“Be careful,” Shannon warned her, the words
it’s hot
stuck in her throat.
While Maya blew lightly across her spoon, Shannon busied herself with extracting her cakes from the pans. The clock wouldn’t wait for her to lust after Maya Vaughn. She didn’t look up even when she saw Maya raise the spoon higher, partly because she didn’t have time and partly because she didn’t think she could handle seeing Maya slide that spoon between her lips.
“Nice,” Maya murmured, before moving on to the chef to her right.
Shannon kept her head down and tried not to listen to Maya’s interaction with Lucia. She didn’t want to compare Maya’s tone with Lucia to the one she’d used with her. She didn’t want to examine the intimacy she’d felt in their exchange. Maybe a small part of her wanted to hold onto the illusion that there was something extra in Maya’s voice just for her, which, she admitted, was ridiculous.
When her cakes were still a bit warm for her liking, she placed her first layer down, spread the filling, then set the top layer. She completed each cake this way, hoping they would cool enough before she tried to ice them. She would have trouble assembling an appealing plate if her icing melted into a puddle around her cake.
She had just sliced and plated her final piece of cake when Eric called time. When she raised her hands and stepped back, several other competitors mirrored her pose. She scanned her creations, proud of her work.
One by one the competitors stepped forward as their cakes were presented to the mentors seated at the judges’ table facing the chefs. Each of the other chefs seemed to have adopted a similar strategy to Shannon’s, making both traditional flavors and more exotic selections as well. She hoped the mentors would find something they liked in the mix. Lucia got the expected praise. But Ned’s plate wasn’t received quite as favorably. Wayne hated his pineapple cake with cherry filling and coconut icing. And Maya didn’t like his chocolate cake with pistachio-crusted ganache. She said his cakes were dry, probably because he tried to do too much and sacrificed quality.
As her turn neared, Shannon’s heart pounded and she tried to discreetly wipe her damp palms on the side of her pants. Though this wasn’t an elimination challenge, she desperately wanted to do well. To her right Mason moved forward and offered his cakes, but she didn’t hear a word he said. She’d already started thinking about what she would say. When Mason returned to his place in line, she raised her eyes to Maya, who was looking back with what seemed to be a mixture of hope and something else she couldn’t identify.
“Shannon.” Maya’s tone was tentative. She waved her hand, inviting Shannon to step up.
“Today, I made my carrot cake with whipped cream-cheese icing. Next, you have a coconut cake with lime buttercream. Finally, chocolate cake with a salted caramel filling and caramel buttercream.” She kept her presentation simple. These amazing chefs wouldn’t need fancy words to impress their palates; she relied on her flavors to accomplish that.
As they tasted, they glanced at each other, but she couldn’t decipher anything from their expressions and wondered if they knew each other well enough to communicate this way.
Wayne was the first to speak. “This carrot cake may be the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Shannon pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She’d just gotten the biggest compliment of her life, and she wanted to bask in it for a moment.
“I agree, it’s very good.” Jacques’ praise felt a bit more reserved, but he gave Shannon a reassuring smile. “All of your cakes are moist. Good flavors. Well done.”
Shannon turned to Maya, waiting. She needed her praise even more than that of the other two, and she couldn’t stand another of her silent evaluations.
“Your caramel filling is incredible. I could eat it with a spoon. Again.” Maya smiled. “And your icings are exquisite, sweet yet still light and not at all cloying.”
Shannon couldn’t hold back her full grin, and she was sure it shone all the way to her eyes. She did manage to stifle the urge to rush forward and grab Maya’s hands where they rested on the table in front of her, long fingers stacked together. For the first time since she’d arrived, she felt good about her effort and the results. She didn’t know if she’d won immunity, but she definitely wasn’t middle of the pack this morning.
*
“Well?” Maya asked as soon as she was alone with the other mentors. She already knew who she’d vote for. Several of the chefs had standout cakes on their plate, but most had an obviously weak piece as well. For her there were two clear front-runners.
“Looks like your team is the big winner today. It’s between Lucia and Shannon for me,” Wayne said, echoing Maya’s own thoughts.
Jacques nodded and raised his hands in a sign of agreement. “Your chefs, your decision.”
Maya nodded. “I agree. But I give Shannon the win this time. I could rave about all three of her cakes, but her chocolate-caramel cake blew me away.”
Throughout this challenge, a ferocious competitiveness had shone in Shannon’s eyes. But she’d also projected an aura of calm and confidence in her baking. During many of the challenges, when only the decorating mattered, the chefs would use sponge cake premade by bakers who worked prep for the show. But today Shannon had proved she wasn’t just a good decorator but a successful pastry chef, in the real world where taste mattered.
C
HAPTER
S
EVEN
Shannon rolled over and grabbed one of the many pillows from the other side of the bed. She hugged it close to her chest and tried in vain to get comfortable. She squinted at the clock. It had only been ten minutes since she last looked, and she was no closer to falling asleep. At least since Damien was gone, she wasn’t keeping anyone else awake with her restlessness.
At home, when she couldn’t sleep, she would get up and bake. When she’d first started at Drake’s and was nervous about her new job, she’d discovered several new recipes late at night that had made it into the display case.
She got out of bed and wandered into the darkened living room of the suite. Their tiny kitchen didn’t have an oven, only a microwave and a stovetop. Besides, she probably shouldn’t be banging around in a kitchen just outside the room where Lucia and Alice slept. Maybe a walk would burn some energy.
She returned to her room and pulled her favorite hoodie over her T-shirt, hoping it would disguise the fact that she hadn’t bothered with a bra. She grabbed her hotel key and slipped as quietly as she could into the hallway. In the elevator, she hesitated, then selected the floor for the restaurant, fitness room, and spa. She preferred to avoid the possibility of running into anyone else, but didn’t want to chance disturbing anyone by prowling the hallways outside of guest rooms. As the car descended, she tapped her foot. She hated standing in those little boxes and waiting; even in the fastest elevator she got irritated.
Today had been the best day since she’d arrived, and though she should have been exhausted from all the activity and resting up for another long day tomorrow, her mind had been racing. She’d been thrilled when Maya announced that she’d won immunity and had felt much more relaxed during the afternoon’s elimination challenge. The three teams were tasked with creating a preteen’s birthday cake. They had to consult with an overbearing parent while pleasing the child as well. As it turned out, she didn’t need the immunity. Her team’s design came in second behind Jacques’ team, and Wayne eliminated one of his contestants.
If only her team had come in first, this would have been the kind of day she’d hoped for when she learned she’d made it onto the show. But it was definitely a step in the right direction. She felt inspired by their success today, and judging by the fire she’d seen in Lucia’s eyes, the team had some fuel for the next challenge. It was that challenge that had Shannon awake and pacing the hallways of her hotel. As a franchise, the show had several key trials during each season but was otherwise unique from year to year. Ready to tackle the next test, she had been working her way through possible scenarios all night when she should have been sleeping.
The car slowed, then stopped in a motion that made her stomach flip a little. She strode to the other end of the building, walking with purpose, then began to wander back toward the elevators, this time slowing to read the menu displayed on the outside of the darkened restaurant window. Out of habit, she skipped to the end of the page and checked the desserts. Not bad. She noted several that looked like fresh chef specials, but a couple others could easily come out of the freezer. Working at Drake’s had spoiled her. Jori still oversaw the dessert menu for the restaurant, and either the restaurant pastry chef or Jori herself made every item fresh.
She’d learned a little about her competitors in the past couple of days. Many of them were just starting out in the business and hoped to launch a stellar career. Some of them came from families who didn’t help them out, and they had a ton of loans to pay back. Regardless of what motivated them, they all wanted to win. She was no different. Just because she had a great job she could return to, she didn’t want to go backward. For so many years, she’d set aside her own ambitions to make a home for her and Regan. And, when things were difficult, she consoled herself with the idea that her sacrifice was noble. Now that she’d finally gotten her own chance, she desperately needed to prove that she’d had the talent to succeed all along. But only in an empty hotel hallway in the middle of the night would she willingly admit, solely to herself, that she could be that shallow.
She halted as she passed the fitness center, staring through the glass-paned door. Holy hell, speaking of shallow—Maya Vaughn, barely clad, ran smoothly on the treadmill belt, and Shannon’s reaction was completely physical.
Maya wore only a sports bra and brightly colored running shorts, the tiny ones that Shannon hadn’t thought anyone actually wore for running. If she had an ounce of body fat around her toned muscles, Shannon couldn’t find it. A blue bandana concealed her hair. The cord from her earbuds led to a small pouch strapped around one bicep. But the device in the strap was a blur as she pumped her arms to keep up with the speeding belt of the treadmill.
Shannon tried to keep in shape by power-walking her neighborhood several times a week. But she hated running. Maybe she’d never done it long enough to obtain the high that kept people doing it, and she actually had no desire to. However, while watching Maya’s muscles bunch, Shannon thought she might run if that’s what she was chasing.
Just as she was about to turn away, Maya glanced at the door. Damn. Maya smiled and waved. She couldn’t leave now without looking like some kind of creepy stalker. Maybe if she acted like she intended to work out, she wouldn’t seem so crazy. As she stepped inside, Maya slowed the treadmill and removed her earbuds.
“Hi. I don’t want to interrupt your workout.”
Maya hopped off the machine and trotted closer to Shannon. “I’ll take any excuse to quit a little early.”
Shannon managed a nod, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the drops of sweat that traced down the side of Maya’s face and neck. They pooled in the hollow between her collarbones, then streamed into the cleavage just above the edge of her neon-green sports bra. Her mouth went dry, and she had the crazy thought that licking the only moisture in sight would only increase her thirst. Realizing she was staring at Maya’s breasts, she jerked her eyes lower, searching for safer ground. But there she found tight abs also glistening with perspiration. She drew in a shaky breath as she imagined pressing herself to Maya’s damp skin and feeling the muscles twitch under her hands. Before she could control her brain, she said, “It doesn’t look like you quit early very often.”
“I guess I don’t.” Maya laughed and picked up a towel from a shelf by the door. “So, did you come to work out?” She glanced down at Shannon’s pajama pants and her bright-green Crocs, a small smile teasing her beautiful lips.
Shannon matched the expression. “What? They’re very comfortable.”
“Sure, for twelve hours standing in a kitchen. Not for cardio.” Maya’s gaze shifted to Shannon’s sweatshirt, lingering on her chest.
Shannon’s nipples were proudly announcing their opinion of her perusal of Maya’s body a few moments ago as well as her lack of bra—sports bra or otherwise. She folded her arms over her chest. Well, so much for pretending she intended to use the gym as well.
“I—uh—couldn’t sleep. I figured a walk might help. I’m not brave or crazy enough to stroll around downtown Nashville in the middle of the night. So I’ve been pacing the hotel hallways.”
“Wow, they should put that on the tourism posters.” Maya painted her hand across the air in front of her. “Nashville—come pace our hotel hallways.”
“It’s got a ring to it, doesn’t it? A certain appeal?”
“I suppose that depends on who I’m pacing next to.”
Shannon chuckled nervously. “I’m guessing your fantasy fellow hallway stroller isn’t wearing pajamas and Crocs.”
Maya shook her head slowly. “I can’t say that he or she would have—before today.”
“He
or
she?”
Maya lifted her chin as if to say,
so what.
Shannon opted for straightforward honesty. “I’ll admit, I don’t understand it.”
“And by ‘it’ you mean?” Maya picked up a T-shirt from a nearby weight bench and pulled it over her head.
“The whole bisexual thing.”
Maya laughed. “The bisexual
thing
?”
“Well, how can you be into both?”
“Because women are clearly so much more attractive?”
“So you’ve heard that before.”
“It’s apparently the lesbian platform on bisexuality.” Maya grimaced. “You were married once. Can’t you appreciate a good-looking man?”
“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with one now.”
“No going back once you’ve seen the light?”
“Something like that.”
“So we agree that aesthetically, women and men both have the potential to be physically attractive. As a lesbian,
now—
” Maya grinned as she put emphasis on that word—“you might not understand how I can be physically attracted to both, so you’ll just have to take that as fact. In the same way you might prefer brunettes to blondes, I have my own physical types, and they aren’t limited by gender. We agree so far?”