The Prince and the Pie Maker Page 7

“I fell deeply in love with her sweetness,” he said. “She was the spice in my life I never realized I needed.”

  “How did you do it, Ms. Peppers?” Lila Drake looked skeptical. Her overly made-up face was contorted into a sneer of disbelief. “The women the world over will want to know. What’s your secret?”

  Jan swallowed. She gave her head a little shake as she turned to face the microphones. And then, in typical Jan fashion, she told the unblemished truth. “I just gave him some pie.”

  “Is that sexual innuendo?” Lila shoved the microphone directly under Jan’s nose.

  “No.” Jan stepped back into Alex’s side. “Just a secret recipe.”

  And with that, Alex gave Jan a tug. They ignored further questions and headed up the stairs into the awaiting private plane.

  “That went well.” Alex took his seat and strapped himself in. “I think they all bought it.”

  “You can’t keep doing that.” Jan stood over him peering down.

  “Doing what?”

  “Kissing me like that.”

  “It’s part of the agreement. We’re engaged.”

  “We’re fake engaged. That means fake kisses. There’s no need for tongue.”

  “I didn’t …” But he did. He had. “Sorry. Occupational hazard. Next time have garlic before I kiss you.”

  “But you like garlic.”

  Alex chuckled. He did like garlic. He’d never met a food or spice that he didn’t like. It just so happened he liked the way Jan put them together, whether in a pie, or in a soup, or, apparently, in her own mouth.

  “Jan? What happened back there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You froze when you got out of the car.”

  She took the seat across from him, fiddling with the safety straps before responding. Alex waited patiently. They had hours left sailing in the sky before they reached their destination.

  “I just didn’t expect there to be a crowd,” she said finally. “Or for them all to be looking at me and stuff.”

  He knew that wasn’t all. But she wasn’t ready to tell him. They had time. They had a lifetime.

  “Why don’t we talk menus for the restaurant?” he asked.

  And so, as Alex and Jan flew across the pond, they began to plan their future together.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Best dish I ever had was in Oaxaca, Mexico.”

  “Mexico?” said Jan. Her brows shot to her hairline as she eyed Alex. They sat across from each other on the private plane. She was strapped in. He was sprawled back in his seat, arms stretched over the headrest, long legs outstretched just inches from hers.

  “What’s wrong with Mexico?”

  “Nothing,” she shrugged. “I just expected you to say some fancy, exclusive restaurant in France where you ate snails with truffle sauce.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He rubbed at his chin, looking far off out the plane’s window. “I’ve been to that place.”

  Despite herself, Jan laughed. When they’d first met, Jan had thought the Prince of Cordoba an entitled wastrel who lumbered from five-star restaurant to Michelin star restaurant. She was learning he wasn’t that at all.

  They’d spent the first hour of the flight talking about the menu of her dreams for their restaurant. There wasn’t a single dish that Alex questioned or said was too expensive or too exotic. No, his eyes lit up and his mouth watered with each new ingredient she put forth.

  The conversation easily morphed into their favorite dishes. She’d leaned forward, only to be held back by her safety belt when Alex began telling her about his culinary adventures in Kenya. His description of the dish known as ugali had titillated her senses. It was a simple dish of cornmeal and maize flour. But to hear Alex tell it, the mashed-potato-like dish would easily be favored at an American Thanksgiving served with a side of kale greens and fish straight from something called a hydroponic.

  Jan had heard of hydroponic gardens before. In fact, she remembered reading an article about the technology helping poor areas in an African country. It might have been Kenya?

  The urban gardens were all the rage in some urban areas in America. She’d been interested in installing one at the pie shop. But, of course, Chris had shot that idea down. She wondered if Alex might be open to it out in the back of their restaurant?

  “I walked the markets of Oaxaca,” Alex said as he leaned back in his seat. “Just walking the streets was a fiesta for my nose. I caught seafood with my own hands—”

  “You caught your own food?”

  He scrunched his nose up at her in mock affront. “Do you want to hear about the dishes or not?”

  She did want to hear more about his culinary travels. These were the best stories she’d heard in weeks. Definitely better than her girls’ nights watching romcoms with Esme. But still; Prince Alex? Getting his hands dirty?

  Jan didn’t relent on the skepticism inherent in her raised eyebrow.

  “Fine,” Alex sighed dramatically. “I was just off the beach. In a yacht. With a fishing pole cast over the side. But yes, I caught my own seafood.”

  That sounded more like it. Though she now had a vision of Alex without his shirt, flexing his muscles to haul a fish on the line. Jan gave herself a shake to get rid of the sight. It grew tenterhooks and clung to her mind’s eye.

  “When the local chefs cooked, they used recipes that had been handed down for thousands of years.” He closed his eyes and groaned as though he were in ecstasy. “The moles, the chili, the chocolate, the chapulines.”

  “Ugh.” Jan grasped her belly. “You ate grasshoppers?”

  Though she feigned disgust, Jan had a fascination with people who dined on abnormal fare. Not that she would try any herself. It was horror stories for cuisine. The thrill came with the shock factor.

  “They were sweet and crunchy,” Alex insisted.

  She covered her face and groaned. However, the smile on her lips made the sound come out as a half laugh. “What were you even doing in Mexico in the fall? I figured you’d be there for spring break. Was there a fashion show or something?”

  Alex lifted one shoulder. He turned back to the window looking far off into the cloudless sky. “Nothing important.”

  Jan got the sense that whatever it was had been important. There had probably been a woman involved. Or two.

  “You know, I remember reading an article in Food Magazine,” she said, deciding to change the subject since she got the feeling Alex didn’t want to spill, and she wasn’t one for gossip. “There are some areas of Mexico where it’s difficult for people to get farm fresh produce. So the government has begun a bus stop farmer’s market program where the farmers bring their produce to the people. It’s truly changing lives.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips, but his gaze remained out the window. “Food can do that.”

  Something about that smile called to Jan. It urged her to probe, to dig deeper. It told her that there was a layer to this man that she had not yet witnessed. But just as soon as she leaned forward to poke at it, Alex turned to face her; his mischievous grin back in place.

  “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your most memorable food adventure?”

  Nothing Jan had ever tasted had been as exotic as she supposed Alex’s breakfast was. It had always been too expensive to eat out at the restaurants that truly piqued her palate. “My ex did take me to Le Fantaisie.”

  “I’ve been there. What did you have?”

  Jan’s smile was bitter. “The Troìs Fromage Gougères and the Pommes Duchesse.”

  Alex nodded and then nodded some more as though he were waiting for her to say something else. “That’s it? Those are just appetizers.”

  “That’s all Chris was willing to spend.”

  Alex tilted his head skyward. His lips moved, and Jan was certain she heard the word cheapskate uttered under his breath. “Well, did you at least enjoy the dishes?”

  “I was expecting an out-of-body experience, you know, in my
mouth. It was good, but I could’ve made it myself at home. It wasn’t anything new. Food should transport you to the past or take you to some place you’ve never been. Just like when you described the chapulines, I was taken to Mexico. When you talked about the ugali, I was with you in Kenya.”

  Alex was watching her thoughtfully, his forefinger tapping his lower lip. “We’ll go to France in a couple of weeks. We’ll tour Montmartre where you can sample cheeses and pastries along the street.”

  “I can’t just up and go to France.”

  “Why not?”

  “As my boss, you know why not. I’m starting a new job, a whole new restaurant.”

  “This is a part of your job description, Chef Peppers.”

  It was a good thing the safety straps were holding her in place. Otherwise, Jan might have slid out of her seat.

  “And I’m not your boss,” he said. “I’m your partner.”

  With those words, her insides turned to mush like the dish he’d had in Kenya. She felt she was on his hook; like the fish he’d caught back in Mexico. She wanted to be reeled in. Getting caught by Alex, she had hooked into her dream.

  Alex rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. A second later he was asleep. Jan was still reeling from what he’d just said. From what she had just done.

  The reality of what she’d done was finally hitting her. She was on a plane over the Atlantic. She’d left her business, her family, everything she’d known to run off with a prince. It was the most outrageous thing she’d done in her carefully planned and measured life.

  So why wasn’t her heart racing with fear?

  To be sure, her heart was racing. But there was no cold feeling down her spine. There was no bile on her tongue. The taste in her mouth was sweet. Her body felt warm. This had to be excitement.

  She sat in the feeling. It wasn’t a new experience for her. She felt it every time she heard the oven timer ding, and she pulled out a pie. But this excitement wasn’t due to something she’d made. It was due to who she was about to become.

  Jan figured she must’ve fallen asleep because when she came to consciousness, Alex was over top of her. He crowded her in, leaning over her seat. He smiled down at her with pure joy in his normally mischievous gaze. If he leaned down and kissed her now, she was sure she wouldn’t mind.

  “We’re home,” he said.

  He unfastened her seat belt for her and helped her to stand. Her legs were wobbly from the long flight, and she leaned into Alex for support. He didn’t seem to mind. He kept his hand at her low back as they stepped off the plane.

  The moment their feet touched down on Cordovian soil, they were greeted with more flashes and shouted questions from the press. Some of the faces looked familiar. Had they all gotten on an earlier, faster flight?

  “Smile,” Alex said into her ear. “Pretend you like me.”

  Jan wrinkled her nose at him instead. He laughed and brushed his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss. His lips he kept to himself.

  The press ate up the show of affection. Cameras flashed. Pencils scribbled notes. More questions were shouted, asking for details about their love story. But Alex ignored them all and rushed Jan into a waiting town car.

  Once they were inside the rear of the car, another blast of reality hit Jan. This time there was a tinge of worry that crept down her spine. “What are we going to tell Leo and Esme?”

  “That we’re dating.”

  “They’ll see through it. They won’t believe it.”

  “Leo will be thrilled. He likes you.”

  Maybe. More likely that Leo would be happy because Esme would be happy with this unexpected turn of events. Jan was sure her bestie would be the only one on board with the match.

  “I still don’t think anyone will believe you’d marry someone like me,” she said.

  “What?” He frowned. “You mean someone from New Jersey?”

  Alex laughed, but Jan was serious. Their being together made no sense. She’d seen the women Alex had been associated with. Stick thin models who probably left the salad dressing on the side, and still didn’t eat it. Glamorous actresses who commanded the entire room’s attention when they walked in. She was neither of those.

  “Jan, it makes perfect sense. Everyone knows my passion for food. Of course, I’d fall for a chef.”

  “Maybe Giada.”

  “An Italian chef?” he huffed. “I have standards.”

  But Jan was too worried to laugh at his jokes. In no time at all, they pulled up to the castle. It looked just as majestic as when Jan had left it a few weeks ago.

  Would she be living here full time? Would she have to get her own place? She didn’t even have any Cordovian currency.

  Before her worry could escalate further, the door to the car was opened. Giles, the king’s right-hand man who wore a permanent scowl, stood on the other side. He bowed to Alex and inclined his head to Jan as they stepped out.

  “His majesty would like a word in his office, your highness,” said Giles.

  “Seems we have an audience with the king, my sweet,” said Alex.

  “No.” Giles shook his head. “His majesty asked just for you. The future queen is in her rooms, Ms. Peppers, and has requested an audience.”

  Nerves wracked Jan’s body as she determined how best to convince her best friend, the person who knew her best in the world, that she was in love and ready to marry a man whom she’d found insufferable just a few weeks ago. The doors to Esme’s rooms opened, and Jan saw her friend. Esme stood in the middle of an opulent room. The former kindergarten teacher was dressed in a designer top, which likely cost more than Jan made in a year, and fitted slacks.

  Esme looked placid and expectant at Jan as she walked into the room. Esme crossed her arms over her chest, and that’s when Jan knew she was in trouble. Esme could still pull off the stern teacher expression. Jan was toast.

  “That will be all,” Esme said to the small gathering of ladies who’d been sitting in the chairs sprawled throughout the room.

  The women, similarly clad in expensive, designer dresses and suits, rose to leave. But not before sneaking covert glances at Jan. Jan felt like a prized hog on display, just before it was thrown into the oven for roasting.

  The doors to the room closed, and she and her best friend were alone. Jan searched for something to say in the silence. Once she had an opening line ready, she lifted her head and was nearly bowled over by the impact.

  Esme rushed to Jan and threw her arms around her. When she pulled away, she was beaming. “You’re going to be a princess!”

  So much for convincing her friend about her fake love affair.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What game are you playing at?”

  Alex leaned back, but his brother’s penetrating glare pinned him in his seat.

  Leo stood behind his massive desk. It was a desk that had belonged to their father. Alex had been in this same position many a time in his youth. His father would tower over him as Alex hunched back in the seat, struggling to keep his spine erect in the face of the man who he seemed to continually disappoint.

  There was never anything he could do right. Alex didn’t sit tall enough. He never walked with long enough strides. He didn’t speak with enough commas. He spent far too much time chewing his food. He went back for seconds.

  The happiest moment in Alex’s life was giving up trying to please his father. He remembered the moment with absolute clarity. They’d been in this very room. Alex had spent the weekend in the Bahamas sampling every variation of conch, a sea creature native to the Caribbean. While there, Alex had worked with an initiative that dealt with environmental pollution in the Caribbean Sea. But all the press picked up on was that he’d chatted up a Bahamian beauty queen who had also been involved with the initiative.

  The paper with salacious headlines had laid flat on his father’s desk. His father was red faced as he laid into Alex. He hadn’t listened when Alex tried to tell him about the flavorful fo
od. He turned a blind eye when Alex had spoken of the sea’s pollution and his aide.

  It was as if Alex was invisible unless he was making trouble or making headlines. The only one who believed the truth of his philanthropic ways when it came to food and feeding the hungry was Omar, the Marquis of Navarre. And that was only because he’d seen Alex working on his ventures a few times.

  No one else in his family had cared or even considered investigating what Alex truly got up to when he was away. That day in his father’s office, he had shrugged when his father finally stopped his shouting and demanded Alex shape up. There was nothing wrong with the shape of things. Everyone chose to see him in one way, so there was no harm if he kept doing what he wanted to do.

  “Alex!”

  Alex snapped back to the present and the current king.

  “Are you even listening to me?” demanded Leo.

  Leo’s face wasn’t red. He wasn’t shouting at Alex. But he did have the same disapproving countenance to his features as their father.

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Leo pointed a finger. “But if you hurt that girl … Well, you’ll have Esme to deal with.”

  That was a cringeworthy thought. Esme was a force of nature. Alex had yet to be on her bad side.

  “Whatever scheme you’ve talked her into, you need to talk her out of it.”

  “It hasn’t occurred to you that Jan may have fallen hopelessly in love with me?”

  Leo snorted, finally taking a seat behind the big desk. “She’s far too intelligent for such nonsense.”

  “Ouch.” Alex placed his hand over his heart in mock offense. But in truth, Leo’s words had hurt.

  Leo had never pressured Alex to get married, not after his own arranged marriage. But Alex knew his brother expected him to settle down one day and continue the family line. Alex also figured Leo would be pleased that he hadn’t brought home a socialite, or a model, or heaven forbid, an actress. He’d brought his own intended’s BFF home. So, where was the praise and the cigars?

  “She’s not your type,” Leo said. “You two have nothing in common.”