Page 19 of Slow Simmer

Chapter Ten

Carlo plated up one of his mandarin chocolate bombe specials to put in the dessert showcase at the front of the restaurant before dinner that evening, and another one to take to Suzannah for sampling. She gave him an amused look, but set aside the lamb racks she was dressing and washed her hands.

“This did sound fantastic when you told me about it earlier,” she said, accepting the offered plate and inspecting the glossy chocolate sphere nestled amid piped creamy waves, thin lines of mandarin syrup criss-crossed underneath and three carefully prepared mandarin slices arranged symmetrically around the whole. “And it looks stunning.”

The chocolate shell, about the size of a tennis ball, cracked and splintered at the slightest tap of her fork, and Suzannah dug in to scoop out a forkful of decadent chocolate mousse and sponge cake.

“Talk about spoiling my dinner.” Scooping a little of the mandarin cream up too, she put the fork into her mouth.

The moan she let out would have made a dead man sit up and take notice, and Carlo was very far from dead. His cock leaped instantly to attention, pushing hard against the fly of his pants, and he spared a moment to be grateful for the long chef’s coat which maintained his modesty.

Although if Suzannah moaned like that again, he was going to lose it and kiss her right here in the kitchen in front of all the staff, and to hell with the ensuing gossip.

Suzannah had closed her eyes as she tasted the decadent treat, and she opened them now to reveal their emerald colour glimmering through her long lashes.

“Christ, Carlo, that’s absolutelysinful,” she said, her voice a little huskier than usual.

“That’s the general idea.” He could barely speak. The sight of Suzannah licking chocolate off her lips nearly sent him to his knees. Her eyes held his, and slowly, tantalisingly, she scooped up another mouthful.

She was doing it deliberately this time, and everything in Carlo wanted to respond to the challenge her eloquent look sent him.

You’re working, he told himself sternly, though it was hard to hear the voice of his conscience over the blood pounding in his ears. Suzannah was challenging him to maintain his professionalism in the face of temptation.

It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but he made himself turn away and say “Enjoy your dessert, Chef,” over his shoulder as he headed back to the pastry kitchen.

Behind him, he heard Julie say “That looks fantastic, Chef, could I have a taste?”

Suzannah’s throaty chuckle reached his ears, followed by “Bugger off and get your own.”

He had to laugh. At least she appreciated his cooking. And later, after the restaurant closed down for the night, he was going to find out if that inviting look she’d given him was a limited-time offer or not.

* * *

Carlo didn’t have a great deal to do that evening; the chocolate bombes had all been made earlier that day and only needed their presentation plates finishing before sending out to the diners. Keeping a weather eye on the staff taking care of the rest of the standard desserts from the menu, he allowed himself to relax a little.

Which, of course, was when a yell of “Fire!” went up in the main kitchen.

Carlo reacted fast, shooting through the door in time to see a sheet of flame swooping upwards above an open grill. Suzannah was only a couple of steps away, turning with a startled look on her face.

It all happened so fast, it didn’t occur to him to wonder until much later why the automatic fire suppressant system hadn’t come on. He reacted by instinct, leaping forward and slapping his hand down on the manual release.

Fire suppressant rained down from the hood above the grill, extinguishing the flames almost instantly. Greasy black smoke billowed upwards instead.

“Shit!” Suzannah yelled. “Don’t let the doors open!” She pointed to the doors leading out to the dining area, and staff who’d stood frozen during the emergency rushed to hold them closed.

“Get all the extraction hoods running at max,” Carlo ordered sharply, and within a couple of minutes the pall of smoke was clearing.

Suzannah looked shell-shocked, unable to understand how the fire had started, but there was no time now to investigate. Diners were waiting for their meals, the grill had to be cleared and cleaned and fresh food cooked. Carlo set to with a will, scraping the grill off while Suzannah moved to prepare the dishes again. Between them they had the mishap corrected in ten minutes flat, a short enough time nobody outside the kitchen would ever guess there had been a problem in the first place.

* * *

Rolling his head from side to side to stretch out tight neck muscles, Carlo glanced around the pastry kitchen. The last plate had gone out about a quarter hour before and all activity was centred around cleanup now. He’d been briefly panicked they might run out of the chocolate bombe specials, but there were still three left in the refrigerator after the final order came in.

“I’m gonna call it a night,” he told Samira, the young chef with a talent for cake decoration. She was in her own corner of the kitchen, making tiny sugar roses for a wedding cake. Glancing up, she nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“I’ll finish these off and turn in myself. I can supervise the washing-up, Chef Gianetti, I promise.”

“I know you can.” He could still see Julie in the main kitchen, anyway, and she wouldn’t leave until the kitchen was resorted to the pristine state Suzannah required. “Good night, and don’t stay up too late. Those could wait until tomorrow morning.”

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