Daringly Delicious Page 3

  “Apparently this does,” Lupe pointed out. “And there’s no reason to bring yourself down about weight and looks. As I told you before, you are very beautiful.”

  “Uh, thanks.” Lupe lifted the box lid. “I keep hearing on TV ads and the radio about how you can buy the Brazilian secret to beauty in a cream or bottle. It makes me laugh, to think you can get it so easily, when I’ve had to work at it my whole life. Let me show you something.” She pulled out a pair of worn tennis shoes.

  “Those are sneakers,” Tish said.

  “Yes, and they are the Brazilian secret to beauty. You want to know why you always see pictures of gorgeous Brazilian women strolling along the beach? This is why. We don’t have cars, we have to walk everywhere we go.”

  The look of mock exhaust on Lupe’s face was too funny for Tish not to laugh.

  “Seriously, we love to eat, and we do. I do,” Lupe continued. “I wouldn’t have asked for dinner in return for helping with your website otherwise.” She leaned in closer. “I just don’t like to cook.”

  “Trust me, you’ve come to the right place,” Tish said. “I love to cook, and I hate that I love eating so much.”

  Lupe patted her shoulder. “You are not fat, Tish. Even by Brazilian standards. You’d be surprised how much attention you’d gain walking through Rio, looking pretty.” Lupe batted her eyes.

  “Dareville isn’t Rio. Not by a long shot.”

  Lupe didn’t offer a rebuttal, but shrugged and said, “I walk the trails at Dareville Memorial Park every morning at seven. I’d love to have a walking buddy to break the monotony. My sister Lola,” Lupe rolled her eyes, “prefers to sleep in. It might explain why she’s put on a few pounds since she arrived from Brazil.”

  “Really?” Tish had to wonder how much thinner the young girl was before. “I’d love that, walking I mean. I’m an early bird myself.” It would be nice, too, to get out of the house and socialize.

  “It’ll make a difference, too, even if you don’t change your eating habits.” Lupe winked. “Now, let’s get some translation done. I’m hungry!”

  * * * *

  Spearing the last bite of cheesy, rippled lasagna noodles, Lupe folded the pasta slowly into her mouth and chewed. A dreamy expression clouded her dark eyes. “As they say in France,” she declared, “magnifique.”

  “Merci,” Tish laughed, clearing their plates. It had amazed her how much of the eggplant lasagna the petite Latina woman had put away in such a short time. Where would it all go later? Tish doubted any of it would end up taking residence on Lupe’s hips, as food did with hers, but likely would go for that morning walk and be left behind.

  “I have coffee and a sugar-free lemon tart for dessert, if you have room,” Tish called from the kitchen. “Nothing fancy, but I had no complaints the last time I served it.” She hadn’t complained at least, Tish remembered, thinking back to the pan she emptied after yet another disappointing blind date.

  “Sounds wonderful, please,” Lupe’s voice chimed in from the dining room. “If you don’t mind, while you’re doing that I need to check my messages. Robbie probably called and I left my cell in the car.”

  “No problem.” Tish listened for the front door as she prepared two miniature lemon tarts on a puddle bed of blueberry coulis and mint garnish. As she set them on the table Lupe returned, looking a bit ashen.

  “I have a flat tire,” she announced. “I hope you don’t mind that I called the garage to send help over here.”

  “Okay. Do you need any help with an auto club number or anything?”

  Lupe shook her head. “It’ll be fine. I meant to say I called my work, the limo office garage. Vinnie is the best mechanic I know. He’ll have me out of here in no time.”

  Tish’s heart thudded in her chest. Vinnie? Why did that name sound familiar? A few seconds of deep thought over her coffee revived the memory of that delicious Mediterranean hunk she’d met at Jake’s.

  That Vinnie. And he’s coming here? Tish’s eyes widened at the thought of the gorgeous man with the bronzed arms and piercing brown eyes entering her private space, and felt close to coming herself.

  He’s welcome to explore other spaces , came the lustful thought. Perhaps a warm, wet cove for an hour or five. Tish decided not to hold her breath on that one.

  She barely touched her tart, but merely scraped the tines of her fork across the deep yellow surface and watched Lupe scoop bite after mounding bite of the gelled citrus pastry into her mouth. “I love this,” she cooed around a mouthful. “Are you going to sell this at Jake’s, too?”

  “Uh, not that I know of.” Tish locked her gaze on the door behind them. “I suppose I could.” How could this woman so casually pork down sweets? A man was coming to the house!

  Oh . Tish knew how. Lupe could afford to do it. The woman was married to somebody who worshipped her cocoa butter skin and perfect ass, whereas Tish realized her ass was too big to fit inside one religion.

  When the doorbell sounded, Tish started praying for it to decrease at least one dress size.

  * * * * “You didn’t have to come.” Vinnie glanced tersely at his cousin, keeping his finger depressed on the call button.

  Robbie stood slightly behind him to one corner of the concrete pad in front of the door. Arms folded and legs shifting his weight from side to side, Robbie Petrocelli had the look of the quintessential jealous husband. “She didn’t have to call you for help. Lupe is my wife. Yes, I have to be here!” he shot back. The arms fell down to his sides, ending in tight fists. Vinnie made sure to keep an eye on them in case he had to duck.

  “Why did she call you instead of me?” Robbie rambled on as they waited for entrance. “I’m her goddamned husband. I should be the one helping her.”

  “She called a mechanic to fix her car, Rob. You drive cars, you don’t repair them as well as I do, and you know that.” Weary, Vinnie turned back to the door. If Robbie did hit him, that would mean instant points lost with Lupe. Both men knew it. “Trust me, this is not a slight against you.”

  “I can change a flat tire,” Robbie grumbled. “And why did you throw on a fresh shirt and cologne after she called?”

  Damn. Vinnie had hoped nobody noticed that. The second Lupe informed him that she was at Tish Richmond’s house, Vinnie’s hormones raged into overdrive. No way was he going to show up at his dream girl’s house looking and smelling like a slob. He’d been elbow deep in an oil change, and showered as quickly as he could in the locker room Dom had built for the other employees. That Robbie happened to overhear him letting Dom know he had to leave was pure bad luck. He didn’t need his cousin thinking he wanted to put the moves on Lupe.

  He opened his mouth to speak but the click of a lock jarred him into silence. A rush of cool air from the foyer caressed him as the door opened, revealing Tish Richmond, looking sexy as hell in a pair of knee-length jeans and a deep blue, V-neck blouse. Vinnie relished the taste of air conditioning that provided some relief against the unusually warm evening, yet the sight of Tish caused a tightening in his black jeans that brought him a new level of discomfort.

  Not that he minded. Perhaps that would be relieved as well.

  “Oh.” Tish sounded and appeared surprised. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting two—”

  “Robbie?” came a chiding voice from deep within the house. Lupe brushed past Tish to the threshold. “What are you doing here? You didn’t get my message that I’d be late?”

  “I didn’t and I’m sorry.” Robbie spread his arms wide to invite a reluctant Lupe into an embrace. When she didn’t budge, Robbie gently led her outside to the stone path leading to the driveway. “I was at the office when Vinnie got your call, so I drove him over. I’m going to take you home, and Vinnie’ll bring in the car. You can pick it up at work tomorrow.”

  “What? It’s just a flat,” Lupe protested. “It won’t take twenty minutes to fix. And it’s not like I’m stranded in the desert.” She gestured back to Tish. “We were having a cup of coffee—”
>
  “Well, it’s getting late, and I was worried. Besides, it’s better for Vinnie to take the car in case something happens to the tire again on the drive home.”

  “That won’t happen,” Vinnie said curtly, embarrassed by the scene his cousin made in front of a now bewildered Tish. “I’m just going to put on the limp tire and take it back to the garage. No big deal, Lupe can drive the car.”

  Robbie wasn’t listening. He stepped forward to offer Tish a grateful bowing gesture. “Thanks for keeping my wife company. I hope you two got everything done that you needed to get done.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure,” Tish said.

  Lupe rolled her eyes and blew out a frustrated sigh. “Fine.” She dipped into her purse and tossed Vinnie her keys. “Tish, how about I meet you at the park at seven tomorrow? If the warden will let me out.” That last crack was lower, but Vinnie clearly heard it. If Tish did, she kept a poker face.

  “Of course.” Tish brightened and waved as Lupe slumped into the passenger side of Robbie’s car. Vinnie didn’t wait for the Prius to disappear completely before turning back to Tish with a lean smile.

  The poor thing looked ready to jump out of her skin. What must she be thinking of his crazy family? “Robbie’s a nice guy, really. Just a bit protective of Lupe,” he said in his cousin’s defense.

  Tish nodded. “She told me the whole story…of how they met. I understand.”

  “Cool.” Vinnie rocked on his heels, fondling the keys in his right palm. He had to root himself to the spot, at least until Tish made a move back inside the house. One more second and he’d dive sideways to tackle her to the ground and smother her mouth against his in a wanting kiss.

  His libido in check, he edged closer to Lupe’s car. “I’m going to get started with the, uh, tire,” he said. “I got it from here.” Brilliant, Dr. Hawking. Everything he needed was outside, and now he had no reason to be in her house. She could lock him out.

  Tish offered a slight hand gesture and another nod. “Sounds good. I have to clean up and finish a purchase order. Just let me know if you need anything.” With that, she disappeared behind the closing front door.

  “You bet I will,” Vinnie whispered, wondering how he’d be able to kneel comfortably with his raging hard-on.

  Chapter Five

  “Ugh!” Baking sheets and metals bowls clattered a disjointed tune as Tish slammed her baking supplies around the kitchen. Could she have been any more like a giggling virgin schoolgirl in front of Vinnie? What must he think of her mooning expression and less-than-seductive nature?

  She set a Calphalon pot to boil and retrieved an indented block of bittersweet chocolate from her pantry. Breaking tiny triangles into a glass of bowl, she dared a peek out of the window over the sink. Vinnie already had the back of the car jacked and the lug nuts removed from the faulty tire with that X-shaped wrench—hell if Tish knew what the thing was actually called. Auto repair was not her forte.

  But oh, outside of baking, she would definitely choose man-watching as her favorite activity, and she did enjoy spying on this sexy one-man pit crew. Even with the distance, she could detect Vinnie’s back muscles rippling underneath the white of his t-shirt, and his tanned biceps flexed and relaxed with little effort as he worked the tire off its axle.

  Crud. At this rate he’d be finished, leaving her with little time to work up the nerve to fake a voluptuous persona and invite him in for a cool glass of lemonade to quench his thirst.

  “If I had lemonade,” she then muttered, realizing her refrigerator contained only diet colas for consumption. Vinnie didn’t seem the type for that.

  She stripped away a large patch of cling wrap from its roll and tightened it around the glass bowl before setting the whole thing on the bubbling pot. Next she poured a measured amount of whipping cream in a smaller pot to boil on the adjacent flat burner. Once it reached a bubbling point, she would whisk in white chocolate to create what would become the truffle center. The melted dark chocolate, shiny and sweet in its consistency, would serve as a delicious outer shell.

  A knock at the door interrupted her concentration and sent Tish’s heart pounding. She checked the window—the car remained, limp tire in place, with its caretaker out of sight. That could only mean…

  Shit! Quickly washing her hands, she fisted a damp towel and rushed to the door. No time to worry about hair or makeup or clothes. Like Vinnie cared, anyway. This was likely a courtesy ring to let her know he’d be leaving her now. Never to return.

  “Hello—” She paused at the doorjamb, expecting to see Vinnie jangling Lupe’s keys before her in a casual farewell. Instead her senses knocked backward and she grasped the door for support at the sight of the gorgeous mechanic—shirtless and smiling, his dark eyes glistening with hunger. Thick nipples stood to attention against a smooth chest planed with hard muscle, ridged and curved in all the right places.

  “Hey,” he said. “What smells so good in there?” * * * *

  He had a pack of industrial strength hand wipes in his back pocket, kept for just such events. They could have sufficed to clean him up, and get the car back to the limo garage without messing up Lupe’s car too much. He didn’t need to ask Tish for permission to wash before leaving, but damned if he’d let another day pass without expressing his interest in her in some way. Begging the use of her bathroom seemed a legitimate icebreaker—he’d scrub his hands raw with whatever designer soap she probably used until he worked up the courage to ask her out.

  But the sweet aroma of chocolate wafting out from within her home struck his senses and brought back memories of her delicious handiwork. He couldn’t help but ask.

  “Huh?” Tish seemed glazed, distracted. Maybe this was a good sign—removing his shirt, while not necessary for the job, had been an impromptu move for attention. “Yyes,” she said quickly. “I’m making a batch of truffles for Dareville Primary. Fundraiser. Uh, did you want something?” No mistaking the hope in that tone. Vinnie smiled.

  “I kinda wanted to wash up,” he began, relieved when no further explanation seemed required. Tish ushered him into the foyer and pointed out the half-bath to the side. “Everything you need is in there,” she called, backing into the kitchen on what Vinnie noticed were shaking legs. Nice. She felt something, too. Perhaps this would go easier than expected if she met him halfway.

  Rinsed and dried, he thought to remove the white tshirt from his other back pocket and redress, then decided against it. That might signal his readiness to leave, and he wouldn’t do that without securing at least a date for coffee. Besides, her reaction on seeing him half-naked was too obvious to miss. Best to use all his strengths in catching the tempting Tish.

  “You there?” he asked cautiously into the deserted foyer, then followed the rich scent of chocolate into the kitchen, where Tish held vigil over a fancy stove. She looked up at him without a break in her stirring and smiled. “All set?” she asked. She seemed more relaxed than earlier. Clearly in her milieu she had control.

  Vinnie leaned against the doorway, folding his arms. “Yep. Car’s fixed, but I’m in no hurry to get back. How are the truffles coming along?”

  “Filling’s almost done.” Tish turned back to the stove and removed a small pot to a metal trivet on the counter. “I’m thinking now I might split this batch and make some of them my signature key lime flavor.”

  “Nice. How do you do that?”

  Tish winked. “Nice try. A good cook doesn’t reveal her secret recipes.”

  “Aw,” Vinnie teased. “Can’t at least spill one or two of those eleven herbs and spices?”

  “Not a granule. Sorry.”

  “Fair enough.” He eyed the wooden butcher’s block in the middle of the kitchen, wondering at how much weight it could hold.

  And inspiration struck. “Could I have a taste?” * * * *

  You certainly may.

  Like that would work. “A taste?” she asked instead.

  “Of the chocolate,” Vinnie said, edging deeper into the kitche
n until his abdomen brushed the rim of the butcher’s block. Tish stood opposite him, relieved he couldn’t see her knees pinned together to keep the lust from rushing between her thighs.

  “My mom used to bake cakes and pies all the time,” he continued, “and I always got to lick the spoons and bowl.” He shrugged, offering a goofy smile. “I dunno, it always made me feel good, like getting a preview of something good.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Tish said. “That’s sort of how I became a baker. Only now I try to scrape as much as I can off the utensils.”

  “Yeah. Every little bit means one more truffle to sell, I’m sure.”

  “Yep.” Tish turned to the bowl of chocolate ganache, stirred the thickening contents, then extracted the wooden spoon. She tapped the base of the curved spoon to release a wide ribbon of chocolate back into the bowl, yet left enough for a free sample. “I’ll warn you, though,” she said, “eating straight dark chocolate isn’t like cake batter. This here is seventy percent cacao, so it’s going to have somewhat of a bitter tang, but if you leave it on your tongue long enough you might detect a citrus finish. That’s by nature of the particular brand I’m using, which is a single origin from Hawaii. One of the few actually produced there.”

  “Single origin?”

  Tish nodded. “That means the cacao beans used to make this chocolate came from the same place. If you see a chocolate bar that says ‘Single Origin Ghana’ on the label, for example, you know all the beans came from there,” she said. “Sometimes the area is cut even closer. This chocolate was produced at one small farm, that’s why I use it. Very high quality.”

  Vinnie took the proffered spoon, fisting the long, wooden handle at the end. “You sound like you’re selling wine instead of chocolate.”