Hard & Deep: A Football Romance

"She’s right though," Mr. Hayes broke in. He swallowed slowly and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "My compliments. It's amazing."

Gordon tipped his head in acknowledgment, then rubbed his hands together. "Go ahead and eat. I’m going to start on the second course."

Tracy smiled and watched him go back to work with reverent fascination. Of course, that didn’t stop her from shoveling down the rich, cheesy goodness as she did so.

Just as she sucked down the last bite, she felt Mr. Hayes’ hand slip under the hem of her dress and come to rest on her thigh. His hot palm tickled her skin.

Tracy set down her fork and turned to him. "Yes, Mr. Hayes?" she asked.

He smirked and moved his chair closer to her, never once letting go of her supple leg.

"I was just thinking that you look beautiful tonight," he replied.

Tracy took a drink of her champagne, letting the dry bubbles carry away the appetizer’s more subtle flavors. She set the glass back down and turned her body to him just slightly, only enough to tease him.

"Thank you." She winked at him, knowing exactly what he was up to.

His hand tried to inch upward, but Tracy pulled away. She was in control here. It felt, in that moment, like the world and everything in it was hers for the taking. Hers, not his. She was the one in control of what happened tonight. And right now, she wanted to focus on her food.

"So what’s next, Chef?" she asked, already drooling for the next course.

Gordon grabbed a sheet pan out of a nearby holding cooler. On it were three rows of round ravioli with neatly crimped edges.

"These are filled with a crimini mushroom reduction, a little ricotta to hold it together and a mix of hard cheeses like Pecorino and Romano." He walked over and unceremoniously dumped the whole lot into a tall pot of boiling water. He didn’t even wince when large drops of the fiery liquid jumped up and landed on his bare arms. "They only take about three minutes to cook. While that happens, I’m going to finish up the sauce."

"And that is?" Tracy asked, breathless.

Gordon grabbed a saucier and held it down so that she could see the simmering, golden liquid inside.

"I’ve got some butter that I’m browning slightly." He set the pan back down and threw in a few green leaves. "There’s some sage and a little lemon juice. Now I can put the pasta in here to finish."

He used a scoop to pull out the floating ravioli and dumped them into the sauce. A spectacular, though short-lived hiss filled the kitchen as the water and hot butter reacted. Columns of steam rose up to Gordon’s face, making his skin glisten .

After a few flicks of the wrist and a generous palmful of Parmesan, he grabbed two deep, square plates and served up the shining disks.

Tracy grabbed her fork in anticipation as he set the plate down in front of her.

"Thank you again, Gordon. This is beautiful," she said, taking a deep inhale of the food.

He nodded silently, waiting for her to take the first bite. When she did, the deep, rich earthiness of the dish was the first thing that she noticed. The browned butter had a sweet, nutty flavor that danced in step with the mushrooms and distinctive sage. After that, the smooth, tangy bite of the cheeses hit her. Then, at the very end, only the slightest hint of the lemon whispered by.

"I can’t say it enough," she set her fork down. "You really are an artist. I can’t find one thing wrong with this. What do you think, Mr. Hayes?"

"I agree completely." Mr. Hayes closed his eyes and savored the food.

Gordon didn’t stay put for very long. "I’m going to clean up a bit and let you two finish before dessert,” he said. “Call me if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you again." Tracy took another bite of ravioli and resisted the urge to moan with delight.

Gordon grabbed three pans and ducked out of view on his way to the large dish washing area. When he was gone, Mr. Hayes’ hand returned, though further up this time.

"And what do you think you’re doing, sir?" Despite her tone, Tracy was smiling from ear to ear. Even so, she wasn’t about to relinquish control. She grabbed his hand and pressed it down against the hot, soft flesh of her inner thigh. Mr. Hayes leaned in to her so that she could whisper to him, "So you know what would please me, Mr. Hayes?"

He didn’t answer.

"It would please me," she continued, "if you gave me something that I have always wanted."

She moved his hand up so that his fingers formed a cup around her the tiny triangle of silk at her entrance. Deep down, maybe she knew all along that the night wasn’t going to be about only food.