Talk of the Town (14 page)

Touching her slightly spiked hair, Kate smiled. “Stop joking, Harry, and concentrate on your cooking.” She turned to study Rebecca. “How do you feel?”

“Like a winner!” Rebecca declared. She was a nervous wreck as more and more guests poured into the room, but she was determined not to worry an already burdened Kate. “Go check out our competition and report back to us.”

“I’ll be back later,” Kate promised before joining Pauline and the girls in a group from the office.

Rebecca caught a glimpse of Tim talking to Charlie and Martha Bartholomew. It always amazed her how Tim could be so polite and complimentary to Charlie in public, when he had nothing good to say about him in private. Maybe it was because the rivalry between the papers made money for both of them.

George strolled up and leaned in to kiss Rebecca’s cheek. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, trying to nuzzle her ear and look down the front of her gown.

Embarrassed, she pulled away. “Behave, George.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught David staring at them, with a serious, appraising look on his face as he sized up George again. Beside David stood Shannon, her face turning a sick shade of pale, pale lime green.

Why does she always look like she wants to murder me? I’m the injured party.

Determined to ignore her fluttering nerves and breathless anticipation of sparring with David, Rebecca concentrated on melting butter and chocolate in a saucepan over low heat. Very carefully, she transferred the mixture into a bowl without spilling a drop and slowly began to beat in sugar, eggs, syrup, salt, and vanilla.

Remembering Harry’s instruction to smile, she looked up at the large crowd surrounding them and directly into David’s amused face.

The wooden mixing spoon slipped out of her fingers to disappear beneath a sea of chocolate.

The collective gasp got Harry’s attention. “Never fear! I’m here!” he declared. From a clear plastic bag he took out what appeared to be oddly shaped stainless-steel scissors.

He held them up to the rapt audience. “These are DeBakey forceps, used in face-lifts.”

Some women self-consciously stroked their cheeks and throats.

“As you can see, this forceps is longer than normal, with nice strong teeth at the end.” He plunged it into the chocolate depths. “By using the correct touch, I will grab the wood without marring it . . .” He stared down into the chocolate and twisted his wrist ever so slightly. “. . . and then we will . . . have it!” His face triumphant, he held up the dripping spoon.

An avaricious look in his eyes, he scanned the crowd. “Would anyone like to lick it?”

Although everyone clapped and laughed, Rebecca saw quite a few looks from men and women that told her they’d like to take Harry up on
both
offers.

“Can I have the spoon to lick, Aunt Becky?” Polly yelled, pushing to the front of the low counter.

“Of course, darling.” Rebecca placed the warm chocolate-coated spoon on a small plate. “But you must share with your sister. And don’t get chocolate on your pretty dress, or your mother will kill me.”

Watching Polly run off, Rebecca caught sight of David and Charlie looking at her. Charlie, who always reminded her of Santa Claus, even in a tux, waved to her.

I know they’re talking about me. What? My cooking ability? Or lack of it?

Turning her back on them, she at last placed the pie in the oven to bake for forty minutes. Collapsing back against the low counter, she tried to get Harry’s attention, but he was engrossed in entertaining his fans.

Charlie and Martha, who was the perfect Mrs. Claus, pleasingly plump and always smiling, strolled over to the kitchen.

“Rebecca, I knew you would be a great success tonight. Remember at that dinner last year when we discovered we’re both Libras? Our horoscopes predicted good things. You look so beautiful and did such a good job tonight, didn’t she, Charlie?” Martha looked adoringly up at him.

“Yes, indeed. Fine job tonight.”

“Thank you. It was for a good cause. Is someone here cooking from the
Journal and Courier
?”

Charlie’s deep belly laugh made Rebecca chuckle. “We aren’t lucky enough to have a beautiful celebrity like you in our Food section.” He wagged a pudgy finger at her. “I’m keepin’ my eye on you. You’re doin’ interestin’ work lately.”

Martha nodded as they wandered off.

What was that all about?
Rebecca watched them move through the crowd. They were always friendly to her, but there was something definitely different tonight.

At the far end of the room Rebecca saw the judges, two well-known chefs and a famous restaurateur, start tasting. Wonderful aromas were filling the room.

Including our pie, thanks to Harry.

By the time the judges arrived at their mini kitchen, Rebecca and Harry had the pie, topped with whipped cream, ready. With great ceremony, she sliced a small piece for each of them. Tightly clasping Harry’s hand behind her back, she felt nauseated watching them eat. When each of them nodded and smiled in turn, Harry grabbed her in a bear hug.

“It’s over, sweet pea. Now relax,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m going to the bar. After this, I need a drink.”

David walked toward her, carrying two flutes of champagne.

Anticipation poured through her like dark, warm honey.

The shadow between Rebecca’s breasts was the color of honey. David’s gut tightened. He wanted to lick there to taste it. He’d seduced his share of women in the last few years, but never someone he knew was off limits. This was a game he’d play only so far. He placed a glass in her hand. “The lady deserves champagne.”

“Yeah, the lady does,” George drawled, strolling up, carrying two flutes of his own.

When George thrust one into Rebecca’s other hand, she widened her eyes, looking back and forth between them. She laughed, shaking her head, and clicked each of their glasses simultaneously. “Thank goodness it’s over,” she toasted and took a gulp from each flute.

George tilted his glass of champagne down his throat, but David only tasted his, watching Rebecca. Her amused gaze told him she thought they were both acting idiotic. Yeah, he knew it, too, but he liked the rush of competition.

George squared his shoulders. “So, David, I understand with your business interests all over the world, you’ll be leaving Chicago soon.”

David shot him a short, cool look before focusing his eyes again on Rebecca. “Chicago’s a great city. I’m considering making this my home base.”

“Once you’ve experienced one of our winters you’ll change your mind.” George shrugged dismissively. “You strike me as a fair-weather kind of guy.”

He slid George a bored look out of the corner of his eyes. No way was he letting this guy get the last word. “When I want to turn up the temperature, I’ll hop in the jet with a friend and head to my place in the islands.” He deliberately looked deep into Rebecca’s eyes. Her lips parted ever so slowly.

Mesmerized by thoughts of how her luscious mouth might taste—had she licked the chocolate-coated spoon?—he was annoyed when a loud crackling came from the PA system. Like everyone else, he had no choice but to turn to Milly standing behind the podium.

“Your attention, please! Is this thing on?” Milly asked, tapping the microphone with her nails. Screeching reverberated through the room, like fingernails on a chalkboard, sending a shudder through most of the crowd. David steeled himself not to flinch. He felt mildly the winner when George did react.

“Yes. It is. Ladies and gentlemen, the judges have reached their decision.” Milly paused and let everyone dutifully applaud.

“The winners will each receive their own frying pan with a copper bottom inscribed with their names. And the winners are . . . where did I put . . . yes, here it is.” Milly’s magnified sigh was greeted by a spattering of laughter. His gaze found Rebecca, and they both smiled.

“The winner, for his Pot Roast and Mashed Potato Casserole prepared to resemble circus animals, is Gozo the Clown and his assistant, fellow clown Winky Dinky!”

Amid the applause, Milly rapped again to quiet the crowd. “And in the dessert category . . .” she screamed into the microphone to get everyone’s attention. “In the dessert category,” Milly repeated in a modulated tone. “The winner, for her Not Low-Cal Triple Orgasmic Fudge Pie, is Rebecca Covington and her assistant, Dr. Harry Grant.”

“I can’t believe it,” Rebecca breathed, her face flushed and her eyes wide and light.

David almost pulled her into his arms but stopped at the last second, thrusting one hand into his tux pocket and nearly snapping the flute stem with his other. “Congratulations, Rebecca.”

“Yeah, beautiful, we have a lot to celebrate next week at dinner.” George shot David a cocky grin.

David turned to shoot back, jealous at the idea of George having dinner with Rebecca.

Harry stepped between them.

“Sweet pea, we won!” Harry grabbed Rebecca in a hug that lifted her off the floor and swung her around. The way David had wanted to do. “Now we can really celebrate over dinner.”

“You won, Aunt Becky, you won!” Patty and Polly shouted, pushing past David to reach her. He saw Pauline pale when she recognized whom the girls had nearly trampled in their eagerness. He laughed, and she blushed, before following the girls to Rebecca’s side.

Polly stuck a finger in the whipped-cream topping and licked it off. “Mom says we have to go now.”

“Can we take the rest of the pie home with us?” Patty asked.

“Of course you can take it home, darlings.” Rebecca kissed them both on their smooth pink cheeks.

“Oh, thank you, Rebecca. One slice and they’re going straight to bed,” Pauline declared with a determined glint in her eyes.

“Here you are.” Harry handed the pie pan to Pauline. “I wrapped it in foil for you.”

David watched them until they disappeared out the door. A happy family. Like he’d once had. He turned back to Rebecca with the oddest wish that she would kiss him like she had the girls.

Heat scorched Rebecca’s cheeks. She
knew
David wanted to kiss her. What scared her to the toes of her Manolos was that she wanted to kiss him, too. Not feelings she should have for the boss who had fired her.

Harry nudged her. “Time to go in to dinner, sweet pea.”

“You’re both at my table.” David twined their fingers together to lead her out of the kitchen. The caress of his warm, dry skin against hers quickened her pulse like it had that first night at Allen’s.

George grabbed her other hand, pressing a quick kiss on her palm. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, a husky note in his voice.

In a euphoric daze of happiness at winning, and total, absolute, delirious confusion at what she should do about these inappropriate feelings for David, she sat sandwiched between him and Harry, with Kate beside him. From the next table, Tim gave her a thumbs-up and beside him, Shannon, as usual, glared at her.

Again the PA system crackled as Milly stood at the podium, which had been moved into the dining room. She was holding up a fishbowl full of small pieces of white paper.

“It is now time to draw the celebrity chef. The fortunate bidder will have the services of the chef at a dinner for six. Shannon Forrester from the
Daily Mail
will pull the celebrity chef name.”

Shannon stood to go to the podium and looked over her shoulder to flash a smug smile in Rebecca’s direction.

All the breath went out of Rebecca’s lungs.
She’s going to pull my name!

Rebecca clutched Harry’s thigh under the table.

His eyes widened. “Sweet pea, the guy you want to do that to is sitting on the other side of you,” he gasped under his breath.

“Shannon’s going to pick me, Harry,”
she whispered.

He slid her a sideways glance. “Relax. The odds are in your favor she’ll pick someone else.”

Her heart banged painfully against her ribs, and she tightened her grip on Harry’s thigh for courage as Shannon made a huge production out of stirring around the small white slips in the fishbowl. Very slowly, she pulled out one piece of paper.

“Rebecca Covington,” Shannon called out and with a glittering smile crumpled the piece of paper in her fist.

Numb, Rebecca fell back in the chair. Instinctively, she smiled as everyone looked at her and applauded, but all the sounds in the room faded into the distance. An incredible calmness made the whole world seem to move in slow motion. She had been right on that first day. Shannon had been sabotaging her from the beginning.

Kate’s face peering anxiously around David brought her back to noise and reality. She’d been set up, and there was nothing she could do to fix it
.

Milly tapped the microphone again. “Will someone start the bidding for Miss Covington at five hundred dollars?”

Harry held up his right hand while patting Rebecca’s back with his left.

“We have five hundred. Do I hear six hundred?”

“Six hundred!” George called from across the room.

“One thousand!” David’s deep voice sent goose bumps over her bare arms. She turned to him. Earlier he and George had acted like adolescents in testosterone overload, but
this
was ludicrous.

“Twelve hundred!” George answered.

“Fifteen hundred!” David countered.

At the podium, Milly looked dazed. A hush of anticipation fell over the crowd.

“Do I hear sixteen hundred?” Milly asked hopefully.

“Two thousand!” George called.

“Three thousand!” David didn’t wait for Milly.

Neither did George. “Five thousand!”

David stared down at Rebecca with such a mischievous smile she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I’ll give twenty thousand dollars for Miss Covington.”

Everyone gasped, sucking all the oxygen out of the room.

“What are you doing, David?”
Rebecca strained toward him, their faces only inches apart.

“It’s good PR for me and the paper to support local charities. Look what happened to Macy’s when they blundered the buyout of Field’s. This is good business,” he said coolly. But Rebecca saw the fire of competition in his eyes.