A Taste Of Desire

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“Yes, Lapin à la Cocotte. My grandmother’s recipe.”

She stiffened. “Um, this is rabbit?”

He tipped his head in answer, and she blanched. He snickered.

“I forgot. Americans only eat chicken,” he said with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hilarious. I’ve had rabbit before. In Paris,” she said defensively, leaving out that she hadn’t finished the dish and ordered chicken. She continued eating, around the rabbit.

She raised her spoon and stared at the little square of carrot submerged in brown broth, then let the liquid sit on her tongue again for a moment before swallowing.

“Tell me,” he said.

“What?”

“The flavors.”

She grinned, then closed her eyes in concentration. “Onion, butter, garlic, thyme, parsley, bay leaves, along with the carrot and potato, of course, bacon—although I don’t see any chunks—and a hint of red wine.”

“You missed one.”

Her eyes widened, and she dipped her spoon again. Then again. She stared into space, took a drink of water and sipped the broth again.

“I can’t believe this, but I taste nothing else.”

A smile played on his lips, and a wicked gleam jumped into his eyes.

“Oh, you’re screwing with me. Cute. Was that to get me to eat more rabbit?”

“I couldn’t resist. You really don’t like it?”

“I do like it. It’s the thought of the cute fuzzy bunny that bothers me.”

“The bunnies around here are not cute. They are wild vermin. And there is no bacon, only drippings used for flavor. Try the Bauru.”

She took a big bite of the sandwich and let out a muffled happy squeal. Then finished it in about five seconds flat.

Destin finished his half quickly, too, except for a small bite he threw to the dog.

“Where in Paris did you have lapin?”

“Café Janou.”

“In Le Marais.”

“Yes.” She smiled, surprised that he knew it.

“The chocolate pudding...” His eyebrows raised in appreciation.

“Oh, my God, yes. It’s so decadent. I feel gluttonous every time I eat it. You don’t happen to have any back there in your magic kitchen, do you?”

“If only,” he said with longing. “Tonight would be the perfect night to be decadent.”

She searched his face, wondering if he was purposely trying to be suggestive. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her. Intense and interested.

He leaned in. “Do the sweets bother you?”

She looked away. Oh, he was interested...in her super palate.

“Only if too sweet.” She pushed her plate away and adjusted her foot on the bench. “Thank you for lunch. I suppose I was lucky you were here. I’d probably be soaking wet and still looking for my car.”

Destin took a sip of water and looked at her for a long moment. “Tell me more about what you do, Nicole.” She liked his accent and how he said her name. Neecole.

“I help sell dreams.” She smiled at his confused look. “Business and investment properties are my specialty. Developers, corporations and celebrities all want a property that will increase in value quickly, or won’t lose value in a down market. This property, for instance, needs work, but the acreage, seclusion and ocean proximity make it very attractive. Property like this doesn’t lose value.”