Alex turned to follow my gaze. Even after eight years, Ethan Martin was still one of the most viscerally attractive men I had ever laid eyes on. His dark hair was longer than he had worn it in school. As he moved his date through the crowded room, the lights glinted off an eyebrow ring. Under his shirt and jacket, he probably still had the nipple rings I’d loved.
The tux he was wearing was loose, but it hung on his frame in just the right way to accentuate his lean body. His tie looked like it had seen better days, but the Ethan I’d known would have never even made it through the door with one on, let alone spend a whole night without tugging at it.
Alex broke the moment by chuckling softly and elbowing me in my ribs. “Damn he’s good-looking in a classic bad boy kind of way. She’s not too bad herself, but nothing compared to her date. I take it you know him?”
Alex caught Ethan’s eye and waved him over to our group. Trevor cursed under his breath as we watched Ethan steer his beautiful blonde date toward us.
Trevor leaned closer and whispered, “You don’t have to do this. The ballroom is open. We can go in there until the awards begin.”
I dragged my eyes away from Ethan and his date as they moved closer toward our group and straightened my shoulders. “It was bound to happen. It’ll be good to get it out of the way, then we can all move on with our evening.”
As soon as Ethan was within hearing distance, Alex leaned forward and stuck out his hand, grasping the blonde’s hand to kiss the back of it, but keeping his focus solely on Ethan. “Alejandro Ortega, head chef at Almuerzo.” I hid an eye roll at his over-dramatic pronunciation of his name, as he rolled the r’s. Alex knew how to work the cheesy charm.
The blonde wrapped her free arm around Ethan’s waist. “Lily Thomas. And I love your brunch. The huevos rancheros are the best I’ve eaten in Manhattan.”
Ethan glared at his date but avoided acknowledging my presence. Lily. Could this night get any worse?
This close I could see the flush creeping up Ethan’s neck. His bright-green eyes looked glassy and unfocused. Shit. The Ethan I’d known had no verbal filter when he drank. Fun times. This could go ugly fast.
I plastered a smile on my face. “Alex, this is Ethan Martin. We went to culinary school together in Seattle.”
Alex’s eyes snapped back to mine, as he no doubt remembered conversations we’d had when we had first begun dating. I nodded quickly and his smile grew, though there was a different glint in his eyes. Whether it was pity I had to be here in this uncomfortable situation confronting a past lover, or whether he finally understood this night had gone straight to the crapper for me, I wasn’t sure. But the cocky swagger Alex usually projected when he met a new man morphed into an inspection of sorts.
Alex released Lily’s hand and pulled himself to his full height. “Ah, thank you. You’ll have to let the server let me know next time you come in and I’ll prepare something special for you. It was nice to meet you both, but I think I’ll leave you to catch up.” He turned his back to them and pulled me into an embrace, one of his hands clasping me tightly on the back of my neck. “Don’t be a stranger, James. It’s been far too long since we enjoyed a good bottle of wine together. Call me next week and we’ll do dinner.”
The look in Alex’s eyes as he pulled back told me our dinner conversation would entail a lot more than whether the wine went well with the main course. With a smile he walked off, no doubt to find another willing victim. Ethan’s humorless chuckle brought my attention back to him and this awkward situation.
I held out my hand to Lily. Goddammit, why was I having such a problem with the fact he’d brought a date? I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed off he’d brought someone with him, or if it was because the someone was a beautiful blonde woman. “James Lassiter. Nice to meet you, Lily. This is my good friend and manager, Trevor Pratt.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened as Trevor reached out to shake Lily’s hand, pointedly refusing to offer his hand to Ethan afterward.
I almost didn’t catch her next words. “I’ve seen you on TV, but damn, you are much better looking in person. I missed out on dining at Cielo while you were there. I heard the lamb was to die for.”
I pushed down my frustration and annoyance, pasting on a vapid smile. “Thank you, but the chef who’s there now, Shannon Tucchio, makes an amazing rack of lamb.”
This was a losing battle and I wanted to get out as unscathed as I possibly could, so I locked eyes with Ethan and tried to force a smile on my face. “It’s been a long time, Ethan. How is Claire? It seems like forever since I’ve spoken to her. And...congratulations on the award tonight. It’s quite an honor.”
He nodded curtly and glared at Trevor before speaking. “Thanks. Claire’s good.” Under his breath I heard him mutter, “And forever obviously isn’t long enough.”
My back went rigid, but Ethan just gave me his trademark smirk. “Well, we won’t keep you. I’m sure you have more important people to rub elbows with.”
Only years of experience in the public eye kept me from reacting to his words. I nodded at Ethan and his date. “I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Lily.”
When he nodded silently in response, I paused and wondered if there was any way to diffuse the tension between us. But then Trevor nudged me with his arm and nodded in the direction Alex had taken. “I think I see Sasha with Alex. We should go say hello.”
When we turned to leave, I heard Ethan mutter under his breath, “Is there anyone here you haven’t fucked tonight?”
Trevor’s back went ramrod straight as my already unsettled stomach plummeted. From a distance it would look like a group of friends having an animated discussion. But nothing about Trevor’s voice was friendly as he taunted Ethan. “There are a few of us, Martin, but the night is still young.”
Without waiting for an answer, Trevor tugged me toward Alex and the entourage he had accumulated in our absence. Too numb to even question my friend’s possessive arm around my waist, I followed. For once, the lump in my throat couldn’t be blamed on the choking tie around my neck.
* * *
Two painfully long hours later I was backstage, pacing behind the curtain. The dinner had gone well, a true five-star meal, and the awards were winding down to the last few recipients of the night. When the runner had come to escort me behind the stage, Trevor squeezed my shoulder one last time in a silent show of support. My stomach had been too upset to drink much of anything, but now I would pay a king’s ransom for three fingers of scotch to numb me.
As the backstage director signaled for me to listen for my introduction, I took a deep breath, still totally clueless about what I was going to say about Ethan. I had researched everything I could find after Trevor had dropped the bomb on me. But at the moment my nerves were shot, and the only thing I could concentrate on was Ethan’s parting shot to me as we had walked away from him earlier.
“And now, here to present the award for Outstanding Pacific Northwest Rising Chef Award is James Lassiter. For those of you who have been under a rock these past few years, James was head chef at New York’s local gem, Cielo, for three years before taking to FoodTV with his show Bistro Cooking: Making French Cuisine Easy. His latest book, Spicing Up Your Table, hit the New York Times Best Seller list immediately after its publication. Let’s give a warm welcome to our industry’s newest rising star.”
With my heart hammering as loudly as the applause surrounding me, the stage director pulled back the curtain and I found myself walking toward the microphone. As I looked out into the crowded room, the lights dimmed slightly, save for a spotlight on a table on the right-hand side near the back. Ethan looked pensive, but otherwise emotionless. For a moment, he reminded me of the Ethan Martin I’d known at the beginning of our pastry rotation—tough, independent and alone in his battle to prove his worth to the world.
Though I had distanced myself from
everything my family stood for, the one thing being a Lassiter had prepared me for was how to smile as if your world wasn’t crashing around you and fake it through whatever you had to get through to seal a deal.
Chapter Seven
Ethan
I reached for my beer and took a long pull on it. The night had been destined for the shitter since Lily and I had entered the bar, and I was more than ready for it to be done so I could walk away and forget everything and everyone, including Jamie Lassiter.
Lily leaned over and put her hand on my thigh, squeezing lightly. Three hours ago her touch would have gotten us both into the back of a cab and on our way to my hotel. But right now, her gentle touch was merely a reminder I wasn’t alone in a room full of people I’d never feel comfortable around.
Suddenly a spotlight shone on our table and I tensed. Lily’s hand squeezed again as the next presenter made his way onstage. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, her usually husky voice surprisingly tender. “Good luck.”
I wasn’t sure if she was referring to my lack of public speaking skills, or because my ex-lover was standing at the microphone waiting for the applause to die down. All I was sure of was, as soon as my duty here was done, we were leaving and I was getting plowed enough to wipe all thoughts of my past away. Even if it would only last for a few hours.
My body went still as the applause finally ended and I watched as Lassiter took a deep breath and smiled. Golden Boy stood on the stage in all his glory, looking as if he owned the whole goddamn world.
“I met Ethan Martin during our pastry rotation in culinary school. To say he hated it is an understatement. I’m not sure I’ve heard as many F-bombs dropped in my life as when Ethan was learning how to make soufflés.”
A few scattered titters of laughter filled the room, and a cold shiver went down my spine as Lassiter turned his attention to our table and his eyes locked with mine.
“But Ethan never let anything hold him back. He spent hours after school, in between the hours he worked in the school’s restaurant, to make sure he got everything right. If you look at his career post-graduation, you’ll find the same thing. Ethan became the youngest executive chef in the Seattle area when he took over Sharpe’s on Fifth in 2007. The success the restaurant has had since he became head chef is simply incredible. He’s been profiled numerous times in the media for the quality and creativity of the dishes from his kitchen. But it’s not just the success Ethan has had in the kitchen which earned him recognition for this award.”
He drew in a deep breath before he continued.
“What few people know, because Ethan tends to keep a lot of his personal life quiet, is he has been a huge supporter of the local Seattle Chapter of No More Hunger for years. Ethan regularly volunteers in its soup kitchen on the holidays, as well as making donations throughout the year for a cause he believes in. We in the culinary industry could learn a lot from him. Please put your hands together and recognize this year’s Most Distinguished Chef in the Pacific Northwest, Ethan Martin.”
The room exploded into applause as the lights in the room brightened. Stunned by his words, I froze. The spotlight illuminated my table and made me feel even more like a bug under a microscope. Laughter filled the room when Lily visibly nudged me, halfway pulling me out of my chair, and effectively forced me to make my way to the stage toward the last person I wanted to see up close and personal right now. The spotlight followed my every step toward the microphone, and I had to grit my teeth to make my feet take me where they needed to go, regardless of whether my head and heart wanted them to.
Halfway expecting Lassiter to simply hand me the award and make a hasty retreat offstage, I turned just in time to see him swallow hard, his hands shaking slightly. I put out my hand to take the flame-shaped award from him and took in a surprised breath when he grasped my hand and pulled me closer to him, his lips close to my ear. His breath softly brushed over my neck as he whispered roughly, “Congratulations, Ethan. You deserve it. All of it.”
He pulled back, his blue eyes dark with emotion I hadn’t seen since he had left me at the airport in Seattle. I stared at him. What was I supposed to say? Why hadn’t he just left everything alone? He could have simply introduced me and handed me the award without a backward glance. My anger grew as we were caught between a past I knew we’d never recapture and a present where we could barely stand to be in the same room with each other.
But the applause drew my attention back to the crowd and the moment was lost. He smiled sadly and backed away, each step a painful reminder of how many steps we’d taken away from each other since he’d chosen his path after leaving Paris.
I cleared my throat and looked down at the award. My hands shook slightly before I tamped shit down and got myself back under control. I wasn’t going to give anyone here the benefit of seeing any of the bullshit emotions swirling inside me right now. I straightened my back and looked out into the crowded ballroom. I swallowed back my confusion, but my voice betrayed me when I heard it in my own ears, low and husky, full of emotion I couldn’t seem to mask right now.
“I’m not good with speaking in front of people. I’m pretty sure I would have failed my Communications project if my professor hadn’t been okay with a few fucks thrown in to help make it more colorful.”
The audience laughed and I tightened my fingers around the cold statue in my hands. “I don’t do what I do to get recognized. I do it because it matters. I cook because I love it. Thanks to everyone in the American Culinary Arts committee for this award and to everyone else involved with tonight’s ceremony.”
Without a backward glance I left the stage, finally taking a breath once the curtain hid me from everyone’s view. I heard an all-too-familiar voice call out my name behind me, but I kept walking until I made it back to the ballroom, zeroing in on the bar set up in the back of the room before anyone could stop me. I needed another drink and a smoke before I lost my shit completely.
After I gave my order of two Jack and Cokes to the bartender, I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. I felt claustrophobic, so I yanked the stupid tux tie off and threw it to the floor. I couldn’t have cared less whether it made its way back to the rental place after tonight. I needed to get outside and in fresh air. I downed one of the drinks immediately and slammed the empty glass back on the portable bar in front of me. Before I could question whether this was a good choice, I tightened my hand around the second glass and closed my eyes, easily dismissing the surprised look on the stuffy bartender’s face.
Jamie’s speech echoed in my mind, a never-ending loop of all the things he should have kept to himself. Congratulations, Ethan. You deserve it. All of it. He didn’t know me. Didn’t know anything about me. Eight years was too fucking long for him to pretend he was proud of me now.
I walked straight to the back entrance and slipped out the door without a backward glance at the awards ceremony that was quickly winding down. A few turns and a lot more curses later, I found the doors to the small terrace that bordered the ballroom. I pushed through and made a beeline for the empty terrace. As the cold March air hit me, it didn’t take me long to realize why I was the only idiot stupid enough to be outside.
With shaky hands, I dug my cigarettes out of my jacket pocket and finally got one lit. I took a long drag and leaned against the railing, staring down at my second drink. Tamping down the urge to throw it against the wall behind me, I tilted my head back and drained the whiskey. I didn’t want to go back inside, but my body was already jonesing for another round of liquid fortifier.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Jamie said from behind me.
“Not by a long shot, Golden Boy. I doubt I could ever drink enough to get rid of you.” Unable to stop myself from being a complete dick, I turned and took the drink out of his hands. The stunned expression on his face when I finished the last of his scotch was p
riceless. The burn was barely perceptible as the liquid slid down my throat, probably a sign I should quit, but I didn’t really care right now.
“Ethan, why are you doing this? Can’t we just talk for a minute?”
I laughed bitterly, trying to focus on a blurry Lassiter. “What do you want to talk about, Golden Boy? Your latest TV show? How about your book? Better yet, how about your parade of rich and famous boyfriends?”
I paused and looked inside the glass I was holding, Lassiter’s glass, and bit out a curse when I realized it was empty. “We have nothing to say to each other that wasn’t said a long time ago. Don’t take this the wrong way—or do, because I really don’t give a shit—but leave me alone.”
Lassiter cringed as if my words had wounded him. All the anger I’d held inside all these years surged to the surface. Good. The only person I’d let get behind my walls had left me for a richer life after I’d told him I loved him. If Golden Boy wanted to talk, we could talk, but I knew for damn sure he wouldn’t want to hear what I had to say. “Cat got your tongue? Or is it too tired from always kissing everyone’s ass?”
A stricken look crossed his face, and my chest tightened when his shoulders sagged. I guess I hadn’t really wanted to hurt him. When Jamie finally opened his mouth to reply, I couldn’t hear him over Lily’s loud voice, which floated across the terrace.
“Well, looks like a private party out here.” She smiled at us, all teeth and glittering eyes as she stalked over, long legs eating up the distance. She slid her arm around my waist and leaned up to whisper in my ear, “Now I know why you were nervous, Ethan.”
Chapter Eight
Jamie
I snapped my mouth shut as I watched Lily snake her arm around Ethan’s waist and nuzzle his neck. This night had sped straight past shitty and directly into Hell from the moment Ethan had walked through the doors of the bar. When I saw Ethan pull back and take a fresh drink out of Lily’s hands, I pulled my jacket tighter around my chest and tried to look anywhere except for the quickly vanishing liquid in Ethan’s glass. I had to say something.
In the Fire Page 5