Just a Taste by Deirdre Martin

his tongue and watched as she cut into the first fritter with her fork and put the first bite into her mouth. A brief look of ecstasy streaked across her face before she squelched it.
    “They’re all right,” she pronounced mildly.
    “Oh, please!” Anthony snorted. “I saw your face! Your eyes wanted to roll up in your head from sheer bliss!”
    Vivi blushed. “All right, you’ve got me. They are tres magnifique .” She took another bite and this time, to Anthony’s satisfaction, she did let her eyes roll back. The sight of it brought an unexpected flash of heat to his body. Swallowing, he helped himself to the honey, drizzling his own fritters before taking a lusty bite. Oh, yeah, baby, these weren’t just good, they were great.
    “Guess I outdid you,” Anthony observed.
    “Not quite,” said Vivi, giving a small moan as she speared another piece of fritter and put it in her mouth. “You can’t compare fritters to a tart. They’re two different beasts.”
    “Hey, you didn’t hear me moaning when I ate your tart, did you?”
    “I didn’t moan.”
    “Yeah, you did! Just now, when you put that piece into your mouth. You gave a small moan!”
    Vivi shrugged. “Well, if I did, I was unaware of it.” She finished the first fritter and began working on the second. The sight pleased Anthony immensely. He loved knowing his food gave others pleasure. It was also nice to see a woman who wasn’t shy about enjoying eating. But then, he’d heard that about the French, how serious they were about their food.
    “My brother and I used to eat them with our hands when we were kids,” Anthony revealed.
    “What fun!” Vivi enthused. She held her plate close to her chin, picking up a fritter with her free hand and biting into it lustily. A small trickle of honey ran down her chin.
    “Oh!” she said with embarrassment, quickly licking honey from her fingers. “I’m such a slob.”
    “Not a big deal.”
    Without thinking, Anthony leaned over and tenderly wiped the honey from her chin with his thumb. Vivi glanced up at him shyly through her lashes as time seemed to hold its breath. Anthony knew he should take his thumb away, but some unseen force was keeping it there, the same force now whispering in his ear, urging him to kiss her. Slowly, Anthony put his lips to hers. Vivi put her plate down, returning his kiss as she closed her eyes.
    The sweet taste of her mouth conspired with the enticing scent of her perfume to make Anthony’s senses tumble. For the first time in over a year, he was aware of himself as a man. The realization quickly transformed itself into apprehension. Who was this guy, kissing a French woman in her robe on a cloudy Sunday afternoon? And who was she, her mouth pressing against his with equal pressure, her hands lightly anchoring themselves on his shoulders?
    Anthony stood up. “I should go,” he said gruffly.
    “Good idea,” Vivi agreed quickly. She rose, tightening her robe, not quite looking at him. “I have a lot of things to do today.”
    “Me, too.”
    She escorted him to the door. “ Au revoir . Thank you for stopping by,” Vivi said stiffly.
    “Yeah, au revoir to you, too. I guess I’ll see you around the neighborhood.”
    “Yes.”
    She closed the door, leaving Anthony standing in the hallway. He checked his watch; his nephew would be at his house in an hour for the first of his “cooking lessons.” Anthony bounded down the apartment house steps and back outside into the murky sunshine, grateful for something to do.

Chapter 7
    “Y ou listening?”
    Anthony gently tapped the side of the saucepan with a wooden spoon to get Little Ant’s attention. They were in Anthony’s home kitchen, and he had just finished chopping all the vegetables and herbs needed for the gravy while Little Ant looked on. He dumped them into the saucepan, where they now sizzled, sending up a mouthwatering aroma. Little Ant stood on a step stool beside his uncle, listening avidly as Anthony