The two could not get along. Raffe, on the other hand, got along with Edward just fine. Having known him since he was in grade school, Raffe considered him a second father of sorts, one that had paid more attention to him than his own father. But Edward didn’t hold Raffe to the impossibly high standards he held Jasper to, and that made for an easier relationship.
Edward had a rough exterior, but he also had a huge heart and was an honorable man. Raffe thought the world of him, and he knew that the only reason he was so hard on Jasper was because he loved his son deeply.
“Maybe you should have Edward keep an eye on EightyEight for me. That oughtta keep him busy.” Raffe smirked. Edward was a bulldog when it came to business. He would drive Raffe’s general manager crazy at EightyEight, but that was okay. He trusted Edward, and knew he’d make sure the project was going smoothly.
“Great idea. That will keep him out of my hair too.” Jasper paused for a second. “So, how’s the engagement going?”
Raffe heard the tone of humor creep into his friend’s voice. Ever since Jasper had become engaged, it seemed he’d made it his hobby to make sure Raffe suffered the same fate.
“Dude, it’s fake. Nothing’s going on. Sarah’s a nice girl, but it’s just for the contest,” Raffe said. Jasper was one of the few people who knew the engagement was phony. It had been his fianceé Marly’s idea, and Jasper had encouraged it. But if he thought it would turn into something more, he was wrong. Sarah was nice, but he didn’t want to get involved with her romantically. His romances always blew up, and because she was a good friend of theirs, it was best to keep things purely platonic.
“Well, you never know what might happen,” Jasper sounded hopeful. The guy just wouldn’t give up.
“The show’s going good so far. I’ll keep you updated. Tell your real fiancé I said hi.” Raffe disconnected and stepped into the bungalow.
Sarah sat at the kitchen counter texting. She’d taken her hair out of the bun she’d worn to the party, and it flowed down her back, shimmering like corn silk.
Raffe glanced at the couch. Should he pull out the sleeper bed? What about pajamas? He certainly couldn’t walk around in his boxers as he did at home.
He grabbed some cotton striped pajama bottoms and a T-shirt from the side table drawer then made his way into the bathroom while Sarah was still occupied, eager to avoid an awkward encounter if they both wanted to use it at the same time. He changed in record time and splashed some cold water on his face, drying it off with one of the fluffy hand towels neatly stacked on the vanity.
“Marly sends her best,” Sarah said as he emerged from the bathroom. She hopped off the stool and moved to the sofa. Raffe started toward the sofa to join her but instead opted to sit on the chair. Now that the two of them were alone in the bungalow for the rest of the night, he felt awkward.
“How is she?” he asked.
“She’s great. Still going in a million directions planning the wedding. Of course, Edward wants it to be a huge event, and Jasper and Marly just want it over with. Oh, and she’s planning it all around Fall Fashion Week because she can’t miss that.”
Raffe grinned, happy that Marly’s plus-size line had been such a huge success for Jasper’s company, Draconia Fashions. Jasper had met his match. Raffe had never seen him as happy as he was with Marly. Apparently the right woman really could change your life.
“So, what did you think about our competition?” Raffe genuinely wanted to know Sarah’s opinion of the other contestants.
“Hmm. Well, they are all interesting, that’s for sure. Kim and Dave seem so down to earth. I liked them the most.”
“Yeah, they seemed nice. They really laid it all on the line to get into this contest, but even though they’re facing tough times they still seem really happy, almost carefree.” Raffe felt a pang of guilt bordering on jealousy. Dave and Kim had worked hard and earned a spot on the show while Raffe had lied to get his way in.
“I know. It puts things in perspective, right?” Sarah sighed. “But then there was Brenda. She was the complete opposite.”
“Yeah, she was a loudmouth,” Raffe said.
“I guess there’s one in every group. She seems like she could be trouble. And Gina seems a little flirty.” Sarah glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Raffe wondered what she was getting at. He’d noticed Gina had paid some attention to him, but Raffe was used to that. He didn’t think she had been flirting. Was she?
“Gina’s harmless. She’s got her husband, anyway, and he seems a handful.”
“I wonder if any of them stole our walnuts and our eggs,” Sarah said.
“I don’t think so. I mean, why would they single us out? It’s possible that it was a part of the challenge. Or a mistake.” Did Sarah really think someone had tried to sabotage them? Raffe doubted any of the contestants would have had time to take the eggs or the walnuts. How could they when they were busy in their own kitchens? And besides, it was against contest rules to go into another team’s kitchen area.
“Well, of all the teams, you have the most overall experience. I mean, you own five-star restaurants, so someone might have wanted to make sure you had a disadvantage.”
“True, but I’m still not convinced that someone tried to sabotage us. It was probably just a mistake.”
Sarah was quiet, staring out the sliding glass door at the ocean, where sparkles of moonlight danced on the waves. Despite the beautiful scene in front of them, her mouth was drawn in a tight line. “I hope you’re right, but something tells me those missing ingredients were no mistake.”
TJ punched out on the old time clock, looking over the hours he’d accumulated for the week. He’d been working a lot of overtime due to the amount of extra cookware the show constantly required, and the money was adding up. Good. The more he made, the sooner he could really get his life on track.
He exited by the side door that led to the less-traveled alley beside the conference center. TJ always liked to take the less-traveled route. The fewer people he came in contact with, the better.
He’d resisted making friends, keeping to himself and paying little attention to the workplace scuttlebutt. He didn’t even really know much about the cooking show. He didn’t know the names of the contestants or the names of his coworkers.
The job was just temporary, a means to an end, but he was lucky to get it. There weren’t many opportunities for someone in his situation. He wasn’t here to make friends. His goal was to remain nearly invisible. It was better for everyone that way.
His worn sneakers crunched on the path of crushed shells, the sole flapping where it parted from the rest of the shoe as he made his way toward the edge of the property.
As he passed the end of the building, the scent of roasted meat caught his attention. He’d heard the crazy blonde yelling about making sure they had enough chafing dishes available for some party in the courtyard, and he knew the night cleaning crew wouldn’t sweep through for another twenty minutes.
Would there be any leftover food in the courtyard? He veered toward the beach, not on the path—he didn’t want to be seen—but through the trees. He pushed past shrubs and scrubby palms, the leaves slapping his arms as he tried to avoid stepping on any flowers or smaller plants. A small animal scurried out of his way just as he came upon the courtyard.
The delicious smell grew stronger as he got closer. He stood back in the shadows to make sure no one was still milling about. His stomach grumbled, a reminder that he hadn’t eaten since lunch.
The courtyard was empty, the tables strewn with a few empty glasses from partygoers who had lingered longer than the serving crew. Plates and chafing dishes were piled in the area behind the tiki hut they used as a bar for events like this. The serving crew had cleared the tables and left the majority of dishes and glasses behind the tiki bar for the night crew.
There was a puddle in the middle of the courtyard, as if something big had melted. TJ glanced up at the cameras hidden in the tops of the palm trees t
o see if the red lights were on, but they were all off.
He walked over to the chafing dishes, which were still warm, and grabbed a piece of the Kalua pork, his stomach cramping almost as soon as he swallowed it. The sweet, savory taste was much richer than anything he was used to eating.
Golden rolls were piled in a basket beside the chafing dish. He stuffed his pockets full. What a shame the show wasted so much food. TJ knew dozens of starving people. At least he could take them the rolls.
Something made a scraping sound on the stone walkway, and he froze. An animal? No, it sounded like a person approaching. Panic shot through him, and he jumped away from the food, turning quickly and disappearing into the foliage.
Veronica watched the food-stealing dishwasher disappear. What had he been doing out here? She debated calling out to stop him, but then she’d have to lecture him and that would just take time. Besides, it was her job to make sure that everything was cleaned up, and that hadn’t even been done yet. Now she would have to go yell at the kitchen staff again.
She was exhausted from the stupid party the show’s producers had insisted she set up so that the contestants could “mingle.” She had run around behind the scenes during the party and had no energy to argue with this fool over why he was stealing rolls.
She sank into one of the chairs. It was soft and comfortable, much nicer than anything near the low-end part of the resort where her room was.
She toed off her plain white sandals and rubbed her aching feet, leaning her head back to look up at the stars. She could see so many of them down here, much more than in New York City. Thoughts of the city sent a pang of homesickness through her. No sense in dwelling on that now. She had a job to do here.
She shoved her feet back into her sandals. They weren’t the nicest shoes she had; that pair had two-inch rhinestone-studded heels. But she couldn’t wear those anymore. They hurt her feet. Besides, heels weren’t practical for a job that demanded you run around all day.
She glanced around the area, eyeing the large wet spot where the ice sculpture had stood. She’d better make sure one of the night crew mopped that up. She didn’t want one of the contestants to slip on it and sue the resort. Somehow that would end up being her fault.
She pushed up from the chair. Good thing the cameras were off, because the producers would have a fit if they saw her sitting here. You could see everything on those cameras. She knew that because just a few hours ago she’d been sitting in the control room watching images of Raffe and Sarah. She’d been able to watch and listen in on their super boring conversations via all the monitors and microphones.
What a dull group of people. Especially Sarah! Why had she gone on and on about the homeless people on this island? Who cared?! Veronica wondered if anyone would even want to watch the show if this was what they’d air between the actual cooking contests.
She walked slowly back to the conference center. She’d been heading to her room, but now she had to double back to make sure the night crew was going to come and clean up. As she walked she made a mental note to annoy the dishwasher again tomorrow. For some reason she liked to stress him out.
6
Raffe rearranged his knives on the cutting board for the third time. The overhead lights glinted off the blades, the smooth wooden handles and heft of the expensive chef’s knives were comforting in his hand. He needed comfort. Waiting for Landon Barkley to announce their next contest had his nerves on edge.
That morning in the bungalow hadn’t been as awkward as he’d thought. He and Sarah had gotten along easily, sipping coffee and packing their knives for the challenge. But when they’d arrived at the conference center, all the couples had been separated, and Sarah had gone off to a kitchen in another part of the center. For what, Raffe didn’t know, but whatever it was couldn’t be good.
A fist of doubt squeezed his heart. Sarah was the one who thought quickly on her feet. Would he be able to pull off a challenge without her?
“Attention, chefs! I hope you are enjoying your time here and your private bungalows. Perhaps it has brought some of our couples even closer.” Landon paused with a sappy smile on his face and looked around the room. “And you’ll thank me for that in this next challenge.”
The other chefs shuffled their feet uneasily.
“This contest will determine how well you really know your significant other.”
Raffe’s head jerked up to see Landon with a wicked gleam in his eye.
Shit!
“You are to recreate your partner’s favorite meal, dessert included.” Landon gestured toward two staff members who were handing out index cards. “Fill out the cards in front of you with your favorite meal. Your significant other will be doing the same in our duplicate kitchens on the other side of the conference center. I hope you’ve been paying attention to what your loved one likes to eat. You will have one hour. Time starts… now!”
Raffe’s stomach sank. He stared at the index card in front of him, racking his brain for what Sarah might think was his favorite meal. Had they ever even eaten together? His favorite meal didn’t matter, though. He needed to think about Sarah’s favorite meal, because that’s what he’d have to cook. Why hadn’t they gone over basic stuff like this before the show had started?
The other contestants were already rushing to the pantry, grabbing ingredients and stacking them on their counters. He heard the clicking of the gas stove burners lighting and the whir of blenders.
Landon yelled out, “Fifty-five minutes!”
Five minutes had already passed? He’d better get going.
Raffe closed his eyes and tried to think. He’d never really eaten with Sarah other than a few times when she’d been visiting Marly at Jasper’s and he’d happened over. But those few times Sarah had been the cook. She’d never talked about her favorite meals, and Raffe assumed she’d been making Jasper’s favorites because she’d been his assistant.
He opened his eyes, the blank index card staring up at him. Right. Not only did he have to figure out Sarah’s favorite meal, he had to try to figure out what Sarah thought his favorite was and write it on the card.
Wait. Sarah was in the same boat. She’d be thinking along the same lines. Would she remember the meals from Jasper’s and write one down?
One had been an amazing lobster risotto. Raffe had had seconds as well as raved about the meal to Sarah. He might have even asked her for the recipe for one of his chefs. He jotted that down on the card. Next up was dessert. This one was easy, lemon meringue pie. Sarah had made one once that was the best he’d ever had. He had asked Jasper as a joke to make sure she kept all of his fridges stocked with it. He was sure she’d remember that.
But what to make as Sarah’s favorite? He had no idea. Did she like meat or fish? Was she a vegetarian? Food allergies?
She ate a lot of granola bars. That’s all he remembered from when she worked for Jasper. Granola and fruit. In fact, aside from last night, he hadn’t even seen her eat anything since they’d been on this trip.
What do women like to eat? Salads. That’s what all the women he usually dated ate. So boring! Sarah wasn’t anything like them.
Okay, the opposite of a salad… meat. What kind of meat? That’s it—Sarah liked pork, she had mentioned it at last night’s party. He grabbed a cut of pork chops and sweet potatoes as well as ingredients for a rich chocolate mousse for dessert. Every woman loved chocolate, right?
Back at the prep table he scrubbed the potatoes and placed them in the oven then set the chops in a marinade.
“Forty-five minutes!” Raffe jumped as Landon bellowed.
His gut churned. Was he wrong? Maybe she hated chocolate. It was too late now. A wave of longing washed over him. In the first challenge having Sarah in the kitchen beside him had given him a boost of confidence. What if he made an amazing meal but it was the wrong one?
Shaking off his insecurities, he whipped up the chocolate mousse and rushed it over to the large walk-in cooler so it could chill while h
e worked on the entree.
While they’d been filling out their cards, the cooler had been pre-staged with silver domed platters, each with the contestant’s names on them. He found Sarah’s and put the mousse under the dome before rushing back to finish the rest of the meal.
Veronica slithered out from behind her desk, grabbed a large notebook, and headed toward the walk-in coolers, glancing behind her to ensure no one watched. It didn’t really matter if anyone did. Her job required her to be all over the set. She was responsible for keeping the production on time, which meant she was basically a glorified babysitter.
A blast of cold air sent goosebumps up her arm as she opened the heavy door of the walk-in. She slipped inside, her eyes darting over the domed platters, stopping at Sarah’s.
She lifted the dome, made a fast switch, and hurried out, making a beeline for the storage closet down the hallway, the chocolate mousse clutched to her chest with the notebook held in front to cover it just in case someone came down the usually deserted hall.
Once safely inside, she leaned her back against the door, removed the spoon she had stuffed inside her pocket, and dug into the thick, decadent mousse. She closed her eyes and swirled the creamy dessert around her tongue.
“What are you doing?”
Veronica’s heart lurched at the crackly disembodied voice coming from the dark recesses of the room.
“Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in here?” Veronica shot back.
The voice didn’t answer. Instead she heard a squeaky mechanical whirring.
A figure emerged from the dark corner, gliding out slowly. An older woman in a wheelchair. Veronica pegged her to be in her late sixties or early seventies, and although she hunched over in the chair, she was perhaps one of the most beautiful women Veronica had ever seen.
Her long silver hair was piled into a loose bun on her head. A pale blue-and-green shawl draped loosely around her thin shoulders. Her emerald eyes were striking in both intensity and color, especially given the contrast with her olive skin. Veronica couldn’t stop staring at her.
Can't Stand the Heat (Corporate Chaos Series Book 2) Page 4
