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Roberto laughed. “Maybe Miguel was right. I should wave the white flag.” Then, in a deeper tone, he said, “But I won’t ever surrender, mon cher.”
“I believe you, monsieur.” She’d taken two semesters of French, though she’d forgotten most of it. Still, she realized Roberto had referred to her as mon cher. “My darling.” He called me his darling. His words made her feel tingly all over.
Another woman, dressed in the restaurant’s uniform of black slacks and white, moved next to the hostess. Both women were obviously attracted to Miguel and Roberto, as neither ever took their eyes off of her men. My men? What the hell am I thinking?
She had a mixture of emotions at the two females’ not-so-subtle advances. Their ages, likely mid to late twenties, were more appropriate for Miguel and Roberto, who were probably only thirty. What’s a forty-two-year-old woman like me doing, coming here with them on a date? I must look like a cougar to them, a fool. But on the other hand, these wonderful, handsome men had brought her to the restaurant. They were her dates. She grabbed each of the gorgeous chefs by the hand and smiled at the two women, who lowered their eyes. Maybe that will teach them to be a little more polite.
“Lexi, will you please take the Sanchez party to their table?” the hostess told the woman.
“My pleasure.”
As they walked into the main dining room, Cami let her eyes wander over the lovely place. It had been some time since she’d been inside La Chambre Rouge. She loved the old-world charm that was reflected in the rococo décor, from the red velvet chairs and crisp, white tablecloths, to the murals on the walls and ceilings. When they entered another room, a room she’d never seen before during her previous visits to the restaurant, she was taken aback at how much more elegant this smaller space was.
It was a circular room. A single table sat in the center of the space that could have accommodated at least six more tables. Around the curved walls were servers dressed even more formally than the hostess and the woman who had led them here. Three chairs were around the table. On the center of the table were a crystal candelabra and a flower arrangement of every color of rose imaginable. The only illumination came from the candles. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she spotted three musicians to the side of the room. One held a violin, another a cello, and the third sat at a piano. They began to play, adding to the romantic ambiance.
“This is just for us?”
Roberto kissed her on the cheek. “Like I said before, mi amor, Pierre is a good friend.”
“And he knew we wanted to impress you.” Miguel kissed her other cheek. “How are we doing so far?”
“Muy bien,” she answered. “I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me before.”
The staff moved into position, pulling out chairs for them. The exceptional level of service was without compare. They filled their glasses with water and wine.
“Is there anything else we may get you and the lady, gentlemen?” the headwaiter asked.
“Non merci, Françios,” Miguel answered, his eyes fixed on her, which made her warm all over. “Everything is perfect.”
“Very good.” The man left the table and the rest of the staff returned to their positions by the wall.
“This is quite the first date, guys. You definitely know how to impress a girl.”
They each took one of her hands and, in what she’d come to learn was a Sanchez brothers’ practice, kissed her there. Inside, a desire to taste their lips and feel their arms around her body began to surface. She wanted more. Needed more. But I can’t have more. We haven’t even had dinner yet.
The servers placed a plate in front of each of them. The aromas were out of this world.
“As requested by Chefs Roberto and Miguel, your first course, madame, is a galette de crab appetizer with lumps of blue king crab and scallions, folded in shrimp mousse, then sautéed to a golden hue and sprinkled with parsley.”
The presentation on their plates was exquisite, reminding her of tiny works of art. The crab cake was perfectly positioned on a bed of fresh spinach. The colors blended together on the dish, pleasing her eyes. The smell of the food wafted around her, whetting her appetite. The music from the trio put her in such a good state. Even the feel of her napkin accentuated her desires. Wanting to engage her other sense, taste, she took a bite of the crab.
The mix of flavors exploded in her mouth. “Oh my God, this is to die for.”
“We have six more courses, Camille,” Roberto said. “I’m certain you will love what we’ve chosen for you. They’re Pierre’s best dishes.”
Each course was paired with delicious wine. When their dessert arrived with a bottle of sherry, she knew she would only be able to take a single bite and one sip, though it looked incredible.
Françios smiled slightly. “Chef Leblanc has only made this dessert twice before, once for the Vice President of the United States, once for the French Ambassador of the United Nations, and now for you, madame, and these two gentlemen.”
As he went on to describe the delicate cake, she glanced at her two dates. They’d made certain the entire evening was absolutely perfect. For me. She’d never felt more special in all her life.
“And here comes Chef Leblanc himself,” Françios said, stepping to the side. The chef appeared to be about the same age as Roberto and Miguel, though he had a mustache and was thicker in the middle than they were.
“Bonjour mes amis. So good to see you.” His French accent was warm and lyrical. Her dates rose and shook the chef’s hand.
“Pierre, please allow us to introduce Miss Camille Anderson,” Miguel said, turning her direction.
“I loved your meal, Chef Leblanc,” she confessed. “It was beyond words, delicious.”
