Chapter 8
About the Publisher
Sofia cupped the bottle of Dom Pérignon and released the cork. Pop! She poured the overflow into a glass and took a sip. Like water into sand. When was the last time I’d opened a bottle and had some non-work-related fun, she wondered. Short answer: her engagement party. But that didn’t count. The formal event had been organized at her mother’s request. And since that night, over a year ago, life had gone stale. No joy, no fizz, no pop.
This, however, was no time for a pity party. Sofia had an actual party—cocktails and hors d’oeuvres for fifty—to wrap up. Real life was work. Whoever promised her fizz and pop, anyway?
Sofia rested her champagne glass on the counter—a treat for later—took a deep breath and handed out her orders. “Melissa, please set up the champagne flutes... Ericka, where’s the box with the trays?”
The kitchen door creaked open. Expecting one of the waiters, she frowned at the guest peering in. Ground zero—in this case, a French country kitchen in the host’s Coral Gables home—was a madhouse. Guests weren’t welcome. And this guest... Jesus! He was two hundred pounds of muscle beautifully packaged in a heather-gray suit. She took in his toasty brown skin and intelligent brown eyes, and cleared her throat. “May I help you?”
“Some water...please.”
“Melissa, get this gentleman a glass of water.”
“A bottle, if you have it.”
Melissa held open the refrigerator door. “Would you prefer sparkling or flat?”
“Flat.”
“Spring or—”
“Melissa, please!” Sofia cried. The man shouldn’t have to answer a quiz.
Melissa handed him a small FIJI bottle. “Here you go.” She smiled shyly.
He smiled too, but there was nothing shy about it. Sofia stiffened. She felt the oddest sensation, the turn of a dial.
But with Watergate resolved and the guest gone, she focused on the task at hand. “Guys, the toast is in five minutes. Let’s go!”
Melissa lined up a row of champagne flutes, giggling as she worked. “That guy was so hot I nearly fell on my face.”
Ericka piled a dozen silver trays on the counter. “I thought you were only into pretty boys.”
“Comes a time in every woman’s life to forget the boys and find a man,” Melissa said.
“You’re a woman now?” Ericka asked.
Valid question. Melissa was only nineteen and looked even younger. But now was not the time to delve into it.
“Quiet!” Sofia snapped. “I need to focus.”
Everybody fell silent. She took a breath and started pouring from the bottle of Dom. The host, a hotshot Miami lawyer, was throwing this party for his firm. This wasn’t the usual office party fare. Normally, they’d serve coconut shrimp and California sparkling wine. This event was all about grilled scallops, crab cakes, smoked salmon topped with caviar, top-shelf liquor and fine champagne. For that reason, she’d taken on the task of filling the glasses herself—not that she was any good at it. It required steady hands, and she was anything but calm.
“Can I help?”
Damn! The words were spoken so close to her ear, she jumped and nearly spilled two hundred dollars’ worth of champagne down her shirt. Him again! What was he doing back in the kitchen? She straightened up to better confront him. His eyes had flecks of gold. One sip of champagne would do that to you; make you see all the sparkle in the world.
She clutched the bottle to her chest. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
He slipped off his suit jacket, revealing a gorgeous garnet lining, and draped it over a chair. Sofia’s mother owned a fabric shop and Sofia had her eye for quality.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I used to be a waiter.”
So what? Hadn’t everyone?
