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Rafe found her later, wiping down menus as his staff wrapped up service at the remaining tables.
He said, “You look wiped out again. Why don’t you take Tad out for pizza and have a couple beers to relax?”
“I’ve been dying for North Beach Pizza.”
“They’re open till ten. You have an hour. Go.”
She smiled at him. “Not coming along?”
“No. I have some things to do, and you and Tad should just chill out. Don’t talk shop.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“That would leave us with very little to talk about, Rafe.”
“Be inventive.”
She dragged Tad out of the restaurant.
“Pizza?” he demanded—or rather, lamented—when she told him her plan. “No limo and no room service at the Fairmont? You’re killing me, sugar plum.”
“Trust me, you’re gonna love this.” They walked several blocks to the corner of Grant and Union, Jenna suspecting she wouldn’t find a closer parking spot than what they currently had. Not at this time of night, anyway.
They settled at a table in the back of the cozy restaurant, drawing attention from diners along the way.
“This smells heavenly,” Tad admitted.
“Wait’ll you have a slice. You’ll think you died and went to heaven.”
“When I walked into Rafe’s kitchen, I thought I’d gain ten pounds from the aroma alone. Is there anything about that man that doesn’t rock everyone’s world?”
“No,” she said without missing a beat. “At least, not that I’m aware of. He’s a hell of a cook, as are many of his other family members, Vinny and Vesta especially. We’ll do a staff tasting when Rafe finishes with the new menu. You’ll want Italian every night after that.”
“Mm, now doesn’t that sound delish?” His eyes sparkled. “An Italian every night? Oh, but you already know how yummy that is.”
She dropped her face in her hands as heat tinged it. Luckily, she sat with her back to the other diners, and by the time the manager appeared at their table to personally welcome them, she was over her unexpected flush.
He was friendly and professional
and offered their meals free of charge. Jenna was used to that. She didn’t always take advantage, but she said she’d blog about the pizzeria and everyone knew that was advertising worth its weight in gold. Not that this particular joint needed the publicity. It was a North Beach landmark.
They ate salads and then Tad’s Verdi Special pizza with pesto sauce arrived, covered in spinach, onions and feta cheese. Jenna almost regretted placing her own order, it looked so appetizing. But as the server delivered her mushroom pizza, her mouth watered. The abundance of fresh portabellas, sourdough crust and the cheese that oozed from each slice made her selection a favorite at this establishment.
She reached for her glass while inhaling—and savoring—the decadent scent wafting from her pie.
Tad dove into his first slice and groaned. He swallowed a large bite, then said, “This is almost better than a hand job.”
Jenna nearly spewed wine. She threw a glance over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard. Though the other patrons took interest in them, it appeared as though he’d kept his tone low enough.
Turning back to him, she said, “Let’s keep it respectable, shall we?”
“I’ll give it a try.”
She pulled a slice from her tray and the mozzarella dripped over the sides. She said, “My family and I came to San Francisco a few times when I was a kid, and The Original Front Room over by Russian Hill was one of my favorite pizza joints. The small deep dish had to weigh five pounds it was so loaded, and the Margherita was to die for. And Uno’s had a great Chicago style. Not sure if either are still in business. I’ll have to look them up while we’re here. But North Beach is definitely my favorite.”
Jenna took a bite of mushroom-laden pizza and made nearly the same sound as Tad had. “This is so damn good. My sister Linney and I used to crave this place when we were a thousand miles away from here.”
She chewed, marveling over the rich, zesty sauce. She took a few more bites before she realized Tad wasn’t eating. He returned his half-eaten slice to its tray.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Because I know it’s not the pizza.”
