Fire In the Kitchen Page 7

  Several chefs had gathered behind him, interested in Dante’s response. Dante’s voice was low, almost a rumble, and the words were only for his cousin’s ears.

  “While I was in Italy, you damaged my restaurant’s name by deliberately going against everything I believed in. You purchased food that wasn’t from our local suppliers, you served food that didn’t have an Italian influence, and you poisoned the majority of my staff against me with lies. You created a media circus at my expense.”

  Carlos stood back and put his palms out.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m checking in and checking out of this conversation.”

  Dante shook his room key at him, exposing the room number 29.

  “After you’ve checked in, we’ll continue our private conversation in our room.”

  * * * *

  Even with the unanticipated cameramen waiting for him, it had taken Dante less than twenty seconds to absorb his new home away from home. Small, impersonal room, tiny en suite bathroom. The space had been designed for practicality rather than aesthetics: single bed, bookcase, desk, lamp, rubbish bin. The walls, ceiling, door, and even the quilt were eggshell white. Had he been committed, he wondered, to match his inner commitment to being successful in the competition?

  He pulled open the drapes and looked down at the garden that had been planted months before in readiness for this television series. He watched the water shoot above the water feature in powerful bursts before cascading down the reversed letters and resting in the pond below. It was stunning to watch.

  For reasons unknown to him, he looked up.

  Looking at the window directly across from his, he found himself staring at Cassidy, the woman who’d been in the bold border of his thoughts since they’d met. They waved at each other.

  Damn, that woman can release some serious feel-good hormones.

  Dante let go of the curtain and turned his alert gaze to the camera crew.

  “You must have a lot of other welcoming interviews to do. Shall we get straight into it?”

  An eager young man held up his finger as he watched a cameraman getting his equipment ready.

  “Sure, just waiting on…”

  “Me?” Carlos leaned into the open doorway with a casual pose that appeared rehearsed.

  “Yes, how about we get you both facing each other in a stance ready for battle?”

  The man held his hands out in front of him and pushed his palms to and fro indicating they should move closer to each other. He reached into a bag. “Maybe put on these chef’s hats?”

  “Pistols at brawn?” Dante raised an eyebrow and waited for Carlos to walk over to him.

  “Food joke! You’re a crack up, Dante.” The interviewer slapped his leg and put the hats on Dante and Carlos at interesting angles. “Can you say that again when I say roll?”

  “Yeah, a real ham,” Carlos said, pursing his lips as he watched Dante straighten his hat with military precision.

  This time the interviewer and cameraman laughed together.

  “Brawn, ham, love it. Keep up the banter during the interview and all will be sweet.”

  The cameraman held up three fingers, lowering them one at a time as he counted down. The one was silent.

  The interview went as Dante wanted it to, and he repeated his quip on cue. His war with Carlos was a private one for now, and the less collateral damage the better. After Dante had walked the cameramen to the door at the end of the interview, he turned to face his nemesis. Carlos was grinning at him as if he’d never tried to ruin Dante’s life.

  “Time for a quick drink before we settle in for the night?”

  “That was just for show, Carlos. I haven’t finished with you by a long shot.”

  “Let’s put this on hold until after the competition,” Carlos said, holding out his hand for Dante to shake. “I’ve got a lot riding on this.”

  Dante stared at the outstretched hand as if it carried a disease. “Why have you always tried to ruin what I have when I’ve always been willing to share everything with you?” he said.

  Carlos let his hand drop and smoothed back his hair. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Dante put his hand on the chair, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  “Let me see,” Dante said, letting out a loud breath. “How about the way I left you to run the restaurant while I was away and you ran me into the ground instead?”

  “I managed just fine,” Carlos responded smoothly. “Profits were up.”

  “And staff loyalty toward me was down. Particularly after you fired my oldest team members and told them I’d left instructions for you to do so.”

  Dante felt the room get hotter. He opened the window, hoping for another glance of Cassidy to distract him from where this conversation was heading, but he was out of luck. He turned around to face Carlos again.

  “Why, Carlos? Why did you stop ordering local food from our family and friends? Why did you twist my causes around and tell so many lies?”

  “I just said it like I saw it.” Carlos crossed his arms and started to rub them. “I see many things without even having to look, and I could see there was a lot more money to be made if we bought and hired smarter.”

  “Your invisible glasses need cleaning, and they should be put away with your lost morals.” Dante grabbed his suitcase and tossed the items into the drawers by his bed. “Don’t traditions mean anything to you?”

  Carlos shrugged. “I say we make up our own as we go along, the Australian way.”

  Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. His voice was unnaturally low. “Buying cheap imports is very un-Australian.”

  “Buying fish from the old man’s business in the next suburb is very uncool when you can buy trendier types from elsewhere.”

  Dante paused when he heard laughter erupting from a nearby room. The camaraderie fell short in this one. “Stay out of my way,” Dante said. “This is my only shot at returning my life’s status quo.”

  “Shall I get a long piece of masking tape and put it down the center of the room?” Carlos snorted.

  “Grow up, Carlos. Why don’t you go and get some fresh air?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Carlos flashed him a cold smile. “I’d like to catch up with Cassidy, like I promised earlier, and tell her a bedtime story. Might even fill her in on my older cousin while I’m at it.”

  “Leave her alone, Carlos.” Dante’s hands formed into tight fists. “I’m warning you.”

  “Ciao, Dante.” Carlos left the room without closing the door. “Don’t wait up.”

  Chapter 11

  They were to be transported by minibus to their mystery filming destination. Cassidy couldn’t believe the show’s interest in what she ate for breakfast, but the cameras had followed her everywhere until she boarded the bus. She rubbed her eyes for the umpteenth time. It was five thirty in the morning, but it may as well have been the middle of the night. Mornings did not sit well with her, and those who knew her knew not to talk to her about the meaning of life until after her second cup of coffee.

  She chose a seat next to the window and watched the distant sky introduce vivid shades of orange and red.

  So that’s what a sunrise looks like.

  She knew it was Dante who sat next to her before she turned to look. He squeezed her shoulder and she turned to him and smiled a voiceless greeting. She moved her leg a fraction so it casually brushed against his.

  Mmm.

  “Good morning.” His greeting was warm and pleasant and his deep baritone voice infused her body. “Sleep well?”

  “Like the parents of a teething baby.” She groaned for emphasis.

  His eyes twinkled. “Why so bad? You don’t have to share a room with a genetic mutation who snores very badly.”

  Cassidy barely noticed the bus’s engine taking a few minutes to warm up. Too much was happening in her mind and her body in reaction to Dante being in such close proximity.

  “When I
checked in yesterday,” she said, “there was a camera crew in my room, waiting for me. Is nothing sacred in that place?”

  Dante laughed.

  “Same thing happened to me,” he said. “Just pretend they’re not there, otherwise you’ll go troppo.”

  “When you have toothpaste dribbling down your chin onto your top and you know you’re going to look like a slob, it’s pretty difficult.”

  “Buy a bigger toothbrush.”

  “Or get a bigger mouth.” Cassidy shook her head and laughed with him. “Please don’t tell me there are more cameras around we can’t see.”

  “Doubt it…in the resting areas the cameras aren’t hidden, but in the kitchen all bets are off.”

  “Kill me now.”

  She hoped they’d be in the competition, side by side, for as long as possible. He was much nicer to her than the rest of them were. Carlos had tried to be nice the night before, but it probably had more to do with his curiosity about what she wore under her cook’s clothes than anything else. He hadn’t made it past her half-opened bedroom door, but he’d done his best to sweet-talk her into letting him in. Dante was different. Had he been the one visiting her, self-control may have become a distant memory.

  Because they were sitting side by side, she’d be more than happy if their destination was hours away. At the same time, she couldn’t wait to get there. Her brain had too many choices for pleasure or pain lately.

  “So, on a scale of one to ten billion, how challenging do you think it’s going to be for us today, and will we live through it to talk about it tomorrow?”

  Dante pinched his chin as he thought about it.

  “This early in the piece, I’d say they’ll be aiming to cull our group by half. It’ll be a make-or-break deal.”

  “Excellent,” Cassidy replied. “No pressure, then.”

  She found herself admiring Dante’s long masculine fingers. They brought her attention to his deep dimple and she pondered why it had never occurred to her that a small indentation in the chin could be so attractive in a man. She wanted to reach over and run her finger over it, making small, slow circles that could slow time.

  She loved the initial stages of attraction. The primal dance of seduction, the waiting game, the wonder of how the sensation would be when their lips touched for the first time, and the memories of it afterward. It was destined to happen by an unspoken agreement. They’d unconsciously moved closer, their thighs firmly pressed against one another.

  Please, please don’t let anything spoil this.

  “Cassidy, about why I left so abruptly the day we met.” He turned to face her.

  Here we go, spoiler alert.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She felt her lips create a fake smile, like weak tea. “You can dislike me, just don’t say you hate my coffee.”

  “I don’t hate your coffee, and I certainly don’t dislike you.” He patted her knee a couple of times and then returned his hand to his lap.

  “You’re a very confusing man.” Cassidy allowed herself to breathe easier. “Has anyone ever told you that you give mixed messages?”

  He shrugged. “People seem to have that impression of me a lot lately, particularly in the gossip pages…if that’s what they’re still called in these days of electronic media.”

  “Curious.” Cassidy wasn’t sure if she’d said the word aloud, but noticed they were now the only ones speaking. Their fellow nearby contestants were eavesdropping. She decided to speak less and enjoy the ride more with her charismatic companion.

  She was happy to sit in silence with him and look out the window for a while, enjoying the motion of the moving vehicle and how it became permissible, every time they rounded a corner, for the faint movement to draw them closer. It was like a wave that would reach its peak and then ebb back into anticipation.

  The bus driver called out they were nearly there and the bus chatter recommenced. Cassidy returned to their earlier conversation, turning to face him and speaking in a low tone. “So why did you really leave so suddenly that day? Did I do something to offend you?”

  Dante returned her serious look. “You personally, no, but…”

  Cassidy frowned. “There’s a but? I hate buts. Ugly things.”

  He squeezed her hand and held onto it. “I didn’t like the way you purchased your coffee from overseas, when I know there are some great Australian growers. It’s a pet hate of mine when people use imports instead of supporting the economy of the country they live in.”

  “I see,” Cassidy replied slowly, as if she didn’t really understand his logic. “But I would have thought the best chefs endorse the best products, no matter where they come from.”

  “Ah, there’s another but…” His voice trailed away and he looked out the window.

  “I’ve offended you again, haven’t I?” Cassidy replied grimly.

  “That’s a harsh word.” He turned to face her again. “It would take a lot more than that for someone to offend me, especially someone as lovely as you.”

  Cassidy felt a gentle flutter from within. It started at her toes and went all the way up to her eyeballs.

  He continued, “I simply have causes close to my heart, and I live by my golden rules. That’s one of the reasons I entered this competition, to make a difference, if I can, and put a few wrongs right.”

  Cassidy felt her shoulders relax when she understood it was the situation he hadn’t liked, and not her. He was a man with a mission and she admired him for it.

  The rest of their journey passed too quickly and she sighed as the bus stopped. She looked out the window to take in her surroundings. They were on a small residential street located in an up-market area. The verges were lined with flowering purple jacarandas, and Cassidy could imagine how good it would all look on the television screen. Were they going to cook in the middle of the street? Where were the temporary cooking benches set up? So many puzzling questions she knew would be answered soon enough.

  The bus doors hissed open.

  Dante stood and moved back a step so Cassidy could exit before him.

  So this is where all the real men have gone.

  They became separated as the group was herded to the end of the cul-de-sac and told to wait.

  Having been so captivated by Dante’s attention in the bus, Cassidy missed having him by her side. She hadn’t felt the strength of the camaraderie between the other competitors until now. Their banter did not include her, and she could tell by their body language their snickering about her had not diluted overnight. Even the female chefs in the competition chose to ignore her.

  I don’t need their approval. I don’t need their approval.

  It wasn’t hard for her to look for a distraction. What she imagined would normally be a quiet street was filled with organized chaos. She never imagined how many people it took to film a TV show.

  Producers, cameramen, lighting, hair, makeup…there must be about sixty crew members here.

  Deciding this distraction was even more overwhelming than being concerned about the other competitors, she looked for something else to focus on.

  Dante.

  She knew where he was up ahead. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  His cousin whispered something in his ear and then walked away and stood next to Cassidy, putting his hand on her shoulder in greeting. A quick squeeze would have been acceptable, but he left his hand there. Her shoulder muscles developed a sudden knot.

  “Morning, gorgeous,” Carlos said. “Ready for a big day?”

  “I’m always up for a challenge,” Cassidy replied as brightly as she could, trying to be subtle as she removed his hand from her shoulder.

  Unwanted attention from wrong cousin–Tick.

  She looked to Dante for help, but his eyes were closed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

  What did Carlos say to him?

  As if he sensed he was being watched, Dante’s eyes snapped open. But his gaze didn’t fix on her. It was aimed straight at Carlos, wh
o was unable to maintain eye contact and looked away.

  Carlos left Cassidy’s side and joined his friends. It was obvious there was a lot of history between him and Dante, but Cassidy was sure they weren’t going to use this public forum to air it. She decided it was time to abandon her distractions and be in the present. Soon she was going to have to cook to keep her place in the competition. All she needed to do, for now, was concentrate on slowing her quickened breathing so she could look as normal as possible in her surreal surroundings.

  People were fussing around Valerie, the host who had been so rude to Cassidy in the auditions. One stylist was applying hair spray to a hairdo Cassidy was sure had taken five hours to create. Another was straightening the collar on an emerald green blouse that accentuated her flowing red hair. Not usually one to fuss over her own appearance, Cassidy ran her fingers through her short, fair hair and wondered what it would be like to have a lustrous style she could casually toss over her shoulder to make men like Dante drool.

  “All right, people,” a bossy middle-aged man called out, louder than was necessary. He introduced himself as Eric, one of the show’s producers. “Gather round, pay attention please. We’ve got a very long day ahead and we’re not leaving ’til we get it right.”

  As Eric droned on about the schedule, Cassidy couldn’t help tuning him out. She felt out of place, like a primary school student at university. She rarely worried what other people thought of her, but there were so many cameras and sound technicians around, it was hard not to be intimidated. What if she tripped, slipped, or banged into a tree or letterbox in her uniquely clumsy style? She couldn’t remember when she’d been without a bruise. It would only be a matter of time before she made a fool of herself, and she hoped the public would be forgiving.

  She was too small, too insignificant to be here.

  And yet here she was.

  Like a lamb to the slaughter.

  She hoped if lamb was on the menu today, she would at least cook it right…and accompany it with a side serving of courage.

  Cassidy hardly ever watched television, except for cooking shows. She’d never given any thought to what happened behind the scenes of a reality television show. It wasn’t glamorous, and although the cameramen were friendly, they were a bit scruffy, even by her standards. The producer continued, “If you haven’t been to the bathroom, please do so now. We don’t want to have to stop and start mid-challenge unless we have to.”