Matt groaned as that critical voice rang out across the kitchen. If his mother had still been alive he would have sworn it was her, but no, his baby sister had somehow morphed into their mother when his back had been turned.
He looked over at his sibling and raised his eyebrows as if to say 'what does it look like?'
Tess stared him out.
He heaved a big sigh. 'I haven't lived with you for all of your twenty six years to not know the look you're giving me means you know full well what's going on here.'
Tess continued to stand there.
'Spill Tess. And will you stop using my full name like that. I keep expecting mum to be standing there.'
Tess grimaced. 'Sorry Matt,' she said quietly. Like her siblings, Tess knew how hard Matt had taken their parents' death fourteen years earlier, and he still carried the pain. Unlike the others he hadn't fully let go.
'Ella had nowhere else to turn. She recommended her sister to do a wedding to help keep the cost down for a friend and her sister has pulled out for the most pathetic of reasons, yet again leaving Ella to face the music. Her sister was going to prepare it all with her college pals today but that hasn't happened and she left it to the last minute to tell Ella and she feels responsible but she's got nowhere to prepare everything so I offered her the use of your kitchen.' She heaved in a much needed breath. 'That's what you do for friends - Ella went to our school, oh, way, way back and Ronnie and I lost touch with her, but we met again just recently and rediscovered our friendship.' She was blathering, badly, but continued to hold his eye. Only Matt's eye was stronger and she weakened.
'You were supposed to be away this weekend.' She ended defensively.
'Oh, so that makes it okay does it - that I would have been none the wiser? Tess, you know how I feel about my professional kitchen and it's not a place for amateurs to play around in!'
Her fighting spirit returned. 'Don't start shouting at me Matt. Whichever woman has let you down tonight does not give you permission to shout at everyone.'
'It's not a woman who.., oh, never mind,' he sighed.
He really didn't deserve the reputation he had and resented that his own sister was taken in by the tabloids as well as everyone else. He was really too tired to continue arguing, he just wanted his kitchen to himself so he could lose himself in creativity. He tried telling his sister that but he knew before he opened his mouth he was on a losing battle.
Resigned to his fate, and unable to say no when his sister needed help, he turned back to where Ella was still standing, looking a lot more composed than she had been. He was hit by a jolt again and briefly closed his eyes to get his thoughts and his body under control. What was wrong with him? She was a purple and pink tarty mess for goodness sake.
Opening his eyes, he breathed in a deep, reinforcing breath. 'Okay, here's the deal. Tell me what you've got to do, I'll help and then you'll be gone quicker and I just might get some space this side of Christmas.'
'Matt don't be obnoxious. It doesn't suit you.'
Before Tess could say another word Matt turned back to her.
'Tess, this is my kitchen and here, if nowhere else, my word is law. We will get on a whole lot better if I have less people in it. She can stay,' he said, pointing at Ella. 'You can go and I'll see you later.'
Tess went to object but she had enough years' experience of her big brother raising her that she knew when to retreat gracefully.
'Okay. I've got a flight to catch later anyway. Be nice to her Matt, she's really lovely. Don't be fooled by appearances, as you always used to say to me. You might like her better if you ask her why she's dressed like a Christmas tree fairy reject.' Tess grimaced, turned to give Ella a sympathetic look and silently gestured to check that she would be okay. She went to leave the room and then turned back again.
'Go!'
'Okay, okay. Play nice Matthew. I'll be checking up on you, even if I am in France.' Tess tossed him a cheeky grin and breezed out the door.
*
Matt raised his eyes upwards. 'Now that my interfering sister has left the room and I'm resigned to having to put up with you, let's start again.'
Ella humphed. 'That's not a very good 'start again' if you're going to keep up that attitude!' She had recovered her composure now and was ready to fight back.
'Hmm, feisty little thing aren't you?'
Ella was five feet eight and hardly 'little' but then up against Matt's reported six foot three she probably was so she let that comment go.
'Well, we've established that you're Ella and I'm Matt. Tell me what you're trying to do here.'
He glanced at her hand wrapped in clingfilm and before she could open her mouth, continued. 'You're obviously not going to be doing much with that hand so I suppose I'll have to do most of it. I'll work out jobs for you as we go along.'
He sighed again.
He seemed to be doing that a lot around her. He looked at his watch.
'It's getting late, what time is the wedding reception tomorrow?' He stared at her expecting a reply.
Oh, now it seemed, she was allowed to speak!
'They intend getting to the reception by about three o'clock and having food served from about four. You don't give people much of a chance to talk, do you?' Ella observed with indignation.
Matt chuckled. 'I told you, this place is my domain. I don't need to. Tell me the menu and let's get on.'
Ella explained the range of choice her sister had decided on for the buffet.
'My sister talked generally to Penny, my friend, about what she would lay on. She's still at college so it's the basic stuff you find in buffets. Penny's on a tight budget - her dad lost his job - so she was happy with what was suggested….'
Matt looked impatiently at her as he waited for her to get to the point.
'Er, from what she said and the food Tess helped me unload, I think she intended doing things like savoury tarts and quiches, sandwiches, kebabs, meat platter, vegetable crudities and dips, um, chips, cheeses, fruits, apple pie and profiteroles.' Ella ran out of steam and cringed as she waited for Matt's response. He didn't disappoint.
'Hmm, standard fare and not very imaginative. Is she any good at college?' Without waiting for an answer, again, Matt moved on to his next thought.
'Tell me how you intended getting all the preparation done on your own? By staying up all night or perhaps praying for time to stand still? You're a real whizz of a chef I take it?' Ella couldn't fail to miss the sarcasm in his voice as he fired questions at her that he didn't seem to want an answer to. Before he could think up his next batch of questions, she jumped in.
'Er, no. I'm not. A chef, I mean. I hadn't really thought about what needed to be done. I just panicked about my sister dumping it on me and Tess offered me the use of this place.'
Matt stared at her in disbelief.
Ella looked away, feeling incredibly stupid as she realised the enormity of what she had taken on. She looked down at her feet. It seemed Matt had a way of making her feel like a naughty child.
Not much wound Matt up, but losing his chill-out time, especially after the week from hell that he'd had, was one of them. He'd overseen three catering events - one for the British Prime Minister, one in Brussels and another in Paris. He was knackered from the early starts, late finishes and the different flights. On top of a heavy schedule he'd had the press chasing him all week over a pack of lies, for which a public apology was expected in tomorrow's papers. Today, they'd all gone to their parents' grave, as they did every year on this date, and then had a late lunch together. This was the one day of the year that really got to Matt, even after fourteen years. Zander had left immediately afterwards to catch a flight to Australia, Ronnie had headed off shortly after that to Spain and Tess had gone home to pack for France. For the first time, on the anniversary of their parents' funeral, Matt had been left to find his own way to cope with the continued pain, and Ella was now in his way.
Matt couldn't resist a further dig at her.
&
nbsp; 'So if you're not a chef, what are you then, some kind of call girl?' At her look of outrage he felt contrite and held his hands up. 'Sorry, that was unfair and uncalled for, but you've got to admit, you're dressed for the part.'
While he'd been grilling her Matt had looked through the food supplies. He grimaced.
'I know for a fact college students are not taught to buy in their pastry. She's got enough pastry cases here to feed an army. What was she thinking? That a few different fillings would make a good buffet? And she's bought the profiteroles?' Matt dropped his head in despair. 'These are 'use by' yesterday. Geez! Is she wanting to give everyone food poisoning?' Matt couldn't believe what he was looking at.
'And she got this bread for the sandwiches?' There must have been a dozen loaves from the supermarket's 'value' range. 'What kind of sandwiches was she going to make? This stuff is just about passable toasted. You can't serve this quality at a wedding buffet!'
Matt was incensed. It was this lack of imagination and corner cutting that gave British food a bad name.
'At least there's plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables.' That appeased him slightly. 'Hmm, I suppose we can do something with all this meat as well. Right! As I'm preparing this now, your friend will get a buffet that I'm proud to put my name to, so you can take all this mass produced stuff back to your sister and she can use it somewhere else.'
Ella could only nod. She knew his standards. After all she had followed his career and watched most of his TV programmes. But she had to admit that up close he was an impressive piece of work. He didn't hang around or mince his words. Stunning to look at too! She'd admired him from afar for such a long time. Despite his grouching she had to admit that he made her heart beat uncomfortably. Tabloid photos and her television hadn't done him justice. He was far better looking in the flesh, and dangerous to her carefully guarded heart.
With a firmly toned body that most sportsmen would give their right arm for, long legs, broad shoulders, a face that belonged on a girl's bedroom wall, dark chocolate brown eyes that looked through to your very soul, slightly olive coloured skin and short cropped dark brown hair, Matt was every female's wet dream. No wonder the tabloids never left him alone.
Ella knew he would continue to be just her fantasy. She didn't do relationships, for good reason. Even though she'd loved Matt from afar, she was still surprised at her reaction to him in the flesh. No man had caused her body to react before.
Rather than dwell on how he was making her feel just now, Ella found herself thinking back to when she'd become more acutely aware of him at the age of twelve. Tess and her identical twin sister Ronnie had stormed, sobbing and screaming, into the room they'd all shared with one other girl at boarding school. Matt and his twin, Zander, six years older than the girls, had come running after them and pulled each of them into their arms.
Matt had looked over Tess's head and locked eyes with Ella. It had just been for a moment but she'd seen the raw pain in their depths before he'd masked it and looked down again to Tess. From that moment on, Ella had been lost, wishing Matt had a reason to comfort her. Not that she would have wished the tragic death of their parents on the girls - she'd thought more of Tess and Ronnie than she had her own younger sisters who were spoilt and selfish.
As the years had gone on, her thoughts of Matt had clearly turned from pubescent crush to red-hot passion. Not that she had experienced what that was like and never really expected to with her self-induced celibacy. Funny though that she hadn't thought of Zander in the same way and yet they were identical to look at.
After the funeral and then the end of year exams, the boys had left school for good and the girls had stopped boarding. They'd withdrawn from their friends so Ella had had less contact with them, until she'd moved schools herself at the age of fourteen and lost touch with them altogether.
It was only recently they had become reacquainted, when both she and Tess had been on the bill at a charity event. She loved the fact that their friendship had taken off again and fallen into the easy nature of their childhood. They had both been part of a star-studded line up of female performers from the world of pop, jazz, classical and comedy, raising funds to build a dedicated female cancer unit. Tess, a singer, was creating an international reputation for herself in the world of jazz whilst Ella was receiving accolades in the classical world as a pianist. Ronnie had been backstage at the concert giving a helping hand to anyone who had needed it.
'Well?'
'Er, sorry?' Ella came crashing back to the present, embarrassed that she hadn't been paying attention or helping.
Matt gave her a frustrated look. 'We were talking about your clothes? Well, before I had an apoplectic fit over the food we were. My sister obviously thinks it important that I know why you're dressed like that.' Matt didn't sound convinced.
Ella looked down at herself and reddened at the thought of the picture she must present.
'My youngest sister is studying fashion at college. She designed these for the end of term fashion show that potential employers attend. The friend she had lined up to model for her went sick and she asked me to step in.'
Ella hadn't wanted to have the dye in her hair, nor had she been comfortable in the outfit, or in the glaring lights of the catwalk. But both her sisters knew that if they asked her to be there for them, she would be.
Her sisters were actually her half-sisters, with the same mother but different fathers. Ella was the result of an affair with a wealthy, older, married man when her mother had been an impressionable nineteen year old. Apparently he had wanted nothing to do with Ella but had offered money in a trust fund to give her a decent education. The sisters' fathers had both left, one of his own accord before she'd been born and the other through death. Ella's mother and half-sisters had always resented her for the money and posh education. Even though she thought her sisters selfish, she desperately wanted to be loved and accepted by them and never consciously questioned the frequency with which they used her.
'Hmm, she's got as much talent as the other sister. I hope someone's going to tell her she needs to change courses. Or perhaps she just dressed you up like a purple meringue to embarrass you.'
'How dare you insult my sister! Either of them!' Ella may struggle with her sisters and their selfishness, but she wouldn't allow other people to have a go.
'Oh come on now, look at yourself. You surely don't think what you've got on would look good on anyone do you? Would anyone actually want to buy it? I know the women in my acquaintance wouldn't be seen dead in it!'
Ella coloured up in mortification at what Matt thought of her. Embarrassed to her very core, she looked down at her feet. 'In my panic over the buffet I left my own clothes at the show. I knew Tess was going back to France so I had to rush straight here and hope to catch her before she left. I… don't have anything to change into,' she finished quietly.
Matt sighed again. He'd spent the last fourteen years of his life sharing 'parental' responsibility with Zander for their two baby sisters, looking out for them and helping them make the right decisions. Now it seemed he would be doing it for one of their friends.
Chapter 2
'You'll find some chef clothes over in that cupboard,' he said, pointing to the tall cupboard in the far corner of the room, 'go and put a set on. And please do something with that mop on top if you want to stay in this kitchen.'
Matt watched her walk towards the cupboard. She really did have the most amazing hourglass figure. Her tiny waist accentuated the fullness of her breasts and the firmness of her buttocks. His lower body stirred again in appreciation of what might lay beneath the clothing. He shook his head. She may be the most desirable woman he'd seen in a long time, and he may have the urge to take her up against the kitchen units, but she was a friend of his baby sisters, therefore too young for him and out of bounds.
He sighed again. This time for his loss.
As he turned back from the pantry with a catering sized bag of flour in his arms, his face broke out in
to a broad grin. Who would have thought the person invading his personal space would be the one to improve his mood.
'Don’t you dare say anything. It’s this or purple.'
Ella was dressed in a set of oversized whites that completely swamped her delicate frame. She'd also tried to tame her mane of hair in a flimsy hairnet but bits stuck out through every hole. She should have looked completely ridiculous, but for some reason that Matt didn’t want to analyse, she now looked even more appealing. The 'tarty' look had disappeared and left a glimpse of what the real Ella perhaps looked like.
Matt put the flour down and held up his hands. 'I wouldn’t dare!'
He stifled a laugh, sensing she'd kill him if he let his amusement show.
'Come here.' He took a sleeve and rolled it up further to keep it out of her way and did the same with the other one. He then rolled up both the legs before doing up the buttons that she hadn't managed because of her burnt fingers.
Somehow, the gesture seemed right. Matt shrugged it off as the sort of brotherly act he'd have done if one of his sisters had been standing there.
'Look, I don’t know about you but I desperately need coffee if I’m going to stay up half the night to do this. Can you manage to put the percolator on please? It’s over by the sink. Mugs are in the cupboard above and milk is in the fridge. Make mine strong with just a splash of milk, no sugar. And then could you please clear away all the food we're not going to use and organise the fresh stuff? I'm going to make a big batch of bread and then make a few different pastries.'
He wasn’t letting her speak again but she did feel better having something to do.
He called over to her. 'I hope you don’t mind but I’m making changes to the menu and making it classier.'
'Er, no, that’s fine.'
Ella was a reasonable cook, but didn’t have much idea about mass catering and menus so leaving it to him was fine. And anyway, who would dare criticize the two Michelin starred, internationally acclaimed Matthew Duval-Adams who had cooked for heads of state, won every cooking accolade going and had an enviable reputation for creating the most colourful and stunning, melt-in-your-mouth dishes?
Heat in the Kitchen Page 2
