Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love - Kim Fielding Page 0,53
led them through the house. Today she wore wide silky palazzo pants in a pastel floral print, along with a lacy cream blouse. A collection of silver bangles jingled on her wrists. An elegant but understated ensemble that was probably her version of loungewear.
Her kitchen was as spectacular as he would have predicted: wooden floor of wide dark planks, white cabinetry with intricate molding, and acres of pale marble countertop. Teddy didn’t know much about kitchen appliances but guessed hers were top-of-the-line. The walls were pale taupe, and the only bright colors came from huge glass vessels filled with lemons, oranges, and limes. Ornate chandeliers lent the room plenty of light, making everything gleam.
“Are you ready for today’s challenge?” Joyce asked, stopping in front of a refrigerator that was half the size of Teddy’s apartment.
“About yesterday—” Teddy began.
“Yesterday is gone. Thankfully without bodily injury. We’re focusing on today.”
Shit. Maybe he’d try to explain later. She needed to understand that their failures had not been Romeo’s fault.
Seemingly oblivious to Teddy’s turmoil, Joyce laced her fingers. “Today’s test involves creativity. A critical skill in almost any endeavor, yes?”
A few of Teddy’s nerves settled. He could do this—he was a creative guy. Even his teachers had said so, back when he’d been failing exams so miserably. One teacher had given him a B on a history test because, she said, although his essay was uniformly incorrect, he had demonstrated wit and originality. Maybe he knew nothing about the causes and consequences of the Cold War, but he could entertain with a dumb little story about a married couple fighting over control of the thermostat.
“Today I’m going to ask something special of you,” Joyce continued. “It’s self-serving as well, so I hope you won’t mind. As I’m sure you’re aware, today is Valentine’s Day.”
Teddy hadn’t been aware. The holiday held little significance for him, and he’d lost track of the dates since leaving Chicago. But he nodded knowingly and saw Romeo do the same.
“Usually my husband Ron makes us dinner on occasions like this. He’s a wonderful cook. But I’m going to break from tradition because this presents a perfect opportunity for you to demonstrate your creativity.”
After a quick glance at Teddy, who gave a tiny shrug, Romeo cleared his throat. “Um, opportunity?”
“Yes! You’re going to plan and prepare a dinner for me, Ron, and my boyfriend, Dave.”
The whole husband-and-a-boyfriend thing caused such a stumble in Teddy’s brain that it took a moment for him to notice the rest of the sentence. “Dinner?”
“A romantic dinner for three, yes. You can begin now by planning the menu. Once you have a list of ingredients, run it out to the car and Dave will do your shopping. Then—”
“Dave?”
“My driver and boyfriend,” she said with a touch of impatience. “And you’ve met my husband Ron as well, the first time you were here. He’s my household manager and cook. I realize our arrangement is unconventional, but it works for us.”
Wow. Teddy couldn’t manage even one serious relationship, and here was a woman in her seventies with two of them, each man a good two decades younger than her. It was very impressive, but saying so would be incredibly rude. “I see.” He tried for an approximation of Dave’s poker face but probably failed. Well, at least he was relieved he and Romeo hadn’t said anything damning when they were in the Rolls.
“And once we get the groceries?” Romeo, bless him, remained on task.
“Then you prepare the meal. No need to serve it—I won’t ask you to wait table as well.” She laughed as if this were amusing.
Teddy’s mind was now a horror-stricken blank. “Wh-what do you want us to make?”
“That’s where your creativity comes in, darling! I prefer to take dinner fairly early, so let’s plan to eat at six. I have quite a lot of work to complete today and won’t see you until then, but you have free access to everything in the kitchen. I believe you’ll find it well equipped. Oh, and make sure to fix yourselves some lunch as well. A pair of starving chefs just won’t do.”
She swept out of the room, leaving Teddy and Romeo to goggle, speechless.
Teddy was the first to break the silence. “I can’t cook.”
“At all?”
“Misshapen pancakes, burnt hamburgers, clumpy pasta. I mean, I can manage to heat premade things, but I doubt that will impress Joyce.”
“How do you survive?” Romeo appeared stricken.
“I eat out. Or I do soup, sandwiches, and stuff I can nuke. Honestly, that’s about