Chase lifted a red basket decorated with tiny pine trees, and Lily’s nerves evened out. She was pretty good on her feet. As long as there wasn’t anything too weird in there, this would be no sweat.
“However,” he proceeded, reclaiming her attention, “to go along with our Christmas theme, we’re adding some goodwill to the mix. Like your baskets, each of you will have a counterpart.”
Lily’s calm curdled in her veins as Chase went on. “Contestants will be paired up with another competitor to make this round a collaborative effort, with both members of each winning team advancing to the next round. Workstations are labeled with both partners’ names. You have ten minutes to find yours, and your partner, starting . . . now!”
With her heart thumping in her ears, Lily methodically moved up the aisles of temporary workstations, coaching herself through every step. Okay, so collaboration was a bit outside of her comfort zone, but if those were the rules, she could make it work. She had to. She’d come here to win, and she’d be damned if she’d let a surprise like this knock her out of the game.
But as Lily’s eyes landed on her workstation, and more important, her partner’s slow and sexy half-grin, she realized teaming up wasn’t going to be a twist so much as the mother of all freaking corkscrews.
Chapter 3
“Looks like fate has plans for us, huh Blondie?”
No way. No way no way no way.
Lily cracked open one of the eyes she’d involuntarily squeezed shut, hoping her brain had just gone a little haywire from the stress of the competition.
Pete Mancuso leveled her with a smile so hot, she felt it under her skin.
“I’m not sure fate has anything to do with the random pairing process.” She shifted to hide her wince. This was no time for her inner philosopher to go on parade. Why couldn’t she bite her nails like a normal person instead of spouting technicalities when she got nervous?
But rather than point out her geek streak, Pete just rumbled out a laugh, and God, it was even more unnerving than his smile. “If you say so.”
The large digital screen above their workstation flashed its bright red display, and Lily sprang into action despite the warmth prickling through her treasonous lady bits. “We can argue semantics later if you want. But that timer is going to hack into our planning time any second now. We need to focus on the kitchen.”
A resort staffer wearing a Santa hat passed them their festive little basket along with express instructions not to open it until Chase gave the word, which came a few minutes later. Lily flipped the red and green lid, wasting no time as she dug in with both hands to unearth . . .
A pomegranate.
“Okay.” She cradled the jewel-colored fruit in one palm while reaching for her notebook with her other hand. “We should probably start with a flavor profile, then we can outline—”
“We need a recipe, not an outline.” A frown unfolded beneath Pete’s five o’clock shadow as he scooped three more pomegranates from the bottom of the basket.
“How else are we going to organize our thoughts?” Exasperated, Lily knotted her arms over the double rows of buttons on her chef’s jacket. Come on, this was baking 101, for God’s sake.
“By taste, that’s how.” Pete reached up to the magnetic strip splitting the difference between the two sections of their workstation and pulled a kitchen knife down with a metallic flash. Before she could protest, he sliced into the pomegranate in front of him and plucked a handful of tiny seeds from the parchment-colored flesh.
“You can’t do that!” she protested, but it only prompted him to pop them into his mouth with a flourish.
“Why, am I going to get busted by the pomegranate police? No flavor profile on the planet can compare to good old-fashioned tasting. Here.” He popped a few more seeds from the pith and deposited them in her hand. “See for yourself.”
Wishing she had time to argue—because damn, he was infuriating—Lily reluctantly played along.
It had been a while since she’d actually tasted the ingredient, and the little burst of velvety juice paired with the unexpected crunch of the seeds reminded her to do it more often. Still, while the snack was nice and all, they had work to do.
“I could make a reduction, some kind of syrup we could use as a substitute for molasses.” She started scratching out ideas on the page, but Pete shook his head.
“There won’t be enough time to cool it to a workable temperature. And if we try to use hot syrup, it’s only going to end up a hot mess. Same as if we tried to make jam for a thumbprint.”
Damn it, he was right. “All right, what about using the juice then?” Lily started rooting through the decked-out workstation in search of a blender.
“Think outside the box, Blondie. These little babies are great just as they are. Let’s use ’em that way.”
Lily’s pen stopped short over her page of meticulous notes. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“We could bake the seeds into shortbread, maybe throw in some pistachios for another layer of flavor.” Pete slung his lean frame against the edge of his work table, looking more like he was having a casual beer with friends than competing in a contest that could make or break someone’s career. “Or instead, we could concentrate on citrus and use lemon zest for added punch. We can decide on that once we get started. What do you think?”
He had to be kidding. “You want to just make it up as you go?”
“For the smaller stuff, sure. Why not? An outline’s just constricting.”
This was exactly why Lily hated the whole “twist” thing in the first place. Too much likelihood of getting paired up with insane people.
“Look,” she said, dragging in a deep breath. Staying rational was her only shot at avoiding meltdown status. With eighteen minutes to go on the planning clock, she had to buckle down if she had a prayer of salvaging this, no matter how tempting it was to lose her cool. “You might feel comfortable winging it, but this is a big deal to me.”
She pitched her voice lower, and although she meant for it to convey her seriousness, a thread of despair rode out on her words. “I’m not going home today.”
In a blink, Pete’s smile vanished, his dark eyes sparking with something Lily couldn’t quite name.
“If it’ll make you feel better to write it all down, then you should.” But rather than being condescending, or even teasing, his words carried simple honesty. “I’m not going home today, either. So let’s do what it takes to get this done, me and you.”
“O-okay.” She would’ve stayed mired in shock, but the sight of the camera crew buzzing around the periphery of their workstation served as a stark reminder of why Lily was there.
And more important, what was at stake.
She nodded, just one quick drop of her chin before her mental Rolodex kicked into high gear. “Using the seeds in shortbread seems like a good idea, but I’m not wild about the citrus. What about white chocolate, to really knock home the Christmas theme? The colors would present well, and the flavors play nicely together.”
They went back and forth, with Lily furiously scribbling notes and dividing tasks between them as they discussed the merits of different ingredients and methods to come up with a workable plan.
“Right. So that’ll do it, don’t you think?” she asked, handing Pete his half of the outline while trying to shake the cramp from her hand.
Pete’s cocky smile went on one hell of a comeback tour, and it caught Lily right in the chest.
“It’s going to have to. Our time is officially up.”
Despite living in a world where being off by a couple of grams spelled total disaster for a recipe, written directions gave Pete the shakes. But he had to give credence to the skilled ideas behind Lily’s brainstorming.
Even if she had highlighted them in two different colors.
He rocked back on his heels and tuned out the suit from the resort as the guy reiterated the rules for the camera with a toothpaste-commercial smile. It hadn’t been lost
on Pete that one of the film crews had taken a liking to Lily, although as best he could tell, she was oblivious to their presence. Her focus was so sharply honed, it made a samurai sword look like a butter knife, and something about the way she’d vowed not to go home had traveled right to the depths of his gut.
Of course, the flush of fiery determination on her cheeks didn’t hurt either. That had traveled to a decidedly different part of his anatomy.
Pete tightened his mental vise over the thought and cracked it like a walnut. He hadn’t come here to be derailed by thoughts of a prickly caterer, no matter how sexy her blush was. His career was his main focus—his only focus—and he was going to earn a top-notch headline for his résumé. No matter who he had to work with.
“All right, competitors!” the host said with one last smile. “Get ready to get baking, because your time starts . . . right now.”
Lily sprang into action, her graceful movements in complete discord with her linebacker-tough expression. She was going to best him right out of the gate if he didn’t get his ass in gear, and no way was he having that.
They’d divided their tasks evenly, starting with prep, and Pete didn’t waste any time removing the crowns from the fruit in front of him. He sectioned each one with practiced strokes, digging into the soft, pale membrane to free the dark red seeds.
“Don’t you want a bowl of water for that?” Lily’s pretty blue eyes flicked over his hands from her spot on the other side of the workstation, where she was shelling pistachios with nimble movements.
“With only an hour on the clock? No way.” The textbook method of submerging pomegranates in cold water so the seeds could gently separate from the pith was time-consuming as hell. Pete could do it faster and better on his own. “You don’t have to worry about me crushing the seeds, Blondie. I have a light touch.”
She flattened her palms over the stainless steel countertop, and God, her poker face was exquisite. “Well, don’t be afraid to use it. I’m going to have this shortbread dough mixed up in ten, so I’ll need them by then.”
Ouch. She really was made of sterner stuff than her angelic face and slim frame suggested. Although come to think of it, he never did like a pushover, especially in the kitchen.
Lily hustled to the pantry for the dry ingredients, but Pete focused on his task. The seeds were the central ingredient in the shortbread, and just because he didn’t use conventional methods to get them out didn’t mean he’d scrimp on work ethic. He seeded each fruit gently, then treated the pistachios to a fastidious chop.
He orbited around Lily with ease as they worked, folding the pomegranate seeds and pistachios into his half of the dough. An idea swirled in his head, coaxed by the butter-rich scent of the unbaked shortbread, and it was too delicious to ignore.
“Hey, Lily, I think we should change up the chocolate thing.” The idea multiplied, becoming more insistent as Pete looked at the kaleidoscope of colors on the parchment-lined baking sheet, and yeah. It was perfect for this recipe.
Her blue eyes flashed up from the fluffy, pale yellow dough in her mixing bowl. “But we have a plan.”
“Forget the plan for a second. What if we—”
“No.” Lily didn’t waver, not even breaking stride with the shortbread dough. “It’s too risky to change things with . . .” She paused, but only long enough to spare a glance at the countdown clock above their station. “Thirty-two minutes to go. We’re still not quite sure how much the altitude will affect baking time. We don’t have time to change the plan.”
A ribbon of anger uncurled in Pete’s belly, low and hot. Okay, so she was talented—her knowledge told him plenty, and her movements and technique filled in the rest of the blanks. But that didn’t mean he was going to let her go all Frosty the Snow Chef on his ass.
He handed her some pomegranate seeds, but when her fingers cupped the bowl to take it, he didn’t let go. “This is better than the outline. Take a risk, for Chrissake.”
“We’re wasting time,” she said, her voice catching on the last word.
“I want to win, too, Lily. Just trust me.”
Her lips parted, and in that fraction of a second, he knew he had her.
“Competitors! We are at the halfway point. You have thirty minutes to go,” chimed a voice from the host’s podium, and Lily stepped back toward the mixer as if breaking from a trance.
“No. The chocolate makes a huge difference in this recipe. I’m not risking my chances on a spur-of-the-moment change to a key ingredient. I’m sorry,” she said, and walked away.
“I’m sorry, too, Blondie,” Pete whispered under his breath. “But I need this win.”
As soon as she returned her attention to her half of the shortbread dough, he headed straight for the pantry.
Time flew from the clock in a blur of blending, baking, and slicing. In the time it took him to blink, both batches of shortbread were cut and on the cooling rack, awaiting the final layer of melted chocolate he was tempering over the double boiler.
Pete had to admit Lily’s idea of cutting the cookies into long triangles rather than traditional circles had been brilliant. The pistachio and pomegranate–studded wedges bore resemblance to holly trees, and with the chocolate mixture he’d carefully constructed, they’d be over the top in both presentation and flavor.
“What the hell is that?” Lily’s eyes widened, liquid blue and pissed off, but he met them with equal measure.
“It’s dark chocolate.”
She eyed him as if he’d lost his marbles. “But we agreed to dip the cookies in white chocolate.”
“I agreed to do whatever it took to win.” It wasn’t his fault she was too inflexible to see that this would work.
“But this changes the entire dish, from flavor to presentation. Messing with it without thinking things through is crazy.”
Holy stickler, this girl was tough! “It’s not crazy. The shortbread is sweet enough on its own. If we go with this, it’ll add just enough complexity to play off the other ingredients while still showcasing the pomegranate. If we’d stuck with the white chocolate, we’d have lost the other components.”
Lily jammed her hands against her hips, insistent. “This wasn’t the plan!”
“No, it wasn’t.”
With a thick kitchen towel wrapped around his hand, Pete removed the insert from the double boiler and walked the perfectly tempered glossy mixture over to the cooling rack. The clock showed six minutes left for plating, which was just enough time to get them drizzled so the chocolate could set up.
As long as he did it right now.
“What if this backfires?” Lily asked, her voice no higher than a whisper. “Did you even stop to think about that?”
“No.” But before she could protest, Pete continued, matching her tone with every inflection. “Look, my fate rides on this, too, Lily. It’s not going to backfire. I promise.”
Chapter 4
Lily looked down at the three plates of shortbread triangles, complete with satiny crisscrosses of dark chocolate, and tried with all her might not to throw up. Their competition had presented first, and although the rules dictated one team couldn’t watch the others’ presentation, their ear-to-ear smiles as they passed through the green room said enough.
She and Pete were going to have to knock this thing out of the park if they wanted to win. And like idiots, they’d bucked a perfectly good plan.
“You want to present?” The low rumble of Pete’s voice pulled her back to the competition floor. “After all, you’re better spoken than I am. Not to mention prettier.”
“All the sweet talk in the world won’t keep me from being furious with you,” she whispered, although the involuntary smile tugging at her lips made her the world’s biggest liar. Was it really too much to ask for that cocky little half-smile of his to be more aggravating than hot?
“It’s not sweet talk if it’s true. And you won’t be mad when we win.” His murmur curved around her ear, and he passed the tray of shortbread
to an event staffer as the judges settled at the podium.
Lily’s jangled nerves took a backseat to her quiet snort. “I’m immune to your charm.”
Pete reached out, brushing her forearm with a light touch Lily felt on every inch of her skin.
“Just make sure the judges aren’t immune to yours, okay?”
Before she could respond, or hell, even start breathing again, Chase stepped up to the podium. “Welcome, team two. Before we begin, I’d like to introduce our judges. On the left, we have Martin Alexander, local developer and owner of several bakeries in the Blue Ridge. Next is Olivia Reece, one of our executives here at Pine Mountain Resort. And lastly,” Chase paused for emphasis, effectively drawing all of Lily’s focus to the judge at the end of the table as he said, “We are thrilled to have Chef Carly di Matisse all the way from New York City.”
Right. Because what Lily needed was more pressure. The chef had her own cable TV show, for God’s sake!
“All right, contestants.” Chase gestured to the spot where she stood, side by side with Pete. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Lily did her best to stamp anything but certainty from her expression, cranking up her smile as she took a step forward. “Good afternoon. My name is Lily Callahan, and I’m one half of Team Pomegranate.”
The judges chuckled politely, bolstering her just enough to continue. “Our offering today is a pomegranate pistachio shortbread with a dark chocolate glaze. Chef Mancuso and I wanted to spotlight the secret ingredient by pairing it with flavors that complement its natural vitality without being overwhelming. Please enjoy.”
Lily clasped her hands over the front hem of her chef’s jacket in an effort to keep them steady. She swung her attention from the podium, desperate for something—anything—to keep her grounded while the judges took that first fateful bite.
The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap Page 27
