Fire In the Kitchen (13 page)

“You’re supposed to rinse,” he said.

“No one’s died yet.” Cassidy’s jaw tightened.

Dante’s lips twitched and he fought the urge to laugh. “How are the fondants going?” he asked, drying the suds off. “Nearly cooked? To quote our friend Valerie, tick tock.”

Her eyes started to do their glazing-over dance as she went back into her inner creative space.

“I want the star of these fondants to be dark, silky Belgian chocolate.”

“So go to Belgium and cook it there,” Dante quipped.

“Not that holier-than-thou ‘eat local’ stance again, Dante? Back off, sunshine, and let me finish what I started.”

“I refuse to cook with anything that’s not from around here, or at least this country. How many times do we have to have this conversation?” He crossed his arms. “I have a hard enough time talking them into letting me bring a lot of local food in, and they’re not going to let us do it forever. The promoters are eventually going to want a bigger slice.”

“So you want ordinary. Well, this is my dish, my rules. Too late.”

Dante felt the familiar nerve in his neck start to twitch. It was usually reserved for his apprentices, and he didn’t like being challenged.

“So you
are
a naïve cook after all. A gentle reminder we’re supposed to be working on this together because it’s
our
dish. You’re being a bit precious, and dare I say a tad disrespectful. I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“You do your thing while I do mine,
Chef
.” Cassidy stormed over to the walk-in refrigerator and it swallowed her up.

Stubborn
.

She raced out again with a covered tray.

Ah, so she wants to play games.

On impulse, he grabbed a punnet of fresh strawberries and inhaled their sweet, fruity fragrance. They would go perfectly with his special candy recipe. He was going to show her sensational results using
his
ingredients. Even if he had to force-feed them to her.

The second hand on the large clock melted away as they became absorbed in their creations. The smell of chocolate wafted from Cassidy’s oven and enveloped Dante’s senses. He salivated and fought the urge to ask for a taste when it was ready. She had gone ahead with the European chocolate, against his wishes. Their private cook-off could have disastrous results if they didn’t eventually come up with a combined presentation.

He was going to have to ignore the attraction of the aroma.

*

No more games.

Cassidy took the chocolate fondants out of the oven and swooshed the items on her workbench out of the way so her masterpieces held center stage. They were perfectly risen with a rich crust. Her body seemed infused with their sultry scent. She grabbed a teaspoon and sunk it into the center of one of them. The silken chocolate escaped and oozed out. She blew on what she’d captured and tentatively placed it on her tongue, closing her eyes as her taste buds explored the rich decadence of what she’d just made. She murmured a lustful moan.

“Oh yeah, baby.” She gripped the stainless steel bench and squeezed, shrugging as she readied herself for the next taste explosion. She uncovered her bottle of butterscotch schnapps, poured and skulled a shot, and then had another mouthful of her creation.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Her first chocolate orgasm.

Then she remembered she wasn’t alone. She looked at the gorgeous chef, who ruined his appearance by being so uptight more often than not. His arms were crossed, his body rigid. He’d been watching her intently, but his face was expressionless. He wasn’t the type of man she could win over. He wasn’t the type of man she could tame. He wasn’t the type of man who would do whatever it took to capture her heart, because he’d just made her life very difficult.

But in the time she’d taken to make her dessert, and maybe even before that, he had captured it anyway. She was falling for an Italian chef who seemed to have a wooden spoon permanently lodged in an uncomfortable place.

And it seemed there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

She forced herself out of her reverie. “I’ve done it,” she called out to him and held up the bottle of schnapps. “Come celebrate with me. The butterscotch gives the chocolate another dimension.”

“I can’t put my name to a dessert that doesn’t have local ingredients.” He sank his white knuckles into his eyes and shook his head.

Cassidy walked toward him with her food and stood inches away. Although they weren’t touching, she felt his strength and could see muscles straining through his chefs’ whites, an unusual trait for someone who spent so much time sampling food.

He must have other hobbies that are more energetic.

“Here.” She scooped up a teaspoonful of her fondant and hovered it near his lips. “Have a taste of my nothing which is everything.”

He pushed her away but kept his hand gripped to her wrist. It was firm but not threatening.

“What do I have to do to make you understand why I entered this competition? I’m sure it tastes great, but I want Australian people to celebrate their own ingredients. To have a passion for what is growing in their own backyards: fresh, aromatic, exciting.”

Reluctantly, Cassidy untangled his hand from her wrist. “Dante, you’ve got to lighten up.”

“It’s obvious we’ll never agree. I’ve wasted my time on this venture.”

Dante walked away from her and started to throw his things into a bag.

Cassidy followed him with her plate and touched his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. She dipped her finger into the liquid chocolate and smudged it above his top lip.

“No,” she said as she gave him a chocolate moustache. “I’m just saying you can still get a point across
and
have a bit of fun.”

Dante’s eyes widened as if he were unsure what to do next. Then he smudged away a bit of the chocolate and licked the tip of his finger. His eyes became even wider.

“This isn’t Belgian chocolate.”

Cassidy chuckled. “I’m impressed you knew that. Whistler’s Chocolate Company. Proudly Western Australian. Good, isn’t it?”

“Better than good. Sensational.” He heaped a large spoonful of the dessert in his mouth as he raced toward his food. “Butterscotch schnapps and another fondant…hurry.”

Dante smashed the multicolored candy he’d invented and piled it in an interesting pattern on top of the fondant. He surrounded the dish with fresh strawberries.

“Watch and taste, Cassidy Summers.”

He circled the dessert with a dose of liquor that wasn’t small, and struck a match. Their creation lit up in a ring of fire. His eyes shimmered with the flames. “Is this fun?” he asked.

“Yes!” Cassidy rubbed her hands.

Dante waited for the flames to subside before taking a big spoonful of all the ingredients and feeding them to her. The candy exploded in her mouth and she jumped.

“It’s alive,” she squealed. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s nothing like store-bought popping candy, it’s far more complex and doesn’t have that cheap after-taste.”

“My turn,” he said.

She picked up the plate and started to serve him, but he shook his head and took the plate away. With his other hand, he stroked her cheek and tilted her chin up so she could look at him. He held her gaze with his and dipped his finger into their dessert, tracing the chocolate over her lips as she’d done to him. His finger created a coat of chocolate lipstick. Her body responded and she leaned closer, circling her hands around his waist. As he sucked the chocolate off his finger, her breathing quickened and she stood still, waiting for him to make his next move.

He leaned closer.

His lips met hers and she closed her eyes. It was a teasing kiss that barely made contact.

Short.

Sweet.

Sexy as hell.

A promise of things to come. Her legs went weak.

Cassidy put a hand on the bench behind her to steady herself.

“Mmmm, tastes good,” he said, licking his lips as he walked away. He dampened a towel and cleaned off his chocolate moustache. He returned to her and wiped the rest of the chocolate from her lips. “Fun’s over,” he said. “Lots to do before we call it a night.”

As she wiped her knife clean and avoided eye contact with Dante, Cassidy hoped her shaking hands could be attributed to concentration and not because she was fighting her attraction to him. Damn him for dismissing their kiss when things just got interesting. Her face felt hot, but she could excuse that as the heat from the kitchen. She’d known kissing him would rock her world, she’d been prepared for that. What she hadn’t been ready for was the way he’d made her feel. She barely knew the man, yet she’d felt a stirring from deep within she couldn’t explain. It was as if a simple touching of lips had opened a window to her soul that had until then been painted shut. It was an unexpected dilemma. Her only means of success if she was going to get anywhere in this competition would be to pretend it never happened.

It never happened.

She watched him stretch, and the expanse of his chest strained deliciously against his white chef’s top.

It never happened.

She heard him yawn with exaggeration and scratch his full head of dark luxurious hair. She imagined how it would feel if she ran her fingers through it.

It never happened.

She allowed her taste buds to tingle as she watched him scrape the last of the chocolate out of a bowl and lick his tasting spoon.

It happened.

And it meant something.

If she followed through on her temptation to experience every part of this man, she wouldn’t be able to let him leave her life quietly. His presence was too powerful and he made all her senses come alive. Cassidy pondered what the most important thing to her was at this stage of her life: a man or her newly found career injection. It had been very difficult letting Dante get away with walking away from her a few moments ago after a kiss that had thrown her off balance. But she was proud of what she’d achieved so far with her cooking skills, and she hungered for more.

She was used to having men around, enjoyed their company as an agreeable accompaniment to her life’s main course. This time couldn’t be any different. Winning this competition meant she had to give it everything she had, sacrificing any distractions, no matter how tempting. She’d struggled to keep the café afloat with her mother when all they’d had was each other. Her dad’s memory was firmly embedded within the café’s walls and running it successfully kept him close to her heart. Just because her mother was leaving to start a new chapter with a new baby in tow didn’t mean her dreams had to be shattered in the process. She had Amy to look after, regular customers to cater for, and a cooking interest she was keen to keep alive and fresh and vibrant.

As she packed her knives away in the long black pouch, she noticed Dante staring at her. Having brushed off their kiss, his face was now unreadable and his steel bar posture had returned. She didn’t like it.

“What?” she asked.

“What do you mean, what?” he replied.

“What are you looking at?” Cassidy tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “You didn’t forget your lips, you took them back straight away.”

“You didn’t seem to mind me looking at you a few minutes ago.”

“It wasn’t the looking part I minded.” Cassidy felt her posture starting to imitate Dante’s rigid stance.

“You didn’t like it?” He put his hands out, palms up.

“I didn’t dislike it, but it was just a kiss,” she lied. “I could have done without the distraction. We’ve got too much to do and I want to get some sleep before we compete tomorrow.”

He frowned and large creases appeared between his eyebrows. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“No.” Cassidy sighed and started to chew the skin at the top of her thumb. There was no nail left to chew.

“People always look at a chef’s hands,” Dante said and shook his head.

“So? I’m not a chef, remember?”

“So the fact you have nibbled your fingernails to the quick won’t look too good on the television close-ups, and you must always wash your hands after putting them in your mouth. Or better still, don’t gnaw on them at all.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes.” Cassidy reached for a packet of flour and scrunched the top to seal it.

So much perfection isn’t good for anyone.

“Dante Cristiani, you need to remove whatever that cooking implement is from wherever it is that you’ve put it that’s making you so uptight.”

“Don’t confuse being uptight with being a professional.” He wiped his stove down with vigor. “You need to raise the bar if you’re going to get anywhere. People will be watching your every move. Particularly the ones who want you to fail.”

Cassidy walked over to him and couldn’t resist picking up one of his hands. Short, clean, straight fingernails.

Of course.

She wouldn’t go as far to suggest he had professional manicures, but the man did take care of himself. Dante put his other hand over hers and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Do you always give out mixed messages when you kiss a man?” he asked.

“Maybe. Not on purpose.” She crinkled her brow. “But if I remember rightly, you kissed me.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Isn’t it the girl’s job to psychoanalyze the kiss?”

“It’s not a complicated question.” He reached in his pocket for a packet of mints and offered her one. “These things help keep me awake. I don’t know about you, but I need every vice I can get just to make it back up those stairs to bed.”

Cassidy shook her head. Tonight she wanted to sleep like a baby and didn’t want any vices to get in the way of that. Besides, thinking about Dante was going to be worse than feeding herself intravenously with caffeine. Dante tossed his mint high in the air and caught it in his mouth. She was impressed.

“Let’s agree to be excited about our cooking,” he said. “Then agree to disagree on a kiss that obviously you believe should never have happened and move on. Tomorrow, we’ll start fresh.” He tossed the dishcloth into the sink. “I can’t believe they make us do this. This is a job for kitchen hands.”