Her hand went for her necklace. “How does one play up the fact that their host has been sidelined? And that a rank amateur has been brought in to help him limp through.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she had the grace to add, “Sorry. That wasn’t to be taken literally.”
Yeah, right. “Bringing on a co-host and playing up my sprained ankle are exactly what we needed to advertise. It’s real life. A making-lemonade-from-lemons kind of approach. And it seems to be affecting our ratings.”
Her thumb continued to rub her pendant. “Yes, well. Those were on the rise anyhow.”
There was no way to convince her otherwise, although she was dead wrong. Exit time.
“That all? I have an appointment.”
“Another interview?”
“With an Internet blog. Not quite your style.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really? Which one?”
Like she even knew such electronic media existed. “FoodNation.”
“You’re right. I’ve never heard of it. I don’t know why we’re wasting our time with it.”
“Viewers are relying more and more on the Internet for their news these days.”
“If you say so. Who’s the interviewer?”
Her sudden interest alarmed him. Should he play dumb? Nah, she could just as easily go online and find a name on her own. “A woman by the name of Melinda DuPre.”
“Nor have I heard of her,” she said, examining her nails. She waved a hand. “Go then. Mustn’t keep the woman waiting.”
In the hall, he thought he heard movement behind him. By the time he could get himself turned around to check, all he saw was a woman’s shoe going through the door to Leonie’s office. Was that Trudy’s foot? He couldn’t be sure.
****
“Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable here at the kitchen counter, Ms. DuPre, since this is where our show is shot.” Reese preferred to meet here on the set or at local eateries rather than her dressing room. She was more in her element here. And there were a lot more photo ops. “It might be easier for your note taking.”
Melinda DuPre couldn’t be more than twenty-three at the most. Younger media types seemed to be flocking to the cyber world where they had a better chance of making a name for themselves sooner than the more traditional media route. Dressed in tight-fitting jeans and an unbuttoned brown jacket, she presented a casual, slightly less than professional appearance.
“I’d like to perambulate a bit, get a feel for your surroundings.”
Perambulate? Was she serious? “Sure. It’s okay to take pictures, although we’d prefer they be taken head-on rather than back views of the sets.” That always got them. As soon as she deliberately turned around, they’d capture an illegal shot, thinking they’d snagged a real scoop. It didn’t matter to Jasper. Maybe it would have to Leonie, if she paid any attention to their press.
Opening the refrigerator, DuPre asked, “This is all real food in here?”
“Just the basics. Things with a fairly long shelf life, like condiments: ketchup, pickles, mustard. They’re mostly props, although we do use them on occasion.”
“So you don’t actually prepare the food shown in each episode in here?”
Reese closed the refrigerator door as DuPre drifted over to the cabinets. “We do a little of both. Usually, we’ll have the final product ready in advance so we don’t have to wait for bake or set-up time. Nick or I demonstrate how it all goes together.”
DuPre swung around to face her, offered a smile. “In other words, pretty much the same as most other cooking shows.”
Did she mean that in a good way or a bad way? Or was she just commenting to show off her presumed knowledge of cooking shows to back up her credentials?
Although she hadn’t made it around the entire set, DuPre said, “I think I’ll sit now.”
Reese pulled out a kitchen stool for her and one for herself.
Once settled, DuPre asked, “How does it feel to go from production assistant to co-host within a matter of weeks?”
She was used to this question. It arose in some form or another at the beginning of most of the interviews she’d participated in. She’d gotten so good at finding a new way to respond the same way with each successive meeting that Jasper and Nick no longer sat in, although they typically spoke to the interviewer on their own. Nick had already met with DuPre. “I’m really enjoying the experience. It’s a great way to break into television without having to carry the program on my own. And Nick Coltrane is a wonderful partner.”
“Uh-huh. But you started out as a production assistant, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“Give a brief response to anything you don’t want to get into,” Nick had advised.
“I understand you took that job just so you could get your toes wet in television?”
“That’s right.”
DuPre angled her head as if Reese’s response puzzled her. “Has that always been your career goal, to host a television cooking show?”
“First and foremost, I’ve always wanted to be a chef. Since graduating from culinary school, most of my time has been spent in restaurants. Televised cooking shows have come into their own in the last few years. Many great chefs have enhanced their reputations by signing on. I’m just part of that wave.”
“So, you’re planning your own show?”
How had the woman jumped to that conclusion? It was like she’d been listening in on her recent family pow-wow. “I didn’t say that. I thought having experience in this medium would be good for my career down the road.”
DuPre lifted wide eyes her direction. “Then you plan to stay on here?”
What was she trying to get her to say? Something negative about Nick? Or Leonie? “Co-hosting with Nick is temporary. Until his ankle heals. I like what we’ve been doing. Our viewers appear to like it as well, given the upturn in our ratings. Beyond, no decision has been made yet.”
“So you’ll be ready to go back to your production assistant job when this assignment comes to an end?”
How could she come across humble and ambitious at the same time? She clasped her hands, leaned forward a bit, and summoned forth a smile she hoped radiated more warmth than she was feeling at the moment. “Well, Melinda, I’d be lying to tell you I don’t want to keep on co-hosting. If and when that’s no longer a possibility, I’ll assess my other options at that point.”
“You seem rather guarded with your responses. Are you worried how your executive producer will react to your words? Leonie McCutcheon has been said to be a bit of a tyrant.”
“I’m answering your questions to the best of my ability. No one’s filtering my words.”
“Of course you are. It’s the nature of the beast. I’d expect you to.” She said it matter-of-factly, like this, too, was a standard part of her interview technique. “Let’s go on to another topic. Like Nick Coltrane. What’s it like co-hosting with him? I found him quite fascinating when I interviewed him earlier.”
“That he is,” she responded, chuckling while at the same time picturing the Nick she knew, eyes hooded as he bent to take her mouth. She gave a small cough. “He’s quite, uh, charismatic. That’s part of his audience appeal.”
“I checked out a recent episode. The two of you have real chemistry. How did that happen?”
Chemistry? How about unrelenting heat every time they made love? “That’s the thing about chemistry. It’s either there or it’s not. Nick and I didn’t have any idea we would click so well until his accident required modification of his hosting duties. We fell into a pattern of spontaneous chitchat. Everything seemed to fall into place.”
DuPre looked up from her tablet computer. “Those were almost Nick’s exact words when I asked him the same question. Besides being spontaneous, you seem to read each other’s minds.”
“Not really. We’ve just received that question more than once.”
“Tell me more about your chemistry.”
This woman was a
real bulldog. Had she picked up on the crackling vibes between them? “Uh, well, I guess it started the day of Nick’s accident. He’d been considering a new segment for the show involving our behind-the-scenes prep. That’s why he accompanied me to the markets where I purchase food items. We weren’t exactly sniping at each other. Just kidding around.”
DuPre’s hands went back to her keyboard. Apparently this was good stuff. “Go on.”
Go on. She thought that would do it. “Uh, well, the first day that I co-hosted, I was nervous, because I’d never been in front of a camera before. Nick reminded me of our shopping excursion. Said to play it just like we had that day. Like it was just the two of us talking.”
“Uh-huh. And that worked?”
“It calmed my nerves at least. Nick guided me through the rest.”
The interview went on a little longer. Though DuPre threw in a few more pointed questions, Reese dodged them without any apparent flubs. The interviewer shot a few more pictures of Reese on the kitchen set, now that she had some copy in mind, and then Reese escorted her out.
“I hope you got the information you came for,” Reese said, attempting politeness while primed to push the woman out the door.
DuPre gave her an unexpectedly mysterious smile. “More than.”
Chapter Nineteen
“What are you doing here?”
Trudy’s question sounded more like an accusation.
Reese pulled up short. Weird. Trudy never beat her to the studio. And what was with the attitude? It bordered on insolent. “Excuse me?”
The other PA promptly closed whatever had been on her computer screen, nudged her glasses up her nose with a knuckle. “I know you’ve got nerves of steel. But I thought even you would take the day off…considering.”
A sliver of unease rippled across Reese’s neck. What did Trudy know that she didn’t? “Considering what?”
Trudy began tidying her desk, an obvious attempt to prolong the suspense. Although Reese suspected the other woman was playing her, forcing her to ask for information so Trudy could dole it out for her own amusement, she had to know what was going on. When Trudy didn’t respond to Reese’s question, Reese followed it up with, “Why would you think I’d skip out the day before taping when there’s so much work to be done?”
Now, Trudy did look up. “We wouldn’t want to shirk our job duties, would we? Not when we have so much riding on making the show a hit.”
Her words hit like a jab to the solar plexus. Complaining was Trudy’s native tongue, but sarcasm, especially this high level of disdain, was not like her. “Is that your way of telling me I’m late? Because I’m not. I’m five minutes early.”
Trudy straightened her shoulders, flicked a hand through her hair. She even sniffed à la Leonie. “That’s my way of telling you I don’t work with backstabbers.” She rose, made a show of retrieving her purse, and bolted for the door. Before leaving, she turned, announced, “And don’t worry—if that emotion is even possible for you—about finding a spare minute to give me cooking lessons. I’m no longer interested.”
“O-kay,” Reese said to Trudy’s disappearing back. She should be relieved to have been spared further kitchen one-on-one with the woman, but Trudy’s self-righteous satisfaction at severing the tie alarmed her. Trudy knew something, something that apparently was going to be problematic for Reese.
Though her hand shook involuntarily, Reese picked up the outline of the next day’s episode from her desk and headed off to her dressing room.
At the other end of the corridor, she saw Jasper coming toward her. Good. Surely he’d know what had prompted Trudy to act so smug. “Jasper! Got a minute?” She moved into his path. “Something’s going on. Trudy’s acting like I’m persona non grata.”
Her silver-haired mentor blinked, took a step back. “I was on my way to find you.”
The way his brows drew together concerned her. “What’s going on?”
He bit a lip, glanced over her shoulder as if expecting someone else to join them.
Her fists clenched, her nails, short as they were, bit into the soft part of her palm. “Jasper! Say something. You’re scaring me.”
He inhaled deeply, blew it out. He leaned closer, his forehead wrinkled like a shar-pei dog, and in a lowered voice said, “You must not have seen that FoodNation article yet.”
She jerked her head back. “Article? That thing I did the other day? Is it out already?” Her words rushed out like cranberries pouring out of a hole in a grocery bag.
Jasper motioned for her to follow him into his office and close the door behind her. He went directly to the keyboard and entered a few commands. “You need to read this, Reese. But brace yourself.”
She gave him a dubious look but nonetheless moved around his desk to view the screen.
Before she could read anything, Nick burst through the door. “Have you seen that FoodNation arti—?” Noting that Jasper was not alone, he switched to, “Reese. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Reese’s stomach flipped over. Nick had seen the article. And Trudy. And Jasper. Everyone but her. And everyone seemed agitated. Upset. She attempted a brave front. “Give it to me straight. How bad is it?”
Both men exchanged glances, then quickly looked away from each other. When neither spoke, she plopped into Jasper’s chair and began to read for herself.
“Look, Reese,” Nick interrupted, breaking her concentration, “we’ve netted some great publicity thus far. But there’s always some opportunist out there waiting to make a name for himself, or in this case, herself, by cutting you off at the knees. Don’t take this personally. It’s just part of the business.”
Ominous. Just part of the business? Don’t take it personally? She read on. By the second paragraph, her stomach felt like she’d plunged twenty stories. Her eyes burning, she looked away from the screen momentarily and caught their expectant stares.
She finished scanning the article. “No! This can’t be.” The second time through, the piece only got worse, as she noticed nuances and insinuations she’d missed before. Humiliation and disbelief paralyzed her. Though sweaty, her face warm, her hands grew arctic cold.
“What on earth did you say to that woman? That’s some hatchet job,” Jasper said. He quoted, “Nick Coltrane, host of And He Cooks Too, had better watch his back. Despite the show’s title, he may soon find himself replaced by his temporary co-host, Reese Dunbar.”
Nick shook his upper body like an escapee from a fright house. “Ooh, I’m really scared.”
Jasper went on. “Coltrane has recently been forced to share the spotlight with Chef Dunbar while he recuperates from a bizarre ankle injury sustained on a marketing trip she arranged. Seems he tried to mediate a disagreement between the owners, ‘friends’ of Dunbar, and ‘slipped’ on a bunch of ill-placed grapes.”
Reese attempted to absorb what he’d quoted. Bizarre ankle injury? Friends of Dunbar? “She’s taken everything out of context. Made me look like I deliberately caused Nick’s accident. Just so I could get on camera.”
“I thought you said the interview had gone well,” Nick reminded her.
“That’s what I thought. She asked a few leading questions, of course. They all try to uncover a raw nerve. But I cut her off each time.”
“Something certainly happened,” Jasper observed. “Listen to this, ‘Her track record indicates she hasn’t been unwilling to use the men in her life to get ahead.’ Then she goes on to mention your father and make it sound like you profited from his death.”
An anvil dropped on her chest. Had the interviewer picked up her guilt over her father’s death? No, that was impossible. She’d buried those feelings so deep, no one, not even her mother, suspected.
“Unnamed sources at the Winston Culinary Institute, where she trained, recall the chummy liaison she formed with a married senior instructor, Henri Pellier. His recommendation paved the way to her first job, personal chef to one of the city’s top families,” Jasper read.
Nick perked up at the mention of Reese’s former love interest. “Henri Pellier? Who’s he?”
“He led me on. Never told me he was married. I turned down that job when I learned about the strings Henri had pulled. He nearly wrecked my career before I ever got started.”
Would that dark time in her life never fade? Henri had been the villain in all that, yet the reporter made it sound like it had been she who’d used him. Blood pounded in her ears. The words on the computer screen blurred.
“She dug around in your problems at Solange too,” Nick told her.
“That was to be expected, if she started looking. But I didn’t anticipate she’d do that. I trusted her.” The absurdity of her last statement hit her. And she thought the men in her life were the ones she couldn’t trust.
Jasper stopped reading long enough to eye Nick. “You knew about this Solange thing?”
“I witnessed it,” Nick replied. “That’s when I suggested she join us.”
Reese turned to Jasper. “I didn’t take his offer seriously at the time. It was only after I discovered my former boss had gotten me blacklisted in the city’s best restaurants that I called Nick.”
“I wish one of you would have told me about your being blacklisted.”
“It’s news to Nick too. I never told him that’s why I took him up on his offer.”
Nick didn’t say anything.
Jasper gazed toward the door and shook his head. “Leonie is going to have a field day with this.”
“Ah, c’mon, Jasper. Even Leonie can recognize sensationalized journalism.”
“Of course, she can recognize it, Nick. But that doesn’t mean she won’t use this article against Reese.” He returned to Reese’s side. “Especially this next part.” He read, “Though the pairing has boosted ratings, will that be enough to satisfy the ambitious chef? Given the lofty career aspirations she espouses, Dunbar may likely seize this opportunity to throw Coltrane out of his own kitchen.”
A bolt of lightning lashed through her chest. “That’s…that’s…absurd. You have to believe me. Where did that interviewer get such an idea?” Unless the woman had picked up on her plans for her own show. But she quickly dismissed that possibility. No one, absolutely no one outside her family, knew.
And He Cooks Too Page 19
