Read Online The Devil Served Desire by Shirley Jump - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirley Jump
Tags: Romance, Cooking, New York Times Bestselling Author, recipes, Comedy, Chef, Boston, USA Today Bestselling Author, dieting, pasta
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It don't pay to get old. Soon as I hit sixty-five, I'm jumping off the Tobin Bridge to celebrate my retirement. Toot a damned horn the whole way down." She raised the heavy tray to her shoulder. "Three hours I argued with Medicaid today. It was like trying to get a nut out of a squirrel. Far as I'm concerned, they can kiss my black—"
"Before you go pissing off the federal health plan," Dante began, reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing his wallet, "how about you let me give you a hand?"
Rochelle's smile wavered for an instant, the only emotion she'd betray. She was a tough woman, his head waitress, and she rarely let down her guard. "Now you know I can't take that, honey. You already paid for that nurse when the damned hospital sent Ma home three days after her hip operation. You've done enough, and then a bag of chips."
Dante shrugged. "It was nothing."
"I told you not to do it. And you did it anyway."
"Can't have my best waitress worrying all the time." He cleared his throat. "It's bad for business." He thrust five twenties at her. "Here, take these. It'll help tide you over for a few days."
She was already shaking her head. "Boss, I can't."
"Consider it a tip." He tucked the money into the pocket of her apron before she could refuse. "Bring me a glass of water later and we'll call it even."
"But—"
"Now get those dinners out there before you ruin my four-star rating and I have to fire you."
"You've never fired anyone in your life." Rochelle tossed him a tender, fleeting grin, then shifted the tray on her shoulder and turned toward the door. "You're a damned softie," she said. But her words lacked their usual punch.
For the rest of the night, Dante busied himself with keeping the diners happy. He barely had a second to breathe, and when he did, his thoughts strayed to Maria. Then back to the restaurant. How could he even think of dating her? He already had enough on his plate.
Dante had responsibilities. Too many of them to take time out for his own needs.
He'd have to settle for dreaming about Maria instead. And drooling in his sleep.
Maria's Talking-Margherita Pizza
1 pound peeled plum tomatoes
1 pizza dough, rolled out
1 pound fresh mozzarella, sliced thinly
10 to 12 basil leaves, torn into strips
4 tablespoons grated Parmigiano Reggiano
Salt and pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Puree the plum tomatoes to make an extra fresh sauce, then spread the tomatoes onto the prepared dough, just to the edge. Don't want it bubbling over and burning, spoiling the whole thing. Layer mozzarella in a tempting, overlapping circle around the pizza. The more the better is always a good philosophy. Scatter basil here and there. No need to make this into a piece of art—listen to the cheeses calling to your taste buds. They're getting impatient, so get a move on.
Sprinkle the pie with Parmigiano, salt and pepper. Drizzle with oil. Ah, a culinary Mecca all on one baking sheet.
Put the pizza in the oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until the crust is golden brown, the cheeses are bubbling and you are at the absolute end of your waiting rope.
If you can't stand to wait that long for a pizza, mug someone else's delivery guy in the hall and abscond with their order.
Chapter Eight
Moisture pooled in Maria's mouth, heavy on her tongue, urging her to open up and just taste one itty, bitty bite. A morsel. A mouse nibble.
The food was, after all, in her own kitchen cabinets. That made it practically kin.
She'd had two diet shakes, one low-fat snack bar that might as well have been dog kibble, and nothing else today. After working all day at the shop, surrounded by cookies, chocolates and candies, she was damned near suicidal with hunger by the time she left for home at five.
Stupid diet, anyway. All it did was make her want to cheat.
Look at the yummy treats in those kitchen cabinets. One won't hurt. You've been so good today. Give in. Just this
"Before you go pissing off the federal health plan," Dante began, reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing his wallet, "how about you let me give you a hand?"
Rochelle's smile wavered for an instant, the only emotion she'd betray. She was a tough woman, his head waitress, and she rarely let down her guard. "Now you know I can't take that, honey. You already paid for that nurse when the damned hospital sent Ma home three days after her hip operation. You've done enough, and then a bag of chips."
Dante shrugged. "It was nothing."
"I told you not to do it. And you did it anyway."
"Can't have my best waitress worrying all the time." He cleared his throat. "It's bad for business." He thrust five twenties at her. "Here, take these. It'll help tide you over for a few days."
She was already shaking her head. "Boss, I can't."
"Consider it a tip." He tucked the money into the pocket of her apron before she could refuse. "Bring me a glass of water later and we'll call it even."
"But—"
"Now get those dinners out there before you ruin my four-star rating and I have to fire you."
"You've never fired anyone in your life." Rochelle tossed him a tender, fleeting grin, then shifted the tray on her shoulder and turned toward the door. "You're a damned softie," she said. But her words lacked their usual punch.
For the rest of the night, Dante busied himself with keeping the diners happy. He barely had a second to breathe, and when he did, his thoughts strayed to Maria. Then back to the restaurant. How could he even think of dating her? He already had enough on his plate.
Dante had responsibilities. Too many of them to take time out for his own needs.
He'd have to settle for dreaming about Maria instead. And drooling in his sleep.
Maria's Talking-Margherita Pizza
1 pound peeled plum tomatoes
1 pizza dough, rolled out
1 pound fresh mozzarella, sliced thinly
10 to 12 basil leaves, torn into strips
4 tablespoons grated Parmigiano Reggiano
Salt and pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Puree the plum tomatoes to make an extra fresh sauce, then spread the tomatoes onto the prepared dough, just to the edge. Don't want it bubbling over and burning, spoiling the whole thing. Layer mozzarella in a tempting, overlapping circle around the pizza. The more the better is always a good philosophy. Scatter basil here and there. No need to make this into a piece of art—listen to the cheeses calling to your taste buds. They're getting impatient, so get a move on.
Sprinkle the pie with Parmigiano, salt and pepper. Drizzle with oil. Ah, a culinary Mecca all on one baking sheet.
Put the pizza in the oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until the crust is golden brown, the cheeses are bubbling and you are at the absolute end of your waiting rope.
If you can't stand to wait that long for a pizza, mug someone else's delivery guy in the hall and abscond with their order.
Chapter Eight
Moisture pooled in Maria's mouth, heavy on her tongue, urging her to open up and just taste one itty, bitty bite. A morsel. A mouse nibble.
The food was, after all, in her own kitchen cabinets. That made it practically kin.
She'd had two diet shakes, one low-fat snack bar that might as well have been dog kibble, and nothing else today. After working all day at the shop, surrounded by cookies, chocolates and candies, she was damned near suicidal with hunger by the time she left for home at five.
Stupid diet, anyway. All it did was make her want to cheat.
Look at the yummy treats in those kitchen cabinets. One won't hurt. You've been so good today. Give in. Just this
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