Recipe For Disaster

‘I’ll take your word for that.’ Fabio sighed and shrugged into his suit jacket as he scanned the street. ‘This is not what I was expecting. No big businesses. No factory units. Which makes me curious. What has the Caruso family got to do with someone who lives around here?’

‘Your dad didn’t tell you anything at all?’ Jerry replied, his attention on the traffic lights.

Fabio shook his head once. ‘My grandfather Salvatore only kept a few personal clients after he retired and Mrs Caruso was the last. There are bundles of sealed paperwork waiting to be opened but the ball only starts rolling once I make the delivery and the client opens the box and takes the prize.’

‘Didn’t you look inside? I would have.’

‘Look inside? Hell no,’ Fabio choked. ‘My grandfather would come back and haunt me. It could be anything inside that package. And frankly I am not so sure I want to find out. The Carusos are not labelled the smiling assassins for nothing. You won’t find tougher business people. The sooner we can get back to our new business, the better, as far as I am concerned.’

‘Amen to that,’ Jerry replied. ‘Here we go. Lights are on red. If you want to go, go now. I’m parking in that supermarket just around the corner. Be waiting for you there. Best of luck.’

Bunty sat back in her hard wooden chair and swayed a little from side to side as her whole crew of pals and teachers from the convent school and catering college joined in a very loud and very out-of-tune version of ‘Mambo Italiano’ that Elena was playing at full volume in her honour.

Normally the background music would have been Greek bouzouki music or Elena’s favourite classical opera CD, so this really was a special treat. Just for her.

There were wine spillages and salad-dressing smears and breadcrumbs all over the tablecloths, and probably over the new plum-coloured wrap dress Alex had squeezed her into. At some point she had lost her shoe under the table.

Then Fran had presented her with a crown she had made from gold paper and wire and insisted that she wear it as a party princess — at a jaunty angle, of course.

Worse, her make-up was probably a wreck after a brief but intense crying jag after Sister Teresa had made the sweetest speech about how proud her mother would have been of her and what she had achieved, which had everyone in the room reaching for the tissues. There was not a dry eye in the house. Even Alex the strong ‘accidentally’ dropped her napkin on the floor and had to drop out of sight for a couple of minutes to find it.

Bunty glanced up across the tables spread out around the room. It didn’t matter that she looked a mess. Not to her friends and family who had come out on a cold January evening to help her celebrate her birthday.

She grinned across at Maria who was carrying out yet more plates of lamb and roast potatoes. Her friend replied with a jaunty wink as one of the catering students patted her bottom the second the plate hit the table and Maria pretended to squeal, and then sat down heavily on his lap and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

These were her real friends. Her real family. Girls from the local convent school she had known all of her life and their husbands and boyfriends, pals from the local shops, students she taught at the catering college. All loud, boisterous and having fun. And that was precisely how she liked it. No false pretences here. Real people who shared her life each and every day.

She was so lucky to have them.

A warm glow of happiness and contentment spread from deep inside her like a furnace that pumped the heat from her heart to the very ends of her fingertips. She had never felt so safe and secure. Protected. And cared for and part of a very special community of friends who looked out for one another.

Maybe turning thirty was not so bad after all when she had friends like these in her life. So what if she didn’t have a mega TV career like her cousin Luca? She had something much better.

Bunty leant sideways and rested her head on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Have I said thank you yet for pulling this all together? It’s amazing and I love it.’

Alex laughed out loud and gave her a one-armed hug. ‘Several times. It’s the wine, you know, causes short-term memory loss in older women. I have built up resistance over the years so it takes a lot longer to kick in.’

Then Alex started rubbing her hands together and humming the last verse under her breath. ‘Now. Back to the important stuff. What totally outrageous thing have you decided to do before the end of the day? Remember the rules – it has to be spontaneous, the opposite of what you would normally do, and fun! Points will be awarded for the most ingenious solution!’

‘Dance on the table?’ Bunty suggested, then shook her head and waved her arms around. ‘No. Forget that one. The table legs wouldn’t cope with my current body weight and this food is too good to waste. Something outrageous. Um…’

Then she looked over Alex’s shoulder back towards the entrance to the restaurant and her breath caught in her throat.

Standing not three feet away from her was one of the best-looking men that she had seen in her life. She was five feet nine inches so he had to be at least six feet two inches in his very shiny, slim, smart black shoes. Her gaze tracked up his body before the sensible part of her brain clicked in to stop it.

Slim hips. Broad shoulders. A handmade cashmere and silk business suit in a shade of midnight blue, which was so perfect it made her drool. A tailored white shirt open at the neck. Dark chestnut-brown hair that curled into neat waves, which simply begged to be touched.

‘Hello,’ he said in a rich deep male voice that crossed the air space that separated them and reverberated inside her head. ‘I’m looking for a Bernadette Caruso Brannigan. There was a note stuck to the door at Brannigans deli telling me that the party was at Elena’s. Have I come to the right place?’

He was Italian mixed with a delicious topping of American English. And he had come looking for her.

Bunty whipped around in her seat before Alex caught her open-mouthed staring at the top three buttons on his shirt, which were unfastened, revealing a hint of tanned skin with dark chest hair. Taunting her.

If he dressed like this in January, August would be interesting.

For some reason her breathing had become irregular and she suddenly felt remarkably warm.

‘Oh, Alex,’ she breathed in a low hiss of appreciation. ‘I owe you big time.’

‘This is so true, but what particular thing have I done now?’ Alex replied between mouthfuls of garlic bread.

‘You said there wouldn’t be a male stripper.’

‘Who? What?’ Alex looked up and whirled her head around like a meerkat before it froze in the same direction Bunty was focusing on.

‘Oh. I see what you mean.’ She coughed. ‘Girl, I don’t know who he is, but I think you have just found your challenge. What are you waiting for? He is all yours. Go get him.’

It took Bunty a second to find her shoe and stagger to her feet a little unsteadily but in three strides she slipped behind the other diners. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that her friends were either too busy enjoying themselves to notice, or nudging one another and nodding towards the door.

Little wonder.

Alex or Fran had excelled themselves.

Her Italian treat became more spectacular with each step.

She could almost taste the testosterone he was breathing out in her direction. It was the kind of allure that had worked with cavemen and was still working just fine right now. Which was quite amazing considering it had been quite a while since anyone had fired up her inner cavewoman.

It also made speech a little tricky so she licked her lips and flicked her hair out before hitting him with her best smile.

‘Did I hear you say that you are looking for Bernadette Brannigan?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Because you have definitely come to the right place.’

His head lifted so that when she was within touching distance she had to look up into a pair of gorgeous caramel-brown eyes. ‘That’s me,’ she said and flicked up one hand coquettishly. ‘But my friends call me Bunty.’ Then she blinked and smiled. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Miss Brannigan,’ he replied, and stretched out his hand to close his fingers around hers. It was only a momentary handshake but long enough for her to recognise soft office-boy skin above a sinewy muscular grip that made all of her girly brain cells go ping. ‘I am sorry to interrupt your meal. Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?’

Outside? Well, this was different. Bunty shot a glance back towards Alex, who was grinning like a loon and waving both hands from the wrist telling her to go.

‘Yes, of course,’ Bunty simpered and waited until he had opened the door before stepping out onto the pavement and waiting for him to follow her.

She whirled around too soon and had the pleasure of feeling the gentlest of touches on her arm.

And he had stunning hands. She had always liked hands. Especially clever, clean, nimble hands. Even if these hands were at that moment drawing a wallet from a very professional-looking black briefcase.

‘Miss Brannigan, my name is Fabio Rossi of the law firm Rossi and Rossi of Milan. I have been instructed by my client to deliver this package to you in person.’

Bunty stared at the black sealed wallet her hunk was holding out towards her, glanced up at the serious expression on his face and then back to the wallet.

And just like that the effects of two hours of wine drinking and general merriment popped like an overstretched balloon and what was left of the rational part of her brain kicked right back in.

Not a male stripper.

Not a birthday present in the shape of a hunky Italian.

He was a lawyer. From Milan.

Nightmare!

‘You’re delivering paperwork? At this time of night? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’

Bunty gestured with the flat of her hand back towards the noisy party that was still in full swing inside the restaurant. ‘As you can see this is my birthday party. And I am rather occupied at present.’

‘The instructions from our client were very clear. A Rossi lawyer was to deliver this package to Bernadette Caruso Brannigan by the end of the day.’

‘Your client?’ She blinked. ‘What client are you talking about? Please explain before my head explodes.’

‘Rossi and Rossi are the company lawyers for the Caruso family.’

Bunty closed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose. Just when she thought this day could not get any worse.

Luca. It had to be Luca.

Nobody else in the Caruso family gave a damn about her birthday.

He knew that she would be interested in the offer he had made earlier and was only too ready to wave a new contract in front of her nose before she had a chance to change her mind.

Clever boy! But not when she was in the middle of her party.

He held the wallet out towards her and she glared at it in disbelief for a full two seconds before snatching it out of his hand. She had embarrassed herself enough for one night. Time to end this debacle.

‘Right. Job done. You can go now. I can’t deal with you and any contract paperwork tonight. Thank you. Goodbye. Goodnight. Have a nice life.’

He stepped forward so that he was totally inside her personal body space.

‘It’s not quite as simple as that, Miss Brannigan. I have to verify that you have both received and opened the package and read the contents before I can leave.’

‘You have to see me open the package before you go?’ Bunty snorted through her nose. ‘Are you joking me?’

His brown eyes locked onto hers and held them like a rock. ‘Not at all. Those are my instructions. I’m not going anywhere.’

At this distance all she could focus on were the thin pale tan lines radiating out from the corners of his dark caramel eyes and the no doubt designer amount of dark stubble above that full, sensuous upper lip. Dark brown stylishly cut short hair curled around his ears but his eyebrows were naturally thick and manly.

A long, thin, tanned face, dominated by a strong narrow nose, classic cleft chin, fantastic cheekbones. So overall a full score on the male-model-businessman-lawyer look. Fabio was probably a big hit with the lady clients at the law firm he worked for.

Inhaling was a mistake. He smelt of expensive male grooming products, which right at that moment were worth every penny. Her sensitive nose picked up citrus and musky notes above a tang of something that was very much Fabio Rossi.

Then the right side of his mouth turned up into what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile.

And every sensory switch inside her body turned on. Just like that. Completely out of the blue and totally, totally not what she wanted to happen.

Especially not now.

Speech was impossible and for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds, they both stood there in silence. Breathing in air that positively crackled with electricity. Neither of them willing to shift an inch.

It was almost a relief when someone’s mobile phone started ringing.

‘I think it’s yours.’ Fabio blinked, breaking the connection, stepped back and folded his arms.

Bunty turned away, reeling, sucked in some air because apparently she had stopped breathing, bent down, reached into her tiny wrist bag that came with the dress and found the phone in the inside pocket. She flipped open the tiny silver high-tech unit and pressed the receive button as a familiar voice hissed down the line.

‘Sorry to interrupt but are you coming back in?’ Alex whispered. ‘Maria is just about to bring in the birthday cake and we are frightened of the fire risk. You can bring the hunk with you if you like to help you blow out all of the candles.’

‘Be right there,’ she replied and closed down the phone.

Sucking in a long breath of the cold night air, Bunty lifted her head and stared into the face of one of the best-looking men she had ever met in her life.

Hell. Who was she kidding? He was gorgeous. Shame that he was the lawyer working for Luca.

The cold air helped to clear her head so that when she spoke the words came out in some vague order and almost in control.

‘I will try and find the time to look at the paperwork tomorrow. You know where to reach me. Brannigans deli. Just down the street. Goodnight, Mr Rossi.’

And before he had a chance to reply, she clutched hold of the paperwork in one hand and pushed open the door with the other, propelling herself into the room and a loud chorus of cheering.

Leaving Fabio Rossi standing on the pavement outside with a curious smile on his face.

Chapter Four

Saturday

Things to do:

Make enough wild mushroom ravioli and sauce for the special offer over the next few days;

Luca’s offer. Twelve months. Sixty/forty to me. What else do I want? Start a list so I am ready when he calls, but don’t be pushed into reading that contract paperwork — make him wait for once. This is the new Bunty – hear her roar!

Be civil to the Rossi lawyer – he was only doing his job;

Pretend to enjoy being thirty. Yay. Sob;

Remember — denial is good.

Bunty rolled her heavy pestle against the fragrant lightly toasted green fennel seeds inside the mortar, pushing down with all of the strength she could muster, crushing the seeds and releasing their wonderful aroma.

It helped if she imagined it was Luca’s leering face at the bottom of the mortar.

This was all his fault!

Her brain had been spinning most of the night, working through the options, over and over again, weighing up the pros and cons and, the more she thought about it, the more obvious the answer had become.

She had to accept Luca’s offer. She didn’t have any choice.

And not just for the extra publicity and cash. This was her chance to show the Caruso family that she was just as capable of running her own successful business as they were.

Working as Luca’s partner would be exactly the boost that she needed to make her dream come true and prove her uncle wrong at the same time!

Twelve months. That was all she needed. One year. Just long enough to get her catering business up and running, train the staff and build the orders so that she was ready to go when she found the perfect location for the second deli.

To do that she was almost willing to put up with being in close proximity to the Caruso family – as long as they did not try and interfere with her work.

But there was something else that kept whirling around inside her head every time she punched her feather pillow to try and find a comfy spot.

Luca had come running to her to ask for help.

Surely that had to give her some bargaining power?

Bunty stomped extra hard on what was left of the seeds. Now all she had to do was pluck up enough courage to insist on it the next time she saw Luca.

He had tried to jump the gun by sending that contract paperwork with Fabio Rossi last night. Forcing her to make a decision. Well, that could wait. In fact it was going to have to wait; a very long time if she had her way.

This was her decision. This time she was going to be the one setting the terms of the contract. And she was going to make him wait.

Her hands stilled and a giggle bubbled up from inside her chest and emerged as a short cough.

It was finally going to happen!

She was actually taking that first step closer to her dream. After all these years of planning and talking and more planning she could almost see the labels on her food going out to restaurants and pubs and bistros all over London from not one but two delis.

And maybe, just maybe, she might be able to afford a third deli. And then another until she had her own chain of Brannigans delis across the city. One day.

Now that…that was worth celebrating.

With a quick shake of her head, Bunty tipped the coarse fennel powder into the large metal tray already packed with sliced mushrooms, chopped parsley, garlic and shallots and spooned the herby warm olive oil over the part-roast vegetables. She had just popped the tray into the oven when the comforting sound of warm laughter echoed out from the deli.

Alex and Fran had stopped to chat to Maria, who was working the counter, before they strolled through into the kitchen.

‘Morning, lovely ladies.’ Bunty smiled. ‘Be with you in a minute.’

‘Happy Saturday, sweetie. So,’ Alex said as Bunty wiped down the chopping boards. ‘You are looking remarkably perky for a thirty-year-old lady who partied late into the night. So. Are you going to tell us what happened with Fa-a-abio last night? Elena has already been around the street telling everybody that you’ve got a hot new squeeze. Come on, we’re dying to know what happened when you two stepped outside for your romantic interlude.’

‘Happy morning after your birthday from me too,’ Fran said as she slid past Alex. ‘I only saw Fabio for a few minutes yesterday but he looked nice. And this is lovely — I love the flowers!’

Bunty had set the staff dining table next to the patio doors leading to her walled garden with colourful china in Mediterranean blue and yellow, on a pristine white linen tablecloth embroidered with flowers and yellow swallowtail butterflies. A huge crystal vase stuffed with a display of expensive flower-shop lilies, orchids and roses towered over the jams and marmalades, butter and fresh juice.

Alex sat down heavily at the table, and then gestured towards the impressive display already present. ‘Those, my darling sister, are what are known in the trade as “apology and get me out of trouble” flowers. They cost a fortune, look good on the day, but they don’t smell of anything and they don’t mean anything. Florists all over the world are taking millions from blokes who are seriously desperate and don’t know what to do about it. Am I right?’

Bunty nodded. ‘Fabio Rossi. The hotel ordered them. What’s in the bag?’

‘Yesterday’s brioche from Strasbourg, which needs toasting, and a bag of fresh Danish, from two doors away, which doesn’t. And you don’t get away that easily. Come on. Explain. A hunky Italian gate-crashed your party and you let him get away with it. This is not normal Bunty behaviour.’

Bunty grabbed the bag from Alex and emptied the pastries onto a plate.

‘Actually you may well be right,’ Bunty replied with a smug grin. ‘Because the new improved version of Bernadette Brannigan has decided to make some changes in her life and it all kicks off today.’

Fran looked at Alex and then back to Bunty. ‘Changes?’

Bunty nodded very slowly. ‘Changes. Big changes.’ Then she shot a glance at Alex. ‘Starting with my least favourite cousin. You know that Fabio came here to deliver a package from the lawyers in Italy last night? Well, I think that it’s the new contract that Luca wants me to sign. And I have decided not to even look at it.’

She winked at Alex, who was sitting with her mouth dropped open, and then refilled their glasses. ‘Luca is trying to make me jump through hoops again and muscle in and take over, which means one thing. He is desperate for my help. And guess what? I am not playing that game anymore. That contract is going to stay right where it is. Sealed up. Waiting until I decide to open it and not a minute before. Luca is going to have to agree to all of the extra conditions that I have come up with or he can take the paperwork home with him back to Milan unsigned.’

Bunty grinned and picked up a pastry and tore into it in the stunned silence.

Then Alex reached down and pulled something out of her other bag. ‘This was meant for later, but after that little announcement a celebration is called for.’

It was a round cake-like object. Covered in thick dark chocolate icing and white chocolate curls.

Bunty sat up, leant towards it, and sniffed. ‘Is that coconut?’ she asked, smiling at Alex, then Fran, who was grinning away.

‘Al made it herself. This morning! But it’s okay, I watched her like a hawk. It’s got all of the right stuff in it. I made the curls,’ Fran said, picking up a bread knife.

Bunty’s face relaxed into a broad grin as she looked, open-mouthed, at her best friend. ‘You baked? For me? I am impressed, young lady. And you are forgiven.’

Alex frowned at her in mock exasperation. ‘You only turn thirty once in your life and I didn’t have time yesterday with organising the party. And don’t sound so surprised. I am a trained chemist, you know. I can follow a recipe.’

‘As long as it doesn’t taste like hand cream. Oh.’ Bunty licked her lips around the forkful Fran had speared on her plate. ‘Not bad. Not bad at all. In fact…’ she tasted a big piece, eyes closed ‘…this is an historic moment. Miss Alexandra McGee has cooked something so delicious that it tastes better than my own recipe. Congratulations.’

Bunty raised her glass of juice and clinked it against the other two.

‘To the new version of Bunty Brannigan,’ Alex said with a smile. ‘I’ve a feeling that there are going to be a lot of changes around here by the time your next birthday comes around.’

By the time Fabio got to the breakfast room in the hotel that Saturday morning, a faint January sun was shining in from the garden courtyard, the other guests were wandering out to do touristy things and Jerry had already loaded up their table with pastries, toast and everything that went with it. Fabio dropped his laptop bag onto the tablecloth and pulled up his chair as their waiter served coffee and took his order for bacon and scrambled eggs.

‘Well, how did it go last night? Any progress?’ Fabio asked, leaning across to try and distract Jerry from his broadsheet newspaper.

‘Do you want the good news or the less bad news? Okay. I took the time to do a little background check on the lovely Miss Brannigan after we got back last night,’ Jerry answered between chewing.