“Would trying to impress you be explanation enough?” He nudged the steak with the tongs, not looking up from it. “I just thought it would be nice for you to have someone cook for you for a change.”
A warm glow ignited near her heart and quickly spread through her chest. “That’s very sweet of you.” She glanced around at the scattered ingredients on the counter. “And ambitious.”
“Did you miss the memo where I always get what I want?”
Her grin mirrored his. If this was the only side to Adam she knew, falling for him would be a no-brainer. He was smart, funny, sexy as hell—all things that would have any woman tripping over her high heels to grab him like a Black Friday special. If only she could forget the fact that he held the future of La Arietta in his hands.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” She started cleaning up the food scraps on the counter.
He left the grill and coaxed her away from the mess. “Yes, you can pick out a bottle of wine to go with dinner.”
“And what’s on the menu this evening?” she asked, even though she had a good idea based on the scraps of cilantro and parsley she’d just cleaned up.
“Grilled flank steak with chimichurri sauce, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes.”
“Sounds delicious.” She surveyed the kitchen and saw that the oven was on, and a pot with steam coming out from under its lid simmered away on the stove. Everything looked to be under control. “Where’s the wine?”
He pointed to the glass cabinet by a large wooden table in the next room. “Get whatever you’d like.”
Lia’s jaw dropped as she inspected the contents of the wine cabinet. Adam had excellent taste in wine. Expensive, but still very good. She settled on an Argentinean Malbec and opened it in the kitchen. It tasted like black cherries, followed by hints of black pepper toward the end. “Perfect.”
Adam took a sip from the glass she offered him and nodded in approval. “Good choice.”
“I’d like to think I know a thing or two about pairing wine with dinner.” She eased onto the barstool on the opposite side of the grill. “Everything smells delicious.”
He gave her smile that only hinted of his usual confidence. “Thank you. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Why don’t you take a look around?”
A dismissal from his realm, but one she easily understood. She always got nervous when someone was peering over shoulder while she cooked.
Adam’s high-rise condo had an open feel to it with the kitchen, living room, and dining room all flowing into each other. A small balcony overlooked the lake, and the traffic along Lakeshore Drive below winked like stars. The floor was covered with light-toned wood, a sharp contrast to the cherry cabinets in the kitchen and the dark brown sofas in the living room. The decor was a cross between modern and masculine. Elegant, but still relaxed enough that she could imagine Adam and his brothers watching the Bears on the sixty-inch flat screen TV.
In other words, perfect for a well-to-do bachelor.
She ran her fingers across the buttery-soft leather sofa and realized with a start that she could be comfortable here. Get your head on straight, Lia. He invited you for dinner, not to move in with him.
The scent of something burning wafted into the living room. Lia turned around to see black smoke billowing out from the pot on the stove.
Adam cursed and pulled it off the eye with his bare hands, hissing and shaking his fingers a second later.
“Run them under some cold water.” Lia grabbed the pot holders and lifted the lid. The stomach-turning odor of scorched potatoes filled the kitchen. “The water boiled off,” she explained as she carried the pot over to the sink.
“Damn it.” His shoulders slumped as he stared at the disaster in the pot. “So much for trying to impress you.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s not a complete loss. We still have the steak and the veggies, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” He shook the water from his hands, which thankfully were not blistered. “I had it all strategically planned so everything would be ready at the same time.”
“The first rule about cooking is that nothing ever goes according to plan.” She stuck the pan under the faucet and peered at the vegetables roasting in the oven. “Do you have any cornmeal?”
“If I do, it’ll be in the pantry.” He pointed to the tall, narrow cabinet at the end of the kitchen.
After a minute of digging, she found what she was looking for. “Where are your pans?”
“By the stove.” He wandered back to the grill, watching her the whole time. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make some polenta.”
Fifteen minutes later, Adam’s momentary pity party had vanished. He unwrapped the flank steak from the foil Lia had instructed him to place it in and divided it into two portions. “Steak’s ready.”
Lia brought over two plates with deep orange mush on them. “The roasted red pepper polenta is ready, too. Now, just place the steak on top like so and then add the chimichurri.”
While he did that, she pulled the dish with roasted peppers, onions, mushrooms, and carrots out of the oven. The aroma made his mouth water. At least I didn’t mess that up.
She dished up the veggies and stood back with a grin. “Voilà! Dinner is ready.”
It wasn’t the way Bobby Flay had presented the meal, but it still looked nice. He carried the plates to the table. “And now we feast.”
Lia followed with the wine and poured them each a glass before sitting next to him. “Thank you for cooking.”
“Don’t thank me until you try it.” But the first bite drove away any doubts that lingered. The steak was tender and moist, and the polenta Lia had made complemented the spices and the chimichurri perfectly. “Not bad.”
She nodded in agreement as she chewed. “Not bad at all. Want to come work for me?”
He laughed and reached for his wine. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Still, it’s a fantastic start.”
He paused with the glass still at his lips. Despite the setback with the burning potatoes, his plan to make a good impression on a first date with her had gone far better than he imagined. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”
Her eyes appeared to be a softer green than before, more like new spring grass rather than emeralds. She held his gaze over the rim of her glass as she took a sip, and all thoughts of the meal before him vanished. There were far more tempting things to taste—like her lips. But then he remembered the first words out of her mouth when she arrived, and pushed those thoughts out of his mind. As much as he wanted her, he didn’t want to cross that line unless she initiated it.
He cut into his steak while she asked him questions about what it was like to grow up in a house with six brothers. He answered them, sharing stories of some of his exploits and earning a few chuckles as a reward. But it wasn’t until their plates were almost clean that he realized the entire conversation had revolved around him. He hadn’t learned a single thing about Lia, but there was still time to rectify the situation.
“You mentioned last week that you didn’t always want to be a chef. What did you do before?”
She choked on her wine and covered her mouth with her napkin, making him wish he could take his question back. Lia cleared her throat. “I, um, have a degree in business.”
Not what he would have expected at first, but the more he thought about her success with La Arietta, the more sense it made. “From where?”
She rolled a carrot across her plate with her fork. “From Harvard.”
It was then he realized he’d only begun to scratch the surface of the mysterious and complicated Lia Mantovani. “And that led you into cooking how?”