Some Like It Hot

by Louisa Edwards

  It was really over. She’d messed up everything, and even though she’d tried to fix it, she couldn’t fool herself. Danny Lunden was never going to look at her again. She closed her eyes and thought longingly about escaping into sleep. Maybe she’d dream something nice.

  “Mimosa?”

  Opening her eyes, she turned to the flight attendant in the aisle, saying, “No, thank you, I didn’t order any … oh!”

  It wasn’t a flight attendant leaning over the empty aisle seat, holding out a glass flute filled with champagne and orange juice.

  It was Danny.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted. Dread turned her stomach to lead. “Oh no … I can’t believe they’re sending your team home. Maybe I can talk them out of it!”

  She started fumbling with her seat belt, nerveless fingers slipping on the metal clasp, but Danny slid into the seat beside her and covered her hand with his much larger one.

  Under the warm, dry clasp of his fingers, Eva stilled—except for the shiver that raced through her at his touch.

  Unable to understand exactly what was happening, she stared down at their joined hands, trying to make sense of the sight.

  “I’m here for you,” Danny said.

  She frowned. The words all made sense, but somehow, she couldn’t make any sense out of them.

  “To yell at me?” she said, feeling suddenly tired again. “Go ahead, do your worst. God knows, I deserve it.”

  His fingers tightened. “No,” he said, intense and determined. “Eva, look at me. Do I look mad?”

  Steeling herself, she raised her gaze to trace the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the subtle cleft in his chin, the sweep of his unfairly long lashes, before finally settling on his changeable stormy-sky eyes.

  He gave her a smile, and that simple curve of his wide, generous mouth brought Eva’s heart back to fluttering, thumping life in her chest.

  “If you’re not here to yell … and you’re not eliminated from the competition—you’re not, are you?”

  Danny shook his head, that smile still playing over his face.

  Relief shook her down to her toes. Thank God. She hadn’t cost him the competition. It was going to be hard enough to live with herself and the knowledge of what she’d lost—she didn’t know how she would’ve handled it if she’d caused Danny to lose everything that mattered to him, too.

  “I got your assistant to give me his seat,” Danny explained. “He had some unfinished business to take care of with Winslow, anyway, and I couldn’t let another hour go by without telling you I’m sorry.”

  Eva jerked back hard enough to bang her head on the double-paned window. Danny winced and reached for her, but she evaded his hand.

  “What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who screwed up everything.”

  The self-loathing in her voice flayed Danny’s nerves like a knife under the scales of a fish.

  “Yeah, you messed up,” he agreed. “But I know why you did it. And I shouldn’t have blamed you for us losing—that was weak sauce. We’re chefs. It’s our job to work through pain and distractions. One of the first things I remember my dad ever teaching us was to leave my problems at the kitchen door.”

  “That’s … extremely generous of you,” she said, in a stifled kind of way that made Danny think she didn’t really get it.

  “I forgive you,” he spelled out, watching her closely. Then he grimaced. “So long as you can forgive me for almost going off on you and embarrassing you in front of your dad.”

  “No, that’s not…,” she started, then subsided. “Yes, of course I forgive you. But it doesn’t seem like the same situation—I mean, you didn’t actually do it.”

  “Because I didn’t get the chance,” he pointed out. “You threw yourself under the bus before I could.”

  “Sorry to spoil your fun.”

  Shit, this wasn’t going the way he’d planned at all. “You sure you don’t want your mimosa?” he said, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone.

  “No, thank you.” She settled back into her seat, stony-faced and calm. “If that’s all you came to say, Danny—I appreciate the understanding and forgiveness. It’s more than I expected from you. Certainly more than I deserve. What I deserve is probably to sit here and take the punishment of having you so close, knowing that I…” She faltered, stumbling over the words, and Danny’s heart soared as her mask cracked a bit. “Knowing that I have feelings for you. But please. If you truly have forgiven me, could you just … do me the kindness of leaving me alone.”

  Now she was the one who sounded desperate, and the switch raised Danny’s spirits considerably. “No, I don’t think I will,” he said conversationally, settling himself comfortably in his seat. “I haven’t been to San Francisco before. Do you think we’ll have time to go to the Golden Gate Bridge?”

  Shock widened her eyes and brought a mantle of pink to her cheeks. Damn, she was cute when she was annoyed. “Danny! You’re seriously not going to get off this plane and leave me be?”

  “After making your assistant jump through hoops with the airline to get his ticket changed over to my name? No way. And like I said, I’m excited to see San Fran.”

  “Don’t call it that. Really. People will make fun of you.”

  “Okay,” Danny said agreeably. “How about Frisco? Ooh, let’s go to Ghirardelli Square. I like their baking chocolate.”

  Eva was staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. They sat in silence for a long moment before she finally came up with, “Are you okay? You’re acting … I can’t figure it out.”

  “Really? I thought it was pretty obvious,” Danny said.

  “Well, it’s not.” He liked the tartness in her voice, loved it when she got all brisk and bright, like lemon meringue pie. “So you’ll have to clue me in.”

  “The chef contestants have a week off to rest up before the finals start. I’m spending mine in San Francisco with you, helping set up for the finals. Or wandering around all day and seeing the sights while you set up, whichever. I’m easy.”

  “Since when?”

  Ignoring her muttering, he continued blithely, “But the non-negotiable part…” He leaned in, made sure she was listening. “Is that when you get done working every night, you come back to the hotel or meet me at a restaurant, and let me be there for you.”

  Her breath quickened—he saw the fast rise and fall of her rib cage. But all she said was, “I don’t understand. Danny, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, you’re not alone. You don’t ever have to be alone again. Not in San Francisco … and not in having feelings. You know, for me.”

  Whoops, a little more awkward than he’d hoped. Maybe he should’ve planned out what he’d say.

  Eva didn’t seem to agree. Her eyes were shining, her whole face was shining as hope and fear and relief and love and the beginnings of belief collided in her expression with a starburst shower of joy.

  “Danny,” she breathed. “You mean it?”

  He leaned in farther, brushing her cheek with his nose and nuzzling into the soft, lemony sweet scent of her skin. “Every word.”

  “But what about your team?” She pulled back, a frown pulling at her mouth. “You’re really leaving them to make their way to San Francisco on their own?”

  Danny felt a quick twinge, but he let it go. “They’re competent adults. Sort of. Anyway, it’s time to cut the cord. I’ll always be there for them, but they don’t need me to take care of everything. And I don’t need them to let me. Not anymore.”

  Her breath caught, a tiny puff of air against his cheek. “What changed?”

  “I found you, Eva. You’re the one I want to take care of, from now on.”

  Even narrowing her eyes couldn’t quite dispel the joy radiating from Eva. But her voice was stern as she said, “And you’ll let me take care of you, too. Right?”

  Danny pretended to think it over. “I’ll work on it.”

  Leaning her forehead against h
is, Eva closed her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening. When I went into that judging room today, I thought I was about to lose everything. Instead, my father told me he loved me no matter what, and now, here you are.”

  “Here I am,” Danny agreed. “Telling you pretty much exactly the same thing.”

  She choked a little, and when he kissed her, her lips were salty with tears. Something about the way her mouth trembled under his told Danny that she needed him to spell it out.

  “I love you, Eva. No matter what.”

  Danny spoke the words into her mouth like a secret, but his heart had never felt more open.

  “When my father let me take over the Rising Star Chef competition this year, I thought it was my chance. My golden opportunity, the one that would bring me everything I always wanted—and it did. But by far the best thing it brought me was the one thing I never knew I wanted.”

  The sincerity in her voice, the truth beating behind her words, made Danny’s heart pound.

  “I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you,” she vowed, her eyes shining and wet. “You’re it for me, Daniel Lunden.”

  “Hmm. No more playgirl of the Western world, huh? You’re breaking a lot of hearts, here, Eva.”

  “Pssh. What do I need with all those boys when I have the best one ever, right here in my arms?”

  Danny grinned. “I don’t know. The parties, the gala events, the men falling at your feet. Maybe you’ll miss your wild and crazy adventures.”

  She arched one perfect brow, that look he loved coming over her face. Wicked, dangerous, seductive, exciting … talk about everything he never knew he always wanted.

  Eva was it for him, too.

  “Who says I plan to give up my wild and crazy ways?” she purred into his ear, with a sinuous slide that brought her body into close contact with his.

  Danny shifted in his seat, wishing he’d had the foresight to grab one of those blue airplane blankets to cover their laps.

  “Eva…”

  He actually felt her smile against his cheek. “Don’t worry, Danny. All my wild and crazy is reserved for you, from now on. Speaking of which, ever heard of the Mile High Club?”

  Groaning and laughing, Danny grabbed her and brought her sly mouth to his. She moved against him eagerly, her lips parting.

  “God, you taste amazing,” he muttered.

  “What do I taste like?” He loved how one kiss made her breathless.

  Let’s see what two kisses does.

  Two kisses had her cheeks flushing pink and her eyes glazing over. Surveying her with satisfaction, Danny whispered, “You taste like hope and happiness, fun and anticipation. The whole wide world I haven’t seen, and the chance of exploring it together. You taste like love, Eva.”

  She swallowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her full, swollen lower lip. “Oh? And what does love taste like?”

  Dipping his head again, Danny kissed her once more. “A little tart, a little sweet. Complex. The kind of flavor I can never get enough of, no matter how many times I try it.”

  She tilted her chin up, silently asking for more kisses. Danny was happy to oblige.

  He kissed her as the plane taxied down the runway, gaining speed and momentum. He kissed her as they made the leap that broke the bonds of gravity. He kissed her as they soared up into the clouds, weightless and free.

  It would take a lifetime—maybe longer—to discover every nuance of the taste of Eva Jansen’s mouth.

  And Danny was prepared to give it everything he had.

  Some Like It Hot Recipes

  Meyer Lemon and Plum Compote

  2 lbs firm red plums, cut into eighths and pitted

  (about five large plums)

  3/4 cup light brown sugar

  1/2 teaspoon Meyer lemon zest

  2 teaspoons Meyer lemon juice

  2 branches fresh thyme

  Combine the plums, sugar, lemon zest and juice in a large saucepan. Cook over low heat, stirring often, adding more sugar if desired. After 30 minutes, add the branches of thyme and cook for another 15–20 minutes.

  When the plums are super tender and the mixture has thickened somewhat, remove from heat. Don’t worry, it’ll get even thicker and more compotey as it cools. Discard thyme branches and let the compote cool completely. Serve over ice cream or pound cake—or use it as filling between the layers of a French Pancake Stack, along with Danny’s Pastry Cream!

  Danny’s Pastry Cream

  1 whole vanilla bean

  1 1/2 cups low-fat milk

  1/2 cup heavy cream

  3 tablespoons cornstarch

  5 egg yolks

  1/2 cup granulated sugar (divided into 6 tablespoons and 2 tablespoons)

  4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces

  Combine the milk and cream in a medium saucepan with a heavy bottom. Slit the vanilla bean in half lengthwise and scrape the black seeds into the milk, then add the pod. Stir in 6 tablespoons of the sugar and bring to a simmer over medium heat. As it heats up, give it a good stir every so often to get the sugar all dissolved.

  While the milk heats, whisk the egg yolks in a medium-sized bowl until smooth. Then whisk in the other 2 tablespoons of sugar and keep whisking until the whole thing is creamy and the sugar grains are beginning to dissolve—shouldn’t take long, about half a minute or so. Then add the cornstarch a tablespoon at a time, whisking after each addition, and—you got it—whisk some more, until the eggs are pale yellow and the whole thing resembles a paste.

  Meanwhile, the milk should be about ready to simmer. When it gets hot enough that small bubbles break the surface, fish out the vanilla pod and toss it. Then grab a small cup measure and dip out a little bit of the hot milk. Whisk that into the egg mixture—gradually introducing the hot liquid will keep the eggs from scrambling. Keep adding the simmering milk to the eggs in a slow stream, whisking the whole time, until it feels like your arm is about to fall off, or until you get to the end of the milk—whichever happens first.

  Transfer the whole frothy mixture back to the original saucepan and set the heat to medium. Keep whisking! I know, your elbow is sore, but it will be worth it. And it’s almost over—it should only take about 45 seconds or a minute of vigorous whisking over heat to turn the mixture into a thick, glossy custard.

  Take the saucepan off the heat and stir in the butter, a piece at a time. Then strain the pastry cream through a fine-mesh sieve over a clean bowl, pressing the cream through with the back of a spoon or with your spatula. This step seems fussy, but it ensures that your pastry cream is perfectly smooth, no lumps at all!

  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, letting the wrap rest right on the surface of the pastry cream, to keep a skin from forming. Then stick the bowl in the refrigerator! You should let the cream get good and set; 3 hours will do it, or you can make it ahead and leave it in the fridge overnight.

  Pastry cream has a lot of uses—it’s what goes inside cream puffs and eclairs, or you can slather it over a pre-baked tart crust and top it with fresh berries … or you can use it as the filling in the French Pancake Stack!

  Eva’s French Pancakes

  1 cup low-fat milk

  2 large eggs

  2 tablespoons powdered sugar

  1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

  3/4 cup all-purpose flour

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon double-acting baking powder

  Butter for cooking

  Powdered sugar for serving

  Put all ingredients in a blender, in the order listed, then blend for about a minute. If some flour sticks to the sides, just scrape it down into the batter with a spatula.

  The batter will be easier to work with if you let it rest for an hour or so to let the air bubbles settle—but honestly, if you’re pressed for time, you don’t have to.

  When you’re ready to cook the pancakes, heat a medium sauté pan over med-low heat. You’re going to have to play with the heat a little to see which setting works for y
ou—as Danny explains, make it too hot, and you’ll have a hard time getting the thin batter to cover the bottom of the pan when you tilt it. It’s better to err on the side of too cool, and ratchet up from there.

  Melt about a teaspoon of butter (a third of a tablespoon) in the pan. When the foam dies down, scoop about a quarter cup of batter out of the blender. (That amount will depend on the size of your pan—too much will give you a too-thick pancake, and too little will yield a misshapen crêpe that doesn’t go all the way to the edges of your pan.) Pour the batter into the center of the hot pan, quickly tilting the pan to let the batter run out to the sides of the pan and form a circle.

  Put the pan back over the heat and let it cook until the edges are curling and crisping. You can take a spatula and slip it under to check for browning, if you like. Then flip the crêpe—either with the spatula, or using the tips of your fingers, or, if you’re very adventurous, by jerking the pan à la Julia Child! Personally, I recommend using your fingers—it’s the simplest, gentlest way, least likely to puncture or tear the delicate crêpes.

  Give the crêpe a good twenty to thirty seconds on the other side, then slide it out of the pan and onto a waiting plate. Repeat until you use up your batter—this recipe makes 8–10 crêpes, depending on the size of your pan.

  Guys, I know this sounds tricky, but it really isn’t! It just takes a little practice. And the good news is, just about anything you do with the crêpes will hide any imperfections … things like rolling them up around jam and sprinkling with powdered sugar, folding them around a squirt of lemon juice and some granulated sugar, or … layering them into a French Pancake Stack!

  To assemble the French Pancake Stack:

  Take the compote and pastry cream out of the fridge an hour or so before you start, to let them come up to room temperature. Slide a crêpe onto a cake stand or plate, and spread with the pastry cream, topping it with another crêpe. Spread that crêpe with the compote, and top with another crêpe, and so on, alternating compote and cream layers until the crêpe cake is the desired height. Double the crêpe recipe to use up more of your compote and cream, and to make a taller stack. Save the prettiest crêpe for the top layer, which won’t be spread with anything.