She refused to open up completely, even though she’d agreed to the interview. Well-known for gaining access to the most exclusive celebrity stories, Charlie pretty much expected full disclosure. But Maya had a rebellious reputation to uphold. And she’d managed to maintain control by insisting the interview take place in her NoLita apartment. In fact, these days, she sometimes only felt in control while ensconced in the light, modern interior of her place in the trendy neighborhood of Manhattan.
She gave Charlie credit for holding her gaze steadily. “I’m looking for confirmation.”
“That I’m the most well-known? Or that I label myself as bisexual?” Maya deliberately drew out the question. She leaned back in the black wingback chair, concentrating on the feel of cool leather against her bare shoulders. She’d chosen her loose-fitting, sleeveless top in order to project the same casual air she was currently faking. “I don’t need a label. I love who I love.”
“Isn’t that just a line?”
She shrugged. “It works.” She stopped short of giving Charlie a flirtatious wink, but judging by the slight narrowing of his eyes, he’d received the message.
“In the past few years, you’ve been linked with a number of men and women.”
She raised a pierced brow and let the statement hang in the air, forcing Charlie to go on.
“Have you loved them all?”
“Have you loved everyone you’ve dated?”
“We’re talking about
your
escapades.”
“Escapades?”
“What else would you call sleeping with,” Charlie glanced down, flipping through his index cards though Maya guessed he only did so for effect, “six women and four men in the past year?”
“Wow, exact numbers. So, you were just being politely vague a moment ago?” Inwardly, she winced at the reference to the past year, but on the outside she remained unruffled.
This time, Charlie waited.
“I haven’t slept with everyone I’ve been photographed with, not that it’s anyone’s business.” She hated the defensiveness in her voice. And she resented the focus of this interview. Despite her many accomplishments, including an upcoming stint as a mentor on a food-competition show, her sexuality remained forefront on everyone’s mind. Because she identified as unapologetically bi, she was automatically promiscuous.
“I’m not judging you, Maya.” Charlie’s suddenly low tone set off a tingle of apprehension. “In fact, after last year I would say you’ve earned a little recreation.”
She fought to keep her expression neutral, knowing only the twitch of tiny muscles around her eyes gave away her growing irritation as they trod dangerously close to a topic she considered completely off-limits. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs in order to cover the instinctive squirm. The silence grew uncomfortable as each waited for the other to speak. Charlie leaned forward as if he meant to touch her arm, but he never closed the distance between them. His sympathetic smile contradicted the predatory gleam in his eyes, and she tensed for flight. She could throw them out right now. Though she’d allowed the cameras into the spacious living room, thanks to the open floor plan, it was only fifteen steps across the gleaming, mahogany hardwood to the door.
“Now you’ve got a new project coming up.”
She relaxed only slightly, uncertain if he’d dropped the subject or if he wanted to lure her into complacency. “Yes. I’m very excited to be taking a turn as one of the mentors on
For the Love of Cake
.” The well-known reality show responsible for her own fame was about to begin its seventh season. The producers worried the format had become stale so they’d offered her a contract as a mentor in an attempt to boost the ratings.
“You’re the first former alum to become a mentor. To date, you’re still the most popular competitor.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“One that many people share.”
Now she was certain she was being buttered up.
“I understand they’ve moved this year’s competition out of New York City. Nashville, is it?” He continued to lead her onto safe ground.
“That’s right. The producers hope bringing the show closer to the roots of the country might connect with the audience.” Most people assumed the South was only good for barbeque and the meat-and-three joints known for their country cooking. But Nashville’s food scene was evolving in every forum, from food-truck fare to upscale dining.
“You must welcome the change of venue. Another chance to get out from under the microscope and all.”
She braced her hands against the arms of her chair and shifted forward. “I don’t have a need to escape.”
“No? In less than a year, you’ve taped three television specials, written a cookbook, and made the rounds of talk shows and magazine covers. I’d say you’ve set an impossible pace lately.”
“Apparently not. Since, as you so aptly pointed out, I’ve had plenty of time for socializing.” She surged to her feet, pulled off her mic, and dropped it in her chair.
“Maya—”
“This interview is over.”
“Wait.”
“No.” Maya strode toward the bedroom, desperate to put a wall between them. Charlie followed, his shoes heavy on the hardwood floors.
“I only meant—”
Maya whirled around quickly, bringing them face-to-face. “I know exactly what you meant. And you know you overstepped. Edit what you have so far however you wish. But we’re done now.”
*
“Jori?” Sawyer Drake called as she walked through the front door of Drake’s Desserts. “We don’t have any customers out here. We could flip the closed sign, lock the door, and—”
Shannon Hayes hurried through the swinging door from the kitchen, hoping to make her presence known before Sawyer embarrassed herself.
“Not going to finish the sentence?” Shannon asked with an easy grin. She wheeled a rack of baked goods close to the display case and began arranging pastries inside.
“No. I don’t think I will.” Sawyer stepped closer, obviously drawn by the smell of chocolate permeating the entire shop.
“Too bad. It would be the most action I’ve had in a long time.” In the twelve months that Shannon had worked at the bakery, she’d become friends with Sawyer and her partner Jori Diamantina, chef-owner of Drake’s Desserts.
“To be fair, you’ve been working pretty hard.”
“Yeah, I should ask my boss for a day off so I can get laid.” Shannon winked and tilted her head toward the kitchen.
She wouldn’t have the energy for a social life even if she wanted one. Though she’d been hired primarily as a cake decorator, she had a knack for assisting customers at the front counter as well, allowing Jori to spend more time in the kitchen where she was happiest, anyway.
Then, by the grace of God and Facebook, the cake orders had increased steadily with her growing reputation. Last week, Jori had hired a college student to work the counter for summer during peak times in order to free Shannon up for decorating.
“Is this what you two talk about when I’m not around?” Jori asked as she pushed through the swinging door.
Sawyer shrugged. “What could be more important?”
“For Shannon? Her new career.”
“I think we’ve proved you can have sex and a career.” Sawyer inched closer to Jori and touched her waist. “Though it certainly is a lot more work when you throw in two careers.”
“Thank you, for describing sex with me as
work.
”
Sawyer kissed Jori’s cheek, then leaned around her to eye the fresh chocolate-chip cookies on the bakery rack. She’d only taken one step when Jori grasped her wrist.
“Stay away from my cookies.”
“You know you’re going to give them up. You always do.” Sawyer squeezed Jori’s hip, then smiled, reached around, and snagged a cookie. “I’ve never been able to resist them.”
Jori laughed. “If your name wasn’t on the sign I’d never let you get away with that.”
Sawyer pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket and dropped it on the counter. “Worth every penny. And you had your chance to have
your
name up there.”
Jori pulled out the same comment about the name of the bakery at least once a month. And every time Sawyer’s response was the same. It didn’t matter to Shannon what name was on the sign, as long as she got to come to work there every morning. She loved Jori’s confidence in her and the creative freedom she granted, and she also enjoyed the familial feel of the small shop and its proprietors.
Jori punched a button on the register and slid the five in the drawer, then pushed it closed. “I wish all of our customers tipped like you do.”
“Ah—of course. I’m glad I didn’t give you the twenty. So, Shannon, have you been practicing?”
“What?”
Sawyer drew an envelope from her back pocket and turned it to reveal the return address. Then she held it up as if pretending to read the contents against the sunlight from the front window. “Well, I happened to grab the mail on my way in here. Why did you use the bakery address for your application anyway?”
A month ago, Shannon had confessed that she’d applied for a spot on the reality show
For the Love of Cake
. She’d apologized for her poor timing and assured them that she probably wouldn’t get it anyway.
“No way,” Jori said, reaching for the envelope.
“Whoa, this is Shannon’s.” Sawyer jerked it away as Jori made one more grab for it, then handed it to Shannon.
“I hope you don’t mind that I used the address here. My mailman keeps putting my mail in my neighbor’s box, and I’m not certain it’s all making its way across the hall.” Shannon slipped a finger under the loose edge of the flap and paused. “I don’t know if I can open it.”
“Sure you can.”
“No, I can’t. I’ve been telling myself and everyone else that the show didn’t matter that much, but now that I’m holding this—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, give me that.” Jori snatched it away and ripped it open. She began reading to herself while still talking. “You’ve had us waiting for weeks. I just have to know if—”
“What does it say?” Shannon demanded.
“You got it.”
“What?”
“You. Got. It.”
“No.”
Jori laughed and handed over the paper. “Yes.”
“Oh my God.” Shannon shook her head, shock making it difficult to read the words on the page.
“So, I’ll ask you again.” Sawyer wrapped her arm around Jori’s waist and smiled at Shannon. “Have you been practicing?”
“I’ve been dreaming about cake, but I don’t know that I’ll ever feel completely prepared.”
“Why not?” Sawyer asked as she took her turn reading the letter.
“It’s not just the cake. I’m looking forward to being challenged and inspired. But—it’s national television. I feel a little queasy just thinking about it.”
“I know what you mean,” Jori said.
“Yeah, Jori would have thrown up already.”
“Okay, maybe I would have.” Jori pushed Sawyer away playfully. “But you don’t have to sound so smug about it.” To Shannon, she said, “You’d better get ready. You’ll be representing Drake’s.”
“Oh, believe me. I’m aware of how much pressure I’m under to perform.”
“Hey, I was teasing, sort of. I know how hard you’ve worked for this. I can’t say we won’t miss you, but we’re proud of you.”
“Even if I’m eliminated early and return after a day begging for my job back?”
“Absolutely. You’ll have a job here as long as you want. But I don’t think you’ll need it. You’re going to be great.”
“So, when do you start?” Sawyer asked.
“Two weeks. Not quite long enough to get things in order. But luckily the taping has been moved to Nashville this year so I won’t be too far away.”
“So close, but not near enough. Even if the producers would allow it, I doubt you’ll have time to be here. I don’t know how we’ll find someone to fill your shoes that quickly,” Jori said.
“I went to school with a talented woman named Mackenzie.”
“Emphasis on decorating?”
“Well, she’s not as good as me, but—yeah, she’s a great decorator.” She winked. “I can pass on that you’ll be looking for someone, if you’d like.”
“Absolutely. Tell her to drop by sometime.”
Shannon scanned the letter once more, then folded the pages. She got her bag from under the counter and shoved them inside, her fingers brushing the magazine she’d put there earlier and forgotten about.
“Have you seen this?” She slapped the magazine on the counter between her and Jori. Sawyer started to lean in, but Jori snatched it.
“It was waiting in my mailbox yesterday.”
“Yum,” Jori murmured as she gazed at the cover. “Thank God your mailman didn’t give this away.”
“What is it, some kind of cooking magazine?” Sawyer asked.
“Sort of.” Shannon blushed. “There’s an article on Maya Vaughn in there.”
Jori flipped the pages until she found the story.
“Who’s Maya Vaughn?” Sawyer narrowed her eyes at Jori.
“The hottest pastry chef on the planet.” Jori tossed Sawyer a sexy smile, obviously knowing she could get away with that type of comment.
“I thought
you
were the hottest pastry chef on the planet.” Sawyer moved closer, surveyed the full-page photo opposite the feature story, and whistled.
From where Shannon stood, she could see the photo clearly, though she didn’t need to. She’d already read the article several times and studied the picture for longer than she was willing to admit. In fact, she’d read every article she’d found featuring Maya since she first appeared on the very show she would now be a part of. Though she hated to admit it, she even read those trashy rags at the supermarket checkout if she saw Maya Vaughn on the cover.
Though not as vocal, Shannon’s own reaction to the photo had been as instant as Sawyer’s. In the shot, Maya stood in front of a stainless-steel worktable with a row of pots hanging on an overhead rack behind her. Her platinum-blond hair, nearly shaved on the sides and longer on top, featured a fuchsia streak in the front and swirled above her head in a style that surely defied gravity. In one fist, she grasped a whisk, raised in the air as if poised to fight. Her white chef coat hung open, revealing a black T-shirt with bright-pink lettering on the front. The swirls and lines of several tattoos began around her wrists and disappeared under her coat sleeves, which were shoved halfway up her forearms.