Cooking Up Passion (Hawaiian Paradise Series Book 2)

by Kiana Lee

  “Of all people!” Her hand dropped to the mattress and she stared at the ceiling. Meanwhile, a dark, heavy feeling settled in her chest, and she tried hard to stop herself from crying. “I can’t believe she’s doing better than me. This just sucks.”

  A light tap sounded at her door, and a second later, Jessie poked her head in. “Are you talking to yourself again?” she asked. “You know you don’t have to, right? You can talk to me.”

  Caitlin reached up and wiped the tears that gathered at the corner of her eyes. She didn’t want anyone to see her crying, but she had known Jessie for a long time, and she was more like a sister than a friend.

  “Today was the worst day of my life,” she said, her voice sounding a little hoarse.

  “So I gathered.” Jessie walked into her room and sat on her bed. “You want to tell me about it?”

  Caitlin stared at the framed landscape photograph that Jessie had given her as a gift. It hung near the window. Every time she looked at the oceanic scene, she felt grounded. But today it had no power to make her feel better.

  “Chef groped me,” she said, her voice devoid of all emotion.

  Jessie’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding me.”

  “I wish,” Caitlin said, letting out a shaky breath. “He insulted my knife work, and he then grabbed my crotch.” She could feel his meaty hands touching her private area, and her mind cringed at the unpleasant memory. “I was so pissed that I quit. Now I’m not so sure if that was such a great idea.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Jessie became still, her eyes searching Caitlin’s. She could read the concern and outrage on her friend’s face, but Caitlin didn’t want her sympathy. She only wanted to continue wallowing in her misery.

  “I don’t know.” She picked up her phone again and began to scroll through the rest of her email. An ad for a culinary course caught her eye, and she tapped on the link to open it. “I haven’t thought of things so far ahead.”

  Caitlin scanned the ad. The culinary students looked at her as if they dared her to join their ranks.

  “You know, you should sign up for the class,” Jessie said.

  Caitlin glanced up, surprised that Jessie was looking over her shoulder and reading the promotion.

  “The course costs $10,000,” she said. “I don’t have that kind of money to blow. Besides, even if I graduated from the school, there’s no guarantee that I’ll find a decent job.”

  Jessie took her phone and studied the ad more closely. “Look, it says here that there’s a special job placement for the number one student in the program.”

  “Really? I didn’t see that.”

  Jessie handed the device back to her, and Caitlin rescanned the advertisement. And there it was. Three-quarters down the page was a section that detailed a job placement at Signatures, one of Hawaii’s prime restaurants.

  “I think you should do it.”

  “I don’t know…” Caitlin was always good at school, and she had passed her college courses with flying colors. But the cost of this particular program seemed crazy high.

  “I’ve never known you to be so indecisive,” Jessie said, giving her an exasperated look. “Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve had a love of food. Whenever you speak about the subject your face brightens. Do you want to give this all up?”

  She fell silent, knowing that her friend was right. Since Caitlin had discovered her passion for cooking, she’d thrown everything aside in order to pursue it. Did she want to stop now?

  “This is a serious opportunity,” Jessie said, echoing Caitlin’s thoughts. “You can put down what you can and then place the rest of the payments on your credit card. You need to follow your passion since you’ll never know where this will lead you.” She paused, making sure she had Caitlin’s attention. “Maybe, in the end, losing your job and attending cooking school are exactly what you need right now.”

  Caitlin looked at the ad again. The image of the smiling students wearing their toques hit home, and she imagined that years from now she would become an executive chef at a top tier restaurant. The Hawaiian School of Culinary Arts was an elite and well-respected cooking institute in Hawaii. It attracted students from all over the world. It was steeped in French traditions, and since it was in Hawaii, it also had Polynesian influences. If she thought about it, she knew that it wasn’t every day that a person could secure a job placement at a leading restaurant. All she had to do was sign up for the course, get the highest grade, and then accelerate her learning by working at one of the best restaurants on the island. Her career would skyrocket after this. Hope began to stir in the middle of her chest.

  “Listen, Nate is in town and I have to go downstairs and meet with him in a few minutes,” Jessie said as she glanced down at her watch. “But do me a favor, and think about attending the school, okay?”

  “All right, I’ll think about it,” she said, nodding her head.

  “That’s my girl,” she patted Caitlin’s cheek and smiled. “I know you’ll make the right decision.” She hesitated for a second longer as if she wanted to say something else.

  “Just go before your boyfriend blames me for holding you up.”

  Jessie laughed and exited the apartment.

  Caitlin barely heard the door close when she gave in to the sudden need to study the information in careful detail and on a larger screen. She retrieved her laptop from the side table and brought it to the bed. Switching it on, she typed in school website. She devoured the testimonials of the alumni, and pored over the class descriptions. All the while her excitement increased.

  The school promised everything that she wanted in a career. Here she would learn the essence and spirit of French and Polynesian cuisine. The school offered an internationally recognized, well-rounded education, and she would gain the hands-on experience she needed in order to make it in the competitive culinary world. Food made her happy while she ate it, and it gave her joy when she cooked it. This was what she wanted her life to be about. But unfortunately everything she knew about cooking she’d learned from her cookbooks. She had hoped that working at the hotel restaurant would advance her learning, but it did no such thing. At the resort, she was only an insignificant cog in the machine. But if she went to the culinary school, she would learn a lot more; the course would fill in all the gaps in her experience as she worked with some very talented and highly trained chefs.

  She could take the intensive course and finish the classes in five weeks instead of one year. Her heart started to race as she pictured herself at the end of her studies, a diploma in hand and her fist pumping into the air. And while the program was expensive, it would be worth it in the end. From what she could see, her future was truly bright.

  With hands trembling with excitement, Caitlin clicked on the payment link and plugged in her credit card information.

  Caitlin was about to close the browser when it occurred to her to skim through some job listings. She quickly logged on to a popular job site and scanned the offerings. Almost immediately a posting for a part-time cooking school instructor caught her eye. As far as she could tell, she possessed all the qualifications and the pay was decent too. All she had to do was host birthday parties for children and teach them a little about cooking. Would it really be hard to teach the keiki to prepare simple meals? Feeling good about the opportunity, she followed the link and filled out the online application. When she was done, she pressed submit. She threw herself back on the mattress, a big smile spreading across her face. The timing was perfect. She was determined to get this job and start socking away some money before classes started in four weeks.

  Chapter 4

  Caitlin lifted the papers in her hand to fan herself as she waited in line at the registrar’s office. However, her efforts made no difference; she was still hot. Apparently, the air-conditioning wasn’t working and the two fans behind the administrative counter ran at full blast. Unfortunately, they only blew the hot, stagnant air around the room, and the open windows allowed more he
at to enter the already stifling, cramped room.

  A fly slowly buzzed past her, moving through the air as if it couldn’t be bothered to go any faster. She’d raced out of the apartment, and when she arrived at the school, she noticed that not only had she forgotten her earphones, but she’d neglected to charge her cell phone. And since she couldn’t use her phone as a distraction, she had to be content with listening to the hum of conversations around her.

  Moving up on her tippy toes, she stifled a groan when she counted twelve people ahead of her. She had waited in line for about an hour, and the line moving at a snail’s pace made her restless and irritable. She wanted to sit, but she knew that if she left her spot for even a second, she would have to go to the back of the line. Glancing over her shoulder to look at the row of people behind her, she shuddered at the thought of starting over.

  “Why can’t they get more workers behind the counter,” she muttered. Although she appreciated that the two administrative workers didn’t want to exert themselves in this heat, she wished that they would show a little mercy and move faster.

  Caitlin had hoped that by coming to the school early, she would resolve her issues quickly, but apparently everyone else had the same idea. The two workers didn’t appear bothered by the growing line that now snaked around the corner. They, at least, had a cool fan blowing at their backs, so they had no reason to look as miserable as she felt. She just hoped they assisted her with her payment issue. She had maxed out her credit card when she registered online, and she needed to pay the balance before school started. She tried initially to call the office, but their phone lines were busy. In the end, it seemed a better plan to speak to someone in person.

  Twenty minutes passed when finally the student in front of Caitlin finished with his problem and moved away from the counter. She let out a breath of relief. It was her turn. She started to step forward when someone slipped in ahead of her.

  “I’m here to see David Molowa,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said. “You can’t butt in front of me. Get to the back of the line!”

  There was a rumble of unhappy voices that supported her. But then the girl behind Caitlin spoke loudly to her friend, “He can butt in front of me anytime as long as I can get a piece of that.”

  Even in the impossible heat, the new arrival appeared relaxed and cool. He moved with a masculine assurance, as if he knew his place in the world. Only someone with money and privilege possessed this kind of attitude. The stranger wore boardshorts and a T-shirt, which hugged his broad chest. Meanwhile, his lean, firmly muscled body showed obvious signs that he worked out at the gym and engaged in extreme sports. If anything, he looked as if he belonged at the beach rather than at the registrar’s office. Every female in the room tracked his movements, ogling his male attributes. He seemed well aware that he was gorgeous, and he appeared the type to use his charms to get what he wanted. Taking off his sunglasses, he nestled them at the top of his head. His hair, Caitlin noticed, was deliberately tousled, the large curls sticking out, and giving him an air of casual sophistication.

  “Get to the back of the line!” she said again through clenched teeth.

  “Relax, don’t get your panties in a knot.” He waved a hand in her direction, not bothering to look at her. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  The girl on the other side of the counter leaned forward, her expression more perky. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “Yeah, the director is expecting me.”

  “Okay, come with me.”

  The admin girl got up from her chair and showed the guy to the small corridor that led to the offices in the back. Now there was only one worker behind the administrative counter. All of a sudden Caitlin saw red. She wanted to march up to the stranger, grab his arm and break through his calm. She was tired, irritable, and she wanted to go home. But even if she followed through with her act of violence, she risked losing her spot in the line. Then if that wasn’t bad enough, someone might have to call the cops, so instead of getting her issue resolved, she would have a slew of new ones. She watched helplessly as the two people disappeared from her sight. Taking in several deep breaths, she tried to calm herself. The student got preferential treatment because he was an attractive rich boy. That was all.

  “Next,” the woman behind the counter said, beckoning to Caitlin.

  She rushed forward, determined to forget the guy. She had more pressing concerns. When she reached the counter, she pushed the registration paperwork at the woman. “I paid a part of my tuition with one credit card but it got maxed out.” She placed two credit cards on the counter and slid them toward the woman. “I want to pay the remaining balance with these.”

  Apparently, her request wasn’t unusual since the woman’s expression didn’t change. Taking one of the cards, she ran it through her machine.

  “It says it’s declined,” she said, handing it back to Caitlin.

  Caitlin felt the blood rising to her cheeks. “Oops.” She gave a forced laugh and explained, “I haven’t paid down this card because I’m waiting for my check from the keiki cooking school I work for.” She fumbled through her wallet and pulled out another card. “Can you try this one?”

  The secretary shook her head as if she was annoyed and passed the plastic card through the machine. This time the payment was accepted. She picked up Caitlin’s third credit card. A slight frown formed on her lips as if she wondered whether this card would be declined as well. But when she put it into the machine, the transaction completed without trouble. But by now Caitlin felt as if all eyes were boring into her back. She doubted that Rich Boy had any trouble with his tuition. Likely his parents paid for his courses in full. Meanwhile, people like her had to scrimp and max out their credit to get ahead. It was unfair how some people got all the breaks.

  ***

  The administrative worker knocked at the opened door. “Sir, Jason Wekiu is here to see you.”

  “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. About fifty years old, the director wore his gray-streaked hair slicked back, and he sported a beard that he trimmed close to his face. Although he looked the part of a distinguished, older gentleman, his environment directly contradicted this image.

  Diplomas and awards hung on one side of the wall while posters of the Eiffel Tower and various landscapes from the Bordeaux region decorated the other.

  The room was crammed with piles of cookbooks and food magazines. Meanwhile, his scattered papers covered the polished surface of his desk. In contrast, Phil Wekiu’s office was immaculate and sparse. As soon as his thoughts touched on his old man, Jason once again felt the sting of his ultimatum. He still couldn’t believe the high-handed behavior. But one thing was certain. The senior Wekiu knew how to hit below the belt. If Jason didn’t get his old job back, he would have a hell of a time maintaining his current lifestyle. After his father delivered the sentence, Jason had wasted time moping around in his condo, trying to figure out his options. But then as if his brother was in the same room, his words echoed in Jason’s mind: A problem always has a solution. He’d slept on the advice. And the next day, the answer to his troubles became clear, and he made an appointment to see David Molowa.

  The director stopped typing and got up from his chair. Coming around to the front, he extended his hand. “So you’re Jason, the son of the famous Phil Wekiu.”

  He nodded and took his hand. “I understand you went to school with my father.”

  “I did. Those were good times.” He sent Jason a practiced smile, deliberately crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Now it’s our pleasure to provide a solid foundation for his son.” He returned to his chair and gestured for Jason to take a seat. “So what brings you here to see me?”

  Jason settled in the chair. “As you know, my father offered up a job placement to the highest-ranking graduating student of the cuisine class.”

  “Yes, Phil is not only a successful chef, but he�
�s also a very generous man.”

  “All right,” Jason said, becoming impatient. “I didn’t come here to talk about my father. I’m here to secure the top spot.”

  “Secure the top spot?” Molowa repeated, his brows snapping together in confusion. “I don’t think I quite understand.”

  “I want my old job back,” he said bluntly.

  Molowa’s eyes hooded and he stared at Jason for a long moment.

  “So you’re after the job.” He leaned back, lacing his fingers at the back of his head, an interested gleam reflecting in his eyes. “I get your drift now. But how does giving you the number-one spot help me?”

  “I have a lot of connections and can hook you up.”

  Silence fell between them as the director studied him.

  “Your father has close ties with Jordan James, doesn’t he?” David said slowly as if he warmed to the idea. “Get me a TV deal. You do that and I’ll give you the coveted spot.”

  “Seriously?” Jason said, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice. He stood and stared down at the smaller man. “Passing me so I can get my old job back is different, and a lot easier than getting you a TV show. The most I can do is to introduce you to the guy.”

  Molowa jumped to his feet as if he sensed that Jason was ready to withdraw his offer. “Okay, okay, just get me an appointment with him then.”

  “That’s something I can do,” he said, feeling a bit mollified. “I’ll talk to Mr. James for you.”