A Cookbook Conspiracy by Kate Carlisle Read Free Book Online Page A

there’s something wrong when a chef with his talent gives it
     all up to play with sugar and dough. Raoul was a true master chef, while Colette barely
     graduated.” He wiggled his eyebrows and added, “I’m guessing she made him an offer
     he couldn’t refuse.”
    “Maybe,” I said. Peter clearly considered Raoul’s current position as pastry chef
     a subservient one, but I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Desserts were a vital
     part of a restaurant’s menu. To me, at least.
    “I’m afraid I must return to the kitchen before Baxter beats me with an egg whisk.”
     Peter gave a quick nod to Derek. “But we’ll visit later.”
    “Sounds good.”
    He gave me a resounding kiss on the lips, then moved on to greet friends at another
     table. I was about to slide back into the booth when I heard a high-pitched “Yoo-hooo!”
    I turned in time to see Montgomery Larue dashing toward me. Another chef I’d met in
     Paris. This place was crawling with them.
    “My sweet petunia blossom!” he cried, then wrapped his big arms around me and lifted
     me off the floor in a powerful hug. When he put me down, I was weaving a little. The
     man had strong arms.
    “It’s been forever,” he said. “And don’t you look fabulous!”
    “Thanks, Monty,” I said. “I’ve missed you.”
    It was true. Monty had been one of Savannah’s dearest friends from the first day they
     met at Le Cordon Bleu, and he still visited her at least once a year. Monty had been
     born and raised in the wilds of Louisiana and couldn’t escape from there fast enough.
     As he had once explained in that sweet-as-syrup Southern accent ofhis, “Honey, a large gay man with a penchant for drama and a taste for haute cuisine
     will not survive for long in the bayou.”
    Monty had relocated to Boston and owned two popular restaurants there. I introduced
     him to Derek and they shook hands firmly. Then Monty patted his chest to get his heart
     pumping again. “Dear lord, girl, it’s a good thing I didn’t see him first.”
    Derek looked mildly alarmed and I giggled. Montgomery always could bring out the giggles
     in me.
    “Now, I would love to stay and chitter-chat with y’all.” He glanced warily over his
     shoulder. “But I’ve gotta run before Cromwell comes after me with a switch.”
    “It’s not that bad, is it?” I asked.
    “You have no idea,” he said darkly, as he wiped his slightly damp forehead with a
     handkerchief. “I’m telling you, he is on a reign of terror.” He turned and stuck out
     his tongue in the general direction of the kitchen.
    “I’ll protect you,” I said in a teasing tone.
    “Sweet girl,” he said, and shoved his handkerchief into his back pocket. “We’ll catch
     up later, won’t we?”
    “I can’t wait.”
    He blew me a kiss, then walked off rapidly toward the kitchen.
    I slid back into the booth, almost exhausted by the exchange. “That was Montgomery.
     He’s wonderful.”
    “Yes,” Derek said, and took my hand. “But, darling, you must’ve left out a few key
     bits of history when you recounted your summer in Paris.”
    “Oh, you mean about Peter?” Apparently, Montgomery hadn’t been wonderful enough to
     distract Derek from my tête-à-tête with Peter a moment ago.
    “Yes. Peter.”
    I bit my lip and stared at the ceiling. “Did I leave something out?”
    “I believe so.” He squeezed my hand. “You can fill me in on the rest of the sordid
     details over dinner.”
    Our waiter arrived and both of us chose Savannah’s prix fixe selections. Five courses,
     each with wine pairings. I was tingling with excitement. I did love a good wine pairing.
    While I dined on a salad of lightly grilled asparagus with lemon pistachio
gremolata
and fresh goat cheese (paired with a crisp Central Coast Viognier), Derek savored
     his Bengali potato croquettes with coconut, chiles, and cilantro served with some
     sort of spicy dipping sauce and mint chutney. They were accompanied by a manly