Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance (26 page)

She slid her hand over his. ‘I want my good name, Jackson. And, scared as I am, I want to prove to Contiello, to you, to myself that I can beat him, that I am the better chef.’

‘You don’t have anything to prove to me, Zoe. I already know.’ He brushed his lips to hers, only to stop when a trilling laugh rang out over the set.

‘I see we’re going to have several announcements to make on today’s show,’ Josie said. A tall woman with bright-red hair and flawless skin, the talk-show host nevertheless appeared overdone with too much make-up and gold jewelry. Yet the look worked for her and translated well on to television. ‘Any juicy gossip for my fans?’

‘Only that I’m in love with Chef Matthews,’ Jackson said.

Zoe smiled. The words were coming more easily each time they said them.

‘What was that, Mr Levy?’ Josie asked, her loud voice coming across the set.

‘I said, Chef Matthews and I are dating,’ Jackson answered, louder this time so Josie could hear it.

Zoe felt a small wave of disappointment at his change of words, but didn’t let her smile fade. He’d said he loved her and that counted for something. He hadn’t said he wanted to spend eternity with her.

Zoe stopped her thoughts. This wasn’t a romance novel. It was real life and in real life men didn’t talk like that.

‘Ooh!’ Josie clapped her hands. ‘Perfect! This is going to be a great show.’

The host sat in the main chair, wiggling around in it and taking deep breaths in what appeared to be some bizarre pre-show ritual. Zoe suppressed a laugh as Jackson led her back toward the guest dressing rooms.

‘We have five minutes until the show starts and maybe another five before you’re introduced,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Want me to help you relax?’

‘You shouldn’t have said that. Now I’ll be thinking of jumping you the entire show.’ Knowing live television and facing Contiello were so close, she inhaled sharply. ‘Omigod, five minutes.’

‘Hey.’ Jackson pulled her into the dressing room and held her close. Stroking her hair, he said soothingly, ‘We talked about this. You’re going to be fine, just remember what we practiced last night.’

Zoe arched a brow, thinking of how they’d made love in
one
of the hotel chairs, their bodies smothered in whipped cream from the pie room service had brought.

‘Not that.’ He laughed. ‘Though I am suddenly craving banana cream.’

She felt a stirring near her stomach, and pulled back. ‘I’m pretty sure you don’t want that poking out during the show.’

A knock sounded on the door. ‘Ten minutes!’

Zoe again tensed.

‘Seriously.’ Jackson cupped her face, turning her attention from the door back to him. He kissed her, stealing her breath. ‘You know what to say. Just remember to smile and be yourself. If you get nervous, look at me. I’ll be sitting next to you the whole time.’

Jackson watched Zoe from the corner of his eye. Somehow, her nervousness kept him calm, as if his body automatically knew she needed him to be strong. Her bright smile only belied the slight shaking in her hands as she clutched them in her lap.

The small microphone attached to her lapel carried her soft voice easily and, though Jackson knew he might be prejudiced, beautifully. On his other side sat Contiello. The man’s boisterous attitude was a stark contrast. He knew that Contiello would appear charming and sexy to people watching, but Jackson saw easily through the façade. He could only hope everyone else would as well. Josie stayed impartial during the interviews, though she smiled and flirted with Contiello, who encouraged her behavior with hearty laughs and wide-sweeping gestures.

‘I maintain that the recipes are mine,’ Contiello said, never losing his smile. ‘They were created in my kitchen,
under
my guidance and supervision. My mistake was trusting her to write them down.’

‘Zoe?’ Josie prompted.

‘We never worked on recipes together. My recipes are mine. I’ve been creating them since I was a little girl,’ Zoe defended herself. ‘I would never take his recipes.’ Shooting Contiello an annoyed look, she added, ‘They’re not that good.’

Laughter erupted over the audience, followed by a chorus of, ‘
Ooooh
.’

Contiello lost some of his ease, adjusting his position in his chair. ‘Tell that to the thousands trying to get into my restaurant.’

‘
Ohhhh
,’ sounded again.

Jackson knew Contiello was exaggerating, but he didn’t call him on it. He refused to get into a pissing match with the man on public television.

Zoe gave a small laugh and shook her head. ‘This is ridiculous. They’re my recipes. I even have notations of when and where I wrote them.’

‘Forged. You’ve had time to do it,’ Contiello answered.

‘I can tell you what inspired them.’ Pausing, she gave the chef a pointed look. ‘Can you even name half of them? A quarter? You don’t even know what they are.’

‘How am I to know what you called them?’ Contiello waved a dismissive hand.

‘Can you even tell me what ingredients are in them?’ Zoe demanded.

‘I did not come on here to fight,’ Contiello said.

‘Which brings us to our challenge,’ Josie interrupted a little too eagerly. ‘We’ll be right back!’ As the show paused for a commercial break, the host turned to her guests after
switching
off her microphone. ‘This is good. Though I’d like to see more emotion.’

Zoe turned to Jackson so her back was toward Josie and raised an eyebrow. A staff member carrying a tray with bottled water hurried across the set. Zoe grabbed a bottle and took a quick drink before putting it back on the tray. Jackson did the same, though he wasn’t that thirsty. He’d stayed quiet for the first segment, only speaking when directly asked a question.

‘Mr Levy,’ Josie continued, ‘feel free to jump into the conversation. We want to hear what you have to say about this.’

Contiello snorted, before turning his attention to the crowd. He smiled at some nearby ladies in the audience, winking audaciously at them.

‘One minute,’ someone yelled.

‘You’re doing great,’ Jackson whispered to Zoe, hoping to reassure her. She gave him a little smile and he hated seeing the stress lining her eyes. All he could do was help her through this. He knew the goal she wanted and he’d help her get there. As for the two of them, he’d just have to wait and see where that led. She’d said she loved him, and showed it was true with small smiles and quick glances, but she never spoke of the future. Maybe, like him, she didn’t know what the future would bring.

‘And we’re back!’ Josie said. ‘Mr Levy, what do you think of this whole situation?’

‘I believe Chef Matthews,’ Jackson answered, without pausing.

‘Really? I’m not surprised. Isn’t it true you’re seeing Chef Matthews?’ Josie looked pointedly at her audience with a knowing smile, as if conveying some secret message. ‘Privately?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted, not caring that the world knew. ‘But truth is truth.’

A wave of frustration washed across the host’s features. He knew she wanted some big battle, some explosion of wills, declarations of love and wild jumping excitement. Instead she got adult calm. Well, from Zoe and Jackson at least. From Contiello she got childish snorts and flamboyant gestures.

‘Before the break, we were discussing the true ownership of certain culinary masterpieces. In a few weeks, on this station, Chef Contiello and Chef Matthews will battle it out for the recipes on
Battle Chefs
!’ Applause met Josie’s announcement. Time seemed to crawl as the show continued. Josie asked more questions, doing her best to promote lively debate. A few times she came close, but Zoe restrained herself well.

‘I’d like to welcome our next guests, who might be able to shed some light on this debate.’ Josie stood, holding her hand out. ‘Please welcome Chef Matthews’ sisters, New York City Detective Megan Brady, photographer Kat Richmond and their mother, psychic Beatrice Matthews.’

Zoe gasped, standing to see her sisters and mother. Beatrice’s ageless face made it impossible to guess her age, and only the fact she had five grown daughters suggested she must be in her fifties. Her blue eyes glowed and it was easy to see the strong resemblance between the sisters and their mother, even if Kat’s long blonde hair were streaked with blue, matching the trendy empire-waist dress and heels. A polar opposite, the more serious Megan’s dark-brown locks were pulled into a large bun, a perfect utilitarian match to her black slacks and fitted white linen shirt. All that was missing from her image was the police badge secured to her waistband.

‘Welcome,’ Josie announced, as if inviting people into her home. Zoe hugged her sisters and mother, exchanging questioning looks that couldn’t be expressed in words. As they sat on chairs that must have been brought out during the break, Jasie said, ‘So, Beatrice – a psychic, how interesting. What exactly do you do?’

Zoe looked across the table at her mother. The show had gone as well as could be expected, neither wonderful nor completely horrible. Beatrice had been only too happy to give her television debut talking about the art of tasseography, going so far as to do a tea-leaf reading of Josie’s future. Fortunately, it looked bright, as far as Hollywood careers went, and the host had been thrilled. The second half of the hour-long show had mostly involved talking about reading tea leaves and how Beatrice had got into the career.

Megan and Kat had defended Zoe’s recipes in no uncertain terms. Contiello had flinched under Megan’s stare and left making comments about being sabotaged by Josie and her producers, as there had been no one on the show to defend his position but his agent. Kat had called him several names that would undoubtedly be beeped out by whatever regulating censors the control booth used to keep profanity off public television.

At the end of the show, before the host wrapped up, Kat had gone on to say to Josie and the audience, ‘Zoe has proven herself time and time again every bit as talented as Conti over there. It’s only a matter of time before she opens her own restaurant.’

Even now, the comment made Zoe smile. Kat’s unwavering faith in her never failed to brighten her day. At least the show had ended on a good note.

Jackson had ordered a limo as a surprise for Zoe, but their cosy party of two had turned into five. Instead of the intimate evening she’d envisaged driving around town and making love, they’d ended up at dinner with Zoe’s mother and sisters. Beatrice had insisted on an Asian steakhouse and they’d ended up at a place that resembled a Japanese palace. The center and one side of the table were taken up by a grill where the chefs cooked the food in front of the customers. Zoe and Jackson sat at the end. Megan was at her other side, then Kat and her mother.

‘So, Jack, what are your intentions towards our Zoe?’ Kat asked bluntly, eying Jackson.

‘Ah.’ He glanced at Zoe. ‘I really like your sister, I mean, I love her and –’

‘Wait.’ Kat held up her hand. ‘I was talking about her career. What do you mean you –?’

‘Oh, Zoe! I knew this would happen. I told you, remember, when you called and –’ Beatrice began, her chin-length hair barely moving under the weight of hairspray.

Megan stopped her. ‘Mom, enough, please. You promised no more future-reading tonight. Don’t make me call Dad.’

Beatrice made an exasperated noise and waved her hand. Megan winked at Zoe.

‘I’ve offered Zoe a job in New York at a new restaurant. She has yet to say yes, but I’ve given her a contract for the next eighteen months,’ Jackson said. The chef appeared at their table, beginning his performance of cooking. Zoe glanced at him, watching with interest as he flipped his utensils in the air, catching them before tapping the metal edges along the grill.

‘Oh, she says yes,’ Kat answered for her. ‘We want her back in the city. I
need
her back in the city. She says yes.’

Zoe thought of protesting, but the truth was she had no
reason
to other than that she didn’t want to leave Jackson. This thing they had just started and moving back to New York meant a long-distance relationship. Those rarely seemed to work.

‘Yes,’ she said to Jackson. ‘I’ll take it. It’s a dream come true. Kat’s right. How can I say no?’

Kat cheered. Megan grinned. Beatrice said, ‘I knew it!’

The chef made a joke and flipped an egg into the air, then cracked it on his spatula. Each of his fluid movements had both grace and purpose. Next, he placed rice, onions, shrimp, steak, calamari and vegetables on the grill. The sizzle of food wafted around them, carrying with it the overpoweringly fishy smell of the squid her mother had ordered.

‘I’ve been thinking about writing a cookbook when this
Battle Chefs
is all over,’ Zoe said, her stomach tight as she wondered what the future held. Contiello might be an ass, but the truth was he was a good cook: not very original, but he knew what he was doing. A show like
Battle Chefs
didn’t demand originality so much as perfection. The more she thought about what could go wrong, the more she worried. What if the judges happened to hate whatever she did for some unknown reason? What if Contiello’s presentation was better? Or a judge was single and he flirted with them? The man could be charming.

Jackson’s hand slid onto her knee, squeezing her gently in reassurance. She gave him a small smile.

‘I think that’s a fine idea,’ Beatrice said. ‘I always thought I’d have a writer for a daughter.’

‘I don’t know if it’s really writing so much as creating,’ Zoe protested.

‘Let her count it,’ Megan interrupted. ‘I don’t want her
trying
to get me to write some book. I barely have time to read my case files.’

‘You took time off for this show, though,’ Zoe said. ‘I don’t think I’ve said thank you enough for coming. I know you’re busy.’

‘Ah, a few Upper East Side break-ins.’ Megan waved her hand in dismissal. Once a complete workaholic, she’d been much better about taking time for family since meeting her husband. ‘No one was hurt and the paperwork can wait.’

‘Excuse me, what’s this about being in love?’ Kat broke in. ‘I don’t remember getting a phone call about this new development.’