And He Cooks Too
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
And He Cooks Too
by
Barbara Barrett
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
And He Cooks Too
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Barbara Kroon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Line Rose Edition, 2013
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-747-2
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-748-9
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Barbara Barrett
“With a hot-and-spicy hero, a sweet-but-sassy heroine, and lots of fun in the kitchen, Barbara Barrett’s AND HE COOKS TOO is one delicious treat!”
~Leslie Kelly, bestselling author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the home chef in all of us, the inner cook that strives to bring flair and flavor to our culinary achievements, whether those be the creation of a simple white sauce or a gastronomical masterpiece.
I would like to think I’ve become a fairly credible cook, but it wasn’t always like that. Other than how to make chocolate chip cookies, I didn’t pay much attention to my mom’s, Evelyn’s, attempts to teach me my way around a kitchen. I did learn from my dad, Richard, though, the technique for Sunday pot roast. I never mastered my Grandma Emily’s piecrust recipe, but producing the perfect pie is still on my bucket list.
The one dish I could make as a newlywed was tuna casserole. Now, years later, my husband, Veryl, cringes every time I even suggest we have it, due to its repeated appearances during those early years. I thank him for hanging in there as I expanded my cooking repertoire. Today, cooking is one of those special times we spend together.
My children, Leslie and Christopher, somehow survived the food prepared by a mother who worked outside the home, when all the energy I could muster for the evening meal went into opening boxes and cans. I thank my daughter-in-law, Shannon, for helping my son learn to cook more healthy meals and my son-in-law, Chris, for making my daughter’s new kitchen a reality.
Fortunately, I’ve been blessed with grandchildren with healthy appetites and strong stomachs: Samantha, Zachary, Jaden, Turner, and Shelbie, who dutifully clean their plates after Grandma’s holiday meals. And Jack, still under a year, will hopefully follow suit in the future.
Thanks to my critique partners, Jeannine, Judy, and Sarah, and to Kimber Frost for her input on sprained ankles.
Finally, thanks to Giada, Rachael, Bobby, and Paula for the many hours of culinary education and pure enjoyment they’ve brought me via televised cooking shows, which I watched for hours on end as I absorbed terms and techniques for this book.
Chapter One
God, that smelled good! Nick Coltrane inhaled the spicy fusion of tomatoes, herbs and garlic. The pasta dish almost made him forget the real reason he’d invited his aunt to dinner at
Solange
. Couldn’t be distracted by this culinary feast—he was a man on a mission.
The discussion to follow probably would go nowhere, but he had to try. His freedom was at stake. Show time. “My agent called the other day. Haven’t heard from her in months, not since I told her I’d agreed to do your project. Apparently there’s this role in an off-Broadway play that she wants to submit my name for. A featured role.”
Leonie McCutcheon’s slightly slanted emerald greens flickered, but she covered her reaction to his news by patting her mouth with her napkin. “Oh.”
Was that all she was going to say? Apparently, because she went back to her meal. “I want to take her up on it, Leonie. I got your show up and running. You said that’s all you needed from me and then you’d make a run at hosting it yourself.”
She placed her knife and fork to the side of her plate with great care. Her hand went to her neck to fondle the diamond pendant she always wore, a sure sign of the agitation she must be attempting to conceal. “A featured role? Isn’t that a bit of a, uh, step
down
after your starring role on that TV series?” She picked up her knife and fork again.
“So? What do you think?”
She turned her slim pillar of neck to face him directly, her eyes a blend of concern and an attempt to look happy for him. “It’s wonderful that your agent hasn’t forgotten about you after all these months. But do you think you’re ready? I mean—” she shifted her gaze to her hands, then looked back at him—“you were so depressed when they fired you.”
“They didn’t fire me. They let me go when they changed the focus of the show. I only agreed to help launch your show because I, uh, needed a change of scenery while I, uh, recharged. But I’m ready to get back into acting now, so I want you to honor our agreement.”
She sighed heavily. “When I said it would only be a few months, I didn’t realize how long it would take to get the network to notice us. Everything I’ve sent them features you, dear. How could I now take over a show called
And He Cooks Too
?”
He snorted. “Since when have you been a stickler about that title?”
She nearly came out of her seat as she clamped a hand across his mouth. “Shhh. How many times have I told you to avoid that subject when we’re in public?”
“What?” He pushed away her hand. “That I can’t cook?” Saying it out loud felt good. Freaked her out of her usual icy manner.
“If anyone ever learns our secret, the show’s credibility is over.”
Ragging her wasn’t getting him anywhere. Time to switch tactics. “I can’t put my acting career on hold indefinitely, waiting for some network official to get excited. My agent told me she had to do some fast-talking to get the producers to even consider giving me an audition. My name recognition these days is virtually nil.”
Apparently not hearing him, Leonie said, “I feel it in my bones, Nick. We’re so close. Please. I don’t like to beg, but that seems to be my only choice.”
He had to steel himself against her pleas and proceed with his plans. If she turned her back on him for leaving, he’d just have to deal with it. Hell. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t walk away from her. At least not yet, not until he’d convinced her she was up to hosting the show herself, or found some other way to make his exit acceptable. A win-win for both of them.
But he wasn’t going to accomplish that tonight. That point had become abundantly clear. He stood abruptly. “I’ll catch the bill on the way out and tell your driver to expect you soon.” He bolted from their table the way he should have left the show.
Before he could make it to the front of the restaurant, though, a tall brunette in a white chef’s jacket charged past him. She was too fast for him to snag a glimpse of her face, but the rear view, swinging back and forth to her staccato clip, caught his attention when he might otherwise have held back. “Sorry,” she called over her shoulder as she kept going.
A thinnish man also dressed in chef’s whites followed in her wake. He didn’t bother to excuse himself.
What the— Was anyone left in the kitchen?
By the time Nick approached the front of the restaurant, the guy was standing just outside the door, blocking the statuesque brunette’s way. Damn. That meant he couldn’t escape either, unless he interrupted this little drama. He’d hang back a minute in the dimly lit passageway leading to the lobby. Give them that long to settle things. Except that meant he’d be forced to listen in, an unwilling audience.
“You can’t leave me like this, Reese. Patrice is so new. I need your help breaking her in.”
“Breaking her in? Come on, Louis. It appears you’ve already taken care of that.”
The guy sniffed, lifted his nose. “Really, Reese. Get your mind out of the gutter. Patrice got the job on her own merits. You’re good. She was just…better.”
“I’m sure she was
better,
considering the selection process you had in mind. But you promised me that job.” She pulled away from him and swiveled toward the door. “I can’t work for someone who lies to me.”
The guy, Louis, lowered his voice, but Nick could still hear him. “I didn’t lie to you. We had another owner when I hired you. I take my orders now from the new owner, Julian Parker, and he’s a more hands-on kind of guy than our former boss.”
“
Hands-on
?”
“He wants me to bring chefs on board who have, uh,
broader
backgrounds. In television, to be precise. Have you ever appeared on one of those cooking shows?”
She took a step back. “Well, no, but…”
“This guy’s a real foodie. His only knowledge of the restaurant business is what he’s learned from those shows.”
“And Patrice? How does she fit in?”
“He ran into her at some network shindig. She was just wrapping a stint on a show featuring one of their big-name chefs. Behind the scenes, but that qualified her in Julian’s eyes.”
The woman, her boss had called her Reese, angled her head, as if absorbing the man’s statement. It was the first real look Nick had gotten of her. Not bad. Not bad at all. “Patrice got the job because of Julian Parker, not because you and she got together?”
He glanced away. “Uh, well—”
“Both of you?” She started for the door again. “I am so out of here.”
Louis clamped a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Reese. Cut the drama. I thought if I explained the situation, you’d understand.”
“What I
understand
is that there is nothing here for me anymore.”
“You know the code, Reese. Chefs don’t leave their kitchens in the middle of service. You’re good, but not good enough to test it.”
She twisted around. “You can thank your new sous chef for the timing. Do you think her telling me just prior to the dinner hour was an accident?”
“Stick around. We’ll work out something,” he coaxed.
“Yeah, right.”
“Nobody leaves me high and dry. You’ll regret going out that door.”
“Let’s see who regrets what.” She ripped a net from her head, allowing a mass of raven black hair to escape, and pushed through the door to the outside world.
Boy, did life slam its ironies in your face. Why couldn’t he stand up to Leonie the way that dazzling dynamo had with her boss? Louis Whatever-His-Name was a fool. If Reese, the runaway chef, had prepared the few bites of pasta he’d been able to get down, she was a keeper. He’d figured that out even before she let down that gleaming cascade of dark hair. The Big Apple was full of good-looking women, but this one was extraordinary. Those wide-set, coffee brown eyes, pale neck and full, red lips could easily heat up any guy’s kitchen.
Wait a sec. Real chef. Great food. Beaten out of her job by someone with two minutes of television experience. She could be his ticket off the show! Either his replacement or the inducement Leonie needed to take over as host. The timing of her exit couldn’t have worked better. Who was he to turn down his nose at Opportunity?
Couldn’t let her get away. He threw several bills at the cash register and sprinted for the door. There she was, near the curb, engaged in a futile attempt to flag down a cab. Even a looker like that couldn’t stop traffic at this busy hour.
He called out to her heaving back. “Miss? You probably don’t want company, but if I didn’t catch you now, I’d have to hire a private investigator to hunt you down.”
That got her attention. She pivoted to face him, taking one last swipe at the tiny river of mascara running down her cheek. “Excuse me?”
God, she was gorgeous, even with a tear-stained face. “Back there in the restaurant, I overheard you talking to that guy who must have been your boss. You’re a chef, right?”
