lawyers call yours in the morning.”
She stroked his thin arm once up and once down in a gesture of calming affection. “That’s a great idea. Can we just put the issue aside for now and enjoy our dinner? I can’t wait to see the completed dining room.”
The pacifying technique worked because Reg pulled from his pocket a deadbolt key and an access fob to open the front door of the newly finished construction. He reached to flick on a temporary lamp that stood just inside the entrance.
Rock ’n’ roll blared from the far end of the restaurant. Reg gestured for Audrey to follow him across the dark dining room and through the double doors leading into the kitchen.
The lone man in the cavernous space stood with his back facing them, but Audrey easily recognized that long curly hair and the broad shoulders that filled out his chef’s coat. The music was turned up so loud that he hadn’t noticed anyone had entered. His head bobbed and his hips ground to the beat as he sautéed something smoking hot on the stove in front of him. Reaching for a spoon, he tasted from the pan.
“Garbage,” he decreed and, in frustration, threw the spoon into the nearby sink.
Only then did he turn enough to be startled by Reg and Audrey’s presence. He grimaced. His gorgeous full lips twisted. A pulse beat in his neck. His eyes locked on Audrey.
“Audrey,” Reg yelled above the music, “you remember my brother, Shane Murphy.”
“HI, SHANE,” Audrey said, turning on the polish. In reality, his intense stare made her heart skip every other beat. “Can you believe it was a full year ago when we stood right here after the old restaurant had been gutted?”
Shane slowly, sinfully, with no restraint whatsoever, inventoried her. From the part in her blond hair, across her face, down every curve of her fitted dress and shapely legs, through her sandals to the tips of her orange-painted toes.
Her legs twitched from his gaze.
He mashed his lips together as he shifted something internally and turned his attention to his brother. “I mixed a white sangria and put it on the bar. Why don’t you take Audrey into the dining room and pour it, Reg?”
“Join us for a glass, won’t you?”
Unspoken communication passed between the two brothers.
“I’ll be out with some appetizers in a few minutes.”
Reg ushered Audrey out of the kitchen and turned on the overhead lighting.
The restaurant was a showstopper. One entire wall made of glass looked out to a furnished patio. A wood-burning oven, large grill and two fire pits would allow for al fresco cooking. The open-air space was enclosed by a semicircular wall made of small stones. At three points, waterfalls rained down. The effect was that of a private outdoor world far from the bright lights of Las Vegas.
Inside, shaded lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling to cast a play of light and shadow throughout the room. Tall-backed chairs cushioned in an olive-colored fabric, teakwood tables and booths dotted the dining room, each placed with enough space between them to allow for dinner conversation. Carpeting in a subtle diamond pattern of khaki and red would muffle the din of a full house. Stone tiling on the walls gave the room a lodge feel that was posh but comfortable.
Audrey took her time inspecting it all. “Everything turned out spectacularly.”
Reg guided Audrey by the tip of her elbow again, a trend she wasn’t enjoying, to the one table in the center of the dining room that had been set for dinner.
“I’ll get the wine,” he said as he pulled out one of the chairs for her. Then he hopped down the three steps to the bar to retrieve a carafe. “Shane used a 2009 pinot gris from the local Desert Castle vineyard we’re working with,” Reg announced as he poured each of them a glass. Crisp green apple slices and chunks of fresh peaches floated in the drink.
“Nice,” Audrey said after a quick sip, never one to drink much alcohol. Not after what she had witnessed. “You’re staying in a condo in Vegas?”
“In the Henderson suburb. I suppose when the two of us...” Reg stopped, seemingly at a total loss of how to complete the sentence. “Shane leases a flat behind the Strip,” he added and ran the back of his index finger under his nose.
“Will he base himself mostly in Vegas?”
“For a while. When we first opened in Los Angeles, it took a year until we were functioning smoothly.”
“It takes a long time to build a core staff that you feel confident in. People don’t work out. You hire new ones.”
“Shane is very exacting in what he expects. As you’ll recall.”
A flush of heat spread down Audrey’s neck.
“Ten years was a long time ago.” Audrey made reference to the St. Thomas collaboration. “I was just starting college so I wasn’t really involved, but I do have a vague memory,” she fibbed when, in fact, she remembered every second of that summer.
The twenty-four-year-old wunderkind chef and his demands in the kitchen had been legendary. “Didn’t the controversy begin with some herb we couldn’t get onto the island?”
“I still don’t know how I was supposed to make a yellow mole without hoja santa.” Shane’s thick vibrato filled the dining room. Audrey didn’t know how they had failed to hear him come out from the kitchen.
The surprise sent a blush all the way under the neckline of her dress.
“And your idiot sous chef suggested I use cilantro.”
“I was all of eighteen so, believe me, I was just an innocent bystander at the time.”
“We were on a tiny island, Shane.” Reg lifted his palms. “They weren’t able to fly in your herb.”
Shane held two small plates. Audrey took notice of the black leather cords he had roped around his wrists like the ones he wore in the cardboard cutout. There was something so rebellious about them. She’d never known a chef to wear jewelry on his hands. Yet she found them as mysterious and exciting as the man who donned them. His hands were so massive they made the dishes of food he carried look tiny.
“Nevada appears to be the motherlode for the ingredients I need,” Shane said as he placed one plate in front of each of them. “Chiles en nogada. Poblano stuffed with pork, pear and mango and topped with a walnut cream sauce.”
Audrey’s eyes widened at the striking presentation on the plate. She knew that the sprinkle of diced red and green peppers on top of the white sauce was in homage to the colors of the Mexican flag. The foundation of Shane Murphy’s menus was in the flavors of the Spanish-speaking world.
While Shane waited intently, she took a bite, careful to get a little morsel of each ingredient onto her fork. The rich cream fragrant with ground walnuts brought a decadent lushness to the pork, yet the dots of fruit kept the dish from being too heavy.
Audrey closed her eyes to savor the combination.
Depriving herself of sight, she could sense even more powerfully how Shane’s eyes bored into her face. Making her feel somehow exposed and beautiful at the same time.
She whispered upon opening her eyes and looking at Shane again, “Magnificent.” Possibly in reference to the food.
Shane pulled a fork out of the back pocket of his jeans and showed it to Reg. “There was a mistake with the order that came in today. Three tines? Am I serving Neanderthals?”
Without another word,