Grill Me, Baby Page 7

  “Please call her as soon as you leave and tell her the comp tickets are only for family.”

  “Okay and I’ll tell Dad not to bring a date.”

  “Good. When I told Mom I could get comp tickets, I never imagined everybody would want to come.”

  “Of course! We’re family,” Tiffany said, nearing the front door. “You’re gonna look amazing on camera. You can wear the sexy red dress and I’ll do your makeup,” she offered. “I’ll give you smoky eyes and some coral-pink blush and lots of lip gloss to highlight your lips. I can just picture how pretty you’ll look.”

  “Thanks. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “You’re a spectacular chef,” Tiffany said loyally. “The only thing Paolo has going for him is his good looks. He is smokin’ hot!”

  From behind them, Michaela heard a loud “ahem”. She and Tiffany whirled around to find Paolo watching from the kitchen doorway.

  “Oops, sorry you heard what I said about you,” Tiffany said with a guilty giggle.

  “Bye, Tiff.” Michaela gave her sister a quick hug. “Thanks for your support.”

  Tiffany responded with a thumbs-up gesture. “Anytime.” She grinned at Paolo. “Bye, Paolo, it was fun meeting you. I’ll see you at the taping?”

  “Sure thing.” Paolo smiled back. “Ciao, Tiffany.”

  Michaela opened the front door. “We’ll chat tomorrow. Please don’t forget to call Aunt Magda, so she doesn’t bring anyone.”

  “As if you’d let me forget!” Tiffany said, scurrying out the door.

  When Tiffany left, Paolo’s dark eyes scrutinized Michaela. “Are you still mad?”

  “No. I know I overreacted, but when I saw you laughing at my senior year picture, it hit a raw nerve.”

  “I wasn’t mocking you. Who cares about an old picture anyway? You should see mine someday. I laugh every time I look at myself—even my mother used to call me raviolini, I was so stuffed. You, on the contrary, were only a little overweight.”

  There was nothing stuffed about Paolo’s muscular physique now.

  “It took a lot of willpower to get where I am. You have no idea,” she said.

  “You look perfect the way you are.” His dark eyes twinkled. “Querida, there’s no need to starve yourself with rabbit food.”

  “I’m not in the mood for teasing.” He would never know the painful memories she kept locked in her heart. “Raviolini” was mild compared to being called “Miss Piggy” by her unrequited crush, Todd, a boy who had been her chief competition for valedictorian. When her best friend Kimmie had told her about Todd’s name-calling behind her back, Michaela had been devastated, especially since she’d been blinded by his looks and hadn’t realized how mean and shallow he was.

  The grooves beside Paolo’s mouth deepened into maddening dimples. “Tell me something. Why does your Aunt Magda want to marry you off?”

  “That is none of your business. I need to clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

  “No, you don’t. I already took care of that.”

  “You did? Thanks. I guess we should call it a night. Don’t forget—we meet at Sublime tomorrow evening—six o’clock sharp. We can’t afford to waste any more time. Please don’t be late.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Paolo saluted. “Good night, Maki. Hope you feel better tomorrow.”

  He leaned forward and when Michaela abruptly turned to face him, her mouth caught a kiss intended for her cheek. Paolo’s warm, firm lips lingered ever so slightly before pulling away, making her breath catch in her throat as a ripple of pleasure washed over her. She took a shaky step backward and nearly lost her footing. His strong hands caught her waist and gave her a little squeeze before releasing her.

  They locked eyes and Paolo’s magnetic, dark-eyed gaze drew her into his spell. She would have willingly sunk into his arms if he’d put them around her. She shivered at the sexual, demanding tension emanating from him. Did he feel it too? The intense energy radiating between them, making her dizzy with desire? It had to be that she was famished—not just for food, but for love. That explained the gamut her emotions had run tonight. First, she had felt annoyed with him, then later, upset and hurt, and now there was no denying the hot spark between them. He was driving her slowly mad, and there she was, standing before him hopelessly speechless—a rarity for her.

  “Good-bye,” she managed, finally finding her voice as she stepped away from him.

  She watched Paolo leave, his large shoulders hulking slightly forward. How did he really feel toward her? The accidental kiss had left her dazed, along with the smolder in his eyes and the solid squeeze of his hands on her waist.

  Heeding her growling stomach, she trudged to the kitchen and grabbed the box of chocolate truffles he’d brought her. She picked up the bottle of wine and carried it into the living room. She tossed her yearbook from the couch and took a swig of wine straight from the bottle.

  Michaela lifted the box cover and inhaled the hypnotic chocolate scent. She popped a truffle in her mouth and let the chocolate melt against her tongue. What the heck, she might as well finish them off. She took more sips of wine and then got a sudden attack of the giggles when she remembered Tiffany wrestling with the faucet. Keeling over on the sofa, she spilled the remaining truffles on her lap. Oops, well now that they were out of the box, she definitely had to eat them all. Michaela devoured five more luscious truffles, one by sinful one as she drank more wine.

  She was starting to feel woozy as she pulled the rubber band off her ponytail and fluffed out her hair. She kicked off her flip-flops and curled up on the couch, all the while assuring herself that nothing was lost. She would make up for her ruined meal tomorrow at the spa restaurant.

  Paolo had been so nice and patient tonight when she had been grouchy. Not that she hadn’t had sufficient cause…but she would have preferred if he’d gotten exasperated and left, instead of branding her with his kiss. He was like the velvety truffles—intoxicating, seductive and sinfully addictive. She had to keep him at arms’ length or she’d end up devouring him too.

  She polished off the remaining wine and then hiccupped softly as she set the empty wine bottle on her coffee table. She needed to stay focused on her ultimate goal to be top chef of Miami Spice and not let Paolo get to her, but it was proving to be harder than she thought.

  She’d have to think about that tomorrow because right now, flung on her side on the comfortable sofa, she could barely keep her eyes open.

  Chapter Seven

  Claudia Santos carefully stretched in bed and then kissed the palm of her hand and placed it over her pregnant belly, greeting Robert Adam Woodbridge, Jr., her unborn baby, as she did every morning. She snuggled her face against the pillow and sighed. Paolo’s bed was so comfy, she felt guilty that he’d relinquished it to her. But he wouldn’t hear of her taking the couch, where he had slept for the past two nights.

  She had one more lazy stretch before turning on her side to hoist herself up from the bed when she suddenly felt a cramp in her belly. She squeezed the pillow until it subsided. The tightening sensation lasted longer than usual, but she wasn’t overly concerned. She had felt Braxton Hicks contractions before, so she didn’t think they were the real deal. It was two weeks before her due date—too early for a real contraction.

  With this in mind, she carefully got up and padded on bare, swollen feet toward the kitchen. Paolo had already left for work, but not before leaving her a scribbled note tacked on the fridge: “Ham frittata in the oven and fruit salad in the refrigerator. Buen provecho. Call me when you’re up. We need to finish our talk!”

  Dios mío, her big brother could be so relentless sometimes! Paolo had been adamant last night that she call Bobby and ask him to come home so they could work things out. But Paolo didn’t know the half of it. Bobby had no idea she was pregnant, neither did Bobby’s parents or her family, for that matter. Her ears still f
elt blistered by Paolo’s tirade when she had shown up at his door. He hadn’t been angry with her for being pregnant, he’d been furious that she’d kept it a secret from him and the rest of their family who loved her.

  She’d had good reasons—ones that Paolo had scoffed at, making her upset with him and all men in general. Looking back, she should have realized it wouldn’t be smooth sailing when she had eloped with Bobby. But from the moment he’d walked into her family’s bakery in Buenos Aires, she had fallen hard for the cute exchange grad student learning Spanish. That afternoon, Claudia had just put the final touches on her specialty—a three layered vanilla sponge cake with dulce de leche filling. When she placed it in the window display, Bobby walked by and stopped to watch her. He came inside, bought the whole cake and ordered a double espresso. He invited her to join him as he devoured a huge slice of it, proclaiming it was the most delicious dessert he had ever eaten and that she was the princess of cakes.

  Bobby’s rugged American physique, chestnut hair and crystal blue eyes had attracted her, but it was his appealing personality that had won her over. After three months practically joined at the hip, they had eloped in one reckless moment, to both their families’ vehement disapproval.

  His wealthy parents, commercial real estate developers, had disapproved of him marrying a Latina instead of a socialite and when he refused to annul their marriage, they cut him off financially. Bobby had been so incensed, he had taken Claudia to live in Destin, Florida—much to her chagrin. It was the first job he could find, so he relocated them to the small coastal town. Claudia had liked being near the ocean, but very soon she had become homesick in the predominantly Anglo city. With few friends, she had felt isolated, pining for her close-knit family and Latin customs.

  Before marrying, she and Bobby had made plans to start a yacht chartering business and sail the world, one adventure at a time. He would captain the vessels and take wealthy jet-setters to exotic destinations. That dream had been waylaid when his parents had disowned him and backed off from financing the venture. Before long, they started to run out of money. Bobby, a civil engineer, had been able to get an entry-level job, but Claudia couldn’t find steady employment. Her English was decent, but heavily accented, and many gringos had a hard time understanding her.

  In a desperate attempt to make a lot of money quickly, Bobby had taken a job in the oil sands of Alberta, Canada. When Claudia had balked at his plans, he had admitted he would be entrenched in a very remote area, but had tried to convince her with the excellent salary.

  “We need the money, babe. Six months will go by quickly, you’ll see,” he had told her. She had positively begged him not to go, but his stubborn response had been, “My mind’s made up. I’m doing this for our future.” Well, he had ruined their future by abandoning her—the longer Bobby was gone, the more she resented him, especially since he had left a ticket for her to go to her family in Argentina until he returned. For all he knew, she was living back home. Running to her family and admitting defeat was the last thing she would do. He should have known her well enough not to expect it.

  Claudia swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry. Lately, her emotions were getting the best of her and she found herself tearing up too easily. She wiped away her salty tears but they wouldn’t stop, especially when she reflected on the bleakness of their marriage. She and Bobby hadn’t spoken since he left for Canada after a terrible fight. He had called her several times, but she had refused to answer his calls, instead sending him a text message to stop calling her or her family. Shortly afterward, she began to suffer extreme nausea and found out she was three months pregnant! Many pregnant women got morning sickness, but in Claudia’s case, she had all-day sickness with nausea and vomiting that lasted well into her third trimester.

  It had finally subsided, but she felt emotionally spent and terrified at the thought of being a single mom far from her home with no real friends or family for support other than her big brother. Despite the ticket sitting in her suitcase, she refused to run home. It was too late now and too humiliating to admit she had done a stupid thing by eloping with Bobby and then getting pregnant so soon. Claudia had lived frugally on the money he had left her in the bank account, not wanting to deplete his savings because, as far as she was concerned, they were separated. When her family had heard the Woodbridges had turned against their son for marrying Claudia, they had urged an annulment. I’ll never leave Bobby, she had cried, fiercely defending her husband. Ironically, he had left her.

  When she spent her twentieth birthday alone last month, it was the final straw. Lonely and homesick, she gave up trying to be heroic and headed for Miami in hopes of staying with Paolo until the baby was born. Her big brother would help her figure out what to do.

  She blew her nose, took a deep breath and tried to think positively as she served up some frittata and poured orange juice into a small glass. She dug into the frittata and counted her lucky stars that Paolo had taken her in. He was so strong and protective, almost like a surrogate dad, given the fourteen-year difference between them. As the youngest of the Santos clan, she held a special place in his heart, and he in hers. Paolo had been the first one to discover she had dyslexia when she was eight. He had arranged for after-school tutoring so she wouldn’t fail the school year. Even when he was overworked or had a hot date to go on, he had carved out time to patiently work with her. He had never made her feel inept or dumb, instead praising how smart she was and what a talented baker she was becoming. He had explained that dyslexia had nothing to do with intelligence, and she adored him for it.

  Whoops, there it was again, the annoying Braxton Hicks contraction…a tight sensation, gripping the small of her back and wrapping around to squeeze her belly.

  Hmmm, maybe she should stop eating…

  Michaela could not ignore the ringing telephone another minute. She forced one heavy eyelid open even though it felt like a sandbag held it anchored down. When she tried to lift her head from the couch, her temples throbbed in protest. She cast a bleary glance about her disheveled living room and noticed the usually tidy area was strewn with chocolate candy wrappers and an empty wine bottle on her coffee table. Wondering why her answering machine had not kicked in, she pushed herself up, but had to hold on to the back of the couch as she trudged toward the phone in her kitchen. Every step made her head pound.

  “Hullo,” she mumbled, balancing the receiver on her ear as she tried to tamp down the nausea.

  “Michaela! Is that you?” Amy Merkle, the spa director asked.

  “Yeah, what’s left of me,” Michaela mumbled, trying to organize the jumbled thoughts in her mushy brain.

  “What do you mean, ‘what’s left of you’?” Amy asked in an alarmed voice. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to be absent from work and not call in.”

  “I hate to admit it, but I just woke up.”

  “Really? Now I am worried. You haven’t missed a day since you started and you’ve never been late, either. You’re one of the most dependable people I know.”

  “You wouldn’t think so if you saw the sorry state I’m in and what my apartment looks like this morning.” Michaela shut her eyes and tried to remember what happened last night to make her feel like a category five hurricane was roiling around in her body, wreaking havoc on her stomach and inside her head. But the details escaped her. “I don’t feel very well. My head is pounding and my stomach’s upset.”

  “What’s wrong, honey? Some sort of stomach virus?” Being the earth mother type, Amy loved nurturing the people she cared for with homeopathic remedies.

  “Sorry I didn’t call you earlier. Truth is, I have a whopping hangover,” Michaela whispered, casting a disparaging glance at the empty wine bottle. So much for restraint.

  “Would you please repeat that?” Amy choked out between giggles.

  “I seem to have polished off a whole bottle of wine by myself last night.” Michaela stare
d at her senior yearbook on the floor. “But I’m having a hard time remembering details.”

  “You drank a whole bottle of wine and you can’t remember details?”

  “You know I’m a lightweight. And now I’m suffering the consequences,” Michaela groaned.

  Amy chuckled and wheezed. Usually her unabashed way of laughing amused Michaela, but today it just made her head hurt.

  “Please, I feel awful,” Michaela said.

  “Sorry.” Amy’s humor subsided. “Hang in there, honey. I’ll come over with an herbal tea guaranteed to make you feel like new.”

  In the dreadful state she was in, Michaela did not want to imagine what the natural remedy guru would concoct. She shuddered, remembering how Amy had once grown a huge Colombian mushroom and let it ferment in tea. It had looked scary, like something out of Little Shop of Horrors, and Michaela was certain it tasted just as vile. Amy had drunk the elixir every night, swearing by its rejuvenating qualities until the mushroom grew too big for the glass jar and she had to throw it out. Luckily, she moved on to a different homeopathic recipe for energizing herself. Nevertheless, Michaela did not want to be her guinea pig.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I have to hurry up and get to work. It’s ten already.”

  “I know, but don’t worry. Elliot has already taken charge of everything.”

  “I’m sure he has.” Michaela breathed a small sigh of relief. Elliot Ramsey was her efficient sous chef. “Oh my gosh, I just remembered the school kids are coming in for their lesson today!”

  “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time before they get here. Elliot is making sure we have all the ingredients for their meal.”

  “It’s Thai food today, right?” Every month, “Munchin’ Munchkins”, a class of energetic fifth graders from an inner city school came for a tour-around-the-world cooking lesson. In a popular series that included coaching in good nutrition, they had fun learning to cook a complete meal that they took home to share with their families. For the past year, this had been Michaela’s pet project.