The Perfect Recipe

“Don’t go without enough sleep, Jess. You have to be tip top tomorrow,” Bruce always gets to the point right off.

“Yes, sir. I need to perfect this new sauce. I believe it will enhance Friday’s meal plan. Oh…I know what it needs,” Jessica Parker rushed off to the spice rack.

The jars rattled as she searched for the spice, but it was no where to be found. Deciding to look for it around the kitchen, just in case it had been left out.

She called to Bruce, “do you know where the nutmeg is? I don’t see it here.”

“Sorry, no idea,” came the deep reply.

Jerking to a halt, she blinked serveral times, trying to calm the startled rush that flooded her. Bruce was no where to be seen, apperently left without a word. So Bruce; the man of few words.

“I’m sorry. You startled me. Is there something I can help you with?”

This man unsettled her, every moment that passed in his presence she was on the razor sharp edge of a blade. Issac Thompson was her boss, the restaurant’s owner and the hottest man she had ever encountered. He rarely entered the kitchen, which pleased her. With him around her recipes most likely would have been destroyed. Inhaling slowly, she searched his face.

His eyes flickered through the kitchen, then landing on her, “looking for something?”

“Nutmeg. It seems there isn’t any and I need it to finish a sauce I am planning.”

“Well, we must order it in the morning. Can’t mess with your super sauces.”

Her sauces had become hits, somewhat famous, as customers were asking if they were bottled for sale. Her mentor, Bruce, would suggest an ingredient here and there, usually he let her be, saying, “you’ll get it.” Jessica was relying on Bruce less and less these last few months.

“I had hoped to finish trying for the right taste, but so be it. I think this one will suit Bruce’s meal plan.”

“The two of you are a great team. You can meet in the middle with flavours. We are gaining top ratings. In the top five restaurants six months now.”

“Thank you, Mr Thompson.”

“Must I write you up over this ‘Mr Thompson’ bit?!?” Issac groaned.

“No, sir. Umm Issac.”

“I guess ‘Umm Issac’ is better. Bless the man but every time you call me Mr Thompson I see my grandfather. Great man, sure miss him. He was one tough cookie, made sure everyone followed the recipe to the grain of salt, but fair.”

“I’m sorry,” not knowing what else to say, Jessica stared at the stained floor. By morning the floor would sparkle, then the cooking would begin once more.

“No worries. So now you have finished cooking classes are you going to open your own place?”

Catching him winking at her, Jessica was puzzled. She had only told Bruce she was in those classes. “Bruce mentioned them,” Issac answered her thoughts.

“Oh,” shifting closer to her station. “No plans to opening my own. Only we don’t know what the future brings, but I am not planning on leaving. This year has been the most fulfilling.”

“Good to hear.”

Taking a step closer he propped a hip against the corner of the countertop.

Finding herself back at her station, she decided to finish her cleanup. Not able to work without nutmeg, there was no reason to not to finish for the night. Needing something to do with her hands she grabbed the cloth and started to wipe down the area.

“What were the classes you took? Are you going to put the certificates on the wall?”

The wiping turned into cleansing one spot really. Glancing up she tried to concentrate on sanitizing but with no success as she met his gorgeous piercing gaze. His lips gently curved up. Man, was he ever handsome.

“You're going to wear a hole there,” he rumbled deep in his chest.

What? Dragging her mind back to the task at hand she realized she had wiped that spot over and over again. Darn it, he was too distracting. If only she could wipe off the blush burning her cheeks.

“Right,” she tried to laugh it off but sounded more like gasp than anything. Feeling the blush deepen she grasped the fact that he had asked questions.

“I finished the advanced restaurant cooking course and the one called ‘So you want to be a chef” course. The beginner’s chef’s course was easy and actually quite fun to do. As to the certificates, I guess I could put up the restaurant cooks’ certificate if you like.”

“You should show off the paper alongside all of Bruce’s achievements. You deserve to be there too.”

“Thank you. It's getting plasticized at the moment. You just never know when something might get spilt on things like that.”

“Smart thinking. What’s next on your goals train?”

Giggling, Jessica liked his little quirky figures of speech.

“Focusing on becoming the best I can be creating and cooking. Checking out flavours that people will love and come back time and time again for.”

“Wonderful. I am looking forward to taste testing. But then I have always enjoyed everything you sent out of here.”

Isaac continued to gaze at her. His attention so complete and heating. But desire to avoid the attraction, Jessica quickly finished cleaning and put the dirty cloth in the wash bin. Squaring her shoulders, she turned back to face him. She found him closer, casually leaning against her work counter. He looked upon her station, almost blindly, blinking in deep thought.

“Did I miss a spot?” Jessica teased.

“Ahh, Sorry. No, it looks spotless to me.” A shy smile slipped across his lips.

No longer to able to look away Jessica ate up his expression. Isaac no longer looked the intense restaurant owner. He appeared somewhat vulnerable when he met her gaze.

The shared study of one another lengthened. Knowing she could no longer eat him up with her eyes, she stared at the two-way glass walls that separated the kitchen from the dining area. Silence filled her ears with its deafening stillness.

A sudden sharp intake of breath, Isaac broke the silence. Startled, feeling that he had read her too hot to think thoughts, Jessica could not meet his eyes.

“Jessica, would you whip up something for me on Sunday? Make it enough for two please. Something you find yourself creating often because you love it.”

A frown replaced the embarrassment. A lump as heavy a sourdough ball rested on her chest. He was asking her to cook something to share with a date. This was the only explanation for dinner for that late on a Sunday evening.

“You won't need your coat or beanie when dinners ready,” he whispered.

“Of course.” What did that mean? She would be taking them off to go home as always. Hurt and confused Jessica wanted to escape. Feeling like she had just been burned beyond repair she turned to leave.

“Jessica.”

Why did he have to make her name a caress? Swallowing a groan that may have been a cry, Jessica knew she had to answer her boss.

Staring at the wall behind Isaac, she could only breathe out a flat ‘yes.’

“You are my dinner companion. I would like to share one of your favourite meals with you.”

Still unable to read the man's expression, only knowing it could sear her heart. Pulse racing with more excitement than when she created sauces flavoured to ignite taste buds to drooling, Jessica knew she had one thing to say.

 “Yes.” Only the future would reveal the fine haute cuisine.