Sweet Seduction (27 page)

Charlie eyes flared with surprise. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Deadly.’

‘Wow,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Like watching yourself?’ he teased.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m nervous as hell. I can’t focus on anything else.’

The computer clock counted down the final seconds to eight o’clock. She hit refresh and a new video icon popped onto the screen.

South-East England’s finalists announced.

She couldn’t move, too afraid to know the decision.

Gabe reached across and grabbed the mouse.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Well, shut your eyes then.’ And he clicked the link.

Jasper’s image flashed up.

‘Good evening and welcome to the announcement of the first round of regional finalists of
First-Class Chef
. Starting with South-East England, let me introduce to you our first finalist, suave and good with sauces – Christopher Robertson.’

Charlie slumped back in her seat as the clip rolled featuring Christopher, the man she’d chatted to in the foyer. He looked so professional and confident. She released a long, slow breath.

Gabe patted her shoulder. ‘Remember, there are two finalists.’

‘Hmm.’ But her spirits sank just watching Christopher. His incredible skill shone brightly.

The clip ended and Jasper returned to the screen.

‘Now for our second finalist. She’s a catering assistant with a flair for unusual ingredients. Introducing the talented Australian – cheeky and cheerful Charlie—’

Charlie screamed and leaped from the chair. Jumping up and down, she flung her arms around Gabe’s neck. She couldn’t stop the tears as they streamed down her face. Gabe’s arms enveloped her.

‘Congratulations,’ he said, pulling her in tight. ‘You deserve to be in the finals. The decision was unanimous.’

Charlie pulled away. ‘You voted for me?’

‘I don’t vote, remember? But everyone agreed you were brilliant.’

Charlie couldn’t keep still. She paced, skipped and danced around the room. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘The nation’s going to love you.’

Her happiness evaporated. She went still and rubbed her brow.

‘What’s wrong?’

Nothing, only that I’m about to misrepresent myself to a whole country.

‘Nervous?’ he asked.

‘Ah, yeah.’ This had gone far enough. She had to confess and now, before she went nationwide. She glanced at the computer. A close-up of her face still filled the screen. The face of a liar.

‘Gabe—’

Gabe swung his arm around her shoulders and led her from the room.

‘You have nothing to worry about. You’re an amazing cook and after the first episode, the whole country’s going to fall for you.’

She looked up at his handsome face, his eyes filled with warm reassurance.

‘I have complete confidence in you,’ he said.

She couldn’t do it. Not now.

Gabe had put his faith in her and she couldn’t let him down. The time wasn’t right. She kept quiet.

‘Everything okay?’

She pulled from his hold. ‘Yes. It takes a bit of getting used to, that’s all.’ She walked into the kitchen. ‘I’ll get dinner started.’

‘Not tonight, you won’t.’ He grabbed her hand. ‘We’re going out to celebrate.’ He pulled her into the living room. ‘And I’ve got something for you.’

He picked up a huge white box from the coffee table and held it out.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, her hands flying to her mouth to cover her surprise.

‘I was at the designers’ this afternoon, signing off on the final apron design.’

‘You had a designer do the aprons?’

‘Charlie, once this show goes live, the aprons you’ll be wearing on set will become collector’s items. They need to be special. Anyway, she had this hanging on the front of a rack and I thought of you.’ He put the box in her arms.

A thrill tingled down her arms. She put the box on the table and slid off the lid. There, lying in a ruffle of white tissue, was a black dress. She lifted it out carefully. It was black satin, strapless and slim-fitting, with a corset-style bodice, and featured a line of covered buttons running seductively from the plunging neckline to the hem. It was almost identical to a dress she’d seen Kate Moss wearing in the gossip magazine she’d read on the way home on the tube.

‘Oh Gabe, it’s fantastic,’ she stammered, holding the stunning garment against her body.

‘For a beautiful girl,’ he said. ‘Thought it went with your new image.’

She lifted her gaze to find him watching her. His deep pools of cobalt blue held her captive.

‘We’d better get going,’ he said. ‘The table’s booked for nine.’

She shook her head as if waking from a dream and glanced at her watch.

‘So that gives me, what, just twenty minutes to get ready?’

He flashed her a devastatingly irresistible grin. ‘You forget,’ he said. ‘I have complete faith in you.’

Guilt raised its ugly head, but she ignored it. Hugging the dress to her breast, she ran up the stairs to change.

This was fast becoming the best day of her life.

Less than an hour later, Charlie took Gabe’s proffered hand as he helped her from the taxi. After months of living simply, it felt weird wearing designer clothes. Gabe looked the essence of understated cool in a pair of fitted black trousers, simple white T-shirt and black leather jacket.

They walked down Soho Street before Gabe led her into a small dark alley. When he turned into a nondescript doorway, she looked around uneasily.

‘What is this place?’ Charlie asked.

‘It’s a private club. Mostly TV types, actors, screenwriters, producers, that sort of thing. London’s full of them.’ He pulled open the door. ‘We’re English, we like to feel exclusive.’

She knew all about that. In Australia she was always ushered into the VIP sections of airports, restaurants and concerts.

They descended a steep flight of stairs then stepped into a vast, dimly lit room. She knew instantly this was no ordinary club. Well, not like the ones she was used to, anyway. No chandeliers, crisp linen or attentive staff, just deliciously dark – urban chic. The vaulted ceiling featured curved brick archways. The enormous bar was all copper and glass. Large mirrors adorned the walls and reflected the unique space.

‘Do you come here a lot?’ she said in a low voice. The atmosphere seemed to warrant hushed tones.

‘Yes,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her across the room. She was hyper aware of his touch, and an excited tingle raced up her arm. ‘This used to be a barrel cellar. It’s owned by a consortium of actors and directors who wanted a space that encouraged creativity. Lots of great ideas have been developed down here.’

He waved at a table across the room. Charlie peered through the muted light. Stars from a British soap chatted animatedly in a booth. A couple of the cast waved back.

‘Mr Grenville.’ A young, gorgeous waiter appeared from nowhere. ‘Your favourite table’s available.’

‘Excellent,’ he said. Turning to Charlie, he whispered, ‘Most of the staff are aspiring actors.’

‘Did he try out for
First-Class Chef
?’ Charlie joked.

‘Yes. Brilliant in the interview, but macaroni cheese just didn’t cut it.’

The waiter led them to a dark corner. Charlie sat across a small table from Gabe in a huge red leather wing chair.

‘So, excited?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, but very nervous. I still can’t believe it.’

She fidgeted under the intensity of his blue eyes. She played with the candle in the middle of the table. It went out.

‘Oops.’ She snatched her hand away. ‘Sorry.’

Gabe reached across and took her hand. ‘I know it’s been a big day, but relax. You’ve made the top ten from over a thousand contenders. That’s an amazing achievement. Enjoy the moment.’

Charlie relaxed back into the soft leather chair. ‘I’ll try.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It is amazing, isn’t it?’

She’d accomplished something on her own. No money, no name, no millions involved.

‘This is the best day of my life.’ She cringed as her voice wobbled slightly at the end.

Gabe laughed and patted her hand.

‘Easy, tiger. It’s only a TV show. A great one, obviously—’ a cheeky grin lit his face, ‘—but still . . .’

It might just be a TV show to Gabe, but for her it was a major milestone. She was on her way to building a life that had nothing to do with her family. She wanted to celebrate.

The waiter arrived.

‘A bottle of Salon 1995, thanks.’ Gabe said.

‘Certainly, sir.’

‘Don’t be nuts. That’s two hundred dollars a bottle – nearly one hundred pounds!’

Gabe’s eyebrows arched. ‘You know your champagne?’

Her heart thumped in her chest. She guessed most people didn’t usually know obscure, expensive champagnes. ‘Not really,’ she said, fiddling with her napkin.

‘Anyway, I feel like celebrating,’ he said.

Who was she to argue?

Gabe held his champagne flute aloft.

‘Here’s to you, Charlie Brown.’ He clinked her glass. She smiled and her eyes shone. He thought he could take some credit for erasing some of the sadness that had haunted her gorgeous face.

‘Here’s to me not making a complete fool of myself on national television.’

‘No chance.’ He sipped his champagne. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, you’re a force to contend with.’

A woman’s voice called from across the room. ‘Gabe!’

He turned to see Victoria Felton walking towards them. He knew the young star had just wrapped her latest film project. He gave her a wave. Her career had never looked back after he’d cast her in one of his first projects.

‘Victoria.’ He stood in greeting. Victoria kissed both his cheeks in dramatic style. Usually he enjoyed Victoria’s company but he felt strangely uncomfortable with Charlie here.

‘How are things?’ he asked, stepping back to place some distance between himself and the film star.

‘Awesome,’ Victoria said with a flick of her long dark hair. ‘Just finished filming so I’m here to celebrate.’

‘Victoria, I’d like you to meet—’

‘Charlie Brown,’ Victoria finished for him.

Charlie looked startled, clearly surprised anyone knew who she was. Victoria laughed at Charlie’s obvious shock.

‘I love cooking and a friend emailed the link of your YouTube clip,’ Victoria said. ‘You were fantastic.’ She turned to Gabe. ‘
First-Class Chef
looks like another hit,’ she said, touching his arm.

‘Ah, you of all people should know, success depends entirely on whether the contestants connect with the viewers.’

Victoria leaned in close. ‘I always thought we had a pretty good connection,’ she whispered in his ear.

He stiffened but smiled politely. He realised he didn’t want Charlie to think there was anything between the two of them. Between him and anyone.

‘Well, I don’t want to keep you from your posse.’ He indicated the sizeable group that had arrived with the starlet.

She sighed. ‘Guess not.’ She kissed his cheeks again. ‘Ta-ta,’ she called, walking away with a provocative swing to her hips.

Gabe returned to his seat. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘I suppose it’s an occupational hazard,’ Charlie said. ‘Beautiful women throwing themselves at you?’

‘Hmm. But I’ve learned from bitter experience never to mix business and pleasure.’

‘Oh.’Her gaze shifted from his.

He thought he’d heard a touch of disappointment in her voice. Or maybe he hoped he had.

‘So,’ she said, ‘how did you end up as a television director?’

‘Do you want the version I tell the interviewers? Reading
Lord of the Rings
. Dreaming about bringing hobbits to life and how Peter Jackson beat me to it, or the real version?’

‘The real version.’

‘Well, loving
Lord of the Rings
is true. At school I loved drama and plays. I had a hand in directing each high school production and often wrote the script. Straight ‘A’s in anything relating to the arts.’ He sighed. ‘My father made it very clear he was not happy. He never attended any of my plays. In my final years, my father banned any further involvement in the drama department.’

Concern flared in her eyes. ‘Why?’

‘Grenvilles don’t do drama.

‘I suffered my way through a term at law school, then dropped out. I scored a cadetship with the BBC and that’s when dear old Dad cut off all communication.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Charlie spluttered, the outrage audible in her voice.

‘He made it clear he thought television was a demeaning profession. As for me being a reality TV director, I think he would have been happier if I’d decided to be an undertaker.’

Gabe picked up his champagne glass. His father’s posh clipped accent rang in his ears.
It’s not like you’ll ever win an Oscar, Gabriel.
He hated that voice.

‘But surely he must be proud of you now?’ Charlie’s voice sounded almost pleading.

‘No. He thinks reality television is vulgar.’

He picked up an olive from the bowl and crushed it between his teeth.

‘So what about your family?’

The question hit Charlie right between the eyes.

‘Ah,’ she hesitated and quaffed half her glass of champagne.

Gabe looked at her squarely. ‘Is your father into food too?’

She looked everywhere but into his eyes. ‘He’s – he’s in retail.’

‘What sort?’

‘Jewellery.’ She swigged the other half of her champagne. The waiter appeared the moment her glass touched the table. He refilled hers and topped up Gabe’s. She picked up the menu the waiter placed in front of her and busied herself behind it.

‘The chargrilled spatchcock with chilli, lemon and parsley sounds good.’ She hoped her voice didn’t betray her nervousness.

But why was she so worried? She hadn’t actually lied. Her father was in retail: he owned forty high-end jewellery stores around the world. She just hadn’t mentioned the back-end mining operation. She chewed her thumbnail.

‘You okay?’ Gabe asked.

Charlie lowered her menu. ‘Yes,’ she forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘I think I’ll have the rack of lamb with the smoked eggplant puree.’

Gabe hadn’t looked at his menu. ‘Sounds great. I’ll have that too.’

Gabe signalled the waiter and Charlie sipped her champagne. The lies and half-truths just kept coming.

Would this ultimately end in disaster?

‘Taxi, sir?’ the doorman asked.

‘Yes, thanks,’ Gabe said as he held open the club door to let Charlie past.

She stumbled as she stepped past him onto the pavement.

‘Careful,’ Gabe said, gripping her waist and holding her steady.

Charlie slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her body to his.

‘You know what?’ she said, her words slightly slurred.

‘What?’ he asked, acutely aware of her breasts pressing against him.

‘I’ve had more fun with you in the past few weeks than I’ve had in my whole life.’

Obviously she was exaggerating but he loved hearing the words all the same.

‘I think someone’s drunk too much champagne.’

A black taxi pulled up beside them. Gabe helped Charlie into the back seat then slid in next to her.

‘No, I’m serious. You have no idea what my life was like at home.’

Gabe looked at her closely. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

‘Can’t. Secret,’ she whispered, almost to herself.

He tensed. Nothing good came of secrets.

‘I’m told sharing helps,’ he said.

‘No,’ she said emphatically. ‘I don’t think you’d like me if you knew.’

‘Now, we both know that’s not possible,’ he said, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

‘You really are the nicest man I’ve ever met,’ she said, snuggling up close and leaning her head on his shoulder.

It took all of his strength to resist taking her in his arms. But Charlie was in no fit state to be making rational decisions. He couldn’t bear it if she regretted kissing him in the morning.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of his house. Gabe paid the fare. Better his house than trying to get Charlie quietly into Emma’s garden cottage.

‘Come on.’ He helped Charlie from the car. Supporting her, he walked her into the house. When the door closed, Charlie threw her arms about his neck.

‘Thank you,’ she said and then planted a kiss on his lips. ‘I’ve had the best time.’

With enormous effort and strength of character, Gabe unwound Charlie’s arms.

‘Time for bed,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs.

‘Already?’ she slurred.

‘It’s nearly three in the morning.’

She pulled him to a stop halfway up the staircase. ‘Why don’t we watch the sunrise?’ she asked excitedly.

‘Because one of us has to go to work in the morning.’ He was leaving for four weeks to complete the rest of the regional finals.

‘Really?’ She giggled. ‘Which one?’

‘Thankfully not you.’ He helped her into the guest bedroom and sat her on the bed. ‘Okay, see you in the morning,
First-Class Chef
.’

‘Can’t you stay for a minute?’

A minute? He wanted to stay all night. ‘Better not,’ he managed to say.

‘Okay.’ Charlie fumbled with the zip at the back of her dress. ‘Can you help me?’ she asked, turning to give Gabe access.

Gabe swallowed. It was dangerous.

Reaching forward, he slid the zip slowly down her back. As each inch of golden skin was revealed, his body temperature ratcheted up.

He stepped away from her quickly. Seducing tipsy women was not okay. But he couldn’t take his eyes from her. When she began peeling the dress from her body, he forced himself to the door.

‘See you in the morning.’ His throat so tight he could barely speak the words.

He pulled the door closed behind him, but not before taking a surreptitious backward glance. In that moment she let the dress slide to the floor. Before he could shut out temptation, Gabe caught a glimpse of Charlie standing naked save for a slip of black lace, stockings and a pair of high-heeled shoes.

He pulled the door closed with a bang. He slumped against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. If he’d been closer when her dress had fallen, he didn’t think he’d have been able to hold back.

Those intoxicating brown eyes. A body that seemed designed for the sole purpose of driving a man wild. He dragged a hand through his hair.

Slowly, his breathing settled back to normal.

He listened at the door. All quiet.

Better check she’s all right.

He eased open the door. Charlie had made it into bed, but only the thin cotton sheet covered her almost naked body. He walked in and quickly pulled the warm covers over her.

She moaned in her sleep. A knot rose in his throat as he gazed at her gorgeous face, now framed with dark where previously blonde had reigned. He hadn’t meant to, but he found himself stroking her cheek. He was falling hard for this woman.

And she didn’t want anything from him.

He’d practically had to force her to audition for
First-Class Chef
. She obviously didn’t view him as a fast track to instant fame.

She mumbled softly. He made himself leave.

If Charlie kissed him again, he’d be lost.