The way she sniffed the bay leaf, ran her fingernails along the woody stem of fresh thyme to tear off the leaves, made his skin tingle. He wanted to tip her chin, look into her eyes, and taste her mouth.
Which was bad. “So, what’s got you cooking this late at night?”
“I just spent the evening with my mother.”
“That bad, huh?”
“My mom’s awesome. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.”
“But?”
“No buts. She wants the best for her daughters. That’s her thing in life—making sure we develop our passions into wildly successful careers. But it doesn’t allow a lot of leeway to mess up or change course.” She lowered her head. “Dammit. That was a but. Okay, fine. My mom’s great, but she’s too damn pushy.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
She gently stirred, steam rising in lazy curls from the skillet. “Especially when you show a talent for something. Like Gigi. You were at her concert tonight?”
“I was. She’s good.”
“She’s amazing. Not just at singing, but at writing songs.” She pressed her lips together in a wistful expression. “I just don’t know how happy she is.”
“She seems pretty damn happy to me.”
Lulu gave a soft, sweet smile. “She’s found the love of her life, so there’s not much that can get her down. But I don’t know that this career makes her happy. It just…gets to be too much.”
“What, the travel?”
“No.” She sounded vague, like she was wrangling her thoughts. “It’s like I said before about expectations. About becoming addicted to positive feedback. You start out in little dive clubs, and you get some applause. The following week, more people come to see you. A year later, a manager hands you his card.” She made the telephone gesture with her thumb and pinkie. “‘Call me.’ Pretty soon, you’re signing with a label, and it’s like your life becomes this quest to climb to the next level. Wherever you are at any point in time isn’t good enough. You’ve got to keep hitting it harder. And then…you make it. You’re there.”
“On stage at Madison Square Garden.”
She pointed the spoon at him. “Exactly. And then what? You fight to keep your position. One record goes platinum, and then every single one after that has to make it, too, or else you’re a failure and you’re left wondering, Did that record suck? What did I do wrong? So, you work harder, tour more. And I’m telling you, she’s going to hit a wall.”
“Are we talking about Gigi right now?”
She flashed him a sexy grin. Caught me. “Yes. But also…isn’t it true for all of us?”
“Hell, yes.”
She held his gaze, those warm hazel eyes assessing and somehow finding him delightful.
No one—not even his own mother—found his broody ass delightful.
Damn, he liked this woman.
“It took getting fired for me to realize all this. It was my first time not working in a dozen years, and it struck me…I don’t even notice my life. I lived in Paris and worked twelve-hour days. I’m so busy cooking, I forgot about the farmers markets, the food, which was the whole point of starting on this path to begin with. And then I’m just like, am I even enjoying this slice of goddamn cheesecake I just made? Or am I looking at your expression to see if you like it?”
“I like cheesecake. I’ll bet you make a good one.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “I make a great one. But do I sit down with a nice cup of tea and enjoy it? No, I don’t. And, really, what’s the point of owning a Michelin-rated restaurant if you’re not enjoying the food you make?”
“So, that’s the dream? A Michelin star?”
“That’s the dream.”
“Look at us.” He rapped his knuckles on the counter. “The prodigy and the phenom.”
But that wasn’t what really connected them. It was that they hadn’t realized their potential. That was the link that crackled between them. They got each other.
“And I guess the lesson I’ve gotten out of this whole experience is that it’s good to have goals and work hard for them, but I don’t want to miss out on the journey.”
“I hear you. But, if we took your mom out of the equation, would you still be gunning for a Michelin star?”
“Well, isn’t that just the million-dollar question?” Holding a strainer over a silver bowl, she poured the port wine sauce through it. “Okay, Phenom. I’m throwing it back to you. What’s your million-dollar question?” After returning it to the skillet, she added heavy cream.
Easy. “If we took my dad and brothers out of the equation, would I still be gunning for a starting quarterback position?”
“Are you telling me your entire family plays football?”
“Yep.” He paused. “And both of my brothers have Super Bowl rings.”
“Oh, boy. If I was the only one of my sisters without a Michelin star…” She cringed.
“Exactly.”
“We need wine.” She left the kitchen for a moment, returning with two glasses. Pouring the red, she handed him one. “Look at us, two free agents.”
“I’m not a free agent yet.”
“No, you’re not.” She swirled the ruby red liquid in the glass. “And someone’s going to sign you, right? It’s just a matter of contract negotiations?”
“Not necessarily. This is my second injury. Same shoulder.”
She shut off the flame. “When was the first?”
“In college.”
“Ah, so that’s how the phenom became a backup quarterback.” She said it softly, her eyes full of concern. “What happened?”
“I got sacked by a linebacker from Cal. We’d killed them in the playoffs the year before, and their defense was determined to bring me down.”
“Xander.” She looked as upset as if it had just happened. “That’s terrible.”
The memory of that pain still flashed through his body. He’d known—the second he’d hit the ground—his NFL dreams had just died. “So, I went from the number one draft pick to taking a year off to rehab my shoulder. We stayed in touch with coaches, let them know my progress.” Exactly what I’m doing now. “And then I walked onto the Mavericks, and I’ve been a backup ever since.”
“I’m sorry.” When she reached for his hand, he realized he’d curled it into a fist. “That’s got to eat away at you.”
Her heat, her compassion, eased the tension in his body. “I don’t let it. I just keep my focus on the goal.”
She didn’t say a word.
Because she doesn’t believe me.
And she’s waiting for me to get real.
He understood. What’s the point in having a conversation if people just bullshitted each other? “I’ve been chasing my brothers my entire life, working to reach their level and never getting there. When I signed with Stanford, I thought I’d made it. When I won the Heisman…that was…” Emotion rose so fast it jammed in his throat. He didn’t want her to see him like this, so he marshaled his discipline and shook it off. “Anyhow, it’s just never worked out.” Given how well he’d performed during the play-offs in January, he’d thought he’d finally done it—and then he’d eaten turf. “If I sucked, it would be one thing. But to be called a phenom…” He sawed a finger across his chin.