The Flirtation Game: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Allie Burton

  Being real.

  The coziness of the situation vibrated through her. She didn’t only want Michael for the moment. She wanted Michael forever. Could she find a way to persuade him to stay?

  * * *

  Michael passed through the restaurant one last time after another good night of business. The dining room had been full the entire evening. His plans to bring in new clientele from other local towns and from the other close ski resorts had been a success. His menu ideas to shift between a lighter après-ski menu and a heavier dinner menu had brought in additional customers off the slopes.

  “Chef Michael.”

  He pivoted to see Jorge waving at him from a corner booth. Not the person he wanted to see.

  Unable to ignore a guest, especially with the portable camera he probably had on hand recording, Michael moved to the booth. “How was your meal?”

  “Fantastic as always.” Jorge beckoned him closer. “I was viewing the rough cuts of the kitchen scenes from yesterday and today and we need to do more.”

  The flirtation game with Isabel had been exhilarating and a complete turn on. After making love last night for real, they’d gotten steamier and steamier with their actions and words in the kitchen tonight. Sly innuendos, pressing against each other, touching when they didn’t need to touch.

  What else could they do? “You want us to have sex on the counter?”

  The producer’s eyes gleamed.

  “Don’t even think it.” He fisted his hands trying to control his fury. He felt terrible exposing Isabel. He refused to do more damage to her reputation. And if the lawsuit wasn’t settled by the time the reality show aired, he was screwed. Flirting could be construed as sexual harassment and would only provide more fuel to the fire that his former assistant was telling the truth.

  “Of course not. It wouldn’t get past the censors. We could make it look—”

  “No.” There’d be no arguing on this point.

  Jorge’s expression dropped, before a mischievous light appeared in his gaze. “We could always bring my fiancée Betsy back into the picture.”

  Isabel didn’t want to deal with bridezilla, which was why she’d suggested the fake flirting. And Jorge didn’t know Isabel knew bridezilla was an actor and the cameras were filming. “I’ll think of something else.”

  “You’re going to have to, if you want to finish this contract in the three-month time period.” He used his threatening tone.

  The tone Michael was getting tired of. He was tired of everything related to his Hollywood life. Tired of being threatened, of being sued, of being in the spotlight while on stage and in his personal life. He wanted to discuss this with Isabel, needing her opinion. Stopping her on the way to his office, he asked, “Do you have plans after work?”

  She skimmed the kitchen to see if anyone was watching. “No.”

  Tony’s movements were slow, as if he was doing something else at the same time. Like listening to them.

  Michael leaned in closer. “Can we talk?”

  “The staff can finish the cleanup and prep for tomorrow.” She smiled a happy little grin. “I’ll give them final instructions.”

  After they both had taken off their chef coats and kitchen clogs, they’d slipped on their coats and boots and headed outside. “Where did you want to talk?”

  “Somewhere we know we’re not being recorded.” He hated the bitterness spilling out with his words.

  “My house.” She turned down Main Street, and Michael followed.

  The quietness of the evening stroll filled him with a sense of completeness. Tired after a long day at work, it was nice to have a short walk instead of a long, traffic-filled commute in a car. Isabel’s companionable silence added to the satisfaction. As a teen, he loved strolling the streets of Castle Ridge at night. The serenity and the fresh, cold air always gave him a sense of being home. He experienced the same sensation now. As if he’d finally come home.

  The thought didn’t scare him. In fact, his body hummed. Being back in Castle Ridge had showed him the things he’d missed, and revealed the fake things he’d experienced out west.

  Isabel climbed the steps to her small house and unlocked the front door.

  Thinking the American Craftsman bungalow with its wide verandas and sloping second-story roof suited her, he followed her inside.

  The short entryway opened to a wide great room with a fireplace. An island divided into the nicely-appointed kitchen, with stainless steel appliances, marble counters, and craftsman wood cabinets.

  “Great kitchen.”

  “My brother Reed remodeled it.” Slipping off her coat, she revealed a clingy, sexy dress. She opened the wine chiller and took out a bottle. “Wine?”

  “Sure.” He kneeled by the fireplace and used the poker to shift the logs. “Fire?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” she practically sang.

  He could picture doing this every night. Coming home after a long day, having a glass of wine by the fire with Isabel. Talking about their day. Everything inside him warmed and glowed.

  Sitting on a chair, she tucked her legs beneath her. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He didn’t want to ruin the mood by talking about ratings and network deals. “Jorge wants more hotness for ratings.”

  Her chin quirked. “Flirting isn’t enough?”

  “I think the guy would love to see us have sex on the counter.” Michael grabbed his glass of wine and took a large gulp.

  “He should’ve been in the adult film business.” Her laughter calmed, glad she could find humor in their situation. The spark in her eyes shined inside him.

  All of the flirting wasn’t pretend. This spark between them was real. The attraction was real. His feelings were real. What those feelings were, he was afraid to analyze too closely. He wanted to just enjoy.

  He sat down on the arm of her chair, hating that she was doing this to help him. “I hate dragging you into my mess.”

  “I signed the employee contract.” Her reasonableness added to his guilt. “No matter what, I would’ve been involved.”

  “Not to the same extent.” And he was doing this for her. The sooner the restaurant was a success, the sooner he could get out of his contract, the sooner she’d become head chef.

  The sooner he’d leave town.

  His heart thumped and dropped into his stomach. The weight of the organ sat there like a bad meal.

  “Stop worrying about me.” She took the wine glass out of his hand and set it on the table. “Maybe we could do this.” Standing, she pushed him off the arm of the chair and into the center.

  Surprised, his butt hit the cushion, with his legs draped over the arm.

  “Or this.” She sat on his lap, making his worries vanish and his ardor grow.

  And grow.

  He hardened beneath her, and he was sure she felt the evidence. Evidence taking charge and driving his actions. He cupped a full breast. Her scent of cinnamon was an aphrodisiac.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his head to hers. She kissed him. “Or this.”

  Chapter Twenty

  They did those things again and again. And then they did more. And Isabel wasn’t sated. Would she ever be?

  Skipping into the hotel the next morning, she stopped by the front desk, unable to keep the loopy smile off her face. Spotting her best friend in her reception-desk uniform of trim skirt and blouse, she stopped. “Hello, Danielle.”

  “What’s going on with you, Isabel?” Her friend angled her head in curiosity.

  What was going on with her? She was happy. For the first time, truly and deeply. She and Michael had made love. They’d woken up in the morning together, and after a short breakfast and a long shower—together—he’d left her house a few minutes earlier to come to the lodge. Their real relationship was progressing into something more significant.

  “Nothing.” She wasn’t ready to share with her best friend yet.

  Danielle posed against the check-in count
er in the front lobby, her eyebrows rising. “By your brilliant smile, and Michael’s, I’d say something is going on between you two.”

  Uh-oh. While the pinky-promise to not date her friend’s brother had been given long ago, Isabel twinged with guilt.

  “When did you see Michael?” She wanted to delay the inevitable questioning. Danielle was her best friend and Michael’s sister.

  Her gaze traveled to the clock behind the counter. “About ten minutes ago, when he waltzed through the lobby with the same glow of satisfaction.” Her suspicious eyebrows arched higher.

  Isabel’s glow dimmed. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Isn’t it?” She appeared disappointed. “I always thought you and Michael would be perfect together.”

  “You did?” Isabel tucked in her chin. Had she gotten it wrong in high school? “I always thought you hated when Michael paid attention to me.”

  “In high school. Because it could’ve ended badly, making it difficult for us to stay friends.” Making a face, Danielle waved a hand in front of her. “Back then, there was something under the surface between you two, because you guys bickered all the time.”

  Definitely something under Isabel’s skin. Her friend had to be wrong about Michael, though. He’d only felt annoyance at his little sister’s best friend. Until now. She couldn’t hold the brighter smile back. Now, he was attracted to her, respected her, and wanted to be with her—at least while he was in town.

  Her breath came in a shallow spurt.

  Take one step at a time, Isabel.

  Danielle planted her elbows on the counter. “So, what’s going on between you two?”

  “I’m not sure.” Not sure how much to tell.

  “There’s something. I can tell by both of your faces.” She came around from behind the counter, probably to inspect Isabel’s expression closer.

  Heat flushed into Isabel’s cheeks and she fanned her face. Telling her best friend wouldn’t be telling the world. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

  “That’s it?” Danielle dug deeper, wanting the full scoop.

  “I can’t really define it. We haven’t really talked about us as a couple.” Isabel knew where she wanted to see the real relationship go. Her heart pumped erratically. The fast action forced a rush of blood into her veins, making her dizzy, making her think.

  She loved Michael.

  The dizziness swarmed and she closed her eyes against the world tilting on its axis. She’d never been in love before, yet she knew this was the real deal. Felt it in her heart. This was what she’d been waiting for her entire adult life. This wasn’t a fake flirtation or an affair. And it certainly wasn’t a game.

  Her heart had been seared by Michael when she’d been fifteen. And now, she’d been permanently scorched by his embrace. Who was she kidding? They’d done so much more than embrace.

  Her friend gave her a big hug and she clung to it, needing the comforting connection. “I love both of you, and I don’t want to see either of you in pain.”

  Too late.

  The thought tattooed on her heart.

  Too late, because she’d fallen in love, and Michael was probably only in lust.

  * * *

  Michael tapped on the spatula, waiting for Isabel to make an appearance. She’d been about ten minutes behind him leaving her house, and yet twenty minutes had passed. Random thoughts of car crashes and muggings passed through his mind until he remembered he was in Castle Ridge. The likelihood of any of those things happening here was rare. Plus, she walked to work.

  What was taking her so long? In high school, he’d worried when his sister and Isabel were out together, always relieved when Danielle returned home and confirmed Isabel had gone home as well. This anxiousness was different. Nerves scratched deep into his bones, leaving a mark.

  Calming himself, he analyzed his rampantly changing emotions. He missed her after only a few minutes. Missed her laughter and her smile. Missed her touch and her flirting. He’d never missed anyone that much before. Ever.

  A pale Isabel entered the kitchen and his analyzing skidded to a halt. She stared straight ahead not noticing the activity or him. Her chef’s coat was buttoned wrong and her pink clogs shuffled on the ground. She looked adorable not totally put together, and he pictured taking care of her when she was upset or sick. He wanted to take care of her.

  Concern rattled his bones. “Are you okay? Not feeling well?”

  Her dazed eyes glanced at him and away. “Me? Um, I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?” Because she appeared to be sick or shocked.

  Who took care of Isabel when she was sick? Who cooked for her or tucked her into bed? And why did doing those things appeal?

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Her quick smile didn’t show in her eyes, and his rattling grew louder. “I’ll get started.”

  Ignoring his concerns, they discussed the menu and fell into an easy working relationship. She obviously didn’t want to discuss it with him or in front of the cameras. Her cheeks returned to their normal rosy color, even though she was quieter than usual—as if lost in her thoughts. Friendly, not flirtatious. Jorge would not be pleased with the footage from today.

  Michael’s gut cramped and worry filled his lungs with excess air. Had the sex not been good for her last night? He’d thought they’d anticipated each other’s needs, as they did working side by side in the kitchen. While he worked, he dreamed up ways to pleasure her more. To fulfill and please her tonight.

  She left to get something from one of the storage areas and he couldn’t stop his gaze from following. The way she moved snagged his attention and wouldn’t let go.

  “No kitchen romances, huh?” Tony’s suggestiveness pissed Michael off.

  “Romantic entanglements can explode at any minute. We don’t need it in the kitchen.”

  Jorge would love a fiery argument between two lovers. Michael strengthened his resolve to change up the game they played. He wanted more real and less reality. An argument between them wasn’t going to happen.

  “A chef should try his own recipe.” Tony’s sarcasm cut through Michael’s thoughts.

  He wanted to take the advice and stuff it up a turkey.

  Except what the man said was true. When he broke the rules, which was rare, he normally did a better job of keeping it secret. But he and Isabel pretend flirted in front of the cameras to please the producer, not to show their affair was real. Even though it was.

  What a mess.

  Tony and Maria had a long-term, committed relationship that Michael wasn’t supposed to know about. Isabel said they’d never had a problem in the kitchen with the couple. Yet, they couldn’t express their feelings because of the rules.

  While Michael and Isabel flaunted the rules on purpose.

  Drama beneath the drama.

  They didn’t need any more drama, and they didn’t need anyone else sacrificing their reputation. Grabbing the outspoken staff member, he gathered the apron material between his fingers. “I’m the head chef, and as head chef I make the rules for my staff.” Air plunged out of his lungs making his words more forceful. “Doesn’t mean I have to follow them.”

  Damn. He’d acted the hothead. Jorge was going to love that.

  “Just for discussion,” Tony placed a rough hand over Michael’s and unpeeled his fingers off the coat. “What if a couple was a couple before you and your rules arrived on scene?”

  Michael needed to stick to his rules, so he went for the drama of the kill. “Then one of the members of this supposed-imaginary couple needs to quit.” Narrowing his gaze, he shot arrows at his target. “Before I find out and fire them.”

  He put his acting skills into making the cameras believe, knowing he’d never fire the pair.

  “Chef Françoise didn’t have stuffy rules.” Tony’s nose flared. He grabbed a pan and shoved it between them.

  Michael kind of hoped the pan would be used as a weapon. He deserved it and it would look good on reality television.

&
nbsp; “What’s going on?” Isabel’s question accused.

  Not only did he deserve to be whacked with the pan, he should be sautéed and roasted. Still, he couldn’t let up. Jorge would love this exchange. “My kitchen. My rules.”

  Tony wavered and stepped back. “That’s not fair.”

  Life was unfair.

  Like having to play the macho chef because of taunts from his now-dead father.

  Like flaunting a relationship with Isabel, while having to keep his real emotions secret.

  Like the fact this town wasn’t big enough for two top chefs and she belonged here.

  While he belonged…nowhere.

  He’d never fit in here as a kid. He’d never fit in in Hollywood, although he played the role to perfection. He wilted internally. The sense of being lost steamed through every pore. He used that steam for his next shot. “The kitchen isn’t a democracy. It’s a dictatorship.”

  * * *

  Transfixed, Isabel watched the monster-Michael emerge. He raged about rules and regulations, while they broke every single one. She wanted to step in front of Tony and protect him, but he was a big man and could take care of himself. He was a good employee, too, and if The Heights lost him because of Michael she’d be the one raging.

  Her overflowing heart swelled to an uncomfortable level. This wasn’t the real Michael. He must be playing another angle for the cameras. Except she thought they’d agreed to flirt, not fight. What was going on?

  Maybe his rule of no romantic relationships was a good one and she should follow it, even though Tony and Maria made it work. If Isabel and Michael worked in separate kitchens, their real relationship could come out into the open. Thinking about sending out more resumes or contacting a headhunter made her head ache. She didn’t want to move from Castle Ridge. But if she didn’t find another position now, once Kitchen Catastrophe aired she’d have a harder time finding a job.

  She spent most of the dinner shift deep in her own thoughts. Confusion and hurt stewed in a jambalaya of newly-realized and unrequited love. Michael didn’t flirt with her, he barely talked to her. He did order everyone else around, being brusque and uncaring. Like before they’d begun their fake flirtation game.