"They're different," Cale commented, glancing from one to the other.
Alex shrugged as she set the second container down. "He probably sent two different kinds of dishes in case one or the other of us didn't like one of them."
Cale nodded and began to open the first container as she took the lid off the second. They then took a minute to examine each dish.
"That's coq au vin, and some sort of salad," Alex announced, pointing to his dish.
"Chicken in wine?" Cale murmured, then glanced to her dish, and asked, "And that one?"
"Gratin Dauphinois and Basque chicken," she saidafter a moment, and then explained, "Basically cheesy potatoes and chicken cooked with ham, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic."
"I don't recall those being on your menu," Cale said with a frown.
"No." She smiled slightly. "But the ingredients are in the kitchen anyway. He probably wanted to make something different than what everyone was ordering."
Cale nodded and then raised an eyebrow. "So which one do you want? "
"Both," she admitted with a laugh. "Let's share."
"Sounds good," he decided and moved away to find silverware as he asked, "In the dining room?"
"Sure." Alex picked up both dishes and headed for the door to the dining room, but paused when Cale suddenly went rushing past her.
"Let me get the blinds."
"Oh." Alex paused in the doorway, thinking it was a good thing they'd arrived and been hung this last week. The moment the last one was closed, she moved to one of the tables closer to the kitchen door and set down the plates.
"Good choice," Cale complimented as he rejoined her. "This way we don't have to bother with the lights."
"My thoughts exactly," Alex murmured, glancing around. The light splashing through the kitchen door and the long opening above the counter that the orders would be passed through gave off enough light for them to eat without having to turn on the overheads. It was actually nice, good ambience.
A moan from Cale drew her gaze around, and she smiled when she saw him chewing. He'd started without her.
"This one is very good," he announced after swallowing.
"Well, Emile didn't get famous by cooking bad food," she said with a sigh.
"Would you like to be as famous as he?" Cale asked curiously as he watched her lift a forkful of Basque chicken to her mouth.
Alex paused to consider the question, and admitted, "Probably every chef wants to be the next Emile, but ..."
"But?" he prompted.
"But I don't think I'd care for the kind of fame he suffers," she admitted. When Cale raised his eyebrows in question, she shrugged. "The man lives in a fishbowl. Papparazzi follow him around like he's an actor, all of them just hoping and praying to catch him having one of his famous tantrums. He's forever landing in the news for one thing or another." She shook her head. "I wouldn't like that."
"Hmm. No I guess not."
Alex could feel him watching her as she ate and was suddenly incredibly self-conscious.
"How is it?" Cale asked.
Alex saw the hungry way he was watching her collect more food on her fork and nearly laughed aloud. It seemed her self-consciousness had been for nothing. It was the food he was lusting after now, not her.
"Here," she said with a smile, and held the forkful of food out to him.
Cale closed his hand around hers and helped steer the food to his mouth, the action forcing her to rise up slightly out of her seat. His eyes were on her as he did it, and little silver flames seemed to dance in their centers as he closed his lips over the forkful of food, and then slowly eased her hand back to remove the clean fork.
Her hand still caught in his, Alex found herself watching with fascination as he chewed and swallowed. Then his tongue slid out to run over his lips, and he smiled. "Delicious. The only thing that would make it better was if I were eating it off your body."