Some Like It Hot
Page 31
Chill the cake for at least two hours. Just before serving, dust the top crêpe with powdered sugar, then slice the cake into pieces. Use a sharp knife and go easy! The layers should hold together pretty well, but it’s going to be more fragile than a regular cake. More special, too! It’s a bit of work, but all of it can be done ahead of time, and no individual component is that difficult. This is a great recipe to impress a boss or in-law! Or just to let your family know how special they are…
The Rising Star Chef competition comes to a spectacular conclusion in Louisa Edwards’
Hot Under Pressure
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Beck dusted the chopped tarragon from his fingertips onto the last of the judges’ plates just as Eva Jansen said, in her official announcer voice, “Time! Step away from your plates.”
The physical act of backing up a pace seemed to cut the cord that had bound him to his work, and Beck felt the rest of the world come back online, background noise and awareness of the other two chefs who’d finished their teams’ dishes flooding his head in a rush.
Skye Gladwell was right next to him, her heady, earthy scent of nutmeg and cream hitting him like an open-handed slap to the face. Beck had to close his eyes for a long moment to thank his combat training for giving him single-minded focus and drive.
Because this particular challenge was perfectly calibrated to tap into Beck’s primal fight-or-fuck instincts.
Skye? He’d had ten years to get over her, but apparently that wasn’t long enough to blunt the edges of his desire for her.
He didn’t love her anymore, obviously, but damned if he didn’t still want her as badly as he had at the age of twenty. It had been a surprise to him in Chicago, that unexpected surge of physical need, but he was over the shock of it now, and working to kill the desire as dead as his softer feelings.
Until he managed it, though, he had to acknowledge he was pretty fucked in the head when it came to Skye Gladwell.
The third contestant in this final challenge, however … Beck’s feelings on that guy were a whole lot less complicated.
On Beck’s left stood Ryan Larousse, the cocky, smarmy head of the Midwest Team. They’d already gotten into it once or twice during the competition, to the point where Beck had humiliatingly and completely lost his cool and actually knocked the skinny little weasel on his ass.
Drawing calm blankness around himself was like strapping on body armor, and it helped as Beck worked to slow his breathing and return his heart rate to normal. Eyes straight ahead, waiting for the judges to come over and pronounce a winner.
Feel nothing. Feelings are for people who have the luxury of acting on them. You do your best and accept the rest.
It was a decent mantra, as far as survival went, but Beck couldn’t help but feel a mirroring tingle of the excitement in Skye’s eyes as she shot him a sideways look.
“This is amazing. I can’t believe we’re both here,” she breathed, her wide, cornflower eyes tracking the progress of the judges, who’d started at the other end of the table with the Midwest Team’s plate.
All the work Beck had done of slowing his pulse and regulating his body temperature went up in smoke. “I can’t believe you still look at the world that way,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The sudden ramrod tension of her body said more than her stiff words.
Beck shook his head. He’d always loved the innocent pleasure she took from life—but it drove him crazy, too, the way she refused to see the world as it really was, in all its harsh, ugly reality. Especially considering what she’d gone through while their relationship was imploding.
Let it go, he told himself, gritting his teeth. You’re over this, remember?
“Nothing. Forget it. Congratulations on making it to the finals.” Beck thought that was safe. Polite, distant.
“You too,” she muttered as the judges exclaimed over Larousse’s handmade gnocchi with pea shoots and shiitake foam. “And hey, congrats on finally finding your balls again.”
Beck felt his head snap back on his neck as if she’d spit on him.
“What?”
Skye turned to get a better look at his face, brushing the flyaway softness of her red-gold curls against his arm. Beck fought not to flinch, not to grab her and shake her, not to betray his agitation by moving a single muscle.
“Your balls,” she said clearly, eyes flashing darker than he’d ever seen them, even that last, awful night. “You must’ve found them, if you finally got up the guts to show your face in this city again.”
The bitterness in her voice stung like lemon juice in an open cut, and Beck had to fight with everything in him not to react.
“Nice talk,” he said, unable to help the hoarse thickness of his voice. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
She looked away, back to the judges, who were finishing up with Larousse. “I’m not the sweet kid you left ten years ago, Henry. Don’t think for even a second that I’m going to go down easy. I’m here to win, not to make new friends or relive ancient history.”
“Don’t worry,” Beck snarled under his breath. “Once this is all over and my team has won, I’ll be ditching San Francisco and heading back to the East Coast.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Except my team’s going to be taking home the prize money and the Rising Star Chef title. And before you run back to New York, there is one little thing I’m going to want from you.”
The judges were thanking Larousse and sauntering down the table toward Skye as Beck said, “What’s that?”
He didn’t know what he expected—money, maybe, or a demand that he go to hell. In the furthest, undisciplined depths of his mind, there might’ve even been a hint of a thought that maybe she’d ask him for one last night together, for old time’s sake.
Instead, what she whispered out of the corner of her mouth just before smiling brilliantly and greeting the judges knocked Beck off-balance and stopped his heart.
“I want a divorce.”
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by
LOUISA EDWARDS
Can’t Stand the Heat
On the Steamy Side
Just One Taste
Too Hot to Touch
Some Like It Hot
Acknowledgments
First of all, thank you to Deidre and my editor, Rose, who love Eva Jansen as much as I do! Thanks, both of you, for allowing me to tell the stories that excite me and play with the characters who make every day of writing more like fun than work.
Also on the make-work-fun side of things, a zillion thanks to my besties Roxanne St. Claire and Kristen Painter! I honestly don’t know how anyone makes it through a draft without you two.
The first draft of SLiH would’ve stayed a messy, ugly draft without the beta reading talents of Kate Pearce, Bria Quinlan, and especially Nic Montreuil. Kate, you never hold back, and I love you for it. Bria, your insights and speed-reading make you a treasure I totally cherish, and Nic. Honey. What can I say? Sometimes I feel like you know these characters better than I do. Thank you for helping me stay true to them! (Winslow thanks you, too…)
Thank you to the Peeners—you dirty girls know who you are—for invaluable advice, venting sessions, and dick jokes.
Thank you to all the readers and reviewers who read Too Hot to Touch and said, “We want more of Danny. And OMG BECK!” The rest of the Rising Star Chef trilogy is for you.
I can’t let a book go by without thanking my parents for everything you’ve done (and continue to do) for me. You make us dinner, you bring us veggies from the farmer’s market, you walk the dogs, you find the best Mexican restaurants, you entice me away from my desk to swim … how did I go so many years living so far away from you?
And last but never least, thank you to my handsome husband, Nick. Your support and encouragement mean everything to me. And the fact that after more than a decade together you can still make me pee my pants with laughter? That’s what convinces me tr
ue, deep, everlasting love exists.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SOME LIKE IT HOT
Copyright © 2011 by Louisa Edwards.
Excerpt from Hot Under Pressure copyright © 2011 by Louisa Edwards.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-5076-3
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Table of Contents
Cover
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Some Like It Hot Recipes
Hot Under Pressure
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by LOUISA EDWARDS
Acknowledgments
Copyright