King of the Kitchen (11 page)

He stopped short as soon as he saw Duncan. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said with a scowl. “You’re really wearing that?”

Duncan looked down at the shirt. “What, this shirt? It’s one of my favorites.”

It had the outline of a bottle of wine with the words “I cook with wine; sometimes I even add it to the food” underneath it.

“It’s ridiculous. You look like an idiot.” The words didn’t have much heat to them, and Duncan wasn’t offended. Beck was decked out in one of the crisp shirts and tailored suits he likely owned dozens of, pressed and ready to go in his closet. That wasn’t Duncan’s comfort zone at all, but he could appreciate how well it worked for Beck. Today’s light gray suit and pale lavender shirt accentuated the green flecks in his eyes and made his broad shoulders even more delicious.

Duncan arched into an exaggerated preen. “This is about as dressed up as I get.”

Beck didn’t look convinced. “I’ve seen you in a tux, Duncan.”

“A memorable sight, eh?” Duncan teased. He was thrilled to see Beck’s cheeks flush slightly.

“Only because I was amazed you owned anything that didn’t come from Gap,” Beck said, but his lips were curved into a small smile.

“Please. Like you could find a beauty like this one at Gap,” Duncan sniffed dismissively.

“Maybe Gap wouldn’t have butchered the quote,” Beck shot back. The lines bracketing his mouth had eased a bit, though, so Duncan didn’t think he was wrong that Beck enjoyed their flirting. It was definitely something Duncan wanted to explore more.

“‘I love cooking with wine. Sometimes I even add food,’” Duncan quoted. “See? I know it.”

Beck rolled his eyes. “And having it wrong on the T-shirt is some sort of ironic statement, then?”

Duncan grinned. “No, it’s just a misprint. But I like the shirt anyway.”

“You would,” Beck muttered. His shoulders visibly tightened when a door down the hall opened and, a moment later, Christian walked out. Suddenly all traces of humor in Beck’s expression were gone, replaced with a detached professionalism Duncan didn’t care for at all.

“Gentlemen, if you would. I have a meeting with a supplier at eight, so we need to get moving.” Christian’s tone was easy, but there was something about his manner that made it clear it wasn’t a request.

Beck practically snapped to attention at Christian’s words, and he immediately moved toward the room. The quelling look he gave Duncan when he glanced back over his shoulder promised violence if Duncan didn’t follow suit, and Duncan had to suppress a huff of laughter. There was no question who was in charge here.

He’d been expecting Christian, Lindsay, and Campbell, but when Duncan entered the room, he saw half a dozen other people seated around the large conference table. Christian was at the head, of course, and Beck sent Duncan an apologetic glance before settling down in a seat next to Christian’s. Lindsay and Campbell were already seated as well, and Duncan’s only option was to squeeze in between two men he didn’t know.

“Bob Cook, head of programming,” the man to his left said when Duncan had scooted his chair in. He held out his hand, and Duncan shook it awkwardly. He was horrible with these types of situations. Duncan could work the front of the house flawlessly, chatting with diners and touching base with servers and hosts, and he’d never met a kitchen staff he couldn’t charm within minutes. But formal situations like this one were different. Duncan’s forte was casual conversation, and he didn’t think there was going to be much of that here.

“Duncan Walters,” he said, taking the man’s hand.

“This is Andre Guestes. He’s in charge of our test kitchens here at the network,” Bob told him. Duncan dutifully shook Andre’s hand as well, but he was saved from further introductions when Christian cleared his throat and started the meeting.

Someone put a sheaf of papers down in front of Duncan. His name was prominently featured in the text he was able to skim, and Duncan’s hands twitched with the effort of not tearing into them. His impatience was one of his biggest faults, but he had the feeling opening the packet before Christian wanted him to would cause more trouble than it was worth.

Now that he was closer, Duncan could see Christian had a black eye and some pretty severe bruising around his nose. It looked painful.

“As most of you know, I had a bit of an accident on the court recently,” Christian said, and the room laughed on cue as he motioned toward his face. Lindsay and Beck didn’t join in, and Duncan couldn’t tell from their blank expressions if it was because they were upset about him getting hurt or something else.

“We’ve been filming a week in advance this season, so we’re covered for the next episode. The coming weeks pose a challenge, though. I can’t go on air looking like this,” Christian said. He turned his gaze on Duncan, and Duncan had to fight not to squirm in his seat. “That’s where you come in, Mr. Walters.”

Duncan didn’t like where this was going, especially since Beck was no longer looking in his direction at all. He also didn’t like the almost predatory gleam in Christian’s eyes. “Call me Duncan, please,” he said, hoping to take Christian’s ego down a peg with the interruption. “Mr. Walters is my award-winning father.”

It worked, from the scowl it earned him. “Duncan, then. Your public fight with Beck has garnered quite a bit of press in the last week. This latest situation doesn’t help things.” He broke eye contact with Duncan and smiled as he surveyed the rest of the people in the room. “His father is the one who did this. The man’s clumsy with a racquet,” Christian said conspiratorially, and Duncan’s stomach rolled. The other shoe was about to drop.

“I’d like to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement, Duncan.” Christian nodded to the stack of papers in front of Duncan, and Duncan took it as tacit approval to start going through them. The wording was formal and intricate, but from what Duncan could tell, it was a contract. “My doctor tells me it could be more than a month before I’m back to normal. Obviously, I can’t appear on
King of the Kitchen
until the bruising and swelling goes down.”

Christian’s smile looked menacing, but Duncan couldn’t tell if it was the effect of the black eye or if he always looked mean. “Beck has hosted the show plenty of times, but with me absent, viewers expect celebrity guests. He will take over my duties as host, and you’ll be his guest host for the first week, Duncan.”

“Christian, that—”

Christian cut Beck off with a raised hand. “I’ve already talked it over with Bob, and he agrees it’s a good move. Lindsay?”

Lindsay’s lips were pursed like she disapproved, but she nodded. “From a public relations perspective, it would really help put the rumors about the so-called feud to rest.” She looked over at Beck and gave him a small smile before turning back to Christian. “And I agree you appearing on the show like that is a bad idea. We’d need to have the scriptwriters work in dialogue about the injury, and I think it’s going to be too hard to pull it off without fueling more rumors.”

“And him disappearing for a month won’t?” Beck asked incredulously.

“No because we have a new format for the next month that will explain it perfectly. The studio will issue a press release that laughs off the injury as coming at a fortuitous time because we’ve had this special guest segment planned for months.”

“No one is going to buy that,” Beck deadpanned.

“They will, because the new format is genius,” Andre put in. “You and Duncan have very different cooking styles. We’ll be having you two go head-to-head reinventing a classic dish. We have two other chefs lined up for the rest of the month in case Duncan can’t hack it on camera, but assuming he can, he’ll be guesting all month.”

That sounded interesting, Lindsay’s not-so-subtle dig aside. Duncan kept flipping through the huge contract in front of him. Most of it centered around nondisclosure agreements and rules about what he could and couldn’t say about anything he learned on the set of
King of the Kitchen
and at the studio itself. It was all pretty standard. He’d signed scarier things when he’d been at Kraft.

“You said this would be mutually beneficial,” Duncan said as he put the contract down. “So far I only see how it benefits you.”

Christian gave him an approving look that made Duncan feel a little dirty. He didn’t want a shark like Christian to be impressed with him.

“Maybe you’re more suited to the business world than your father after all, Duncan.” He paused, but Duncan kept his mouth shut, not responding to the dig against his father. Christian’s smile grew a bit more at that, and Duncan couldn’t help but feel like he’d passed yet another of Christian’s tests. “As I thought,” he said cryptically.

“You’ll be compensated for your time, of course. Rather generously. And there’s also the intangible benefit of getting your name and face out there. You’re already something of a hot commodity in the food world, but this exposure can ratchet that up. I wouldn’t be surprised to see you get a cookbook deal out of this.”

“Or a spin-off show,” Bob said, sizing Duncan up. It made Duncan feel like a piece of beef on display.

“Back to the compensation,” Duncan said, slouching in his chair a bit to make himself less visible. “Exactly how generous?”

Christian laughed. “You’ll make more for the week in your contract than you would in a month of hopping around to different restaurants like you’ve been doing.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at the confidence in Christian’s tone. While it was true he moved around a lot, he did pretty well for himself. It wasn’t the salary he could pull down if he settled in at one of the restaurants, but it was enough to keep him in Converses and student loan payments. Mostly. If he ate almost all his meals for free at the restaurant.

“Ten thousand for one episode,” Christian said, and Duncan couldn’t stop his lips from parting in shock. That was insane.

Now Beck’s designer suits made a lot more sense. Duncan turned to gape at him. “Is that what you make? Seriously?”

Beck shifted in his seat. “It’s really not appropriate to—”

“No, he makes more. Plus bonuses,” Lindsay interrupted. She seemed to delight in the glare Beck sent her way. “We have a very large fan base and some pretty big advertisers. The show is the network’s biggest earner. Ten thousand is our standard guest-host rate.”

“I’d advise you to take the offer,” Bob said, leaning in to tap his pen against the contract. “Go ahead and take this to your attorney if you like, but everything in there is fair.”

Duncan was tempted to sign the thing right there because he knew it would annoy Beck, but he resisted. He didn’t have an attorney, and there was no way he would be taking it to his father’s because Vincent would be apoplectic if he knew Duncan was going to appear on his rival’s television show. Honestly, it was a bigger draw than the money. From Christian’s reactions, Duncan was sure he knew that as well.

“When do you need an answer?”

Duncan could practically hear Beck’s teeth grinding from halfway down the table. His ears were red, and he looked furious. “Is anyone going to ask
me
about this? Because it’s a terrible idea.”

Lindsay put her hand out to rest on his sleeve. “Beck, it’s a good plan.”

“It’s a terrible plan! He’s never been in front of the camera before. What if he’s awful? What if he can’t stay on script? And we’re expecting the test kitchen to come up with all these recipes with, what, a week’s notice?”

Andre cleared his throat. “We’ve been asked to sit that part out. We’re resource-prep only on this one.”

“This is where the new format comes in,” Bob explained. “We’ll give you a dish to recreate, and you and Duncan will have a week to come up with your take on it, and then you’ll give your recipes to the test kitchen so it can be prepared for the show.”

The room was quiet for a long beat before Beck spoke. “You’re letting me design my own recipes? In my own style? No oversight and no vetoes?”

“For the next month, yes,” Christian said.

Beck gave him a speculative look and then relaxed back into his chair, spreading his arms wide. “Then, I’m in.”

Duncan wondered what was going on there. He thought Beck helped design all of the recipes on the show, but that exchange indicated he didn’t. No wonder he’d reacted so badly when Duncan teased him about being Christian’s minion. The thought made his stomach sour. He hadn’t meant to actually insult Beck with his jokes, but Beck’s overreaction made a lot more sense now.

“We need to start filming in three days. You can have until tomorrow morning to get us your answer, Duncan,” Bob said. He gave Duncan a hearty pat on the back. “Looking forward to working with you, kid. Your dad’s a legend. I’ve tried for years to get him to work with us.”

Duncan held back his instinct to snarl at the familiar compliment. If there was one thing he hated more than being compared to his father, it was having someone use him as a way to get to Vincent. “He’s going to hate this. Don’t plan for any father-son bonding on your show.”

Bob laughed. “We already have the family slot filled,” he said, nodding between Christian and Beck. “You’re the one I’m interested in wooing over to television now. You’ll go over well with our target demographic.”

Duncan felt uncomfortable under Bob’s appreciative gaze, and he folded his arms across his stomach defensively.

“That would be women ages thirty to forty-five,” Campbell clarified, and Duncan jumped a bit. He hadn’t seen them come up, but all three of them were now behind his chair.

“Don’t scare the new talent, Bob.” Campbell squeezed Duncan’s shoulder and offered him a genuine grin. “He’s right, though. You’re funny, personable, and not hard on the eyes. They’re going to eat you up.”

“Not hard on the eyes?” Duncan parroted. “Something you need to tell me?”

“Yes, your graphic T-shirts and gorgeous mud-brown eyes have converted me,” Campbell said dryly. “Seriously, though, the test group we pitched this to last night loved the idea. They’d all been following the news about you and Beck in the tabloids. I think we’re even going to be drawing in viewers who don’t usually watch cooking shows.”