CHAPTER
FIVE
Doing reconnaissance for Operation Sawyer had been so much fun, Dean decided to resurrect the tactic for Operation Madison.
Only this time, instead of casing out a prospective gallery for Sawyer—Phoebe’s—he was swinging by the restaurant, all casual-like, to scope out how Madison was doing. He had his concerns after their family dinner Thursday night, especially about the plan to keep Nanine in the dark. He was positive Nanine had sensed the tension simmering around the table at their family dinner.
Of course, all the spies in the movies had cover stories, and so would he—if she had questions, he’d claim he was coming by to visit Pierre. Given her obsession with the parrot, she could hardly fault him for that.
When he strolled by the restaurant, he noted one last couple at the tail end of their meal. No dishes. Only tangling their fingertips on the white linen, romancing each other. They’d be out soon. Madison would be cleaning up post dinner service along with the others since she was a hands-on kind of chef. Perfect timing. When he used his key on the door and walked in, he felt a smile of pure pleasure cross hisface. The smell of roasted meat and fragrant shallots hung in the air amidst the busy scene before him as Nanine’s chandelier gave a happy chime.
Madison glanced over from her place scrubbing down the stove, frowning. Yeah, she wasn’t about to pull out a pair of pom-poms to cheer for Operation Madison.
Still, Dean waved to her and everyone else in the kitchen. Pierre, bless him, immediately squawked and flew from his perch toward his shoulder. “Dean!” he cried.
Tickling the creamy white feathers under Pierre’s chin, Dean crooned,“Mon vieux. Ça va?”
Pierre bobbed his head enthusiastically.“Oui, mon frère.Jacqueline?”
“She got stranded in a little village in Burgundy because of a strike that canceled her train.” Shooting a glance at Madison, he added, “I thought I’d come see my buddy, Pierre, and get some grub. I figured odds were in my favor since it’s Saturday night and the restaurant will be closed for two days, meaning leftovers. Can I raid your cooler? I’m starving.”
“Do you have a reservation?” she shot back with an eye roll. “What do you want?”
“You don’t need to make me anything.” He could almost hear the eggshells under his feet as he walked to the cooler. “I used to work here, remember?”
“That was so long ago your voice was still changing.”
A few of the English-speaking staff chuckled as they scrubbed down counters and tidied up their stations. “Good one. I’ll make myself a plate if that’s okay. Pierre, come tell your buddy what to eat.”
Together they selected lobster salad, roasted chicken, and some boeuf bourguignon still warm in the chafing pan. He grabbed a couple slices of Thea’s breads—a midnight black variety and an aromatic one with fennel and orange.
When he reentered the kitchen, the rest of the staff was gone, but Madison was waiting for him with an assessinggleam in her eyes. She wasn’t carrying her cleaver, so that was a win. The dessert she’d plated for him was a surprise, a good sign he wasn’t going to be killed tonight. Unless she’d poisoned it…
Nah, too slow a death.
“Leftover Cherries Jubilee with cinnamon swirl bread and apple tart with fudgy chocolate bread,” she told him.
“Thanks!” He leaned over and quickly kissed both of her cheeks before she decked him. “I never know if I should greet you Parisian style since you’re not a hugger.”
They’d known each other a good ten years, and in that time, she’d given him a sum total of maybe five hugs.
“You can say, ‘What up?’ or ‘Hey, Madison,’ or just incline your chin.” Then she crossed her arms. “Stop being weird. I know why you’re here.”
He gave a playful wince. “You could hear my tummy growling? How embarrassing!”
She gave him an equally playful shove to the shoulder. “Stop pretending. Are you planning on giving me some emotional talk about kismet and soulmates? Because if so, let me grab a couple forks so I can poke my eyes out.”
He hoped his laugh didn’t sound nervous as he wandered over to Nanine’s beloved kitchen table. “Why would I talk to you about that stuff? I only came by to tell you I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Kyle too. You’re both my friends. That’s it.”
Grabbing a bottle of water, she joined him as he dug in, groaning at the flavors. It was the best damn meal he’d had since he’d been at the initial chef’s tasting, plus there was an added bonus. He couldn’t talk with a full mouth.
While he ate, she gulped down the entire bottle of water. Thirsty atmosphere, working in a restaurant kitchen.
“So Jacqueline got stuck, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said over a mouthful of lobster salad that properly honored the sacrifice of those soulmate-lovingcrustaceans. “You know the French and theirgreve.Nothing could keep my lady and me apart but a strike.”
She didn’t laugh, and he could see how tightly she was wound from the dents her fingers were making in the empty water bottle. “You really aren’t going to say anything else?”
