Charlie noticed Gabe out of the corner of her eye. She straightened in her chair. Gabe wouldn’t have suggested she try out if he didn’t think she had something to offer.
‘Ready,’ Charlie said with renewed confidence.
The two-minute interview seemed to be over before it had begun. She thought she’d done well and she could see Gabe out of the corner of her eye nodding and smiling throughout the whole ordeal.
‘Thanks,’ Abigail said as the interview wrapped up. ‘Take a seat outside. You’ll be called within an hour if you’ve been selected.’
As she was ushered from the room, Gabe sauntered by.
‘You nailed it,’ he whispered.
She grinned. Who would have thought three little words could engender so much joy?
Charlie took a seat near the back of the auditorium and waited. Finally Abigail walked to the front of the hall, a microphone in hand. She called the crowd to attention.
‘Thank you, everyone, for coming today. We’ve completed over two hundred and fifty interviews and we’ve short listed the top fifty who will progress to a cooking trial.’
She paused and glanced down at her list.
‘If your name isn’t called, you haven’t been selected, but it doesn’t mean you won’t have your five minutes of fame. A highlights package from today’s interviews will be featured on the First-Class Chef’s YouTube channel tonight.’
A cheer resounded around the room.
Charlie tensed. YouTube? Had that been on the form she hadn’t really read? What if her interview was part of the package? What if someone recognised her? She really hadn’t thought this through. She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on Abigail’s voice.
‘So, will the following people please come forward?’ Abigail read from a list of names.
Charlie counted as the names were read out. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
Her fingernails copped a pounding with the announcement of each name that was not hers. By the time forty names had been announced her nails were a mess and Paul’s words clanged in her ears.
You’re nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
She dropped her gaze to her lap. Her father had made a fortune picking winners. He’d made it clear she wasn’t one. Perhaps he was right.
‘. . . Bill Champion. Charlie s . . .’
Her head snapped up. She jumped from her seat.
‘That’s me.’ Momentarily stunned, she didn’t know what to do next.
‘Go on,’said someone next to her.
Charlie walked to the front of the room and stood with the other finalists. Staring out at the sea of anxious faces, she realised she’d achieved something important – a milestone. Her gaze travelled to the back of the room. Gabe was leaning against a side wall. She could feel his magnetic gaze even at this distance. When their eyes met, he held up his hands and clapped. She blinked hard as tears leapt into her eyes. She couldn’t remember anyone clapping any of her achievements.
Even if she didn’t advance any further, she’d accomplished something significant. And it was all because of Gabe and his faith in her. She fingered the little Leaning Tower of Pisa on her charm bracelet. Gabe was her lucky charm.
The hall emptied quickly, leaving the finalists standing in a small crowd.
‘Follow me please,’ Abigail announced.
She led the group into another area of the hall complete with a series of workstations equipped as miniature kitchens. A number of cameramen were standing around the brightly lit space.
‘We will be filming your cooking trial and adding highlights to tonight’s YouTube package. But before we start, I’d like to introduce you to our judges.’
Abigail presented a brief bio of each of the judges. All three judges were just as Gabe had described – foodies, all at the top of their field.
‘So,’ Abigail continued, ‘we will process you in batches of ten. Our judges will pick the top two from each round, which will give us our final ten. Those ten will then come to the actual set tomorrow to compete for a spot on the show.’
Nervous whispers swept through the contestants.
‘So will the following people please select a station?’
This time, Charlie’s name was in the first group. She took her place behind a station at the back of the room. She quickly ran over the three options in her head. All three were good, but not great. She bit her lip.
She noticed Gabe walking among the contestants. He had a quick word with a couple of them. Then he walked towards her.
‘Come on, Aussie,’ he murmured, his eyes shining.
Aussie. Of course. She looked around the room at the other contestants. That was her unique quality. Being an Aussie.
She quickly revised one of her recipes in her head.
‘So,’ Abigail said, ‘this is how things go. In the cupboards and fridges behind you are all the ingredients listed on your sheet. When I say go, you have just twenty minutes to produce a dish for the judges.’
‘Are you ready? Go.’
Charlie dashed to a fridge, pulled out what she needed and rushed back to her station. A quick trip to the cupboard and she had everything she needed. Her hands shook as she pulled the chicken breast from its packaging. As she diced the chicken she could feel Gabe watching her from across the room. She glanced up to meet his eyes. He smiled that killer smile.
Her heart hammered in her chest but she forced her mind to calm.
Just pretend you’re at home cooking for Gabe.
Her hands steadied as she expertly threaded the chicken onto bamboo skewers. She checked her work. Perfect.
Amid the flurry of sizzling chicken, simmering sauce and finely sliced carrots and cucumbers, all Charlie’s nerves dissipated. She could do this.
‘Charlie Brown?’
Charlie glanced up, but kept stirring her sauce. Jasper Donovan, the owner and head chef from Alexander’s, leant over her pot, surveying her work.
‘What have we got here?’ he asked.
‘Chicken kebabs topped with fresh pesto sauce complimented with an Australian julienned summer salad.’
‘Australian? That sounds good. Hold on a moment.’ He turned and beckoned one of the cameramen to come to her station. ‘Okay, Charlie, let’s do that again.’
The camera came in close, the red light flashed on and Jasper posed his question again.
Charlie opened her mouth and the words flowed. She chatted to Jasper while managing to prepare the dish expertly.
‘And there you have it,’ Charlie said as she finished plating up her Aussie-themed dish. The camera zoomed in for a close-up as Jasper attacked the meal with a knife and fork.
His face broke into a brilliant grin.
‘Fabulous. And all done in,’ he consulted his watch, ‘less than fifteen minutes. Impressive.’
Beaming, he left Charlie and walked off to taste another contestant’s offering.
She stood back and surveyed the room, trying to locate Gabe. He was chatting to another female contestant. A young, pretty contestant held his attention and whatever she said made him laugh.
Charlie bristled with unexpected jealousy. She looked away, then back again. Then away. She had no claim on Gabe.
‘Okay, people.’ Abigail’s voice snapped her attention back to the competition. ‘Three minutes to go.’
Some contestants stood back confidently, their dishes beautifully presented, while others had failed to finish. Tears streamed down one young woman’s face.
The judges, Gabe and other production staff visited the stations. When Gabe passed her station, he slid a finger through the edge of the sauce.
‘Can’t touch me now,’ he said, pointing to a tea towel lying on the bench.
Charlie giggled.
He licked the sauce from his finger and moved to the next station.
The judges conferred for a few minutes and handed a piece of paper to Abigail. The contestants stood in edgy silence. Abigail took up her mike.
‘The winners of this r
ound are Mike Fisher and Charlie Brown.’
Charlie’s insides twisted with excitement. She barely heard the muted applause. She shook hands numbly with a couple of other contestants.
‘Congratulations, Mike and Charlie,’ Abigail continued. ‘Thank you everyone and don’t forget to check the highlights package tonight to see if you feature.’
Those who had failed the round collected their belongings and left.
‘Mike and Charlie, could you please see our director, Gabe Grenville?’ Abigail concluded, pointing in Gabe’s direction.
Gabe waved them over.
‘Congratulations.’ Gabe shook Charlie’s hand as briefly as he did Mike’s. He handed each of them instructions for the regional final that would be held in two weeks’ time on the actual set. ‘You’ll find everything you need to know on there.’
Charlie scanned the page and baulked.
‘Um . . . it says here we need a Facebook page and Twitter account.’
Being Charlie Brown within the confines of this exhibition hall was one thing. Broadcasting to the world via the world’s biggest social networking sites took things to a whole new level.
‘Is that a problem?’ Gabe asked. ‘All our pre-publicity is online and we need to create a buzz before the show airs.’
‘I don’t have a Facebook page.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Gabe said dismissively. ‘Just create one this afternoon and ensure you load a picture. Then just email the link as directed.’
‘Gabe.’ Abigail waved to him as the next lot of contestants took to the cooking stations.
‘Got to go,’ he said and strode away.
Charlie walked slowly towards the exit. Now she’d had a taste of achievement she wanted more. But things were getting out of hand. Originally, Charlie Brown should only have existed for a couple of days. Now she’d taken on a life of her own.
Charlie walked from the exhibition building into a beautiful sunny September day.
But she liked Charlie Brown better than Charlotte Wentworth. Charlie Brown achieved things. Charlie Brown cooked amazing meals. Charlie Brown knew a great guy who was interested in her opinions. Charlie Brown didn’t have parents to dictate her every move, and most importantly, she didn’t have a cheating fiancé.
No-one cared what Charlie Brown wore or drove or where she ate her lunch. She had anonymity for the first time in her life and she loved it.
Anyway, it didn’t matter – she wouldn’t make the finals. Then she’d find the right moment and confess to Gabe who she really was. He would understand, wouldn’t he?
She ambled to the tube station, peering into shop windows. A hair salon caught her attention. She stood watching as a middle-aged client had colour pasted onto her grey roots. A young woman was having her hair straightened.
A small sign in the window caught her attention. Hairdresser in training, cheap cut and colour. Charlie pulled a long strand of her hair in front of her eyes and stared at it, then pulled open the salon door.
That evening, Charlie typed the Facebook URL into the web browser of Gabe’s computer.
Facebook helps you connect and share with the people in your life.
The polar opposite of what she wanted, but she had to do it. She drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. And people did this all the time. Everyone embellished the truth. Told white lies. Emphasised their strong points. People who used dating sites lied about all sorts of things: their age; their net worth; their marital status.
She typed her name into the sign-up form. After entering the necessary information, she attached Gabe’s camera to the computer. The new shots she’d just staged in the living room popped up on the screen one by one. She selected the one of her cupping her chin in her hands. Her fingers obscured almost half her face and her sunglasses masked her eyes. Perfect.
She loaded it.
Anyway, who would really care if she told a few lies? Her parents were already furious with her. She didn’t care what her bastard fiancé thought. And Gabe, well . . . she’d deal with that when the time was right.
She focused on setting up her profile. She’d once heard the expression ‘if you’re not on Facebook you don’t exist.’
She hit the submit key – Charlie Brown sprang into existence in cyberspace.
The spicy aroma attracted Gabe the moment he walked through his front door. Charlie must have stayed after using his computer. He smiled as he walked down the hall. He enjoyed having someone in the house when he came home. Well, perhaps he enjoyed having Charlie in the house when he arrived home.
In the kitchen, a dark-haired stranger stood stirring a pot.
‘Hey. Who—’
The woman turned.
He stared for a moment. ‘Charlie?’
She bit her lip and stifled a grin. ‘Do you like it?’
He stepped into the room. ‘What the hell happened?’
The long blonde hair was all gone, replaced with a cropped style – black and shiny. The new look emphasised her mocha-coloured eyes – mascara and kohl enhancing their brilliance.
‘Well?’ she said, giving a twirl to show the full effect.
The clothes were different too. Black skinny jeans revealed every luscious curve of her hips and bottom and hugged her long legs. A short black T-shirt revealed a tantalising ribbon of her flat, tanned stomach. She was hardly recognisable and even more damned gorgeous than before.
‘Are you channelling Mad Max?’
Hurt crept into her eyes. ‘You don’t like it?’ she asked softly.
‘Are you kidding?’ He recovered quickly. ‘It’s brilliant. It’s just very different. This morning you were a beach babe and this afternoon you’re all . . . urban chic.’
‘I was a bit over the beach look.
His mind strayed back to a bikini-clad Charlie during their days on Nervi beach. He’d certainly never get over it.
I picked these up at a charity shop,’ she said, pulling at her new trousers. ‘Two pounds. Cool huh?’
He knew he was staring, but it was difficult to take his eyes from Charlie’s face. Without all that distracting hair, her eyes were mesmerising. But a certain part of his body started making its presence felt. He broke eye contact, thought of the queen and sang the national anthem in his head.
‘Ah, what are you making?’ he managed to ask.
‘I’m practising a new dish for the finals. Line-caught wild Queensland barramundi topped with spicy Australian prawns on a bed of fragrant rice with an avocado and Bowen mango salsa.’
‘Wow.’
As she wiped a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand, avocado smeared across her cheek.
He laughed.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘You’re tinged green.’
She looked at her hand. ‘Oh.’
She reached for a paper towel and wiped her face, missing a chunk near her eye.
‘Here, let me.’ He took the towel and gently wiped the goo from her cheek. She smelled of sweet mango. Her nearness ignited all his senses.
‘Wait. I haven’t got it all.’
He curled his hand around the small of her back and pulled her closer. Her hip caressed his thigh as he wiped her cheek clean. His body began to ignore rational thought. He stood so close he could smell the citrus shampoo in her hair.
Never mix business and pleasure. Business. Business. Business!
His hand dropped and he took a step towards the stove.
‘This looks amazing,’ he said, trying to put his errant thoughts from his mind.
Never mix business with pleasure.
But with every passing hour it was proving more difficult.
Charlie knocked at Emma’s back door. She’d settled into Emma’s garden cottage a few weeks ago, but still couldn’t bring herself to walk into the house without announcing her arrival.
‘Come in Charlie,’ Emma called. She and Emma had become great friends, and of course she loved seeing Amelia and Rupert every day. She spent h
ours in the park with them each afternoon.
Charlie stepped into Emma’s cosy kitchen. Emma stood at the sink peeling potatoes. Amelia and Rupert sat at the table drinking milk and munching on cookies. They both grinned when she walked in.
‘Let me do that,’ Charlie said taking the vegetable from Emma’s small hands.
Emma didn’t protest and sunk into a chair at the kitchen table. ‘Thanks.’ She still looked pale and weak even though her chemo had finished months ago.
‘I wonder when I’ll get my energy back,’ she said.
‘Give it time,’ Charlie said. ‘Remember, it’s not just the chemo, you run around after these two little rascals too.’ She ruffled Rupert’s hair. He giggled. ‘Why don’t you two run out into the garden and play until dinner?’
The kids took their cookies and disappeared into the afternoon light.
‘Before I had kids, I never considered how much hard work they’d be, or that I’d be doing it alone,’ Emma said. Emma’s husband had upped and left a few years back.
‘It’s tough being a single parent.’ Charlie said picking up another potato.
‘Sure, but we get by,’ Emma said, resting her feet up on a chair. ‘I reckon all kids really need is lots of love and encouragement.’
‘You should give my parents some lessons.’ Then Charlie kicked herself for bringing her life in Australia into the conversation.
‘Your parents aren’t . . .’
‘No, they’re fine really.’ Charlie said quickly. ‘Yours?’
Emma’s eyebrows pulled together in a troubled expression. ‘Gabe hasn’t mentioned our parents?’
Charlie dropped the potato into the sink and turned her full attention on Emma. ‘No.’
Emma stood, walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘Both our parents come from a long line of professionals. In our family, the only career options are doctor, lawyer or politician.’
‘Sounds broadminded,’ Charlie sarcastically.
‘Hmm,’ Emma said pouring them both a glass. ‘When Gabe announced he wanted to go to film school, all hell broke lose. Father wouldn’t hear of it. He forced Gabe into law school. He didn’t last a term.’
Seducing the Secret Heiress Page 7