Harvest Moon (Virgin River #15)(63)

Lief and Courtney arrived next, and the moment they were all seated comfortably, Luca had an antipasto tray sitting before them, made out of the contents of the refrigerator and cupboards. He had warmed one of Kelly’s frozen French loaves, exclaiming proudly on the texture and aroma, and added that to the table. He poured olive oil and a few spices onto bread plates for dipping. He put Courtney at the head of the table, completely blew off her pique, and never set a place for himself.

Next he served them duck liver appetizers, deviled eggs spattered with inexpensive caviar and cheese and tomato slices. He had always said the true measure of a chef is what he can bring out of the cupboard at last notice. He continued to serve and pour, talking nonstop as was his way, until he had everyone laughing and swooning over his food. Courtney was brought a small casserole of her very own macaroni and cheese, Italian style, which she couldn’t keep away from everyone else. As their forks constantly threatened her casserole, they had her giggling!

By the time Luca delivered the duck to the table for a viewing before carving, even Courtney was impressed. He applied a sharp knife to a few key places and the meat, usually tough and gamey, fell away from the bone.

“Aren’t you going to sit down, Luca?” Jillian finally asked.

“Why? I eat constantly. My passion is to bring it to your mouths. Mangia!”

He never stopped talking, joking, prodding, stopping just short of spooning the food into their mouths. Even Lief was enjoying the performance, and for Luca, every meal he prepared was a performance. Of course it was no small matter of reassurance that Kelly sat beside Lief and often had a hand on his thigh.

But she was reminded by Luca’s good mood, his joy, his humor and his energy that it was cooking that set him right. It was not his fame or wealth, not his many restaurants nor his picture on the labels of specialty foods, but creation in the kitchen. He might indeed be fond of her, proud of her, but he was not in love with her any more than she was with him. He was in love with his craft. And it would sustain him.

Finally, even though everyone at the table was stuffed to the button-popping stage, he brought out the tiramisu.

“I had nothing to do with this,” he announced. “Except that I’m sure I showed her the recipe and method to such perfection!”

“Always taking credit,” Kelly said with a laugh.

It was nine o’clock before the gathering broke up. Courtney had school the next day, Jill had the garden, Colin had things he wanted to do, and, as Kelly pointed out, Luca had to get back on the road.

But that didn’t prevent Kelly and Luca from sitting up with a new bottle of merlot. He picked the bones of the duck carcass, congratulating himself with every bite. And he also had opened the precious jars of her sauces, relishes and chutneys, raving about each one as he tasted.

“There is a fortune here,” he said.

“Hopefully there’s enough to pay the rent, though I won’t turn away a fortune.”

“If you had the right factory and backing, a fortune,” he insisted.

“Right now, I’m just testing the market. I already know it’s good—it comes from my great-grandmother. It’s always been good.”

“Let me take some back to San Francisco and show them around, see if you find a market there.”

“That would be lovely, Luca.”

He grasped her hand and said, “All the things I promised—your own kitchen, your own trademark, your own restaurant—anytime you want to take me up on that, you have only to call me. I will have you in place in a day.”

“I won’t work in another restaurant like La Touche,” she said. “It’s suicide.”

“You will choose the sous chef, the manager, the staff, the line chefs. And you will make the rules,” he said.

“Thank you, Luca. Your faith in me means a great deal.”

“And production of these recipes? I’ll pay and pay well. I’ll supply the production—we’ll work out a contract so you never have to worry about the rent again!”

“The recipes are precious to me,” she said.

“I understand,” he answered with a nod. “I want you to know, I wasn’t just talking—I meant it when I said you had my support. You could be a success without it, but if I can be a part of it…”

“I’m happy here,” she told him.

“If you’re ready for a change in a month or a year, in two years, it doesn’t matter. Call me. In the meantime, I’ll have one of the new interns put together a distribution list for you for northern California. I’ll write a letter of endorsement you can use.”

“That would be so generous. Thank you.”

They sat up drinking and talking until well after midnight, and still, Kelly was up in the kitchen at six the next morning. Luca followed soon after, ready for coffee and something to eat. By seven they were standing on the front porch, and his car engine was running.

“I mean it, Bella. No matter when you call me, I will not let you down again.”

“Thank you, Luca. That means a lot to me.”

He leaned toward her for a kiss and she obliged. He sucked in a deep breath, pulled her close, covered her mouth with his and worked his magic.

But for Kelly, it was like kissing an uncle. After two years of fantasizing unspeakable passion, it was nothing like their last kiss. What happened to the thunderheads?