Holiday Hookup
Auteur
Jamie K. Schmidt
Lezers
19,5K
Hoofdstukken
21
CHAPTER ONE
SELENA THOMPSON EYED the clock while she put her vegetarian lasagna into the oven. It would be ready to eat when her client Blaine Stephens arrived in his penthouse suite at the Maui Wellness Center. He’d be tired from the long flight, so he might not want the heavy meal, but she hoped the comforting aroma of the garlic and sauce made him feel at home.
It was still a few weeks before Christmas, but she wanted to get him into the holiday spirit early. His dossier said he needed it. And she knew from experience that healthy and delicious food was a great mood enhancer.
Checking her notes, she reviewed that Blaine was here for two weeks of relaxation, meditation, and to rewire his diet of fast food to more healthy options. That left her favorite Christmas fudge out, but maybe she’d make him a small batch of sugar cookies. “Everything in Moderation” was her motto. There was also an asterisk at the end of the report that he was pretty much forced to come to the Maui Wellness Center by his business partners because of a stress-related incident at work.
Selena liked a challenge. After a quick Google search, she found out that Blaine was a software engineer who was working on a self-driving car, and that the latest tests were disastrous. He was gorgeous, with ice-blue eyes and short dark brown hair, but he was a hothead. Quick to shout and get physical, with coworkers and reporters, it was no wonder he had been exiled here.
But she had also found out that he loved Italian food, hence the lasagna in the oven. She hoped he would still eat it when he found out it was made with tofu instead of sausage. The Maui Wellness Center pushed a vegetarian menu and a strict no-junk-food policy. They promoted clean eating and living, even during the holiday season. Fortunately, she wasn’t an employee. She was a contractor and her boss didn’t care what she cooked as long as the client was happy. In this case, Selena wanted to walk the fine line of keeping Titus a.k.a. “Tight Ass” Dukes, the general manager of the Maui Wellness Center, and Blaine Stephens happy. Titus was a strict vegan and an even stricter CrossFit devotee. If she hadn’t worked under a chef from hell during her early years, Titus would have caused her to have a nervous breakdown.
Selena already felt bad about Blaine having to deal with him. As a self-proclaimed workaholic, he would be in for the hardest two weeks of his life without internet and Titus wouldn’t budge a bit on that. Selena figured Blaine would last three days before checking out and heading to the nearest luxury chain hotel. She had been hired by his business partners to be his personal chef for the two weeks he was here, so he had better choose a property that wasn’t part of the destination vacation club that held her contract. Otherwise, she’d be following him like a veggie-pushing stalker.
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Selena walked out on Blaine’s private balcony. The cost of this penthouse suite for two weeks was more than she made in a year. It had a beautiful view of the ocean, and at sunset it would be a wonderful place to decompress. Since she had some time until the lasagna came out of the oven, she poured herself a glass of pog—pineapple, orange and guava juice—and sat out on the balcony with her Bullet Journal.
She crossed off today in her countdown to Paris with a mental fuck you to Anton Koslov. Her former mentor was the voice she heard in her head every time she made a mistake in the kitchen. Anton made Gordon Ramsay look like Fred Rogers. If Blaine thought she was going to quail when he threw a temper tantrum, he would be greatly surprised. Selena had been forged in the fire of Anton’s kitchen. She had eaten abuse with a pleasant, Yes, Chef! It had been five years since she was his sous chef in San Francisco, but there were days when she was under pressure in the kitchen that she could still feel him over her shoulder. He had run his Michelin-starred restaurant Bolete like his own personal fiefdom and had treated her like the lowest serf. Nowadays, he traveled the country with his Food Network show and promoted his merchandise like a late-night infomercial hawker.
Back then, Anton had hated that she had good ideas and that she had gotten most of her education at Miami-Dade’s culinary school and by working in corporate cafeterias.
“You would never make it at Le Cordon Bleu,” was one of his favorite sneers.
When Selena quit Bolete out of self-preservation, she wanted nothing to do with a commercial kitchen for a long time. But she had a burning desire to go to Paris and enroll in Cordon Bleu just to prove the son-of-a-bitch wrong. She was planning on taking additional courses while getting her MBA in international hospitality and culinary leadership. Unfortunately, she needed more money for a move to France. Luckily, her Miami-Dade contacts came in handy and told her that real estate mogul Kirk Diamonte had an opening for a personal chef for his destination vacation properties. Selena liked the idea of moving from place to place every few weeks, and after whipping up a coq au vin for Kirk, she had the job.
Maui was her favorite island. Kirk managed a bunch of properties on Maui that he rented out to the rich and famous, but he also contracted chefs, concierges and other service personnel to local resorts when needed. The Maui Wellness Center was set on a semiprivate beach, and when she wasn’t in the kitchen cooking, she could do whatever she wanted. It made dealing with crazy clients and general managers like “Tight Ass” Dukes bearable. That and no matter what happened, she’d be gone in two weeks for another exotic location. For the moment, that suited her. But it wasn’t what she wanted long term.
Turning to her dreams-and-goals page in her Bullet Journal, Selena added to the brainstorming list of names she was compiling for the restaurant she wanted to open after she graduated from Cordon Bleu.
“Chanterelle—just to piss off Anton.” Bolete was a Russian mushroom. “The V Spot.” Selena chuckled. V for vegetarian, but her dirty mind took it to G-spot or virgin spot. Tossing her pen on the table. She needed to get laid. Moving from one gorgeous vacation property to another every couple of weeks didn’t make it easy to make a meaningful connection, but she had excellent luck with one-night stands. Lately, though, that had seemed rather empty and she chose abstinence, which sounded nobler than it actually was. And, of course, this time of year there was mistletoe everywhere and no one to smooch.
The door to the condo opened and Selena shot to her feet. “Can I help you?” she called out, feeling a little guilty about lounging around the gorgeous suite.
Her friend Mikelina Presley shouldered her way in, carrying two large shopping bags. Mikelina was assigned to be Blaine’s concierge for his stay. Like Selena, she moved around to whatever property Kirk needed her at. They had gone to high school and college together and had remained close.
“Yeah, take these.” Mikelina handed her the bags. “I’ve got to make a few other trips. Be right back.”
Selena put the groceries away while Mikelina brought in box after box of stuff. She glanced at the labels for the pantry items, and while they weren’t the ones she would’ve chosen, Mikelina did a good job of balancing what Blaine wanted versus what the Maui Wellness Center allowed.
Mikelina’s job was to prepare the condo for the client, making them feel at home and providing them with just about anything they asked for. Some of the requests were as mundane as snorkels and bathing suits, or a candy dish of green—and only green—M&M’s. And then there were the unique requests. Selena’s favorite was a client who had requested that all the lightbulbs be changed to ones that gave off red light.
Mikelina came back in, carrying large tote bags. “It smells wonderful in here,” she said.
“Thanks. What on earth are you doing? He’s only going to be here for two weeks.”
“Titus wants everyone who celebrates Christmas to have decorations up. I drew the line at a tree, though.”
Luckily Titus and Kirk hashed out all the details of Blaine Stephens’s stay, leaving Mikelina and Selena to do their jobs without any micromanaging. Still, Titus made it a point to stick his nose into everything.
“Do you need a hand?” Selena asked.
“Always. Can you swap out the towels for these higher thread counts. Just store the others in the laundry room.”
“Not a problem,” Selena grabbed a stack of towels. “Were there any weird requests?”
“Aside from the wireless password?”
Selena snorted. Good luck with that. The Maui Wellness Center rooms didn’t have a television, computer hookups or internet access. The only thing the condos had was a killer sound system that relied on CDs.
“He likes junk food,” Mikelina said, as she artfully spaced beach-themed snow globes and Santas in Hawaiian shirts around the rooms.
“I saw the blue corn chips and salsa. Nice compromise,” Selena said. “I’ll probably make him some of my pineapple salsa and serve it over some mahi-mahi tomorrow for him.”
“Stop,” Mikelina said, holding a hand to her stomach. “You’re making me hungry.”
“Is Bastien starving you?” she asked. Bastien was Mikelina’s fiancé and they probably spent all their spare time in bed rather than doing something as mundane as eating.
Mikelina twisted the honker of an engagement ring on her finger. “He’s been so busy lately, I barely see him. Help me with these lights, would you?”
As they strung up delicate white lights over the sliding glass door, Selena said, “If you want to give me the keys, I can show the client around. I’ve got to stay here until the lasagna’s done anyway.”
Biting her lip, Mikelina said, “I really shouldn’t, but it’s all very straightforward. Same old, same old. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“No, not at all.”
“I’d really appreciate it. It would give Bastien and me a few extra hours for dinner together.”
“Go.” Selena waved her hands. Someone should have a little romance in their life. If it couldn’t be Selena, she wanted it to be her best friend.
“Okay, here are his keys. Show him how to use all the appliances and the stereo. Go over the emergency procedure with him.”
“I got it. Don’t worry about me. I’ve done this before.” Having no cell phone access, it was imperative that the guests were assured that help was only a button away. There was an operator standing by twenty-four/seven to assist the guests.
Handing her a list, Mikelina said, “Here is the itinerary that the client’s business partners suggested for him. He’s under no obligation to do them, of course, but I’ve reserved a spot for him just in case.”
“Sunrise yoga, surfing lessons, beach massage, bedtime meditation,” Selena read. “Hell, if he doesn’t want to go, I will.”
Mikelina shifted from one foot to the other. “I have a bad feeling about this guy.”
“Like danger bad or disaster bad?”
“Both.”
“Why?” Selena set the list on the counter.
“Blaine Stephens punched out his partner because the car they’d been working on didn’t do what it was supposed to do.”
“He’s lucky he’s not in jail.”
“Yeah, well rich men with connections don’t go to jail, they go to places like this.” Mikelina finished wrapping a tasteful garland down the staircase railing.
“Must be nice,” Selena said. “I don’t think he’s going to punch me. My cooking can soothe the savage beast.”
“I believe it, but he’s going to be difficult. Especially since his partners wanted him to detox while he was here.”
“Is he having problems with drugs or alcohol?”
Mikelina shook her head. “Not that I could find out in my research. His drugs of choice are work and the internet. He has anger-management issues and I’m afraid he will get verbally abusive.”
Selena shrugged. “He’s got nothing on Anton Koslov.”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with that. Not anymore.” Mikelina had been really supportive during her Bolete days, even when they had been on opposite sides of the country.
“As long as you don’t think it’s going to get physical...”
“It won’t,” Mikelina said.
“Then don’t worry about me. If I can handle myself on a busy line, creating several complicated dishes while a wannabe Vladimir Putin insults everything from my cooking to my legitimacy both in and out of the kitchen, I can take care of a high-strung corporate shill.”
“Well, just call me if you need me. Or if he’s looking for more activities to do. The only thing we can’t provide him is a computer and internet access, but I’m sure he can find a way around that.” Mikelina sighed. “I hope he doesn’t go that route. His partners sent him here for a reason.”
“I’m his chef, not his jailer. But I’ll push the excursions and see if I can get him to concentrate on rest and relaxation.”
“Thanks, so much.” Mikelina handed her more Christmas knickknacks and hurried out the door.
While Selena went upstairs to place the decorations, she wondered what it would be like to be sent to a place like this, all expenses paid for two whole weeks, just for having a bad attitude. She resisted the urge to flop on the big king-size bed and take a nap.
It would be paradise, she decided.
But for now, she had to work for a living, always stuck in various paradises on the outside looking in. Blaine Stephens would be a challenge. By the end of these two weeks not only would he enjoy her meals, but also takeout and delivery wouldn’t taste as good. Selena could forever change his outlook on healthy eating. If she had to work for her dream one unbeliever at a time, she would. After all, if she could convince her father to eat Brussels sprouts, Blaine shouldn’t be a problem.
