A Convenient Scandal

by Kimberley Troutte

  “Relax,” he said softly, without an ounce of his cocky television voice. “You’re not being judged now. Just breathe. Let it out slowly.”

  She exhaled.

  “That’s what I do when the nerves catch up with me on the show. Again. Deep inhale.”

  She did as told.

  “This time with the exhale say, ‘This is what I do best. I’m going to kill this sonofabitch apple.’”

  That did it. She laughed out loud.

  He grinned. “Go get it, tiger.”

  Still chuckling, she picked up the apple and began carving the first eye. She made a pupil and even added a starburst to the iris. “You get nervous on the show?”

  “The more nerves, the better the show.” He leaned closer. “That’s an eye! Amazing, Miss Cox.”

  “Michele,” she reminded him.

  The excitement in his voice delighted her. He liked it. She went to work on the other one as Jeffrey stood beside her. Pushing on, she used a piece of red apple skin to roll up into a nose. Carefully, she cut out a smiling mouth with sweet full lips. After adding the apple stem hat, it was done.

  “I did this once for my sister so she’d eat her lunch. Now, she wants all her apples to become jolly red men.” She placed it in his hand. “I hope your friend enjoys it.”

  “That’s unbelievable.” He turned it in his hand as if it was art. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  The words of encouragement were a balm to her damaged heart. No boss had said anything like that to her in...well, she couldn’t remember.

  Critical words were more common in Alfieri’s kitchen than compliments. He was a powerful head chef who’d used despicable behavior and abuse to “train” her to become one of the best chefs in New York, second only to him. In truth, he’d ruined her.

  She closed her eyes and blocked out Alfieri’s angry eyes, his shaking finger, the cruel turn of his lips.

  “Michele.” She opened her eyes to see Jeffrey leaning in close, studying her. “I don’t know what problems you’re having, but you should trust your talent. You are amazing.”

  That did it.

  She rose up on her tippy-toes and kissed his spicy lips.

  * * *

  Michele Cox was full of surprises. Funny, sexy, sweet, kind, smart and...insecure. That last one didn’t match up with the rest of her personality. Something bad had happened to her, he was sure of it. He wished he knew what it was and how to fix it.

  Without a word, she rose up and softly, gently, pressed her lips to his. Fully unprepared, he stood still, cautious after what had happened in the elevator. Given one more moment, he would have swept her up in his arms and deepened that sweet kiss. But before he could, she stepped back.

  “Sorry.” Her beautiful golden-brown eyes were wide with...what? Had she surprised herself, too? “That was unprofessional. I don’t normally...” She was pressing her hand to her lips. “I’ll just leave. Good luck!”

  Before he could stop her, Michele Cox rushed through the kitchen door and out of his life. Again.

  Seven

  Michele awoke with the sense that something was wrong. It was the same feeling she’d opened her eyes to every morning since she’d left Alfieri’s. This morning was worse.

  All night, her mind did the play-by-play critique of every mistake she’d made in front of Jeffrey Harper. Including that kiss. She pulled the pillow over her head in embarrassment. He must’ve thought she’d lost her mind.

  What was that sound? She lifted the pillow, pushed the hair out of her eyes and listened. Sniffling? Sitting up, she noticed Lily’s bed was empty.

  Tying her robe around her, Michele followed the soft sounds to the closed bathroom door. She knocked lightly. “Lily? Are you okay?”

  The door opened. Lily held a tissue to her nose. “He doesn’t want me. I’ve been asked to pack my bags and go home.”

  “No. When?”

  “I was doing my early morning Tai Chi in the gardens and Chloe joined me for what she called sunrise meditation and yoga. After we were both finished, she gave me the news. She was nice about it.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, Lily.” Michele’s heart sank. She really liked Lily. Since they were both New Yorkers, and had bonded quickly, Michele had hoped her new-found friend would win the competition. Jeffrey deserved to have such a kind chef working for him. “Maybe we can call a taxi and leave together. Let me pack up and—”

  “Miss Cox?” Chloe called to her from the doorway. “You’ve been asked to join the remaining chefs in the great hall to discuss today’s schedule and what happens in the next stage of the competition.”

  Lily shot her a surprised look. No one was more shocked than Michele.

  “Um, I think there’s been a mistake. I quit the competition yesterday,” Michele said.

  Chloe turned her head and her long blond braid fell over her shoulder. “You don’t want to be here?”

  Oh, she wanted to stay. Desperately. The bonus money alone would save her. And cooking those grilled cheese sandwiches was the first time she’d felt like herself in the kitchen in a long while. Plus, there was a gorgeous, redheaded hunk she liked, more than she dared tell his sister, more than she wanted to think about. She’d kissed him for goodness sake! That’s why she should bow out gracefully before she made a bigger fool of herself in front of him.

  “I don’t deserve to be here with these other great chefs,” she muttered.

  Chloe smiled. “My brother disagrees. You impressed him last night.”

  When? Based on her performance with the squid, she wouldn’t hire her; would he?

  “It is up to you, Miss Cox. If you want to leave, we’ll make the arrangements for your flight back to New York. No problem. Jeff wants you to be happy with your choice, whatever it may be. The other chefs are gathering in the great hall. Join us, if you decide to continue on.”

  Chloe closed the door behind her.

  “Wow, that’s just...” Michele sat on the edge of her bed. “I didn’t expect he’d want me to stay.”

  “I’m glad. If I can’t win, I hope you do. He should have a great, kind chef.” Lily smiled sweetly. “I’m rooting for you.”

  * * *

  Jeff waited for Chloe to come around the corner. “So? What did she say?”

  “Who?”

  He gave her his deadpan look.

  She laughed. “Just teasing. Michele was a little surprised. She thought she’d quit the competition yesterday.”

  “She did.”

  Chloe cocked her eyebrow, a typical Harper expression. “Sounds like she doesn’t want to be here, Jeff. Why don’t you let her go and continue this challenge with the other chefs?”

  “Is that what she said? Michele doesn’t want to be with me?” He cleared his throat. Damn. “Work for me?”

  Chloe’s lips quirked. “If you want her, why don’t you end this competition and go after her? Ask her out. Woo her. See what happens.”

  “It’s not that easy. She’s not like the other women I’ve dated. Michele is...different.” And struggling with something he didn’t understand. She needed to be treated with care. He understood more than he dared admit. “Did she say she wants to leave Casa Larga?”

  “Not exactly. She feels like she doesn’t deserve to be here.”

  “That’s insecurity talking. She’s a damn fine chef, just as good as the other ones here. Did you convince her?” He was pacing now. “Is she staying or not?”

  “I left it up to her. We’ll know what she decides if she comes to the great hall, which is where I am supposed to be right now.” Chloe kissed his cheek. “Good luck!”

  Luck. He didn’t believe in it, otherwise he’d have to ask what he’d done to piss off the universe.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Chloe’s voice echoed from the great hall.

  Part of h
im wanted to peek his head in to see if Michele had decided to stay. The other part of him reminded himself to cool his jets. He didn’t want to do anything that might scare Michele off. It was obvious she was conflicted about staying. But damn, he wanted to look.

  A workout. That’s what he needed.

  He started toward the gym to burn off his frustrated energy. It was laughable. A week ago, if he’d felt like this, he would’ve asked a lady or two out on a date. Now he was trying to get away from them.

  “Mr. Harper?” a voice called.

  Damn. It was a chef he’d already excused.

  She hustled to catch up with him. “It’s Lily. May I speak with you?”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “My decision had nothing to do with your dinner. You are a fine chef, Lily. I meant what I said. I loved your dim sum.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you. I’ve watched all your shows. Some of them three and four times.” She wrung her hands as if she was nervous and her cheeks turned pink. “I feel like I know you.”

  He pinched his nose. Was this some sort of hero worship? He was no hero. “I’m not that guy from the show. I’m just...a guy.”

  “No, no. You are a professional. What happened to you and to the show was very unfair.”

  He agreed with her assessment. “Thank you for your support and for coming here. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Best of luck in your job search.” He tried to walk away, but she stepped in front of him.

  “You deserve success and happiness, Jeffrey,” she said. “Be careful about who you choose. Some of these chefs might be here for the wrong reasons.”

  Hold up. Lily had roomed with Michele, hadn’t she? What had they talked about? “I’m going to need more information.”

  “I don’t have more to say. Just...be careful.”

  That told him absolutely nothing but triggered his internal warning alarms because he, too, was cautious. Michele said she needed the job but something had spooked her so badly that she felt she didn’t deserve it. That flicker of fear in her eyes? It hit too close to home. As a child, his heart had been broken by people who were supposed to love him. Had Michele encountered something similar?

  Hell, these thoughts were depressing.

  He needed to sprint on the treadmill or pound the hell out of the boxing bag.

  Before the cold seeped in through the cracks.

  Eight

  The next morning, Tonia cooked him breakfast, Freja made lunch and Suzette rounded out the day with dinner. His taste buds were impressed but none of the meals captivated him as much as that single carved apple.

  Michele had an artistic flair rarely seen in any discipline. Hell, in a matter of minutes she’d created an iris in the apple’s eye that shockingly resembled his own. Michele possessed something he’d never experienced before. Magic? Is that what she’d called it? Unfortunately, it seemed to come and go for her, which was bad news for his restaurant. A five-star dining experience demanded consistency and near perfection for every dish. Betting on Michele Cox was foolhardy and, still, he couldn’t bring himself to excuse her. Not yet.

  She seemed to have worked her magic on him, too, with one gentle kiss.

  When he wasn’t judging meals, he worked with the building contractor and crew. The goal was to have the restaurant ready to open in six months. It was an ambitious time frame, but he wanted the restaurant in full swing as quickly as possible so the Harper marketing team would have good news to release, to hopefully counteract all the bad news still going around about Jeff.

  Even though RW’s lawyers had sent cease and desist orders, Finn was still doing his damnedest to ruin what was left of Jeff’s reputation. The woman from the elevator was threatening to speak out as well. Lawyers had been dispatched to her home to try to reason with her.

  The universe kept dumping on him.

  In the early evening, Jeff took off his construction hat and joined Matt in the guesthouse for one of their brotherly, cutthroat games of pool.

  “Married yet?” Matt handed him a beer.

  “Asshole.”

  “What? I didn’t sign up for this gig. That’s all on you, brother.”

  “It was Dad’s idea, not mine. Forget about a wife, I’m having a hard enough time choosing a chef.”

  Matt put a hand on his shoulder. “You can end it now. Tell RW to take a flying leap and live your own life. Go be happy.”

  “Happy. Everyone talks about that, but what the hell is it?” Jeff sipped his beer. “I like what I’m doing here. The restaurant construction plans are ambitious and, if I sit on the crew, they’ll be done on time. I like that I’m creating this place from the ground up. If I walk now, I throw away my chance to make the hotel all it could be. RW will find someone else.”

  And Finn would release the rest of the video and Jeff would be done.

  “This is not your only chance at building your dream. It’s a restaurant and a hotel, man. You can do that anywhere, anytime. Building a strong relationship, a strong marriage? That’s a lifetime achievement. Give yourself a chance to get it right.”

  Jeff racked the set. “You going to keep chapping my balls or take your shot?”

  Matt didn’t understand. Jeff’s brother had everything he wanted—a beautiful, adoring wife, a son and a job he loved. Jeff didn’t have any of that. Might never have any of it. The career he loved was at least attainable, here and now. He couldn’t let it go or he’d have nothing.

  “Oh, I’m taking my shot. Be prepared to pay up. I’m feeling hot tonight.” And as promised, Matt’s first shot launched two balls into the side pockets.

  Jeff rolled his eyes. It was going to be a quick, demoralizing game.

  Chloe opened the sliding glass window and stepped inside. “Thought I’d find you two here.”

  “Yep. Boy Wonder is hiding out from four gorgeous chefs,” Matt said, and missed his shot.

  “That’s Karma for teasing your brother,” Jeff replied.

  “Looked like Karma to me. No decisions on a chef yet?” Chloe hitched herself up on the counter.

  “Nope.” Jeff’s ball exploded into the hole.

  “Whoa. Take it easy. You want to buy us a new table?” Matt complained.

  “Sorry.” Jeff glanced at Chloe. “Why don’t you choose one?”

  Chloe shook her head and her long braid fell over her shoulder. “No way. That’s not my specialty. I’m just helping out until the hotel is up and running. Dad promised I’d be the Activities Director once we have clients.”

  “You aren’t going back to your yoga studio in LA?” Matt asked.

  “No. I’m done with the fakeness of Hollywood. And I could use a break from Mom.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Jeff and I have taken a decade-plus long break. What’s she up to these days?” Matt said.

  A shiver rolled through Jeff.

  “She’s on a yacht in Europe with...” Chloe started, and then seemed to notice something in Jeff’s expression that made her pause. She shook her head. “Let’s not talk about her tonight. Jeff, I say choose the chef that appeals to your tastes. You won’t go wrong.”

  Tastes. Michele’s lips came to mind. He shot the next ball harder than he meant to. It careened over the felt like a missile and rocketed straight toward Matt’s head. Matt ducked just in time. The ball hit the wall with a loud bang, knocking a chunk out of the wood paneling.

  “Holy smokes. You trying to brain me?” Matt asked.

  “Jeff, are you okay?” Chloe asked.

  “I guess I’m a little...frustrated.”

  “Just a little? I’d hate to see you all worked up.” Matt motioned for Jeff to sit on a bar stool. “Plant your ass before you bruise my pretty face.”

  Jeff exhaled deeply and sat with Chloe.

  “What can we do to help you?” Chloe asked softly.

>   Jeff tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Either you guys choose the chef or I’m going with the eeny-meeny-miney-mo method.”

  “I hear they’re all great, but don’t you like one more than the others?” Matt asked.

  Jeff did, but he couldn’t have her. Michele might ruin everything.

  He had three goals at the moment: choose a great chef, finish the restaurant, and find a wife who didn’t love him. That was it. He just needed two women who didn’t make his head spin or his heart ache. But with Michele... His head was spinning and his heart pounded.

  He was drawn to her more than he should be for lots of reasons, not the least of them being that nice girls like her shouldn’t make spicy sandwiches for a bastard like him. It was too much fun, too easy, far too hot. And shouldn’t happen again, or he’d really start regretting that he’d promised Dad he’d get married.

  Hell, it was Dad’s fault that he was this conflicted.

  Why hadn’t RW chosen male chefs to judge? A bunch of guys would have made the choice far easier. “I don’t know them well enough to make that decision yet. And time is running out. Help me, Chloe. Pick one.”

  She smiled. “I won’t choose for you, but I can help. Matt, let’s save this poor boy from his misery.”

  Matt cracked his knuckles. “Yep. We can do this. Who’s left standing?”

  “Refined Freja from Sweden, toned Tonia from Arizona, spicy Suzette from France.” Chloe had nicknamed them all.

  “Scratch the last one. She’s not staying. Her food was amazing—probably the best of the bunch—and she knew it. She came off haughty and super conceited,” Jeff said.

  “Yep, she has to go. Can’t have two people who are full of themselves in one restaurant.” Matt sipped his beer.

  “Shut up.” Jeff slugged him. “I’m knowledgeable, not full of myself.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, bro.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot the last one,” Chloe said with a twinkle in her eye. “Sparkly Michele.”

  “What, no alliteration for her?” Matt asked.