Just a Taste Read Online Free PDF

if she could. He was torn. What if he gave her the name of the contractor who’d done the expansion on Dante’s, and she was displeased with the results? He didn’t want to be accused of sabotage. On the other hand, it was always good to do unto your neighbors as you would have them do unto you. But in this case, couldn’t it be viewed as aiding and abetting the enemy?
    Anthony held out his hand. “Here, let me see those,” he said authoritatively. Vivi handed over the estimates. “Tony and Bob Mineo,” he said, scanning the first estimate. “Totally overpriced, shoddy work.” He slid the piece of paper to the bottom of the pile. “Jackson Morgan—it’ll take you two years to get this place done if you’re lucky. Forget him.” Jackson went to the bottom of the pile with the Mineos. “Tippy Mottola. He does decent work.” He picked up the next sheet of paper. “Ricky and Joey DiDinato. They’re good, too.” He handed the sheaf of papers back to her. “I’d go with either Tippy or the DiDinatos. You already had an architect in here, right?”
    Vivi looked mildly insulted. “Of course. The whole time Natalie and I were getting ready to move, the plans were being prepared.”
    “Smart.” Wanting to be polite, Anthony forced himself to take another sip of awful coffee and studied the delicate woman sitting across from him. He had a hard time imagining her commanding a restaurant kitchen, but you never knew. Sometimes the mildest mannered individuals turned into dictators once they put an apron on. God knows she had no problem giving her opinions. “You and your sister never really explained why you chose Bensonhurst.”
    Vivi considered the question carefully. “I wanted to be part of a close-knit community, with people who would appreciate good food.”
    “Have you ever even been out here before?”
    “Yes. My aunt lived in New York, and a few times when I came to visit, we came out here to go to the Santa Rosalia Festival.”
    “Then you know the kind of people who live here.”
    Vivi’s gaze hardened. “So?”
    “They might not go for fancy French food.”
    “It’s not going to be fancy,” Vivi replied with mild irritation. “It’s going to be simple. And affordable.”
    Anthony looked her straight in the eye. “You mean like Dante’s.”
    “Simpler,” Vivi insisted without blinking an eye. “Your restaurant is very large, Mr. Dante—”
    “Please, call me Anthony—”
    “And mine will be very small. You can accommodate large families and cater affairs. I won’t be able to. My clients will be couples, small parties, who just want to relax over a bottle of wine and some good food.”
    “They can do that at Dante’s, too, you know.”
    “Well, now they’ll have two places to choose from,” Vivi replied airily, though there was no mistaking the touch of challenge in her voice. “Variety is the spice of life. Don’t you agree?”
    No, he didn’t. There was one restaurant around here that covered simple, affordable, family, single, parties, whatever, and it was his. Though if she served her coffee to customers, he might not have a problem.
    Anthony forced a smile, wondering if he should choke down another sip. Vivi’s gaze seemed locked on his hands.
    “What?” Anthony asked, feeling self-conscious. “What are you looking at?”
    “Your hands. Real chef hands.”
    “That’s because I’m a real chef.”
    Vivi gave a small laugh. “Oh, and I’m not?” She held her own hands out for his inspection. She was right; though her fingers were long and delicate, there was some scarring. He nodded and said nothing.
    “That’s new,” Vivi continued, pointing to his wedding ring.
    “I take it off when I cook.”
    “Ah.”
    “You married?” Anthony asked, trying to imagine what kind of man could be attracted to someone so stuck up. Variety is the spice of life, wouldn’t you agree? Gimme a break.
    “Why do you ask?” Vivi replied coolly.
    Anthony yawned. “Just making