Ty squirmed. “Just because she’s a model doesn’t mean she’s stupid.”
Scott’s face was incredulous. “She doesn’t know she auditioned for a porn movie! If the title didn’t give it away, then having strange dicks waved in her face for a few hours should have!”
A laugh escaped his lips. Then another and then another. Soon, Scott joined in.
After several annoyed glances from other diners, their laughter dimmed. “Seriously,” Scott said, wiping the moisture from his eyes, “I thought you wanted something different in your life. A real relationship.”
Ty was silent. He looked down at the table and then back to Scott. “What if…what if the person you’re interested in is someone you can’t have?”
Scott recoiled. “Are you trying to tell me…?” He swallowed a few times. “Are you…gay?”
“Scott!”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Scott said, stealing a line from
Seinfeld
. He scooted his seat closer to Ty and then held his hand over Ty’s. He paused for a moment before giving a few quick, awkward pats. “We’re still tight. I’m cool with that. You know those Yankees tickets I got for next week? What d’ya say I exchange them for some theater tickets? Is
Hairspray
still playing?
“You’re such an idiot.” Ty glared at his friend. “I’m not gay.” He paused. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Cool. Cool. But, you know, whatever man. I love you.”
“Love you, too, man.”
They both let out a few manly coughs.
“So,” Scott said, “if you’re not gay…”
“I’m not,” Ty reiterated. “There is someone I’ve been, well, thinking about. A lot.”
“So what’s the problem?”
How could he explain that everything about his attraction to Ashton was a problem? First, if it was ever discovered they hooked up, even after the show, he would be in breach of contract and could be sued. There was also the fact that she didn’t live in New York, and even if she did, he planned to eventually move back to Atlanta. And finally, the irrevocable damage that could be done to Ashton’s career—and his reputation—if anybody ever accused Ty of favoring her in the competition.
These weren’t problems. They were damned insurmountable catastrophes.
“Let’s just say it’s an impossible situation. But I can’t get her out of my head. I thought if I went on a date, I’d forget about her.”
“But you picked someone who was easy to compare her with. And Greta couldn’t possibly win against this fantasy you have.”
“No,” Ty admitted. “She couldn’t.”
“Why don’t you let me and Ellen fix you up with one of her girlfriends? Someone real. With parts that don’t have a serial number stamped on them.”
“We’re ba-ack,” Greta sang before Ty could answer. She sauntered to the table alongside Ellen.
Greta took a seat, but Ellen just grabbed her purse from the table. “The sitter said Laci is feverish. We need to get home.”
Scott and Ty both stood.
“Is she going to be okay?” Ty asked. He’d seen Laci just this afternoon. It was scary how quickly a child could get sick.
Ellen averted her eyes. “Oh, sure. Kids are resilient. No need to worry. Come on, Scott.”
Wait a minute. Ty’s eyes narrowed. Laci hadn’t even had a sniffle this afternoon, as Ellen earlier claimed…
Scott shrugged and shot Ty a look of apology. “Nice to meet you, Greta. Talk to you tomorrow, Ty.” He leaned in to his friend. “Think about what we talked about,” he whispered.
Ty nodded as he pulled back.
After he’d kissed Ellen and the couple left, Ty sat and motioned to the waiter for the bill.
“Finally,” Greta said. She sidled up to Ty. “I didn’t think they’d ever leave.” She bit his earlobe and then soothed it with her tongue. “Why don’t we take this party somewhere more private?”
He jerked as she reached under the table and gripped him. “It’s late and I have an appearance tomorrow. We should probably call it a night.” He moved her hand, only mildly surprised that it hadn’t caused even a flutter in Ty Junior.
After he paid the bill, he put a hand on Greta’s back to propel her quickly to the door. Just as they stepped outside, Greta draped herself over him like a second skin.
Confused, he turned toward her, only to have her kiss him like it was the last thing she’d ever do. His
what the hell
got muffled against her mouth.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flashes. Four paparazzi jumped around them, catching the kiss from every angle.
When he finally untangled himself from Greta, she just shrugged unapologetically. “Sorry, but that picture will be in every magazine tomorrow. Maybe Woody will see it.”
Oh, God. Woody wouldn’t be the only one.
Chapter Seven
Home Sweet Home.
Ashton stepped through the front door of the restaurant and breathed in the sight, sounds, and feel. She’d come directly from the airport, straight into prime dinner hour. Happily, more than half the tables were filled.
“Ashton!” Jenna dashed from the hostess stand and threw her arms around her.
“How are things going?” Ashton asked, returning the hug. “Do we have any more reservations for tonight? How has the walk-in business been?”
“We have a nine-thirty reservation for eight. Most of the customers tonight are from the neighborhood.”
That will change
, Ashton promised herself. As soon as the show aired. So what if she hadn’t won the first challenge? She was in the top three.
Her stomach fluttered. Just thinking about the challenge unnerved her. Or maybe it was the memory of what happened after the challenge. She needed to calm down, and there was only one place that was possible. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“You just got in. We’ve got things covered. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Ashton repeated.
She walked through the restaurant, saying hello to a few regulars along the way. When she finally reached the swinging doors, she took a deep breath of anticipation and pushed them open. Enough guests were seated for the kitchen staff to be in full swing, and a magical din filled the air. The roar of the burners, the bubbling sauces, the oven doors opening and closing on delicious creations.
“This was supposed to be a side of mashed cauliflower, not mashed potatoes,” Valerie, one of her waiters, said, pushing a plate across the table at Pierre, the interim executive chef.
Pierre turned on the line. “Do you not understand English, people?” he asked in his heavy French accent. “Mashed cauliflower. And I’m still waiting on the fried chicken. I want it in two minutes or I’m going to batter and deep fry you!”
“I may be gone, but I’m glad my spirit still remains,” Ashton said drily from the door. “You’re not packing any knives, are you, Pierre? ’Cause I could always loan you mine.”
“Chef!”
“Hi, everyone. How’s it going?”
Pierre tilted his head sideway. “Very good, Chef. Are you back?”
She could see a tick in his jaw. This was a big step for him, running a kitchen. Even though it was just temporary, it was great experience. He probably thought her returning was cheating him out of the job.
“Just for a couple days. We had a break in filming.” She hoisted her heavy handbag on her shoulder and gestured to the suitcase. “I’m going to drop my bags in the office and put on my coat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
When she stepped through the doorway of her office, she was surprised to see Chloe sitting at her desk. She had her head down over a sketchpad and was in such deep concentration, she didn’t hear Ashton.
“You’re not writing your resignation letter, are you?” Ashton joked loudly. “Because things will get better. I think.”
Chloe jumped up and quickly flipped over the pad. “What? No. I was just drawing some cake designs.” She paused. “Ashton? What are you doing here?”
Laughing, Ashton crossed the small room and bent to hug her friend. “We don’t film again for three days, and I thought we could all watch the premiere together tomorrow night.” She sat in the chair across from Chloe. “What are you doing here this late?”
“I’m just trying to stay on top of the paperwork while you’re gone.”
“I’m sorry.” Ashton grimaced. “I didn’t mean for you to get stuck doing all my work.”
“Of course you didn’t. Besides, you’re handling the hard part. I don’t mind doing a little office work as compensation.” A sinister smile curled Chloe’s lips. “Did you win the first challenge?”
“Chloe,” Ashton warned.
Her hand flew over her mouth. “Oh, my God. You didn’t get eliminated, did you?”
“You know I can’t talk about it. You’re going to have to find out tomorrow.”
“Ashton,” she wailed. “Are you seriously going to make me wait?”
“Absolutely.” She stood and peeled off the light sweater she’d worn on the plane. Then, she grabbed her chef’s jacket. When she arrived downstairs, Pierre stepped away from the table where he was calling orders.
Ashton just shook her head. “Tonight, I’m your sous chef, Pierre.”
Surprise flickered in Pierre’s eyes. “But…”
“Call the next order, Chef.”
Strangely, this was exactly what she needed. Over the next few hours, she let Pierre take the reins and she did what she loved best—cook. When the final order was out, she felt exhausted but relaxed.
She and Jenna were the last ones to leave.
“Chloe said you didn’t tell her if you won the first challenge,” Jenna said as they exited through the back door.
“Nope.”
“But you’re going to tell me, right?” Jenna stomped her Cole Haan heel on the ground. “We’re supposed to be best friends.”
“Chloe is my best friend, too, and I wouldn’t tell her.”
“But I’ve known you a lot longer.”
“I’ll tell you what I told her. If you want to know what happens, you’ll have to watch the show.”
Ashton’s nerves had her balancing on the edge of sanity by the next evening.
“This is so exciting,” Chloe said, dancing around Jenna’s living room. “You’re going to be on TV!”
Ashton wished she could have mustered even half of Chloe’s enthusiasm. Instead, she nibbled on a way-too-decadent petite four Chloe had baked for Ashton’s television debut.
“Have you told your parents yet?” Jenna asked.
“No.” Ashton groaned. “I was hoping to wait until I could send them an autographed copy of my new cookbook.”
Jenna glanced sideways at her. “They’re going to find out and your mother will be really hurt.”
“I know.” It was something she was looking forward to even less than the premiere.
Jenna’s boyfriend, Hal, stepped out of the bedroom into the living room, looking handsome in a pinstriped suit. “Evening, ladies.”
Both she and Chloe mustered a more enthusiastic greeting than they felt. Privately, they both agreed that Hal was smarmy and obnoxious. But Jenna was happy, and that was all that mattered.
Hal bent to kiss Jenna on the forehead. “I’m meeting a client for drinks. Don’t wait up.” He glanced at Ashton. “Good luck with the show-thingy.”
“Thanks, Hal.”
“I didn’t know accountants worked such late hours,” Chloe remarked after Hal left.
“You have to bring in business if you want to make partner,” Jenna defended. “He’s brought in more business than any other associate this year. I’m very proud of him.”
“Sorry,” Chloe muttered.
She and Ashton exchanged a look. There was no point in arguing with Jenna when it came to Hal.
She’d decided a couple months that she was going to marry him. Nothing and no one would deter her.
“Speaking of guys,” Chloe said, plopping on the leather couch next to Ashton, “tell us about Ty Cates.”
“Oh, my God! You’re blushing!” Jenna accused.
Ashton’s hands flew to her cheeks to cover them. “No, I’m not.”
She’d managed to make it nearly two days without thinking about Ty. Her luck had to run out sometime.
“I barely met him,” she lied. “There are about a hundred people on the set. He runs in to film and then sits in his office.”
“He’s got an office there?” Jenna scrunched up her nose. “Why?”
“Well, last season it was probably so he could get a booty call from Amanda Conrad between takes,” Chloe said. “But she backed out this season. She got her own reality show. Something about the hardships of daily life for a model.” She made a gagging noise.
“Modeling is harder than you’d think,” Jenna put in.
“Sure.” Ashton and Chloe rolled their eyes at each other and smiled.
“I wouldn’t mind spending a little couch time with Ty Cates,” Chloe said with a sigh. “Hey, it would be like he was getting two models at once—or one woman who’s the size of two models.”
“Chloe, stop,” Ashton said.
“I’m okay with that,” she replied, popping a chocolate truffle in her mouth. “All women are the size of two models.”
“Actually,” Ashton said, “Ty is nicer than I thought he’d be. I mean, he’s infuriating, but nice, too.”
Jenna turned to Chloe. “Does it sound like something is going on we should know about?”
Chloe tilted her head as her eyebrows furrowed. “I think so. Ashton, what is going on between you and Ty Cates?”
“Nothing,” Ashton insisted. “And stop referring to him as Ty Cates all the time. It’s weird. Why do people always refer to celebrities by their first and last name instead of just their first?”
“To dehumanize them,” Chloe said matter-of-factly. “Put them on a pedestal. So have you kissed Ty Cates?”
“Chloe! No, I haven’t.” She’d wanted to, but wanting didn’t count. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Ty Cates. I mean, Ty.” She grabbed the remote and turned on the television. “The show is about to start.”
When the words
The Next Celebrity Chef
flashed across the screen, Chloe and Jenna clapped and cheered.
Although nerves had been wreaking havoc on her insides all day, all of a sudden, a calm came over Ashton. She may not have won the first challenge, but she’d still finished on top. She had nothing to be embarrassed about.
“On tonight’s episode of
The Next Celebrity Chef
,” came a voice-over, “we have a contestant break down.” They cut to a shot of Elena weeping in the Wreck Room.
Ashton’s stomach gurgled. Why hadn’t she remembered from past seasons that there was a camera in the Wreck Room? Prickles ran down her spine.
“We have a former Miss Texas.” Jolene’s face flashed across the screen.
“She’s gorgeous,” Chloe said with awe.
Jenna shrugged, unimpressed. “She’s okay.”
“I’ll bet
she
didn’t get eliminated,” Chloe added.
Ashton threw her a scowl.
“And,” the voice-over continued, “we have a chef give in to the pressure—all over celebrity chef Ty Cates’s feet.”
“Oh, crap!” Ashton covered her eyes with her hands. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
“You mean you puking on Ty Cates?” Chloe asked. “Sorry, but it kind of is.”
Ashton spread her fingers and peeked through the index and middle. Sure enough, there she was, bent in half over Ty.
“I guess when you said you’d barely talked to Ty, this just slipped your mind,” Jenna commented. She bit into a chocolate-covered strawberry, looking way too smug.
“I was drunk,” Ashton snapped. “We weren’t exactly having stimulating conversation. Oh, God. Are they going to show me drunk?”
“Probably.” Chloe laughed.
“I can’t watch.” Ashton grabbed the remote and hit off.
“Hey!” Jenna and Chloe yelped.
Jenna snatched the remote and turned the television back on. “If you do that again, we’ll be forced to tie your hands together.”
Ashton fell back against the cushions and closed her eyes. “And to think I was worried they were going to cast me as the crazy one who throws around knives. That would be better than the lush of the group.”
“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” Chloe said. “We’re two minutes in. Let’s wait at least five before you start complaining.”
Ty’s face filled the screen, and her mouth went dry.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to the new season of
The Next Celebrity Chef
. I’m your host and head judge, Ty Cates. This year, we’ve got our most talented contestants yet.”
They cut to her face, and Jenna and Chloe started cheering again.
“I’m Ashton Grey, the executive chef and owner of Sweet Home in Chicago.”
“You look beautiful,” Chloe said, putting an arm around her. “Eat your heart out, Miss Texas.”
A laugh escaped. “Thanks. But Jolene is even prettier in person, if you can believe it.”
“That bitch.”
“I wish. She’s as nice as she is pretty.”
They watched the profiles of the rest of the cast, with her friends commenting along the way. Jenna thought Lance was obnoxious, but Chloe said he was kinda cute. They both agreed Duffy looked way too good in diamonds and that Morgan’s smile was as sincere as a snake’s.
Ashton glanced at her watch. “Fifteen minutes down and forty-five to go.”
“With commercials, only about thirty-five of the show,” said Chloe.
Finally, the challenge started.
As soon as Ty announced it, Jenna turned to her. “You made the lobster mac, right? I’ll kill you if you didn’t.”
Ashton just smiled.
As they cooked, slices of their post-challenge interviews were edited in.
“My signature dish at my restaurant is lobster macaroni and cheese,” Ashton said in her interview. “It is the most ordered item on the menu, and I think my partners would kill me if I didn’t make it.”
“Damn straight,” Chloe confirmed.
For the first time, Ashton realized Ty had been in the kitchen the whole time they’d cooked. She’d been so intent on her dish, she hadn’t even noticed.
“Ty’s staying awfully close to you,” Chloe commented. “He’s walked by your station, like, a half-dozen times.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “He’s walking up and down a row. He’s not at my station any more than any of the other chefs’.”
“Yeah, actually he is.” Jenna looked at her sideways. “He keeps coming back.”
“Because he’s interested in our technique. I would do the same thing if I got the chance to observe a room full of chefs.”
After they’d presented to the judges, there was a commercial break.
“You weren’t in the room when they ate your dishes, were you?” Jenna asked.
Ashton shook her head. “We were in the Wreck Room getting drunk. I hope they don’t show that again.”
But, of course, when the show came back, the cameras were on the chefs, not the judges. The first shot was Ashton and Duffy comforting Elena.
“She’s not going to make it,” Chloe said. “Too sensitive.”
“Oh, please,” Jenna argued. “Have you seen anyone more sensitive to critique than Ashton?”
“Hey!”
“True,” Chloe said, ignoring Ashton. “But Ashton gets mad when she’s critiqued; she doesn’t cry about it. It’s like her relationships. The first time she gets into a real argument with the guy she’s dating, Ashton doesn’t cry. She gets mad and dumps him.”