Fire In the Kitchen (15 page)

Cassidy patted the bed to indicate she wanted him to come back to her. “Don’t.” Her eyes softened. “Confront them and you’re just feeding the beasts. Besides, you don’t have any clean clothes and you’ll fuel them even more when they see the pancake ingredients on your jacket. It won’t make good
breakfast
talk.”

Hesitantly, he sat on the edge of the bed and gripped it until his knuckles turned white. The rapping on the door continued a few more times until they heard footsteps walking away. She sat behind him and stroked his hair until he felt his heartbeat return to its normal rhythm and the fight in him became a slow rumble. His anger wasn’t going anywhere, it was just on hold for now.

“He’s hurting you to get to me.” Dante sighed.

“Who?”

“Carlos.” He dragged the name out with a long breath.

“I take it there’s a fair bit of history there for him to be getting to you so much.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. He lifted it close to his lips and gave her the slightest hint of a kiss on her wrist. She enticed him to ease back so he leaned on her chest. She folded her legs around him in a neat parcel and massaged his chest as she spoke. “So, Casanova, did you try to steal his wife?”

Dante felt his clenched fists start to relax again, and his lips curled into a tiny smile. “I’d never do that.”

“I know.” Cassidy squeezed his hand and spoke with a hint of sweet sarcasm. “They’re only fair game if they’re not wearing a ring on their left hand. Right?”

“Come here, you.” Dante swung her around so she sat on his lap. He put his arms around her waist and held her tight. “How many times have I told people not to believe everything they read?”

“Nice,” she whispered, gliding her hand up and down his arm with a feather-like touch. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the sensation.

Very nice.

“Carlos’ father and mine were brothers,” he said. “We all came with them from Italy to start our new life in Australia when we were young.”

“I’m glad they did,” Cassidy said.

“So am I. Particularly right now.” Dante kissed her palm. “Things were pretty tough when we were young, though. Our papas were fisherman. They made a good, honest living, but there was never any money left over for luxuries.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It wasn’t. We lived and ate simply, from whatever the land and sea provided. Mama grew veggies in the back garden and we traded them with our friends and family so we always had a great variety. We always had fresh fish, of course. Once a year we’d buy a pig and nothing was wasted. We made sausages, salamis, sauces…homemade bread, still hot, sprinkled with olive oil and pepper.
Bellisima.
” He made a loud kissing sound.

“So, you and Carlos? What went wrong?”

Dante thought about it for a few seconds before he answered. “It didn’t happen overnight. We were so close we could almost read each other’s thoughts, a bond like twins. We used to live next door to each other and we spent our days exploring, building forts out of sand on South Beach. We did what kids should do, no computer games, TV…”

“You’re getting off track,” Cassidy said, moving her fingers to his back and trailing them up and down, up and down. He breathed deeply,
really
getting off track, and forced himself to continue.

“Things were great until I opened my restaurant and it became popular with the public. Working alongside me wasn’t enough. He was always carrying on about me being the ‘golden child’ and he didn’t get enough attention. He must have decided that our Italian influence with an Australian twist worked better for me than it did for him.”

“But isn’t it your restaurant?”

He looked into her eyes. They were a vivid green. He was surprised it had taken him so long to finally note what color they were. “Yes, but I guess he didn’t like my take on how it should be run,” he said, shaking his head. “He wanted to try a more international, scientific approach using complicated methods. I didn’t. He tried to prove a point while I was overseas.”

“You became enemies?” Cassidy sounded surprised.

“Not exactly. That’s a pretty harsh word.” Dante yawned and unconsciously changed the subject. “I don’t know about you, but ten hours of sleep would come in handy right now.”

His yawning was contagious, and Cassidy joined in.

“We both had a passion for food,” Dante continued, “and when I started up my first restaurant, he was right there next to me. We were inseparable in those days. Things only went awry recently when he refused to follow my only rule of sourcing local produce to aid the community. He went so far as to turn my other chefs against me—it was all about good food to him, no matter where it came from, and he doesn’t give a damn if the source of the food is sustainable or not.”

“I don’t understand. You’re going to have to help me out a bit here.” Cassidy rubbed her eyes. “If you come from Italy, why insist on buying Australian? Maybe it didn’t make sense to him either.”

“That’s a good question,
cara mia
.”

“
Cara mia
?”

“My darling.” He stroked her arm.

She smiled and he felt his heart rate accelerate more than one notch.

“Please continue,
cara mia,
” she said.

“
Caro mio
,” Dante corrected her. She tilted her head to one side in response. “Never mind.” He laughed. “If I still lived in Italy, I’d buy Italian. If I lived in the States, I’d buy American. I love and respect the land I call home, and honor its longevity and future by looking after the people that live in it and what they have to offer first.”

“And Carlos?”

“Puts his popularity first. He boycotted me when I went overseas for my first real holiday in over a decade.” He shrugged. “The rest you know.”

“So what did you do about it?” Cassidy massaged his neck. He felt the tension ease.

“Things came to a head when I got back. I fired him along with his
disciples
a few days after returning.”

“Ouch.” Cassidy’s hands stopped moving for a moment.

“So in a nutshell, my little
tesoro,
that’s why I signed up for this competition.”

“To beat Carlos?”

“No,” Dante said on a moan. “I hope that’s not what everyone thinks. It was to keep my passion alive, to educate as many people as possible about the Slow Food movement. To concentrate on the amazing fresh produce this country has to offer and not settle on cheap imported imitations from the large supermarket chains who maintain the monopoly. Their home brands are going to ruin our food choices with cheap, inferior products from overseas, and small businesses are dying because of it.”

“I come in peace,” Cassidy whispered.

“Damn. I have to learn to medicate people to my way of thinking in smaller doses.”

“What about fair trade?” Cassidy replied. “Isn’t that an equally important cause? I always look for that on the label when I buy.”

Dante kissed her again. He didn’t want to douse her enthusiasm for her own beliefs. She put her arms around his neck and nestled her head in the curve of his shoulder.

“It’s a worthy cause.” His voice was gentle. “However, I believe when you find a purpose you feel strongly about and you want others to embrace your way of thinking, you must dedicate everything you have to it. Make it a life’s purpose, not letting anything or anybody stand in your way. That’s when
magia
happens.”

“
Magia
?”

“Magic.”

“You make my reason for wanting to win this competition seem tame by comparison.” Cassidy sighed.

“I doubt it. Tell me why you’re here, Cassidy.” Dante grinned.

“So I can have my own little niche in the world, a.k.a. have enough money to keep the café afloat and keep my father’s memory alive. Share a bit of my love of food and good coffee and see people sigh when they enjoy it. That’s what brings me joy.”

“That’s an honorable cause, but I think there may be more to it than that.”

“Okay, you got me.” Cassidy shifted. “That was the reason in the beginning. Now, to be honest, the main reason is to prove to those egotistical chefs…present company excluded…you don’t have to be qualified to create great food. Several of those guys and even the female chefs are so stuck up, and they can’t wait for me to fail.”

“That’s more like it.” Dante stroked her eyebrow. “Don’t underestimate your cooking skills. You have more originality in your pinkie than half of them put together. Who else knew homemade peanut butter went so well with coffee liqueur? That tip alone could start a cooking revolution.” He looked out the window and noticed the sky was slowly losing its dark tinge, becoming an artist’s palette of vivid orange and pale pink. “How are we going for time?”

Cassidy reached for her watch.

“Five thirty…we’ve still got half an hour before we have to be down there.”

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Ravenous.”

“Me, too,” he said and pulled her closer.

She gave him all the sustenance he needed.

* * * *

He’d rushed to his room to clean up and get dressed. She missed him already.

Cassidy allowed the steaming hot shower to relax her muscles even more and released a long, contented sigh. She lazily trailed the soap over her body. She only had five minutes until she had to be back in the kitchen, but if tardiness was a competition sin, she’d be committing it. Lost in thought, she watched the soap mingle with the water and lose itself down the drain. Then she came back to reality and grinned, knowing Dante would be there before the clock struck six, and he’d know she would, of course, be late.

What a gorgeous, sexy, delicious man. It was obvious why he was always in the social pages of the newspaper, even if it had been for the wrong reasons recently. Would she be happy with just one night? No, one taste could never be enough. He had the ability to make her feel special. Like she was the most important woman he’d ever met. Was she really that woman? Could she be? Or was he just passing the time while he was in ‘lockdown’?

She knew she didn’t fit his type. She’d seen the media pictures, they were everywhere. Even in her café. For a start, she was shorter than the models he’d dated, and they usually had long, elaborately styled hair. That didn’t have dried-up egg in it. As she pondered what housekeeping was going to think about the food on her sheets, she poured a large amount of shampoo over her head and started to scrub.

After a particularly long shower, even by her standards, Cassidy got out and rubbed herself down with a towel. No time for makeup. She looked into the steamed-up mirror, drew a heart in it with her finger and then wiped it clean, along with the rest of the glass, so she could see her reflection. The dark shadows under her eyes were prominent, in contrast to her fair skin, but as she was still flushed from the night before, she decided they would balance each other out. She dressed in the nearest clean items she could find and raced down the empty hallways.

No one was in the kitchen. She followed the sound of laughter and found everyone in the conference room. She prayed they weren’t laughing about her and Dante sharing the night together in her room. Their humiliating stares and sarcastic comments didn’t worry her anymore, but she hated Dante getting dragged into it. She’d learned to get on with it, gaining confidence from the judges’ comments that her cooking was just as good as the other chefs’, and sometimes feeling sure that it was even better. She was more concerned that Dante’s popularity with the other chefs would wane because of her.

She pushed open the door and was amazed to see they were laughing at filmed images of her and Dante from the evening before.

On the plasma screen, larger than life, throwing food at each other, and acting hysterically, like school kids.

She couldn’t believe they’d been recorded, but she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Oh no, Cassidy, you’ve done it again.

She felt every area of her body turn red, as if a humiliation wand had been waved over her. The laughter seemed unnaturally loud, and she wanted to put her hands over her ears to block it out. They hadn’t seen her yet, so she watched unseen from the corner, near the doorway.

As she watched with consternation, she suddenly thought if it were anyone else on the screen, she’d be laughing, too, even though she was sure Dante wouldn’t be. The merriment of her fellow competitors was good-natured and held no hint of malice. They turned around when she wolf-whistled her approval.

She walked toward them and they applauded her even louder. They all watched the footage together until it stopped, just before Cassidy and Dante had gotten close and personal on the kitchen floor. Cassidy knew they wouldn’t dare show that, and if they did, she’d have a lot to say about it. Thank goodness the show was aired during prime time, while kids were still up. However, she made a mental note to speak to the producers about that later.
After
she’d found Dante and calmed him down.

“Your boyfriend didn’t find it as amusing as you did,” the producer said as he pulled her aside. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear him slamming the door from three floors up.”

“The rest of the footage?” Cassidy clasped her hands over her lips as if in prayer.

“What footage?” He winked at her.

“You’re a good man, Joe.” Cassidy gave him a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. “For that I will give your wife the recipe for my blueberry crumble ice cream you’ve been begging for, the one I swore I’d never give to another.”

“Ah, blackmail has such sweet rewards.” The man she’d befriended earlier in the competition grinned. “But there’s no way you can have the food fight or your initial kiss back—that’s TV-ratings platinum.”

“That’s not going to go down too well with Dante. I take it he had a lot to say?”

“Saw it, hated it, threatened to destroy my career if we televised it.”

Cassidy nodded. “Do you know where he went?”

“No, but he mentioned calling his lawyers and threatening to sue because his privacy had been invaded.”

“So, we missed the fine print in the initial paperwork we signed?” Cassidy raised her eyebrows.