Can't Stand the Heat (Corporate Chaos Series Book 2)

by Leighann Dobbs

  She hadn’t slept well. Conflicting feelings about Raffe had caused her to toss and turn. But now it was morning, and Sarah loved mornings. A walk would help clear her head, and there was a long path that meandered around the resort she’d been meaning to check out.

  She also had wanted to call Upper State Rehab without Raffe overhearing, just to get the prices for treatment. She knew they would be astronomical. Tommy had no insurance, but if she and Raffe won the contest, she’d have $250,000, and that had to be enough. She’d spend it all on Tommy if she had to. If she could even find him.

  The morning air was balmy. The surf pounded a steady beat for her to keep pace with. The path was surrounded by lush vegetation, dew glistening on the leaves and flowers. Colorful birds flew from flower to flower, some serenading her with their raucous calls and lilting chirps.

  As she followed the trail, her mind wandered again to the conversation she had had with Raffe the night before. He’d opened up to her about his reason for wanting to win the contest. She knew it had more to do with proving himself to his father than to do with gaining more expertise for his restaurants.

  A twinge of guilt pinched her gut. She hadn’t been completely honest with him. She hadn’t told him about Tommy and the fact that she hoped to use the contest winnings to send him to rehab.

  Raffe hadn’t turned out to be anything like she’d expected. He wasn’t the rich playboy jerk that he appeared to be on the surface. He was just a regular guy who wanted to be accepted for who he was. A normal guy. A guy Sarah wouldn’t mind getting to know better. Had she blown that chance by not telling the truth?

  Thoughts of the truth reminded her that she wanted to call the rehab facility. She reached into the pocket of her hoodie for her phone.

  Her heart skipped. It wasn’t there. She could have sworn she put it there last night.

  Maybe her back pocket.

  Nope.

  Shit! Where was it? Slowing her pace, she turned the pockets of her hoodie inside out, where was that damn—

  Ooof!

  “Watch where you’re going, you moron!” Veronica shrieked, throwing her arms in the air, her phone clutched in one hand, blood oozing from beneath a bandage on her arm.

  “It was an accident, Veronica. Sorry if I crushed any of your M&Ms.” Sarah was usually much more diplomatic, but she was in no mood for Veronica’s shit this morning.

  Veronica was the last person she wanted to see right now, or any time really. And they weren’t supposed to even be talking to each other. Sarah quickly looked around to make sure no one saw them. All she needed was someone to happen along the path and see them. Thank God Brenda had already been sent home. Still, she couldn’t help but let Veronica know that she suspected what she was up to.

  “By the way, you can stop trying to get me and Raffe disqualified from the show. It won’t work. We’re smarter than you.”

  “I’ve done no such thing! I wouldn’t waste my time trying to do that. Although, I was a bit surprised that someone as hot as Raffe Washburn would choose you, the invisible mousy girl, as a fiancé. But it looks like maybe he’s found someone else?” Veronica smirked as she shoved her phone in front of Sarah’s face, showing her the photo of Raffe and Gina hugging.

  Sarah stood in silence as Veronica walked away, her hideous cackle drowning out the birdsong.

  She walked a few feet and sat down on one of the carved granite benches placed along the path, trying to make sense of the photo Veronica had just shown her.

  There was no denying it, photos don’t lie. Raffe and Gina had something going on. Of course, she’d seen Gina flirting with Raffe the entire time, but he had acted as though he wasn’t interested.

  Had he been lying about that? Was he the type to go after a married woman? Maybe he was the type who went after any woman. Maybe last night had simply been another attempt at a conquest for him.

  But something about that didn’t ring true. The Raffe she’d come to know wasn’t like that. Then again, she wasn’t the best judge when it came to men. Take Harley, for example. Look at what a jerk he’d turned out to be. And she never wanted to feel the pain she’d felt over him again. Yep, best to stick to her plan to never get involved. That was the smart thing to do. Good thing she hadn’t given in to her impulses and let things get out of hand with Raffe last night.

  She grabbed for her missing phone again, wanting to call Marly. Wait! Had she left it on the couch last night? She walked back to the bungalow, the image of Raffe hugging Gina flashing across her mind.

  Raffe sat up on the sleeper sofa, rubbing the stubble on his chin and squinting at the sunlight beaming in from the sliding glass door. He saw more sunlight peeping out from Sarah’s bedroom door and guessed the curtains must be open.

  Standing up, he grabbed his shirt, threw it on, shuffled to Sarah’s bedroom door, and poked his head inside.

  “Sarah?” he asked, looking around. No response. She must have left already.

  He padded to the coffee maker and brewed a cup then sank down on the sofa, thinking about the night before.

  Had he been wrong to kiss her? He didn’t think so. He had a pretty good radar when it came to women. Then again, the women he usually dated were nothing like Sarah. Maybe his radar didn’t work on her. Maybe the connection he thought he’d felt was just a happy vibe because they were doing well in the contest. Maybe he was letting their living arrangements go to his head.

  Sarah probably just got caught up in the moment. Better to play it safe around her. The last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself.

  Bzzz.

  Something vibrated under his butt.

  What the heck? He moved over and picked up the cushion. A cell phone was under it. The display was unlocked, showing the last few text messages.

  …Of course I love Tommy anyway.

  And then her mother’s texted reply: “Honey, you have to tell Raffe about Tommy, it’s not fair.”

  Raffe’s heart sank. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but now that he’d seen the messages, he couldn’t unsee them.

  Sarah really did have another boyfriend. Yet she’d kissed him. Twice! So much for her sweet and innocent act. Raffe should have known it was too good to be true, someone who was smart, a great cook, down to earth, and appeared to like him for himself and not his money. Ha! Sarah was a cheater just like Lauren.

  He sighed. What right did he have to be judging her? It wasn’t as if they were really engaged. And it was just a few kisses. So what?

  He couldn’t very well expect her to break it off with her boyfriend over a fake engagement. And it made sense her mother would think it wasn’t fair that Sarah was engaged to Raffe and still stringing Tommy along.

  The thought of spending the morning alone in the bungalow with her lost its appeal. He needed some space to clear his head.

  Grabbing a piece of paper, he wrote Sarah a note and then changed and headed to the conference center to get ready for the next contest. Only two more to go, and this farce would finally be over.

  “Hello?” Sarah yelled as she stepped inside the bungalow. Raffe was nowhere to be found.

  Her eye caught the shiny surface of her cell phone on the coffee table.

  Did I leave it there?

  Beside it lay a piece of paper. A note from Raffe.

  Sarah—found this under the cushions. Headed over to the conference center.

  Sarah turned the note over in her hand. That’s it? Why would he leave without her? They weren’t supposed to be there for another twenty minutes.

  Maybe this was his way of telling her that the kiss meant nothing, that their friendship was only temporary.

  Well, if that was what he wanted, then so be it. She didn’t have much respect for a guy who fooled around with married women anyway.

  But she still had a contest to win, and she was going to do her damnedest to make sure she got that money for her brother. She grabbed her phone off the table and headed toward the conference center.

 
18

  Raffe’s knives were all sharpened to perfection, the countertops gleamed, and all the cooking utensils were in place. The only thing missing was Sarah. Where was she?

  “Hi.” Sarah hurried in and grabbed her apron, turning her back to him as she put it on.

  Was it his imagination, or was she acting a bit standoffish? She probably regretted kissing him. Whatever. He wasn’t here for kissing, he was here to win a contest.

  Glancing over at the other contestants, he caught Gina’s eye. She and Tony huddled together, his arm slung around her shoulders. They were probably discussing strategy. They appeared to be doing much better since Raffe and Gina had spoken a few nights ago. He winked at her and smiled, happy that his advice had seemingly helped.

  A hush fell over the audience as Landon grabbed the microphone and signaled for the cameras to start rolling. Raffe set his knives aside and stood still, his nerves on high alert as he waited for the announcement.

  “Teams, the next challenge will test the one skill every chef should possess, the delicate art of baking pastries. You will create your own pastry dish. It can be a meal or a dessert. Time starts now!”

  Raffe followed Sarah as she raced to the walk-in. He hoped the mild panic he felt didn’t show on his face.

  “It might be better if you took the lead on this. I’m a bit rusty on pastries,” he said as she shoved butter, sugar, flour, and baking powder at him.

  “Okay,” Sarah replied, sounding preoccupied as she reached up on the shelf for some pears.

  “So, are you thinking about doing a tart maybe? A pear tart?” Raffe asked as he watched Sarah lay the pears on the cutting board. It would be nice if she were a bit more communicative. He hoped he wasn’t going to have to be a mind reader for the entire challenge.

  “Yes. Slice those up.”

  Raffe took a pear and starting dicing it.

  “What are you doing? No! Not like that. In long slices. This is a pastry we are making, right? Cut it the long way, like in layers.”

  Sarah’s voice was tight with frustration, and Raffe tried not to let his own exasperation show. The producers lived for drama, but he couldn’t let them see him getting upset, or worse, unsure of what the hell he was doing.

  He reached for another pear and sliced it correctly, watching Sarah as she began filling a mixing bowl with flour.

  “Is that too much flour? We don’t want the dough too thick.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Sarah replied, adding even more flour to the bowl, making Raffe wonder if she had done it just to spite him.

  “More butter,” Sarah demanded, nodding her head toward another bowl.

  “Are you sure? I just put some in, and I’m pretty sure it was enough.” Raffe wasn’t an expert on pastry crust, but he had made enough to know the correct amount of butter. Sarah was using so much butter and flour that she could bake enough pastries for Napoleon’s army.

  “I don’t know. I thought I didn’t see enough go in,” Sarah replied curtly, taking the bowl and adding more butter. She slowly added the flour to the butter and turned on the mixer. After a few minutes she dumped a clump of dough out of the bowl and started to roll it. “Well, great. This is too thick.”

  Raffe held his tongue and instead looked around at the other teams. They all seemed to be working in unison, and the room was filling with that sugary sweet bakery smell, signaling that they were way ahead of him and Sarah.

  They continued on, arguing over whether or not to add water or milk to thin the dough (they did not, which Raffe knew was a mistake). After arguing and bumping into each other more than once by the end of the contest, both of their faces were bright red, a result of frustration rather than the heat of the oven and the overhead studio lights.

  “Time!” Landon yelled just as Sarah pulled the clumsy-looking pear tart from the oven.

  Raffe looked at the tart, it’s lightly browned crust the only positive factor about its appearance. There had been far too much dough, and the pear filling barely peeked over the top of the fluted crust. Memories of failed projects in his eighth-grade home economics class came to mind. This was not the work of a top chef.

  Crew members whisked the dishes to the judges, who sampled them, picking at the crusts with their forks to test the flakiness.

  Raffe and Sarah exchanged worried looks when it came time for the judges to test their tart. The crust was anything but flaky. It was a thick dough, like a pretzel. Durkin’s pursed mouth told Raffe he was unimpressed with their creation. He barely took a bite before moving on to taste the next contestants’.

  “We have the final decision.” Landon announced holding his hands up dramatically to hush the audience. “This was a close call. You should all brush up on your pastry-making skills! Raffe and Sarah, your tart was tasty, but the dough was much too thick. Rob and Brian, your tart was overcooked. The inside fruit was hard and the bottom crust was burnt. Everyone else’s was adequate. The rest of you will continue on.”

  Raffe’s stomach swooped as the other chefs sighed in relief. Either he and Sarah or Rob and Brian would be going home.

  Landon turned to Raffe and Sarah. “Team One, your crust left a lot to be desired, but your filling was superb.” He swiveled to Rob and Brian. “Team Six, no aspect of your dish was palatable. Therefore, Rob and Brian, you are eliminated.” Landon dropped his hands down, and the audience went wild.

  A wave of relief washed over Raffe. They’d barely squeaked by. As the other teams celebrated, he turned to Sarah, but she had turned away from him to fiddle with her knives, ignoring him completely. What was up with her?

  Was she angry with him? If she was, she should have set it aside and not let it affect the contest, which it clearly did. They’d almost lost!

  But why did the fact that she was ignoring him sting so much? That had nothing to do with the contest. Feeling foolish for allowing his feelings for her to get out of control, he angrily gathered the trash to bring to the compacting room.

  19

  Veronica was giddy with excitement over Raffe and Sarah’s loss. And judging by what she’d seen, they were seriously off their game.

  Something was wrong in paradise! Maybe it had been the photo of Raffe hugging Gina that she had shown Sarah. She hoped so. Whatever it was, now was the time to twist the knife in deeper and hope they’d screw up on their own.

  If not, then she would have to take drastic action and use the liquid. But there were only two challenges left, and the producers were planning to throw a monkey wrench in the works to keep the chefs off balance. She’d have to plan carefully, because if it looked like they were going to win, she might have to deploy some fancy footwork to sabotage the dishes before tasting. If she was fired for using the secret weapon, so be it.

  She scratched at the cut on her arm. Stupid thing, was it getting worse?

  Raffe suddenly appeared in the hallway outside of her office, lugging a trash bag toward the compactor room. She scurried out from behind her desk and nonchalantly stepped in his way.

  “Oh, hi, Raffe. Sorry about that last loss. It’s too bad, really. I mean, I think you’re the best chef, even if Sarah…” She let her voice trail off dramatically.

  Raffe’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Even if Sarah what?”

  “Oh, nothing. I mean, face it, she’s right anyway. You’re only here because your daddy has so much money and your name is well known… You don’t really have any cooking capabilities. She’s not even trying anymore because she figures you already paid to have your team win.”

  “What!” Raffe exclaimed. “Is that what Sarah said?”

  Veronica smirked, knowing that she’d landed on a sore spot. She didn’t even have to answer Raffe’s question, because he’d already turned away. Hurling the trash bag into the compactor, he stormed down the hallway, leaving her standing there smirking and scratching her arm.

  Yes! She’d ruined his day! She should feel overjoyed, but for some reason it didn’t feel as satisfying as she’d thought it
would.

  She turned to see Sarah coming down the hall. Maybe winding Sarah up would give her that euphoric feeling she usually got when she ruined a person’s day.

  “Oh, hi, Sarah!” she smiled coyly despite Sarah’s look of suspicion.

  “What do you want, Veronica? We aren’t supposed to be talking. You know that. Or do you have more photos to show me?”

  “Don’t take your loss out on me. You and Raffe screwed that up yourselves. The two of you bumping into each other out there like idiots. Anyway, I don’t know why you’d bother doing a good job given the circumstances.”

  “What do you mean, ‘given the circumstances’?” Sarah asked in an irritated tone, brushing aside a strand of hair that had fallen down from her bun.

  “Well, what’s in it for you if you win? A job at one of Raffe’s restaurants if you’re lucky?”

  Sarah tried to push past her, but Veronica inched closer, like a predator closing in on prey.

  “There’s the grand prize money, that’s what there is,” Sarah said, shoving her way past.

  “Not for you,” Veronica replied, laughing.

  Sarah turned around sharply. “What? What do you mean by that?”

  “In the entry form that you signed, it shows that, if you win any money, it all goes into Raffe’s bank account. I mean, maybe it’s a joint checking account you two lovebirds share. I’m sure you saw that when you read the rules? Couples only, and the prize goes to one bank account. It is strange, though. All the other couples had both names on their bank accounts. I heard Raffe talking to one of the crew members about how his daddy wouldn’t give him any more money to open more restaurants, so he needed this money bad. I’m sure you know all this, though. After all, you’re engaged to the man.”

  Sarah’s face turned bright red, and she stormed away, leaving Veronica alone to bask in her triumph. But Veronica didn’t feel very triumphant. She heard a tsk-ing sound behind her and whirled to find Gertie shaking her head, disappointment plastered on her face. She must have heard everything. Gertie wheeled off to her office.