Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Francesca pulled up the bottle quickly, but the damage had already been done. A large red stain was spreading over the expensive silk.
“I’m so sorry—” Francesca began.
Ms. Morgana cut her off. “My dress is ruined. I knew I shouldn’t have wasted my time at such a small-time restaurant. I wanted to visit my Aidan but I’m not even going to see him!” Rage rolled off her in waves, and Francesca struggled to figure out how to do damage control. It wasn’t possible to fix this and the judges were all staring in her direction, mouths open.
The maître d' arrived at her elbow. “Ms. Morgana,” he said, his voice as smooth as the silk of her dress. “I have just the thing to remedy this small inconvenience. If you’ll come with me, I can assist you in treating the garment.” Like magic, his words soothed the diva and she stood to follow him.
“Thank God there is one quality staff member in this dive.” With a scathing look at Francesca, she walked after the maître d', leaving Francesca holding a bottle of wine and feeling stupid.
She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. “I’m sorry for that interruption,” she said as she carefully poured the remaining glass with shaking hands. She placed the bottle in the center of the table, then took her corkscrew and the empty bottle and made a hasty retreat.
Once in the back of the house, she took a deep breath and smoothed her hair back. She needed to compose herself before she met the table.
“Francesca?” Aidan appeared at her side. “What happened? I heard yelling, then saw Pammie escorted to the employee lounge.
“Some jerk bumped into me when I was pouring and it went all down Pammie’s dress.” She emphasized the nickname bitterly. No time to ask Aidan how he knew the diva actress so well. She may not want to know.
Aidan laughed and Francesca shot him a dark look. “It’s not funny. This is my career. And the table of possible judges saw the whole damn thing.”
Aidan wrapped her in a spontaneous hug and Francesca could smell mole sauce on him. She’d forever associate the rich smell with Aidan.
“Don’t worry about Pammie. She’s all bark and no bite. She’ll get over this, especially because there were no paparazzi to witness and document it.”
Francesca let out a huff before stepping out of the hug. “Thank you. I feel a little better now. I have to go meet that table now. I can’t keep them waiting too long.”
He nodded. “And I’m hopelessly behind in the kitchen. Don’t worry, their meal is a priority. I’m supervising it personally to ensure it’s perfect.”
“Thank you,” Francesca replied. She had the urge to hug him again, but held herself back. There were too many watchful eyes to let her guard down.
She approached the table of three, pasting on her brightest smile. “Good evening. I’m Francesca Dupont, head sommelier. May I answer any questions about our wine?”
The man at the table smiled warmly. “Thank you, Ms. Dupont. I know you’ve had quite an eventful evening. You managed that table over there beautifully, by the way.”
Francesca relaxed a bit at the compliment and the man’s warmth. He and his companions peppered her with questions about the wines on tonight’s menu and listened intently to her responses. Their questions went beyond what might be expected from an amateur wine enthusiast, further solidifying her suspicion that these were indeed the judges. The group ordered a bottle for the table as well as the tasting menu she and Aidan had worked on together. Francesca served their bottle of wine, then retreated to the back of the house with a prayer to the universe for the rest of the evening to go smoothly.
Hours later, Francesca stepped outside the back door, reveling in the chilly night air. She was glad she had stopped to throw on a cardigan as the December air was biting. She’d run crazy all night and was grateful to have a moment of peace. It seemed as if everything that could have gone wrong, did. She’d had a positive interaction with the table of judges, so she hoped that she’d salvaged the night. There were only a few patrons left, including Pamela Morgana and her crew.
Her plan was to sit on the overturned crates the kitchen staff often used for their breaks and bask in the silence.
What she found was that Aidan had beaten her to her hideout. He was seated, chin cradled in his palm, staring at the gravel.
Francesca sat next to him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his. He turned to greet her with a nod of his head.
“How’s it going?” she asked, giving his shoulder a playful nudge.
“Could always be worse,” Aidan replied.
“That bad?” Francesca noticed the glass of amber liquid dangling from his other hand. She supposed it was exactly that bad.
“I’ve been run through the ringer,” he said. “To top it all off, the paparazzi showed up after all and are camped out front to get their shot when Pammie leaves.”
“How well do you know Pamela?” Francesca asked, emphasizing the actress’s full name.
Aidan took a sip of his drink and offered Francesca one as well. She accepted the glass, taking a long pull of the liquid before handing it back.
“We ran in the same circles in LA.”
Aidan didn’t offer further information and Francesca couldn’t resist digging. Why she cared was beyond her, but she did. The thought of Pamela having something of Aidan she didn’t made her gut twist with jealousy.
“Is that a euphemism for hooking up?” she asked, immediately wishing she could call the words back.
Aidan cut her a sharp look. “No. Not that she didn’t try but…” He trailed off as he looked into the distance.
“But what? She’s attractive.” Francesca would rather eat glass than admit she was more than attractive—she was drop-dead gorgeous.
Aidan shrugged. “It’s LA. There are attractive women everywhere. That’s not what I’m looking for.”
Francesca smoothed her hair back, suddenly self-conscious of how she must look at the end of the evening. Hair slightly frizzed, makeup faded, and silk blouse wrinkled.
“What are you looking for?”
“Substance. I’ve done the shallow hookup thing for too long. I’m done with bad decisions. I thought my last relationship had potential…”
“But it turned out she lied,” Francesca finished his sentence. So that was why he turned her down. She’d proposed the same thing he was avoiding. Not that she could offer more. Or wanted to offer more. She’d barely figured out how to have her career. Factoring in a relationship seemed nearly impossible.
“Hookups don’t have to be shallow.” Francesca made the statement with more confidence than she felt. She knew nothing about hookups.
Aidan passed her the glass and she sipped again. The strong liquor warmed her from the inside and gave her courage to move closer to Aidan until their thighs touched as well as shoulders.
“You mean hooking up with you?”
“Yes. It would be short term, but it doesn’t have to be sordid.”
Aidan winked. “It’s no fun if it isn’t sordid.”
Francesca wished the outside lights weren’t so bright because Aidan could tell she was blushing at his teasing comment.
“I mean it doesn’t have to be shallow. I’m not cut out for hookups either, which is why…” Francesca didn’t know how to explain that she felt more comfortable with Aidan than any man she’d dated. “Which is why I don’t have them,” she finished lamely.
“So what exactly are you suggesting?”
“A fling. A short-term agreement to have lots of sex until you return to LA.”
“Why me?”
That was a loaded question. Francesca debated how honest to be, then finally decided to lay it all on the line.
“Because you’re hot. And while I can’t always stand you, my body seems to want to get naked with yours.”
Aidan tipped his head back and laughed. Francesca’s eyes were drawn to his sharp jaw, which was rough with stubble.
“That’s honest,” he said.
“I’m an honest person,” she replied. “I won’t lie to you.”
He set the glass down where it wouldn’t get knocked over, then turned to her. He gazed at her for long moments and Francesca held her breath, waiting to see what he’d do.
He cursed under his breath, then said, “This is a bad idea.” Then he kissed her.
Francesca’s hands came up to grip his shoulders and his mouth pressed firmly to hers. Her stomach somersaulted at the sensation of his stubble against her smooth skin. His tongue darted out to lick the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open to him.
Her body remembered kissing Aidan and thrummed with expectation. More. She needed more.
He pulled her into his lap and she found herself balanced precariously but didn’t care. All she cared about was more of his drugging kisses. The first kiss they’d shared had been hot and now that they knew each other better, this one threatened to burn her alive. She felt safe with Aidan in a way she’d never had with anyone else.
“Aidan,” she breathed. “Take me to bed.”