Free The Interview by Caitlin Ricci Page B

beside her, eager to sate her desire for him but needing to cool it for the moment. If he was as good in bed as he was in her kitchen, she’d be quite satisfied this afternoon. He would be too, she’d make sure of it of course…but she wasn’t thinking about him for the moment.
    Selfishness, ambition and drive were hardly unique to their field, but without them a good chef could never be great. And she needed great. Nothing less than that would do.
    He pulled out her stove-top grill and waited for it to get hot. A bit uncertain of him and his methods, she watched him intently. He had to get this part right. Everything else had to be perfect as well, but potatoes could be saved, as could whatever else he served with her steak. But a steak, once ruined, was impossible to make right again. And so she watched, her breath catching, as he moved the potatoes around the pan with some butter and rosemary and waited for the pan to heat until that perfect moment when it was just right. He seasoned the meat with a bit of salt and pepper and put it down on the grill. The inviting sound of a loud sizzle went through her kitchen and she smiled, knowing he’d gotten that part right. He wasn’t out of the clear yet but he was much closer, and he’d managed to impress her with his knowledge of simple food as well.
    After washing his hands, he chopped fresh herbs, his wide shoulders moving under the stiff material of his chef jacket as he worked. His refusal to cross-contaminate her food was another bonus factor for him, as a firm grasp of the basics was the only foundation for growth. He tasted at each step, seasoning when needed. His skills were impressive but she wouldn’t know just how much until she’d tasted his meal.
    A few minutes later, he clicked off her stove and began plating her lunch. His hands were steady, his movements sure. The plate he presented her was less stylish than the ones his Las Vegas chef dad created every day, but they were simple enough for her Ale. The steak was the centerpiece, the red potatoes and asparagus creating a wreath around it.
    “Describe it,” she instructed him, her mouth watering as the sweet smells drifted up to her. And, she noticed with a further sniff, a hint of her signature Candied Pale Ale, a favorite at her restaurant. She hadn’t seen him grab the bottle while he’d been cooking, but, as she watched, he quickly provided her with it and a glass.
    “Chef, what I’ve prepared for you today is a simply seasoned rib-eye steak with rosemary red potatoes and garlic asparagus. I’ve finished it off with a glaze of your Candied Pale Ale, which has just the right notes of candied nuts and cinnamon to bring your meal together. Enjoy.” He stepped back, looking proud of himself and satisfied with the dish he’d prepared.
    As he should. The presentation of it was subtle and paired well with her restaurant’s image. Also, the use of her ale was a bit of a genius move, and one none of the others had even considered. It showed that not only did he enjoy cooking and knew what went together, but that he was already familiar with her restaurant and the ingredients in the ales he would potentially be working with.
    He waited off to the side while she cut into her steak. It was a beautiful medium rare. She hadn’t given a preference and he hadn’t asked, but he knew enough to know that the default when his customer hadn’t given him a temperature was medium rare. It was the safest bet when dealing with all red meats and he was one smart cookie for remembering that.
    After cutting off a piece of the steak, she took a bite and moaned with honest enthusiasm as the tender meat hit her tongue, the ale infused glaze aiding it in both sweetness and acidity to expertly balance the meat. She ate a little of the asparagus and the potatoes next. All nicely prepared, well-seasoned and correctly portioned for a dinner entrée.
    Dotting her lips with a linen napkin, she hid her satisfied smile. “What