Sweet Seduction

by Jennifer St George

  ‘Charlie Brown, welcome to the show.’

  Polite applause filtered from the audience.

  ‘Tell us a little about yourself.’

  ‘Um. I . . .’Her mouth dried to parchment.

  I got sick of my privileged life and decided to try slumming it?

  She tried again. ‘I’m . . .’

  . . . so rich I could buy Donovan’s restaurant and everyone in it?

  Jasper waited. ‘Yes?’

  Silence stretched as only the sound of the audience shuffling in their seats punctuated the air. Even though the studio lights blazed around her, she broke into a cold sweat.

  She wasn’t Charlie Brown, catering assistant from Brisbane with dreams of being a chef. She was heiress to a fortune with the ability to pay for the best cooking tuition in the world. She dropped her gaze to the bench, terrified the shame would show on her face.

  ‘Everything all right down there?’ Gabe called over the set intercom.

  ‘Just a little stage fright,’ Jasper replied.

  ‘Charlie,’ Gabe called, ‘could you look up here, please?’

  She couldn’t.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said as she crumbled with shame. Blundering into the protection of the shadows, Paul’s words thundered in her mind.

  You’re nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  And he was right.

  Damn.

  Gabe rushed down the stairs to the studio floor.

  ‘Charlie,’ he called. But she’d already reached the door and pulled it open. ‘Charlie. Wait.’

  She disappeared from view.

  He found her in the corridor, dragging air into her lungs as if she’d just broken the surface from the depths of icy water.

  ‘Charlie, what is it? You’re scaring me.’

  ‘I don’t deserve to be here,’ she said, her voice ragged.

  Anguish tarnished her beautiful eyes. His heart twisted painfully.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘All those people have worked so hard and I—’

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Charlie, you’re here fair and square. You’ve competed just like everyone else.’

  ‘But you’re the director and—’

  ‘I took absolutely no part in the decision. None. You know that.’

  He tilted her chin up. A tear escaped her eyes and slid down her cheek. He wiped it away. Her vulnerability ripped at his heart.

  Abigail’s voice crackled in his ear. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Just give me a minute,’ he replied into the mike.

  ‘I’m ruining the show, aren’t I?’ Her eyes met his fleetingly.

  ‘Charlie, you take as long as you need.’

  But she straightened and wiped ferociously at her eyes. ‘I’m fine.’ The expression on her face morphed to one of strength and determination.

  Where was this sudden change of heart coming from? ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said, her voice firm and final. She pulled open the studio door, but turned back. ‘Is my make-up still all right? I don’t want to wreck your show with streaks of mascara.’

  Gabe stared at her perfect, gorgeous face.

  ‘All good.’

  Charlie disappeared through the door. Gabe stared numbly at the solid structure as it closed slowly behind her.

  He frowned as he searched for a plausible explanation for Charlie’s behaviour.

  The more time he spent with Charlie, the more of a mystery she became.

  Charlie walked with grim determination back onto the set. When she’d created Charlie Brown, she didn’t think it would hurt anyone. It was just a flight of fancy for a few days to give herself some much-craved anonymity. A break from being a Wentworth and everything that went with it.

  But Charlie Brown wasn’t just a mirage —to some people she was real. And more importantly, Charlie had responsibilities to those people.

  Well, to one person in particular.

  This show was Gabe’s livelihood, and here she was chucking it in his face.

  Charlie Brown didn’t let people down. Charlie Brown was a better person than that, not some spoilt brat with too much money and a limited sense of responsibility.

  She took her place at her workstation. The contest was at a standstill. Jasper and Abigail huddled together at the front. They, along with everyone else, stared, perplexed. The moment reminded Charlie of attending those celebrity-studded charity benefits where she had to walk the red carpet. Everyone staring. Normally she would stand behind Paul and let him manage the situation, speaking only if necessary.

  ‘Okay, Jasper, I’ve had my meltdown.’ Nerves tugged at her confidence but the words sounded strong and fearless. A few of the contestants and crew chuckled. ‘I’m ready now.’

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Gabe return and climb back into the control box. He threw her an encouraging wave. She wouldn’t let him down.

  Jasper returned to his position next to her station. His expression clouded with unease. Time to step up to the mark.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m fine now,’ she reassured him.

  The red light of the camera flashed on.

  ‘Charlie Brown,’ Jasper began. ‘Tell us a little about yourself. Do you have a little dog at home called Snoopy?’

  Charlie laughed. Now that she was thinking of Gabe and not herself, she knew she could face anything. A switch had been thrown and she’d deliver.

  ‘Sorry, Jasper, no dogs, but I do give cooking utensils names.’

  A beaming smile lit Jasper’s face. ‘Really?’

  ‘You bet.’ She picked up a paring knife. ‘Meet Wolverine, the best little knife this side of the equator.’

  Some of the audience laughed.

  ‘Wolverine?’

  ‘Yes, throw anything at it and this little guy will slice it to pieces.’

  ‘Sounds a touch scary.’ Jasper held up his hands in mock fear.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jasper, you’ll be fine. Just don’t interrupt when I’m dissecting,’ she said, picking up a carrot and waving it at him.

  ‘I can see you are not a cook to be messed with.’

  ‘You know what, Jasper? You haven’t seen anything yet.’ With every word, her confidence soared. With Gabe watching, she really believed she could do anything.

  ‘So what’s your pet name for this?’ Jasper asked holding up her mortar and pestle.

  ‘Sorry, their names are X-rated,’ she said, with a seductive smile.

  Jasper’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. ‘Come on, Charlie.’

  Charlie shook her head but asked Jasper to come close. She leaned and whispered the names in his ear.

  He roared with laughter and turned to the camera.

  ‘Sorry, folks.’ He put the implements down with exaggerated care. ‘These are just too hot to handle.’

  ‘Cut. Brilliant,’ Gabe said, laughing over the intercom.

  Several contestants joined in the loud applause.

  Gabe gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing. ‘Come on, Charlie, what do you call them?’ he cajoled through the intercom.

  She waggled her finger teasingly at him. ‘That would be telling. It’s always important to maintain some mystery.’

  ‘Okay, mystery girl, you win this time. Set up the next shot, please.’

  Jasper and the cameramen walked over to the next station, but Charlie could still feel Gabe’s eyes on her. He leaned back in his chair, a slow, secret smile spreading across his face.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Charlie answered, laughing at Gabe’s question as they drove back from the studio later that day. She’d blitzed the first episode. The challenge had been to cook a dessert from a mystery box of ingredients. She’d delivered ten perfect portions of poached pear cheesecake topped with dark chocolate shavings in record time.

  ‘No, really,’ he said. ‘From a teary mess to blowing the judge’s taste buds right through the roof.’ He glanced at her before entering the choked tangle of the enormo
us Hammersmith roundabout.

  You. It was all you.

  ‘I don’t know, really,’ she insisted.

  His face broke into a brilliant grin. ‘Well, whatever the reason, it’s going to make great television.’

  Charlie’s heart danced as she admired Gabe’s perfect profile. Being around Gabe made everything bright, shining, wonderful.

  Maybe I could just stay Charlie Brown.

  She held her breath, waiting for the thought to dissipate.

  It didn’t.

  She shook her head, trying to dislodge the idea from her mind. But it clung persistently at the periphery of her brain.

  ‘You only have to rank about the middle of the audience scores and you’ll probably still win the round,’ Gabe said.

  Charlie forced herself to focus on Gabe’s voice.

  ‘Really?’ She frowned. ‘So just explain to me again how it works. I’ve been too nervous to really think about the technical details.’

  ‘Okay. So your meals are winging their way to Paris, New York or Sydney. First-class passengers are tucking into one of your desserts right now.’

  Unease chipped at her confidence. Charlie bit her lip.

  ‘The first show will air this Sunday night,’ Gabe continued. ‘The voting lines will open at the end of the show and will stay open for twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘We start filming the next episode on Tuesday. The audience scores from the previous week will be added to the judges’ scores and the lowest-ranked contestant will be asked to leave the show that night. After ten rounds, we’ll have a winner.’

  ‘It’s so brutal. Those people are so nice.’

  ‘That’s what makes great television. The audience gets to know the contestants. Then they start backing their favourites.’

  Charlie sank into the leather car seat. Would anyone cheer for her?

  Gabe pulled the vehicle to a stop at a zebra crossing.

  Suddenly Charlie couldn’t help herself. A flood of gratitude welled up inside her. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Everything.’ For the first time in her life she understood the expression ‘blissfully happy.’ Gabe had made that possible.

  Gabe laughed. ‘I think I’ve got the better end of the deal. My house is immaculate. My sister’s being looked after and thanks to you, I could have the best-rating show I’ve ever produced.’ He reached over and rubbed her knee. ‘I’m so glad we met that day.’

  Her heart fluttered as a fire smouldered between her thighs.

  ‘Me too,’ she whispered.

  Perhaps she never needed to go home. Never needed to be Charlotte Wentworth again. There was nothing in Australia for her. She gazed over at Gabe. And everything right here.

  Chapter Ten

  Gabe watched Charlie settle herself on his couch and pull a rug over her lap. She noticed the front cover of a magazine, her image plastered all over the cover. She looked away quickly.

  As predicted, the nation had fallen in love with the plucky little Aussie cook. Five episodes in and the show had already pulled record viewer numbers. First-Class Chef had even knocked off a couple of Britain’s top shows.

  He snatched up the bowl of popcorn she’d prepared and began munching at the buttery white kernels. She looked so cute all cuddled up.

  ‘Hey, give me some of that,’ she said.

  Gabe dropped down on the couch beside her and pulled some of the rug onto his lap.

  ‘You cater for everything, don’t you?’ he said, diving into the bowl and pulling out a handful.

  ‘I’m beginning to think I might be over-indulging. Having free rein in the kitchen is dangerous.’

  He sat back and looked her at her, baffled. ‘Didn’t you cook this much at home?’

  Her cheeks pinked as her eyes darted from his. This always happened when he asked about her life in Australia.

  ‘Ah, with the show – I’m cooking and tasting a lot more than usual.’

  The theme tune of First-Class Chef began to play. He nudged her shoulder. ‘It’s on.’

  They’d shot thirty hours of film that week and it had taken them four days to edit. Charlie had been the standout. Everything they’d shot of her – superb.

  When he’d completed the rough cut, they’d been four minutes over and Charlie had dominated the show. The rest of the edit team wanted to cut other contestants, but Gabe had insisted on eliminating some of Charlie’s scenes. He worried his that his bias influenced the content.

  Charlie wriggled on the seat next to him.

  ‘Still nervous after so many weeks?’ he asked.

  ‘Terrified.’

  As the hour-long program aired, Charlie agitated next to him. He’d never met such a reluctant and highly self-critical contestant. She cringed each time she featured.

  His mobile buzzed during the commercial break. He glanced at the name displayed.

  ‘Abigail. How are we going?’

  ‘The first half-hour numbers are in and they’re wild.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘We’ve hit six million – twenty-four percent of the market. We’re blitzing this time slot.’

  His heart rocketed in his chest as he sprang up. ‘Incredible. Ring me when you have the final numbers. Thanks. Bye.’

  He clicked off, then reached forward and hauled Charlie to her feet.

  ‘We’re number one in the slot.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said.

  Charlie’s eyes sparkled. She looked so adorable in her pink tracksuit and matching ugg boots. Adorable and super sexy. He’d never known anyone make a tracksuit look so damn hot.

  A blast of theme music brought him back to earth.

  ‘We’re back,’ he said, pulling her down again. Even with the biggest success of his career playing out before him, he found it hard to concentrate with Charlie’s warm body nestled so close to his.

  The tension mounted through the show, perspiration showing on the foreheads of many contestants. Some made simple mistakes with their preparations. Though he’d seen the package many times, Gabe sat on the edge of his seat.

  Charlie could barely stay in hers. She called out encouragement and commiserated when others made a mess of things.

  ‘Poor Henry, I didn’t know he’d burnt his orange sauce.’

  ‘Watch it, Emma, that pan’s boiling over,’ she called at the television.

  Gabe smiled. This was a competition, yet Charlie cheered the others on.

  The show drew to a close and although they both knew the results already, he could feel Charlie tense with anticipation. She’d tied in first place with Tim, the IT guy from Manchester.

  The show finished and he switched the TV off. Charlie looked up at him with expectant eyes.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘I think this is going to be big,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Really big.’

  His phone buzzed again. ‘Abigail.’

  ‘Seven million,’ she said simply. ‘Congratulations.’

  Speech eluded him for a moment. It was his best result yet and there were still five episodes to go. ‘Couldn’t have done it without you, kid,’ he said and clicked off. He’d broken his own record of five million.

  ‘Seven million,’ he said.

  ‘Is that good?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Put it this way, the most watched show ever in British television history was around thirty million and we still have weeks until the final.’

  Charlie stood and held out her hand. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘To hell with that,’ he said, gathering her into his arms. ‘If it weren’t for you, this show wouldn’t exist.’

  Her soft curves moulded against him. The aroma of popcorn clung deliciously to her hair. He breathed deeply, pulling her closer. The desire to lie her down on the couch and cover her with his body threatened to overwhelm him.

  The doorbell shrilled. The noise brought common sense slamming b
ack into his body and his brain. Damn. He dropped his arms from Charlie’s luscious body.

  Gabe stepped back. Charlie was off limits.

  The sharp sound echoed again.

  If it rings again, I’ll rip the bloody thing off the wall.

  Charlie sank back on the couch. She snuggled in the warmth left by Gabe’s body.

  She ran her hand down her chest, hoping to keep the luscious essence of Gabe alive. The memory of his arms around her body lingered deliciously.

  She heard the front door open.

  ‘Gabe. Darling.’ A posh female voice filtered into the room. ‘Wonderful to catch you at home. So lovely to see you. I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Sophie. What in hell’s name are you doing here?’ Gabe asked.

  ‘Can’t an ex drop by for a nightcap?’ the woman purred.

  Ex! Charlie bristled.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling.’

  Charlie heard high heels click on the entry hall tiles.

  A tall, immaculately dressed woman swept into the room. Gabe followed with a face that could have turned Medusa to stone. Everything about the newcomer screamed serious wealth. Six-inch Jimmy Choos, Prada handbag and this season’s Balmain military jacket. Although Charlie used to dress in a similar way, she had never looked as sophisticated as this incredibly striking woman.

  The visitor stopped abruptly when she laid her eyes on Charlie. An ugly frown savaged her otherwise beautiful, yet slightly severe-looking, face. She looked disturbingly familiar. Diamonds flashed at the woman’s throat and sparkled on her ears. Diamonds from the recently launched Rare Pink collection. Over twenty thousand dollars dangled from her ears alone. An icy chill ran the length of Charlie’s body.

  Wentworth diamonds!

  ‘Who’s this?’ Sophie asked with an arctic sneer and a dismissive flick of her hand. ‘Not replacing me already are we? Or are you staff?’ She threw the question in Charlie’s direction as she looked down her nose.

  With horror, the penny dropped – Sophie Eddington-Smythe.

  Charlie looked away, not daring to expose her face for another second. How had she not been recognised? The new hair and cheap clothes obviously helped.

  Why was Sophie Eddington-Smythe in Gabe’s living room? They’d met once, years ago at the London launch of the Brilliant Yellow diamond range. If memory served, her father owned half of Cornwall or Devon or somewhere like that.