Stirring It Up

STIRRING IT UP

by

Mary Leo ISBN: 978-1-927111-55-0

PUBLISHED BY: Books We Love Publishing Partners (BWLPP) 192 Lakeside Greens Drive Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2 Canada Copyright © 2012 by Mary Leo Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Dedication: For my husband Rick Watkins. He truly is my very special valentine

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Chapter One It wasn’t as if Rose-Marie Cupido had actually believed she would find her one true love during this past year, she’d simply been hopeful that it could possibly happen. Everything else the gypsy had predicted had come true: the wild success of With a Twist, the martini bar and bistro she and her two best friends had opened. The fact that she was now listed as one of San Diego’s top ten chefs, and the unexpected letter she’d received from her estranged father wanting to mend their relationship—all these predictions had come to pass. But finding her true love before February fourteenth? Impossible! Besides, Rose truly didn’t see how she could fit a romance into her already busy schedule, no matter how badly she may want or need one. What with all her responsibilities of running the kitchen, ordering the food, and cooking six nights a week, squeezing in a budding romance seemed highly unlikely. She had all but given up on the love prediction, convinced it would never happen, until Maximilian Rosso walked into the bar looking for his cousin, Jasmine. She knew him instantly, knew the curve of his chin, the shape of his lips, the deep amber of his eyes, but most of all she knew the swagger of his walk. No other boy or man she’d ever known walked with that much cool. He’d had that strut since they were kids and she was glad to see it hadn’t changed. All at once, the proximity of his tantalizing body caused the gypsy’s red crystal heart sitting on the bar glow like crazy, and all at once Rose felt completely dumbstruck, not knowing what to do or say. The likelihood that Max could fall in love with her in less than thirteen days seemed about as probable as her not stressing over every meal that came out of her kitchen. The crystal had already cast its glow on some hot cutie that Jasmine was all happy about, but if Max was truly the one for Rose, she had her work cut out for her. For one thing, he barely knew she existed. Just last year, Rose and her two best friends, Jasmine and Daisy had decided to get all glammed up on Valentine’s Day to make it a fun night instead of moping around because they didn’t have dates. They decided on dinner and drinks at Harbor House in San Diego’s Seaport Village, then a walk along the boardwalk to walk to their next stop when they came across the gypsy with her folding table, shiny baubles and colorful silk scarves. Rose caught the amazing red glow of the large crystal heart perched on her table and went directly for it as if she had no choice in the matter. When she reached for it, she realized that Jasmine and Daisy were doing the same thing. Rose hadn’t thought her friends had even noticed the gypsy, and certainly not the dazzling crystal that seemed to have a life of its own. A red so deep and so vibrant she felt sure it was magical. “Never seen it choose three before,” the gypsy woman crowed, almost laughing as she spoke. Rose was at once apprehensive of this assertive woman who looked as if she were dressed for a costume party rather than someone to be taken as a serious medium. Still, Rose and her friends lingered in front of her small table, each mesmerized by the crystal.

Page 4 Looking back, Rose thought she should’ve known their lives were about to change, but logic had told her to be skeptical of this lively woman. “It chose you, each of you. Don’t you even want to know why?” Rose had tried to walk away. They all three had made the attempt, but the gypsy had captivated their imaginations. Each of them seemed enthralled and couldn’t leave without knowing what this charismatic woman had to say. When she finally had their full attention along with several dollars in her tip jar, she began her predictions. She prophesized their opening of With a Twist in the Gaslamp District. The bar and bistro would bring them success and wealth. She’d even given the details of the property’s exact address and the date they’d be open for business. Then she predicted something for each girl. Rose would hear from her father and the two of them would cast aside their differences and begin to heal their relationship. Rose was doubtful. “The last I heard, my father died several years ago.” “This was never true,” the gypsy said. “You’re father is alive and will contact you soon. He loves you very much.” Her words brought up a well of emotion that Rose had thought she’d dealt with, but clearly she had not. She never could understand why her father had deserted her mom, and now to hear a stranger talk about his return was overwhelming. The gypsy turned to them once again and gave the final prediction. “Great things will come to you in the next twelve months. You will have success beyond your wildest dreams. But this heart is not a good luck charm. It is a symbol of love and you have been called by it. Each of you must find your one true love and make him return your love before February fourteenth of next year, or everything you’ve gained will be lost.” Rose and her friends had walked away from the gypsy laughing over her prophesies, but Rose couldn’t shake what the woman had said about her father or about each of them finding their true love. And none of them could get over the dire prediction about losing everything if one of them didn’t “fill up the heart,” whatever that meant. The festive night had ended on a somber note. The very next day, Rose received a phone call from her father asking for her forgiveness and would she consider meeting him for coffee. He was passing through San Diego and wanted to see her again. She agreed, and he’d been calling her once a month ever since. Not exactly the relationship Rose had hoped for, but at least he was back in her life. Rose, with all of her logic, brushed the prediction off as a coincidence. Then when they opened With a Twist to great fanfare, she decided the gypsy had put the idea out there and they had simply followed through with it, getting the extra nudge they had needed to make their dream come true from the gypsy’s prediction. But when the red crystal heart turned up in Jasmine’s office with no viable explanation for its presence, Rose began to believe in its power. The gypsy’s warning that all three must find love and have it returned or all three would lose everything wasn’t exactly an encouraging prediction. More like a calamitous threat! Still, none of them had known the strength of the crystal heart until Jasmine had brought it into the bar area that very morning and placed it up on a shelf. She thought it was a nice touch for the upcoming romantic holiday. Rose, in her zest for cleanliness and sparkle, had taken it

Page 5 down momentarily to wipe off any trace of finger prints, and placed it directly in a small patch of sunlight that beamed on the walnut bar. Now the heart radiated a brilliant unearthly red, a red so deep and so full of life it dazzled Rose as she stared across the bar at Max, who she hadn’t seen in more than ten years. This can’t be happening, she thought as he finally noticed her staring at him, the red glow shining brighter with each step he took. Rose hadn’t officially opened the place yet, but the front door had been unlocked for deliveries. Max apparently had come in through that door, rolling a black carry-on suitcase behind him and a black backpack slung over one shoulder. He wore a black leather jacket, a black tight-fitting tee, and well worn jeans that hugged all the right places. Maximilian Rosso had certainly grown tenfold into that childhood baritone voice he’d had, and was now walking toward her, an aura around him now glowing a deep shade of sparkling red. She wondered if his voice was still deep and sexy. Of all the gin joints in all the world . . . Max just happened to be the one man Rose wanted more than air, but logic told her to keep her distance. She’d been down that rocky road with him once before when they were teens and it brought her nothing but grief and heartache. “Rosie?” he asked after a few seconds of checking her out, while a pulsating red sparkled all around him and dragged different shades of scarlet as he moved. It appeared as if all the degrees of color couldn’t quite keep up with his movements. Like they were a moment out of sync. Could he see the glow? She quickly moved the crystal out of the sunlight, but the darn thing wouldn’t stop glowing. She even threw the white bar towel over it, but it made no impact. Instead, its beam just grew more intense as if it wanted to make sure she saw it. “This place looks great.” He gave her the once over. “You look great.” The raging glow seemed to have no impact on him. He just kept smiling, completely oblivious to what was happening all around him. This is so cool! Rose wore a gray top that covered her hips, a thick black belt around her waist, skinny black jeans, and knee-high black boots. Not that she would keep the boots on once she began cooking, worn sneakers were good enough for that, but she liked to come into work looking halfway decent. Now, as she stared at a glowing Max she wished she’d worn something that showed a little more cleavage. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “So do you.” He looked more than great, incredibly sexy seemed like an apt description. Problem was, if his personality hadn’t changed in the last ten years, his ego didn’t need to hear anything more. “That’s my Rosie. Always quick with the compliments.” He dropped his backpack on the waxed floor, stood his suitcase upright and walked behind the bar and gave her one of those quick hugs a person would give to their aunt, or grandmother, the ruby red glow never leaving him. “Where’s that cousin of mine? She told me to meet her here.” “In back,” Rose told him, still trying to assimilate the crystal’s obvious misguided glow. Max looked like some Latin god with a face that could break a girls’ heart with just one glance and a body guaranteed to bring her back for more.

Page 6 “So, I hear you’re a chef now.” He took a step back and gave her another once over, smirking as his eyes traveled up and down her body. It gave her a rush of excitement. “Little Rosie Cupido, a chef. Who knew?” “Just about everyone I ever came in contact with.” The excitement immediately changed to annoyance. He laughed, one of those deep baritone laughs that came from somewhere in his past. “I see you never lost your searing sense of humor.” “I see you never lost your ability to call me by a nickname I’ve always hated.” “Wow, I haven’t seen you in ten years and you’re still carrying a grudge.” Rose crossed her arms under her chest. “Getting stood up for your senior prom will do that to a girl.” He blew out a sigh. “We’ve been over this, and I didn’t stand you up, exactly. I sent you an email.” “Who blows off prom night in an email?” “Rosie, I mean, Rose, I had no choice if I was ever going to get the chance to meet the Dalai Lama. I had to leave when I did or he would’ve been on tour and I might have missed an incredible opportunity.” “As it was, you had the tour dates wrong, or so I heard, and he was in Dharmsala, India for two entire weeks after you arrived. You could have waited one more day.” “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.” “And a promise is a promise.” Just then Jasmine walked into the bar and squealed with delight at the sight of her ever traveling cousin. They hugged, a nice tight hug, one that Rose would have appreciated. The red glow around Max diminished to a faint sparkle. “When did you get in?” Jasmine asked. “About an hour ago. This city has done some major changing since I’ve been home. And you.” He quickly looked her over. “You, my fair cousin, look incredible. You’re positively beautiful.” “Thanks,” Jasmine said, soaking in the compliment. “So tell me everything. Your Facebook page is good, but I’m sure there’s so much more to your travels. I want to hear all about where you’ve been, what you learned, everything!” They took seats at the bar, and Rose knew this was her time to bow out. “Well, I’ve got a lot to do to get ready for lunch. Nice to see you again, Max.” Then she turned to Jasmine. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.” “Whatever you have to do can wait for an hour. Come on and sit down with us. I know you want to hear this.” Jasmine had always played matchmaker with Max and Rose, but Rose was in no mood for it this morning. No way could she sit and listen to all the places he’d gone and everything he’d learned without wishing she’d been with him. Of course, she knew she’d never have gone with him even if he had asked, which he most certainly did not. Still, the fantasy of their traveling together had lingered despite her logic. “You two have a lot of catching up to do. I’m sure Max will be around for a few days. We’ll talk later.” “Are you sure?” Jasmine coaxed, but Max seemed to have already forgotten that Rose was in the room. His full attention was on his favorite cousin.

Page 7 Rose walked away thinking the crystal had to be wrong. That it was simply wishful thinking on her part, there was no way rambling Max could ever love stick-in-the-mud Rosie. But when she turned back for one last look before she turned the corner to the kitchen, the red glow surrounding Max was even brighter than ever. Damn gypsy!

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Chapter Two “He’s the one,” Jasmine chided as she sat at her desk in her office inside With a Twist. The lunch crowd had gone and the girls had a couple hours until dinner prep had to begin. “I always knew you two would end up together. It’s sweet.” “It’s not sweet,” Rose protested while standing in the open doorway “It’s a train wreck and you two know it.” “He has to settle down one day, if only from pure exhaustion,” Daisy said as she perched herself up on the edge of Jasmine’s desk looking completely fabulous with her long dark hair draped over a shoulder. She wore her latest pair of trendy knee-high boots with a tight short skirt and a blue top that brought out the sapphire of her amazing eyes. The three women had been friends since elementary school when other kids would make fun of their ‘silly’ flower names. All the razzing and bullying only brought them closer, as close as sisters. Their friendship had gotten them through the tough times of their lives, along with all the good, and this was just another phase. Albeit a great phase in many respects, but also, at the moment, clearly a confusing one for Rose. “Max has been traveling around the world ever since he turned eighteen. He didn’t even wait to pick up his diploma before he was on a plane bound for India. He stood me up for Prom, left me without a groomsman when his best friend got married, and couldn’t make it back when his own mother remarried.” “In all fairness, that was her third marriage,” Jasmine countered. “Your point being?” Jasmine stared at her for a moment. “It wasn’t important for him to attend and he knew it. Besides, he was studying Tango in Barcelona at the time. He couldn’t just pick up and leave for one of his mother’s weddings. I’m sure she understood.” “Well I don’t. He’s a leavin’ kind of man. What makes you think that’s ever going to change? And especially for me? He doesn’t even like me, not really.” Jasmine turned to face Rose. Her green eyes sparkling, and her long cinnamon colored hair looked amazing as always. Jas had a flair for high-end designer fashion and preferred wearing cream or ecru, her two favorite colors. Rose was more into the business of cooking, so her chocolate colored hair was kept short, extra short sometimes, depending on her culinary experiments. She couldn’t take the chance that a stray hair would end up in someone’s dinner, and she hated wearing a hat of any kind. Her style was efficient, with a flash of whimsy in her earring selection. Rose loved big bright earrings. They gave her pixy face just the right touch of sassy that she liked. “He’s always liked you. Why do you think he called you Rosie when you were kids? True love.” “I hate that nickname and he knows it.” “A term of endearment,” Daisy added. “More like a term of aggravation.” “A little aggravation can be good. Keeps you on your toes,” Daisy said. “I don’t want to be on my toes, I want a love that lasts, and from a lover who won’t disappear just because some famous musician in Japan is available to teach him how to play the koto.” “Wouldn’t that be fun? We could wear silk kimonos and have big hair.” Rose rolled her eyes.

Page 9 “But didn’t the crystal cast a glow on him this morning?” Jasmine asked, looking all excited over the potential love affair. Rose suddenly regretted ever having told them about the damn crystal. “So he glowed. An accident, I’m sure. He couldn’t possibly be the one. He’s never stuck around for more than a few months anywhere he’s landed . . . always said he didn’t like the grass to grow under his feet. A man like that needs a woman who has the same philosophy, not someone who has recently opened a restaurant and works twenty-four-seven. It just can’t be him. It can’t.” Daisy said, “Maybe that’s how this thing works. Maybe we’ve been so rigid about who we should love, and who should love us back that we’ve lost sight of what love is all about. The gypsy was trying to show us that we can’t choose love. It chooses us.” “Go on, girlfriend. You sound so heady,” Jasmine chided. Daisy looked a bit embarrassed. “But what do I know? The heart hasn’t even twinkled around me, let alone lit up on Mr. Right.” “Well, if you’re right about how love chooses us, we have a real problem ‘cause I don’t see how this thing between Max and me will ever come together. Remember her warning that all three of us have be in love and must have that love returned? Max hardly knows I’m in the same room.” “We’ll just have to change that,” Daisy teased while staring at Jasmine. Jasmine threw her a sly look, one that Rose knew all too well. Some kind of scheme was brewing and Rose would be the target. “Oh no you don’t. I will not participate in any conniving, sneaky, devious game you two come up with. I absolutely refuse.” *** “I really want to thank you for putting me up, Rosie . . . I mean, Rose,” Max said as he followed her down the hallway to her condo off Market Street. He’d stayed with Jasmine for a couple days, but then was shuffled off to Rosie’s place while his cousin’s condo was being painted, not that it looked like it needed painting. He lagged behind, noticing her long, lovely neck and the gentle sway of her hips. Max liked a girl with short hair, liked the way it made her neck look so kissable. And he so appreciated a girl with a sexy walk. As if she was asking for it with each step. Not that Rosie was the type to ask for anything, much less sex, but she sure had nailed down the walk. “You’re welcome. We wouldn’t want you having to stay in a hotel. Besides, it’s only for a few days.” She said it so quickly Max thought she might want him out before he even stepped inside. “Are you sure this is okay? It’s not a problem for me to get a room.” Rose stopped at the end of the long carpeted hallway and unlocked a door to her right. “Don’t be silly. You’re like family.” As the door swung open, he caught a glimpse of the view through the two-story, floor to ceiling windows directly in front of him. Late afternoon sunlight flooded the room, causing everything in it to glow. Between the spectacular view of the water, and the inviting furnishings, he felt as if he was walking into a high-end hotel rather than a private home. “Holy shit, Rosie. How’d you score this place?”

Page 10 The view was about as good as he’d ever seen. Coronado and its light blue bridge sat across the bay, to his right an amazing marina, and to his left were docked military ships. The water reflected the perfectly blue sky as several sail boats floated along the harbor. He had landed in heaven. “Luck, I suppose. I picked it up from a friend when the economy took a dump. Pretty nice, huh?” “More than nice.” The place was decorated in warm earthy colors, and of course, it was spotlessly neat. Rose kept her condo like her kitchen at the bistro, pristine. “You can sleep in my office. The sofa converts, and there’s a private bathroom next to the closet.” She showed him the way to what would be his room on the same floor with the same spectacular view and told him that her bedroom took up the entire second floor. As he dropped his backpack on the cream colored sofa he suddenly felt awkward, as if he shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be in Rosie’s private world. She was essentially a stranger to him. Rosie had transformed herself into someone he didn’t know at all. Gone was that scrawny teenager he’d occasionally hung out with because of his cousin, and probably why he was able to stand her up for Prom. He’d never even given her a second thought Until now! He didn’t quite understand his emotions, but ever since he’d first seen her in the bar that morning, he wanted to get to know her better, much better. She had a smile that sent his heart into race mode, and a laugh, when he could get her to laugh, that gave him a thrill he couldn’t explain. “This is great. Thanks so much. Hey, can I make you something to eat? You look beat. I’m a pretty good cook.” “Thanks, but I have to get back to the restaurant. We’re short handed in the kitchen tonight, so I have to do some extra prepping to compensate.” “I can help. I ran a restaurant for awhile in Paris.” She stuck a hand to her hip. “In Paris. You were a chef in Paris.” He didn’t want to come off like he was bragging, so moments like this always made him a little uncomfortable. “I learned to cook at Cordon Bleu and when I graduated I started working at a tiny bistro just off the western end of Champs-Elysées. The head chef opened another bistro so I took over his spot. Not a big deal. But let me help. It’s the least I can do for your hospitality.” “Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Cordon Bleu.” Then she chuckled and he had an insane urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. But he knew better. Getting Rosie or Rose as she preferred, into his arms would take some patience and the one thing he’d learned with all his travels was how to be patient. *** The restaurant part of With a Twist served Italian Fusion, a dream come true for Rose. She’d been combining exotic, ethnic flavors with Italian cuisine for years, but she never honestly thought she would someday be able to serve her inspired creations in her own restaurant until Jasmine shored up the finances and made the dream a reality. Of course, it helped that the gypsy had prophesied it. Still it took a lot of elbow grease to make their dreams a reality.

Page 11 Ever since the tiny bistro and martini bar had opened, they served to a full house every night. It seemed almost like a miracle to Rose who had imagined these days ever since she’d combined mint chutney, spinach and ginger with her mother’s pasta sauce for Sunday dinner when Rose was all of nine years old. The sauce needed a bit more finessing, but the vision had begun. There were only fifteen tables in the entire bistro. If those fifteen tables turned over three times in one night, they more than paid to keep the lights on. Most of the time, they turned over four and five times, leaving all three girls in awe of their success. Daisy and Jasmine gave most of the credit to Rose’s cooking, but Rose wasn’t the type to take that kind praise. She knew it was a collaborative effort and the success was the sum total of all three of them. Without each other, the dream would have never happened. The place was hopping throughout the night. They were busier than ever and incredibly, Max did a much better job than Rose had expected. She stationed him right across from her so she could monitor everything he prepared, and to her surprise he more than kept up, he improvised on several dishes and they turned out extraordinarily well. Truth be told, his Béchamel tasted better than her own. “What did you put in that Béchamel sauce to give it that heavenly sweet flavor?” Rose asked as they were finishing the last of the cleanup for the night. Max was busy wiping down his station. “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.” She stopped sweeping the floor and gazed over at him. They were the last two in the kitchen. The staff had already cleaned up, but nothing was ever clean enough for Rose. She liked her kitchen to sparkle and usually went over everything one more time before she left, polishing the stainless steel with a soft cloth, scrubbing the occasional pot or pan she thought needed extra care and re-sweeping the floors. “You can’t be serious. I just gave you all my recipes and you won’t tell me one of yours?” “I like to keep some things close to the chest. It makes me more valuable.” “To whom?” She leaned on the broom. “To anybody who wants to hire me to teach them something.” “Is that how you pay for your adventures?” “Partly.” “Do I want to know what the other parts are?” He threw her a naughty pirate smile, a slight dimple creasing his left cheek. She’d forgotten about that dimple. Damn if that just didn’t make him even more intoxicating. “Let’s just say I know how to please a woman.” Her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t tell me you’re a—” “—a gigolo? Not exactly.” She walked over to him. “If you have sex for money, you’re a prostitute, a hooker, a hoe” “Wait a minute! I never said I take money for sex. What I take money for is teaching a woman how to ask for what she wants, and sometimes that means I have to demonstrate the process.” Rose was both intrigued and slightly appalled. “Are we talking about sex therapy or what?” She felt flushed, her body involuntarily aching to be touched at the mere thought. She stepped in closer. He chuckled again. The deep trill of his voice went right down her spine and gave her a sexy little shiver.

Page 12 “Seems I finally hit upon a subject you like.” She tugged on one of her earrings, a nervous habit. “I simply want the facts, that’s all.” He took a step in closer to her. She could feel his hot sweet breath on her face as she stared up into those smoldering dark eyes of his. His lips only a hush away from hers. She thought about the crystal’s red glow and decided to go with the moment . . . just to see if he’d finally notice her. “So, can you give me an example of your method?” A wide grin lit up his face. “Sure, but I would guess you already know how to ask for what you want.” “You might have to demonstrate.” She closed her eyes and waited to be swept away by the one man she’d always loved, but never even kissed. His lips brushed against hers. A hot rush of adrenalin made her knees buckle, and she gently leaned into him, ready to learn anything he wanted to teach her right there on the hand-polished prep table. He grabbed her upper arms. She opened her eyes as he guided her backwards, then lifted her up and plopped her down on a tiny desk in the corner of the room. “First, you’ll have to learn to speak clearly and get right to the point. A potential employer expects clarity and decisiveness. Say for instance, if you want to impress a master chef at the Ritz-Carlton in New York City or a . . . ” Rose began to giggle, then she broke out into a full on laugh. “What? Is something funny?” he asked, trying to look serious. The sexual tension had burned through her body and now that he was trying to teach her interpersonal skills instead of bedroom skills, she needed a release of some sort, and laughter seemed like the only way to let it go. “Rosie Cupido, what kind of nasty were you thinking I taught?” She brought her laughter under control. “You know exactly what I thought.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk. We barely know each other.” “Maybe we should find a way to remedy that,” she said. “Let’s go home.” *** A half-hour later Max sat next to Rose in a comfy chair out on her patio. They sipped Kaleney Martinis he’d made using Kalamansi extract—which he happened to have with him from a recent trip to the Philippines—ginger juice, pepper vodka, honey, crushed white pepper and garnished with the cutest little Star Anise Rose had ever seen. “This thing packs a wallop,” Rose told him after her first sip. It tasted both sweet and spicy with a kick of an after bite. “Where’d you learn this?” “The ultra high-end Library Bar in The Leela Palace in Bangalore, India.” A small heat lamp warmed the patio, while the lights of Coronado Island and the marina sparkled off in the distance. It was the first time since Rose had moved in that she’d had a man over for drinks, let alone a man who was spending the night. And what made it even more incredible, the man was Max Rosso. “Is this before or after the Dalai Lama?” “Way after. I returned to India to study Hindi, had a short affair with a way-too-wild Bollywood actress, and instead found myself working at the Library Bar. But what about you, Rosie-Rose? What have you been up to for the past ten years?”

Page 13 She chuckled at his new pet name for her. “Attended San Diego Culinary Institute, as you may have guessed. After graduation I went to southern Italy, to a little town called Matera, and studied under a superb chef who thought preparing a meal was an art form. Absolutely loved every minute I was there. I did that for about a year, then came back here and worked in various Italian restaurants, but none of them had a menu with the kind of foods I wanted to prepare.” She took another sip of her delicious martini and wondered just how much she should tell him about the gypsy, if giving too much away might jeopardize her chances at true love. “About a year ago, Jasmine, Daisy and I decided to open our own place. We’d been talking about it for awhile, then something weird happened to make us actually do it. We met a gypsy who knew everything about it, including the name, With a Twist, which we had to use.” “Some gypsy.” “Do you believe in that kind of magic?” He picked up his martini glass from the small table between them and took a long pull, then put it back down, crossed his hands over his chest, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, slid down and straightened out his long legs in front of him. Rose liked that he was beginning to feel comfortable in her home. “It’s hard for me to talk to someone about what I do and don’t believe in. Just as it’s hard for me to talk about everything I’ve learned, and mastered. People usually react in one of two ways. Either they think I’m bragging, which I’m not, or they think I’m giving them a line of bullshit. But you’re different.” He turned to her, his face catching the light and she could still see a little of the young teenager he once was. Maybe it was his excitement about being able to finally tell someone about his adventures and his beliefs or maybe he genuinely liked her this time. Whatever it was, she wanted to kiss him in the worst way. “What makes you think that?” “A feeling I had as soon as I saw you standing behind the bar. I didn’t recognize you at first, but I remember feeling as though I knew you. As though I could talk to you and you’d understand. Most people don’t get it. They think I’m some sort of drifter with no purpose. But I think you know what’s in my soul, Rosie-Rose. And I think I know what’s in yours.” She turned to him. “What’s in my soul, Max? Tell me what you see.” A warm smile lit on his face. “I see a woman who adores making people happy through her food. Who is loyal to her two best friends. Who enjoys a good martini, good conversation and a breathtaking view. I also see a woman who’s a bit of a mystic and who wants to believe in gypsy’s and the power of the universe, but she’s also logical and neat to a fault which prevents her from letting herself go.” Rose bristled. “I let myself go just fine.” He grimaced. “I’m not trying to offend you. You asked what I saw and I’m being honest.” “You don’t even know me.” “Aside from Daisy and Jasmine, I think not many people do. You never once mentioned a man or men in your life in the last ten years.” Emotion welled up inside her. This wasn’t fun anymore. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” She stood to leave. He stood, blocking her path. “Rosie, I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’ll leave if you want me to. I have this damn habit of shooting straight from the hip. I really didn’t mean to offend you.” She stood straighter, refusing to let him see her cry. “You don’t have that much power. I’m fine. You don’t have to leave. I’m just tired.”

Page 14 “Let it out, Rosie. Get mad Get crazy. Throw something at me, but don’t hold your emotions inside.” Her stomach began to quiver. She felt sick. “My damn name is Rose. Please don’t call me anything else. Thanks for the martini.” She turned away from him, walked back inside and headed up the white carpeted stairs to her bedroom. As tears streamed down her face, she felt certain she was going to ruin everything for Jasmine and Daisy. He would never love her. Not now. Not ever.

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Chapter Three The next morning, Rose awoke with eyes still red and swollen from crying most of the night. She planed on leaving before Max could see her. She needed a break to regroup and was not about to invite him back into her kitchen no matter how good his Béchamel sauce tasted. After she showered and squeegeed the glass doors, she applied a bit of makeup and dressed in black jeans, and a red sweater. Then she quickly dusted every surface that might need it, washed the glasses and shaker that were still out on the patio, put them all away, scoured the kitchen sink, her bathroom sink, swept the bathroom floor, made her bed, hung up a sweater in order of color, lined up her boots on the shelf after she pulled on a pair of black leather kneehigh’s, slipped on the biggest silver earrings she could find and snuck out like smoke in the wind. While Jasmine was busy in La Jolla with Jake, pretending that her condo was being painted, Rose was stuck with Max as a house guest, which was not working out at all. Clearly, her friends’ secret plan to nudge him into falling in love with her was most definitely a total failure. Problem was she didn’t want to go home to him after she closed up the kitchen, especially on a Saturday night when the restaurant was almost empty by eight o’clock. What he’d said about her not letting go and not mentioning a man during the last ten years really hit home and, worst of all, had affected her cooking tonight, she was sure. She figured it was probably the reason why the restaurant was so empty. The disappointed patrons were already on Yelp or Facebook giving With a Twist bad reviews. Granted, she hadn’t dated much in the last ten years. Of the guys she had dated, most didn’t want to get serious, and the rest were simply jerks. Okay, so she’d only dated a handful of men, if that, but none of them had been worth mentioning. Not like his Bollywood actress who most likely gave him hot kinky sex every night and a deep-muscle massage every day or perhaps they never left the bed, and had more sex during the day and food was brought in to them by fifty dancing girls with silk scarves and . . . who knew what kind of deviant parties Max was into. Rose was spinning out of control with wild stories and self doubt when Daisy came to her rescue asking if Max might want to help out behind the bar. “We’d be idiots not to let him work his magic here if he wants to. I’d be thrilled to learn some of his specialty drinks.” Rose couldn’t agree fast enough. “I’m sure he’d love to teach you.” “Great! When can he start? Is tonight too soon?” Rose laughed and gave her a hug. She could always depend on her friends to help her through a rough time even when they didn’t know they were doing it. “I’ll give him a call and let you know.” As soon as Rose heard his voice she wanted to cry all over again, but she sucked in her disappointment and tried to speak with a normal, unemotional tone. “Hey Max. Daisy wanted to know if you’d like to work some of your magic behind the bar tonight?” “Love to,” he said without hesitation. “Perfect. Come on in whenever you can.” “I’m on my way,” he answered and clicked off. Rose tried not to let his short, clipped answers bother her, but her mind started spinning again, this time on some hidden meaning of his answers and for the rest of the night, she could barely concentrate.

Page 16 For the next two days, Rose was able to avoid Max both at home and at work. Whenever they were both at her condo, she would pretend to be either sleeping or that she was on her way out. At work, she simply didn’t have time for him. Then on Monday night, after business in the restaurant had dropped off significantly, and all three girls noticed the crystal had turned a pathetic shade of light pink, when it came time for Rose to re-clean the kitchen, she didn’t have the energy. Instead, she locked up early and went home, not even sneaking a peek in the bar like she normally did to see how Max was doing. She assumed he was loving it. Despite the low turnout, she felt certain the single women were ecstatic about the individual attention. A perfectly symbiotic relationship. Once home, Rose sat on the sofa for a moment trying to relax while she gazed out at the twinkling lights. She hated that Max had done so many things, and traveled to so many places while she had been singularly focused on her cooking. How had that happened? And how had she allowed herself get so rigid? She gazed around at her perfect environment and wanted to scream. She’d never given much thought to her increasing intensity over the past few years. Sure, Daisy or Jas would mention how she needed to chill, but she’d always taken those comments lightly, never thinking they actually meant she needed to “chill.” How uptight am I? It seemed the only time she let loose was in the kitchen. There, she could be free to experiment with new flavors, new ways of making tried-and-true recipes sparkle with a fresh ingredient. She came alive while she was cooking. She felt liberated. Never did she think about anything but the preparation of the meal. She had fallen in love with her ability to make the ordinary “dance on the tongue,” as one critic had written about her cooking. And other critics had used words such as exuberant, spunky, passionate, delicious, blistering . . . or her favorite way someone had described their meal: it unfurled over several hours. But all that took place only in the kitchen. What about the bedroom? She’d become almost afraid to sleep with a man for fear she wouldn’t react correctly. Wouldn’t show enough passion or spunk or allow herself to unfurl. Rose-Marie Cupido had become everything Max had said, logical and neat to a fault. She hadn’t let herself go in more years than she’d like to remember. Hell, she hadn’t let herself “go” ever! She’d held things in when she should have let them come screaming out. Even when she’d reconnected with her father, she never allowed herself to tell him what she’d felt all those years after he’d deserted her and her mom. How difficult it was watching her mom try to make enough money to put food on the table. How she’d worked long hours while Rose locked herself safe and alone in the house. She’d cleaned to help keep the fear away. Fear that someone would break in and hurt her, or kidnap her. She’d cleaned so her mom wouldn’t have to. As if cleaning gave her purpose, as if she were contributing. She’d cleaned to avoid crying over missing her dad, over missing his love, and him telling her how pretty she was. Picking up her phone she dialed her dad’s number, ready to let loose, ready to unload her pain. But instead she had a better idea. ***

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It was almost three in the morning when Max stumbled back to Rosie’s place near the marina on the bay. All he wanted was to flop in bed and sleep for about twelve hours. He hadn’t worked so hard in years. A busy bar was easy, a dead one was work. You had to be both bartender and entertainer . . . neither of which he was in the mood for. Ever since Saturday night when Rosie-Rose had run off to her room crying, he’d felt like absolute shit. He even contemplated leaving, but he didn’t really want to. Not without talking to her first. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, he merely wanted to help her relax, which was something she truly needed. He could hear her cleaning every morning like there was going to be some kind of inspection of the dust and grime in her already spotless condo. It was crazy how she buzzed around the house before she even had a cup of coffee or tea or whatever the hell she drank in the morning . . . if she even took time to have tea or coffee in the morning. He didn’t know what she drank or ate because he was too damn scared to confront her. He couldn’t take more tears. Yeah, he was a softy when it came to a crying woman. It got him every time. If one tear even slipped down a feminine cheek he was ready to lie down and beg for mercy. He instantly had to find a way to make everything right. He figured it came from when he was growing up and his mom would cry over arguments with his old man. Things got a little tough for her for a few years, but once she dumped his worthless father and found her footing playing with the big boys in the stock market, and money started pouring in, she never cried again. At least not that he’d seen. Rosie had graciously left him his own key, so he didn’t have to wake her when he came in late. Each night he did his best to open and close the door without making a sound. Difference was, tonight as he stood in front of the door trying to get his key to turn in the lock, he could hear music coming from inside her condo. He opened the door slowly and there, standing in front of the windows facing him, wearing shiny red heels, sheer white stockings that stopped three-quarters up her lovely thighs, the tiniest of pink panties, and matching pink bra that barely covered her perfect breasts, holding a full martini glass in one hand, the shaker in the other was Rosie-Rose Cupido, looking about as cute and sexy as he could ever have imagined. “Rough night?” she said as a devious grin stretched across her incredibly beautiful face. “It’s better now.” “Martini?” She held out the glass. The color of its contents matched her enticing underwear. He took the glass, and eagerly gulped down the liquid without really tasting it. When he was finished, he said, “Are you having one?” “Already had two.” “I need to catch up.” “You seem fine with one.” “It’s an illusion. I’m really sober as a judge.” “Are judges sober?” “Not the ones I know. They’re all alcoholics.” “Sounds about right then.” “Perfect.” He put the empty glass on a nearby end table, took the shaker from her, put that down and proceeded to take her in his arms and kiss her, deep and hard, as if he’d been starving for her his

Page 18 entire life. She tasted of cranberries and vodka, and she smelled all musky like she’d been aroused all night and her body had secreted a wonderfully erotic scent just for him. He pulled her in tighter, until he was afraid he might crush her with his strength, but he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman. As if he’d die if he didn’t have her right now, right where they stood. He cupped her breast, and slid his fingers over the thin fabric of her skimpy bra so he could feel her hardened nipple. He then slid his hand down between her legs and held it there, feeling the warmth of her, wanting to taste her, to touch her inside where she was soft and hot for him. But as much as he wanted every inch of her, he knew Rosie wasn’t the kind of girl who could make love to a man who would leave her. It about killed him to move away from her. “Rosie,” he whispered. “We can’t. I can’t do this.” She fell into him, resting her full weight on his body. “No, don’t stop. This is supposed to happen. I don’t want to be logical anymore. I’m letting go. You have to catch me.” They dropped to her white carpet. He cradled her in his arms on the way down. “I’m here for you, but I won’t stay, Rosie. It won’t last.” “I don’t care. I want you now. I’ve always wanted you. Since we were kids.” “Rosie, look at me.” They were lying alongside one another, her legs wrapped around his. Her body dangerously close. His resistance to her took every ounce of strength he had left. “You need a man who will be by your side for your entire life. I know you Rosie. I know the kind of girl you are. This is your home. Your town. You’ll never leave. You’re a hometown girl who needs a hometown boy. I’m not that person, Rosie.” “But you are. You’ve always been.” He ran his hand up the back of her lovely neck, and buried his fingers in her hair. “No. You just thought I was, but I never was. Not then. I didn’t know you then. Not like I do now.” Big, shiny tears began to slip from her eyes. “Take me with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you. Take me.” There comes a time in every man’s life when his own emotions overpower him. When he can’t hold back the intensity of his feelings. This was one of those times. He’d been falling for Rose, falling hard and fast, knowing it could never work out, until now. Not only did she get what he was all about, but she was willing to join him on his odyssey. Willing to drop everything in her life to follow him. His eyes welled with such force that tears tumbled out before he knew what was happening. Never had he experienced such a powerful sensation. Was it love? He didn’t know. He’d never been in love before, at least not like this. She kissed his eyes as he tried to stop the tears, then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and lay her head on his bare chest. He caressed her back until he pulled himself together. Then as if she could sense it, she pushed herself up and kissed him again, angling her body on top of his. This time he would have her, all of her, and they’d think about their future tomorrow. *** Rose awoke to the smell of coffee. She was in her bed, even though she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. Naked. That, she remembered. Oh, sister, did she ever remember.

Page 19 Rose smiled and stretched, feeling like a wicked little kitten in the warm sun. She rolled out of bed, walked into her tile and polished chrome bathroom, opened the clear-glass shower door, turned on the water to just a few degrees just below scalding, and stepped into her luxurious shower. Not three minutes later, the glass door opened and Max stepped in with her. “Coffee or tea?” He asked as he dumped shampoo in his hand and lathered up his hair, looking but not touching her. His body lean and ripped with muscle. “Coffee, strong and black,” she told him as she lathered her own body with soap, caressing her breasts, her stomach and between her legs, lingering there as her desire for him increased. “I like watching you,” he told her as he washed himself. His full erection taunting her. His dark eyes following her every nuance. “Anytime,” she said, as she slowed her washing down, careful to give attention to every inch of her soapy body. After a few minutes he said, “Mind if I come in?” “I’d mind if you didn’t.” She leaned back against the glass tiled wall, wrapped a leg around him to pull him in closer. He grabbed hold, and slid his hand under her butt cheek to steady both of them as the water cascaded over their bodies. Then he entered her with one swift movement, making her cry out with pleasure. The hot water caused her excitement to escalate beyond what she thought possible. Within minutes his quick, tight movements brought on a simultaneous release. Afterward, they stood together for a moment, enjoying kisses as the hot water helped to bring them back down to earth. Then, he gently pulled away. “Eggs a la Florentine, with a bit of a twist?” he asked with a wicked little smirk. “That would be lovely, yes. But I’d like your Béchamel sauce on the side.” “You just want to see how I make it.” “I think I deserve as much.” “Lovemaking is one thing. Cooking is a sauce of a different color.” “You’re a cad.” “And you’re a Harleton.” He stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a white towel just as his phone rang.

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Chapter Four By the time Rose dried her hair, applied makeup and got dressed, made her bed, and purposely only half-cleaned the bathroom, breakfast was on the table. Max was positively beaming when she walked into the kitchen. “You’re not going to believe who phoned me while you were getting dressed.” Rose went over to him and brushed his lips with a kiss. “Who?” He handed her a plate filled with perfectly cooked spinach omelet, drizzled with an undoubtedly perfect Mornay sauce, his Béchamel undoubtedly used as the base. “This is a great moment for both of us.” “This smells and looks delicious.” He sat down across from her at the glass table, placing his white dish in front of him. The coffee was poured in two white mugs, and salt and pepper grinders sat in the middle of the table. He stared at her. “Aren’t you curious?” She tasted the sauce. “Honey. You’ve added honey.” “No. It’s not honey. But aren’t you curious about who was on the phone? It’s an incredible opportunity for us, and it could not have come at a better time.” She cut into her omelet, the eggs cooked with precision, the spinach tender and sweet, the sauce creamy smooth. She took a bite. “Mmmm. This is absolute perfection. How did you get the eggs so light?” “I added a little warm milk and olive oil and whipped them with a fork. Rosie, this news is going to rock your world.” “You already rocked my world both last night and this morning. I don’t need anymore rocking. I’ll get dizzy.” He grinned, and took a bite of his food. “Fine then. I won’t tell you that I’ve booked us a flight for the morning of the fourteenth to the Bordeaux region in France. And I won’t tell you that we’re going to learn how to make wine from Master Winemaker, Andre Pontallier. We’ll be living in the beautiful village of St. Julien, which is right on the river, for the next nine months soaking up the region and each other.” He put his fork down and sat back in his chair, a silly-kidsmile on his adorable face. “Isn’t that incredible?” Her stomach immediately clenched. “The fourteenth? You booked our flight on Valentine’s Day, the busiest night of the year for the restaurant industry? What were you thinking?” “Rosie, you don’t get it. This man is one of the best, if not the best winemaker in all of France. People will do almost anything just to meet him. When this genius says his class will begin on February sixteenth, then that’s the day it will begin. The class is only open to six people and it’s the single most difficult class to get into. I’ve been trying for three years. It’s a miracle there was room for both of us. If we don’t show up on that first day, we automatically lose our spot. It’s that simple.” “But we have to leave on Valentines Day to get there on time. Do you have any idea what that means to With a Twist if I’m not there? Not to mention Jasmine and Daisy? How can I possibly leave them?” “They’ll figure it out. They’re smart girls. Your Sous-Chef can handle it. He’ll just have to hire somebody to help him. Not a big deal.” Rose stood. “It is a big deal. A very big deal. For one thing, I don’t have a Sous-Chef, not really. The place is too small. I have a great line chef, but he won’t be able to handle it. He’s not prepared to handle it. That’s my kitchen. How can I possibly leave it on Valentine’s Day?”

Page 21 “From what I’ve seen in the last few days, it won’t matter. With a Twist doesn’t have a full booking for the busiest day in the industry. That’s a bad sign, Rosie, no matter how you look at it. With a Twist could be in real trouble.” Rose couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “With a Twist might be going through a rough patch, but it’s not going under. It can’t be going . . .” Then it hit her, the gypsy’s prediction. Business had been dropping off because of her. She had closed her heart to him until last night and if she didn’t agree to go with him now, he’d close his heart to her forever. She would be directly responsible for the failure of everything. She couldn’t let that happen to Jasmine and Daisy. She just couldn’t. “. . . I’ll come with you on the fourteenth, but I don’t want to tell the girls yet. So let’s keep it our secret for a few days while I get the kitchen ready for Valentine’s Day. No matter what else happens, I want the menu to be ready and the food to be prepped.” He went over to her and gave her a tight hug. “This is going to be so great! I can’t wait to show you my world. You’re going to love it, Rosie. I just know it.” “Me too,” Rose said, waiting for the excitement of her new life to hit her. But it never did. *** For the next few days, Max did everything he could to help Rosie get ready to leave with him on Valentine’s Day. They went over the menu together, even helped locate some of the more exotic ingredients she was having trouble finding. He helped out in the bar and in the kitchen whenever he could. Everything was going according to plan, except that as the time for their departure grew closer, Rosie seemed more distant. When he would question her on it, she’d use the excuse that she was tired. By the morning of the twelfth, while they were cruising the Farmer’s Market in Little Italy for fresh organic herbs and tomatoes, he couldn’t hold in his concern any longer. “I don’t get it, Rosie, shouldn’t we tell the girls the good news? We leave in two days and you haven’t even told them yet. Plus, you haven’t packed one single thing.” “I’m telling them tonight,” she said and went off to buy some fresh oregano. She finished with her purchase and he put his arm around her. “What’s wrong, Rosie? You seem to be so sad. Aren’t you happy about going?” “How could I not be? I’ll be in France, with you, learning how to make wine. What could be more romantic?” she gave him a forced smile. It was a gorgeous, warm, sunny day in San Diego. A slight breeze blew in off the bay and the sidewalks of trendy Little Italy were crammed with happy people from all over the world. He could see why Rosie loved it here, and for the first time since he’d proposed this whole trip, his knuckle-headed brain finally got it. Maybe she didn’t want to leave all this for him. Maybe, just like he’d thought from the beginning, this was Rosie’s hometown and she was having a massive problem leaving it. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. For several years now, he’d been lonely. More lonely than he liked to admit, and when Rosie said she’d travel with him, follow him wherever he went, it was like the sky opened up and the warm sun finally shone down on him.

Page 22 To think this beautiful, smart, incredible woman had agreed to come along on his crazy adventures was more than he could have hoped for. But now, he had to face it. Something was terribly wrong. *** That night, as the three women sat at the end of the bar in the virtually empty room, while Max busied himself in the kitchen, Rose tried to tell Daisy and Jasmine that she was leaving, but the place was so empty she couldn’t bring herself to drop more bad news on her friends. She figured the downturn was all her fault, especially considering that Jasmine had spent the previous weekend with Jake, and assumed the two of them were now very much in love. “I’ve lost count of the orgasms, and have lost track of the multitude of ways in which he made love to me,” she said while sipping a dirty martini. Daisy was just about to leave to get dressed for a date with William, the guy the crystal had lit on. But honestly, she didn’t look very happy about the night to come. In fact, she looked downright morose. “We’re all doing everything we can to make this thing work, but for some reason, that crystal looks almost clear. It worries me that we’re almost out of time.” “I don’t get it,” Rose said, thinking it was probably due to her hesitation about leaving with Max. But she couldn’t admit her failure to the girls. Not yet, anyway. “Maybe this date with William will help. He seems like a nice guy,” Daisy said. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about your date.” Jasmine said. Daisy smiled, and took a sip from her martini. “I’m enthusiastic, kind of. I better go. Would one of you please tell Max I’m leaving? William’s picking me up at my house in an hour.” She slipped off the bar stool, gave her friends a hug and left. The clicking of her heels echoing on the wooden floor . . . the very empty wooden floor. “I’ll fetch Max,” Rose told Jasmine and walked around the bar to her kitchen. When she walked through the swinging door and smelled her pasta sauce wafting up from the simmering pot on the gas burner, and saw her two line chefs plating her beautiful entrées, it suddenly occurred to her that no matter how much she loved Max, no matter how much she had always loved Max, a bigger part of her soul was filled with her passion to cook. Now that she finally had the ability to create whatever she wanted in her own kitchen, she simply couldn’t give it up. Max stood in front of the prep table chopping onions. She walked over to him, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “I can’t go,” she blurted out as she donned a white apron. “And we need you out front at the bar. Daisy left for her date.” “Wait. What did you say?” “We need you behind the bar. Daisy left.” He finished squirting out chocolate-raspberry sauce around Rose’s house specialty cheesecake, carefully placed the raspberries and chocolate swirls along the top of the creamy delight and slid it on the end of the pickup table for the waiter. He walked in closer to Rose. “No. I mean about that first part. That you can’t go.” Rose shuffled her feet, and stared up at him, not truly believing she could say the words. “I can’t go with you to France. I can’t leave my kitchen and my friends. They,” she waved an arm, “this means too much to me.”

Page 23 He blinked a couple times and she could see the moisture building in his eyes. “Rose, you’re not—” But Jasmine burst in, interrupting him. “Max, we have three customers out front, and I have no idea how to make a Star Martini.” He turned to her. “I’ll be right there.” “I’ll stall them,” she said, “but please don’t be long. I’m not very good at bar-talk.” After Jasmine left, Rose said, “We can talk about this later. Right now, we really need you to pour drinks. We haven’t had customers in the bar all night. It’s important we keep them happy.” “What’s wrong, Rose? Tell me and I’ll make it right.” She wanted to tell him what was in her heart, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that she was terribly afraid that by not going with him, With a Twist would come tumbling down around her, and it would be her fault. But on the same token, she couldn’t leave with him and give up not only her dream but that of her two best friends. “You better go out there. If I know Jasmine, she’s out there talking about crunching numbers and the one thing that will make our patrons run out of here screaming is Jasmine’s lessons in financial planning.” Jasmine bounced back in the kitchen. “Max, please. We now have five thirsty people at the bar.” “Go,” Rose ordered. Max unfastened his white apron, threw it up on a prep table and left in a huff, with Jasmine leading the way. *** When Rose awoke the next morning, Max had already packed up and was gone. No note. No fond goodbye. Not even a text message on her phone. It was as if he’d never been there. His room was spotless and the sofa-bed was neatly put back together. The only evidence that he’d been there was his bag of Star Anise lying on her kitchen counter. She checked her email. Nothing. This time, he hadn’t even bothered with an email. She scolded herself for thinking he could change. Hadn’t her father taught her anything? He and Max were both cut from the same leavin’ cloth. She’d known it all along, so why did it hurt so much? Rose sobbed out loud this time, and when she thought she was all cried out, she cried some more. The first time he’d left, she’d never even kissed him and she’d cried for two weeks straight. She could only imagine the tears she’d shed this time around. Rose wanted to phone her friends and tell them what happened, wanted to hear them tell her it would be okay. That Max was a jerk for giving her up. That he would never find true love. That he’d be alone for the rest of his life. But the thought only made her cry harder. She was in love with him, more now than she’d ever thought possible. She knew she would never get over him. All she could really hope for was that in time the pain of giving him up

Page 24 would ease to a dull ache. He’d gotten under her skin this time, and she knew she’d never be the same woman again. By ten-thirty that morning, when she should have been getting ready for work, she called Jasmine instead and told her she couldn’t make it in today. “It’s okay. We only have two reservations for the entire day,” Jasmine told her, which brought on more tears. Rose clicked off and went for a long walk along the marina behind the Convention Center, ending at Seacoast Village. She hoped to spot the gypsy sitting at her folding table, colorful scarves waving in the breeze. Rose wanted to ask her what she should do now that she’d told her lover goodbye. She needed her advice on how to fix things so they could keep With a Twist. But the gypsy wasn’t there, which only added to Rose’s misery. Around eleven the next morning, Valentine’s Day, Rose swung open the front door and walked into With a Twist, knowing Max was on a plane, moving farther and farther away from her. She’d finally come to terms with her fate, and knew it was what had to be, but it didn’t make it any less painful. Her tears had miraculously stopped sometime around midnight when the I Love Lucy marathon stopped and The Twilight Zone marathon began. Not that she wasn’t a fan of the show, she simply didn’t need to watch anything weird when her own life was weird enough. She’d turned off the TV and slept until nine-thirty that morning, dressed and walked to work without cleaning one thing in her condo. She barely even cleaned herself, not wanting to get into the shower because of the memories it conjured up. Instead she’d washed up at the sink, and dressed all in black. At the last minute, she slipped on bright red heart earrings in an attempt to look festive. The restaurant sparkled with hearts, flowers, and red and pink streamers shimmering from the ceiling. The wait staff seemed excited about their day as they busied themselves making sure the tables were perfectly set, and every minor detail had been addressed. She swung by the bar, hoping against hope to see the crystal awash with color, but instead it seemed almost clear now. It’s my fault. She was sure of it now. It was time to tell her friends what had happened. *** After Rose had cleaned up from the somewhat busy lunch crowd, and had begun her prep for dinner, she screwed up her courage and walked back to Jasmine’s office. As she approached Jasmine spoke up. “We’ve got a full house booked for tonight,” she told Rose, while sitting at her desk. “Apparently, someone posted on Yelp and Facebook that we had open reservations and the phone has been ringing all through lunch. I had to turn a few reservations down. Go figure.” “It won’t last,” Rose said. “The crystal has lost its color.” Just then Daisy walked up looking as if she were about to cry. “It’s all my fault,” Rose said almost in unison with Jasmine who was busy apologizing. Daisy cut in. “I ruined everything.” Rose looked at her as if she were delusional. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I sent Max away two days ago. I’m sorry.”

Page 25 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jasmine said. “I did everything I could, but it’s just not going to work out. It’s my fault.” “You?” Daisy said. “I’m the one who screwed up. I really tried, but it was a complete disaster.” Both Jasmine and Daisy admitted what had gone wrong and how sorry they were, with Jasmine ending on a positive note of how they had started from scratch before and could do it again if With a Twist went under. One of the waitresses popped in and said they needed help at the bar and, wiping her tears, Daisy left to get back to work. When she was gone, Rose launched into her own sad story, “I told Max I was willing to go with him. To leave this all behind. But when he wanted me to leave today, this morning, on Valentine’s Day, I just knew I couldn’t do it.” She pulled in a deep breath trying not to cry again. “I’m so sorry. He left this morning and the bastard didn’t even send me an email this time.” Jasmine’s giggled. “How is this funny? I just told you how miserable I am. How I ruined everything and you guys think that’s funny?” “Rosie, have you looked in the bar area at all today?” Jasmine asked. “Don’t call me by that name. I hate it. And yes, when I first came in. That’s when I saw that pathetic looking crystal.” “So, you haven’t been out there since?” “No, why?” “What are you trying to say?” “Max didn’t go to France,” Jasmine said. “He’s been staying with me. We had a long talk and—” But Rose didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence. Elation swept over her in a flood of tears as she ran up the short hallway and then through the empty restaurant. When she rounded the corner and saw Max behind the glistening bar stirring it up with the customers she couldn’t control her happiness and went right for him. He caught her approach out of the corner of his eye and picked her up and spun her around in his strong arms, then kissed her to whistles and applause from the customers who now seemed to have multiplied. “I thought you were on a plane headed to France,” she said when he finally put her down. “Not without you. Besides, Bordeaux is highly overrated. I’m more into martinis.” “Then you’ve come to the right place. I hear this is a fabulous martini bar. The best in all of San Diego.” “You don’t say.” She nodded. “Yep and the guy who works here is a master mixologist.” “Anyone I know?” “His name is Maximilian Rosso, but he likes to travel a lot.” “Not anymore. They say he’s found exactly what he’s been looking for and she makes one hell of a martini.” “So tell me, just what has he been looking for?” “You,” he said in a deep rumbling voice that ticked her entire body. “But I’ve been here the whole time.” “I wasn’t ready to learn about love then, but I am now. Can you teach me everything you know about true love?” “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Page 26 “Rosie . . . ” They kissed again, and when he pulled away he whispered in her ear. “Heavy cream and sweet butter.” She looked at him. “You do love me.” He tilted his head. “Was there ever any doubt?” Rose spotted the crystal up on the shelf, swirling with color so bright it hurt her eyes to look at it. “Never.” “Wow,” he said, following her gaze and looking up at the crystal. “That’s incredible.” “It sure is,” Rose said, and as she kissed him they were both encircled in a red shimmering glow.

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Epilogue Rose sat in the back of the limo in the only evening dress that would fit over her everexpanding belly. Her mind should have been on Max who was sitting next to her dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, looking absolutely heavenly, but she couldn’t help wondering if everything was going well in her kitchen at With a Twist. There had been several reservations for parties over seven and she liked to be there to make sure everything went smoothly, but her new Sous-Chef had assured her several times that he could handle it. Which she knew he could, but still . . . So there she was, stuffed in a sky blue strapless gown, seven months pregnant, a white rose corsage strapped to her wrist, headed for a formal attire required lecture given by that same French winemaker Max had been so hot on last February. “This is it,” Max said as the limo came to a stop. Rose hadn’t really paid much attention to where they were going, so when the driver came around and opened their door, she expected to see a theater in front of her. Instead, it was a group of buildings that looked a lot like their old high school. Max got out first and extended his hand to her. “He’s giving his lecture here?” she asked, completely dumbfounded by the location. Max chuckled. “Not exactly.” “Then why are we here?” “Something I needed to take care of before our baby comes.” Rose took her time exiting the limo. Getting out of the backseat of any vehicle was difficult enough, let alone a stretch limo. When she was upright and looked around, she realized they were standing in front of the school gym. “What’s this all about?” She knew her reasoning had gotten a little slow since her pregnancy, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why a French winemaker would want to give a lecture in a high school gym. Max chucked again. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” “Of course I do,” she said, trying to sound convincing. But she was totally clueless. Funny thing was, there was no one else around. No kids. No parents. No one else but the two of them. It hit her like a wet towel in the face: the dress, the limo, the tuxedo, and the corny sweet wrist corsage. “Max . . . what is this?” They were walking up to the double doors as the hard driving beat of a drum, and the steady deep vibration of a base guitar echoed from the other side. “You didn’t.” As he swung open the door and the music blasted her ears, he said, “But I did.” Rose walked under a banner that read, Senior Prom, 2002, then she stepped inside a massive room that was decorated entirely in gold and white, the same colors from the original prom that she’d never attended. Lights hung from the ceiling, a fine haze intensified everything, including the DJ, a guy wearing a white suit, who was spinning Pink’s Get The Party Started, the number one hit from their senior year.

Page 28 Daisy and Jasmine were tearing up the floor with their dates, but the rest of the room was completely empty. “I thought about inviting our classmates, then the girls reminded me that you guys hated most everyone we graduated with,” Max yelled over the song. “Wise decision. This is insane!” Rose shouted. “You did this all for me?” “I thought it was about time.” “I love you,” she said as she turned to face him. “Me too, babe. I love you too.” Daisy and Jasmine came running over and the three women squealed just like they had when they were girls. And just at that moment, while everyone was hugging and squealing, Rose spotted the gypsy, sitting at a small table, watching them, nodding and smiling. Rose turned to Daisy, “How did you find her?” “Who?” “The gypsy.” “We didn’t find her,” Jasmine said. “But she’s sitting right over there.” Rose pointed, and sure enough, there she was, brilliant blue scarf wrapped around her head, bangles on her wrists and ears. More gold hanging around her neck. And in the palm of her hand sat the glowing red crystal heart. The gypsy laughed then as Rose and her friends started to walk toward her, but as they got closer she vanished in a burst of red haze. Rose, Daisy and Jasmine stopped dead in their tracks. After a moment, Daisy said, “Okay, I didn’t really see her. Did either of you?” Jasmine slowly shook her head. Rose said, “Probably just my over-active hormones.” “Yeah, that was it. Along with the haze machine,” Jasmine added. “Anything wrong?” Max asked from behind Rose. “Not a thing. Everything’s just as it should be.” The women all turned towards their men. “Hey,” Rose said, as loud as she could. “It’s prom night. Let’s dance.” And everyone did just that.

The End

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About the Author: Mary Leo looks at the world with a touch of irony and humor, which comes across in her writing. She grew up on the mean streets of South Chicago in the tangle of a big Italian family trying to make their way out of poverty and corruption. Because of this colorful beginning, she brings a touch of edginess to her characters that makes them come alive. Whenever you pick up a book written by Mary Leo, not only will you laugh and sometimes cry, you’ll experience the love of strong family ties. Mary gives workshops on the craft of writing, and on the writer’s life. She has worked as an intern at Paramount Studios, and as a script reader at Sony Pictures. She currently lives in San Diego with her husband, author Terry Watkins, and their cat, Sophie, who thinks she’s a dog and loves to fetch. Visit Mary at www.maryleo.net

NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER: Thank you for purchasing and reading this BWLPP eBook. We hope you have enjoyed your reading experience. BWLPP and the author would very much appreciate you returning to the online retailer where you purchased this book and leaving a review for the author. Best Regards and Happy Reading, Jamie and Jude. http://bookswelove.net