Can't Stand the Heat (Corporate Chaos Series Book 2)

by Leighann Dobbs

“What’s so funny?” Raffe stepped into the bedroom just as Sarah was making a goofy pose and pointing to the rose petals for a selfie to send to Marly.

  Shit! Sarah jerked the phone away and straightened, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

  “Oh. Uh. Umm. Nothing. It’s just, I mean the rose petals are funny. Not that they aren’t nice, it’s just, given our situation, they are kind of funny.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess. Anyway, I already assumed I’ll sleep on the couch.” Raffe said, pointing toward the living room. “By the way, the rose petals were already there when I came in.”

  Sarah’s cheeks burned even hotter. Did Raffe think that she thought he had put them on the bed and she was taking the photo to show off?

  “Oh, okay. Thanks. So I guess we should put our stuff away before we head to the meet and greet?” She swept a bunch of the rose petals aside, their sweet floral scent wafting up as they floated to the ground. She hefted her suitcase onto the bed.

  The meet-and-greet party was scheduled to begin soon in the courtyard so the contestants could get to know each other. Sarah was anxious about going to the party, but she knew that trying to get out of it would only call attention to her and Raffe. They didn’t need any added scrutiny.

  She worried about being able to pull off their fake engagement, but going to the party did have a benefit: She wouldn’t have to hang around in the bungalow alone with Raffe and the gigantic bed.

  “Yeah, there are some drawers in the funky side tables in the living room, and I’ll put my clothes in there so I don’t have to disrupt you here in the bedroom,” Raffe disappeared, and Sarah unzipped her suitcase. She didn’t have much in it. Unlike most women, she’d never felt the need to pack a complete wardrobe. She had her chef’s clothes, some T-shirts, shorts, a few capri pants, and two dressy outfits. And, of course, flip-flops.

  She kicked off her shoes, the tile floor cool on her feet as she padded around the room taking her neatly packed things out of the suitcase and putting them in the drawers. Even though the bedroom was not on the ocean side, she still heard the lulling sound of the surf through the open window. The muted-green and sky-blue tones of the bedroom were soothing, and the king-sized bed, with its fluffy, crisp, white comforter, looked inviting. No time to nap now, though.

  Unzipping the side pocket of the suitcase, she pulled out her toothbrush, shampoo, soap, and a small makeup case. Sarah had been a tomboy growing up and had never really gotten into the whole makeup and beauty regimen. She’d only started wearing makeup when she had gone to work at Draconia Fashions before her chef job a few years ago, and even then it was only some light bronzer with the occasional dab of lip gloss.

  Maybe she should put in a little more effort for this party tonight?

  She unzipped her makeup case, taking inventory as she crossed the hall to the bathroom. Mascara. Lip gloss. Should she have brought eyeliner?

  Ooof! She smacked into something solid. Raffe.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Raffe laughed as they jostled around each other in the doorway.

  Sarah squeezed past him into the bathroom.

  “Is that all yours?” Sarah pointed to the miscellaneous products neatly tucked onto one side of the large marble vanity. Various skin creams and hair care items. Though Raffe had chopped off his long hair for the contest, he had more personal care items than a girl. Certainly more than she did.

  “Yeah,” Raffe mumbled, his face reddening. “Hey, guys need to look good too.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just feeling foolish because you have more than me!” Sarah winced as his cheeks grew more crimson. His usual arrogance was gone, and she almost felt uncomfortable for him, but his embarrassment made her like him a little bit more. It made him more human.

  “Umm, do you mind if I hang my suits in the bedroom closet?” Raffe shot over his shoulder as he headed toward the living room.

  “Of course not,” Sarah said. “Use the bureaus too if you want. I only need two drawers.”

  “I’m good.” Raffe came down the hall with a charcoal-gray suit on a hanger as Sarah headed back into the bedroom. That reminded her, she had a few nice things that should probably be hung up. She grabbed them out of the drawer and snagged a hanger, trying not to brush against Raffe, who was fiddling with his suits, apparently making sure they wouldn’t wrinkle on the hanger.

  “I feel bad,” Sarah blurted out, shutting her empty suitcase and pushing it under the bed.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” he asked as they both headed toward the living room.

  “It’s just, well, the engaged part. I hate lying to everyone. I mean, I hope I can pull it off. I’m not very good at lying.”

  Raffe looked out the window, his eyes pensive, jaw tight. Sarah got the impression that lying bothered him as much as it did her. Maybe there was a softer side under Raffe’s hardened businessman-who-would-do-anything-to-succeed persona.

  “I don’t like lying either, but we aren’t hurting anyone.” His eyes flew to the fake engagement ring that she nervously twisted on her finger. He frowned, and she stopped twisting then looked out at the ocean.

  One of the other couples from the show walked by at the water’s edge, their sandals in one hand as their feet splashed in the water. They held hands, laughing.

  “They must be heading to the party. We’d better go.” Sarah turned, the pressure in her chest growing tight. “I hope I can pull this off.”

  “You’ll be fine. Stop playing with your ring, though. That’s a dead giveaway. Just act natural, and no one will suspect a thing.”

  4

  Just act natural, and no one will suspect a thing.

  Sarah repeated the mantra in her head as she walked next to Raffe along the solar-light-dotted path that led to the party area.

  Her stomach knotted. Not only were she and Raffe not a couple, she knew little about him and his personal life and vice versa. Should they have concocted some kind of story? What if people asked personal questions?

  As they approached the courtyard, she heard the murmur of voices, bursts of laughter, and the clinking of glasses and utensils. The aroma of grilled meat spiced the air. The knot in her stomach tightened further.

  Tiki torches lighted the courtyard, their bright flames flickering above the colorful party lights strung around the perimeter. An ice sculpture depicting the Chef Masters logo—a giant knife—rose eight feet high in the center of the courtyard. The sharp point at the top had already melted to a dull arc, and the handle was dripping. Sarah wondered how long the rest of it would last in the tropical heat. Cans of Sterno burbled under food stations set up in a long row, and servers dressed in island attire passed trays of hors d’oeuvres. A calypso band played softly off to one side, adding the perfect Caribbean touch.

  She followed Raffe to a tiki bar and ordered an “Island Special”—which a drink menu described as spiced rum and punch. The bartender handed them the tall pink drinks, placing a little umbrella next to the pineapple slice at the top. Sarah took a long sip. Fruity, spicy, and loaded with rum.

  “Excuse me, but that looks delicious, what is it?” a cheerful voice next to her asked.

  Sarah turned slightly to her right to find a short, tanned bald man with a warm smile. He wore a bright red Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. She recognized him from the contest.

  “It’s an Island Special. It’s delicious. I’m Sarah, by the way. And this is my, err, Raffe. My fiancé.” She hoped her new friend hadn’t noticed her fumble her words. She was sure Raffe had caught it, though, so she avoided looking at him.

  “I’m Rob. So nice to meet you! Honey? Here, this is Sarah and Raffe. This is my partner, Brian.” Rob gestured toward a tall, slender man with a gray goatee.

  Sarah and Raffe shook Brian’s hand and exchanged some small talk while picking from the serving trays paraded past them. Brian and Rob were from Florida, had been together for almost ten years, and were very funny. Sarah liked them immediately.

  As the
y talked, they migrated toward the dining tables, Raffe talking to Brian and Rob about some restaurants in the Boca Raton area that they might know.

  “I guess we can sit here?” she asked, stopping at a table where several people were already seated.

  “Oh, honey, sure. Sit right down,” a woman across from her said. “Make some room, everyone!” she bellowed down toward the end of the table. At the end, a dark-haired woman rolled her eyes and whispered into what Sarah assumed was her husband’s ear.

  “I’m Gina, and this is my husband Tony. Nice to meet you.” The first woman extended a long tanned arm. Dozens of gold bracelets clanked on her wrist as they shook hands.

  “That’s Kim and her hubby Dave, and down there are Brenda and Dick, and across from them are Tom and Kelly.”

  Everyone at the table eyed Sarah and Raffe expectantly, so she made the introductions, careful not to stumble over the word “fiancé” when she introduced Raffe.

  “Fiancé? I thought this contest was just for married folks,” Brenda, the eye roller, said. Sarah sensed trouble and avoided answering her, instead sitting in the chair Raffe had pulled out for her next to Kim. Brian and Rob had already taken seats at the other end of the table.

  “How long have you been engaged? Your ring is so pretty!” Kim asked Sarah, eyeing her diamond.

  Sarah twisted the ring, stopping immediately upon catching a glare from Raffe, who sat across the table from her.

  “Oh, thank you. We’ve been engaged for, umm, almost two years now. So many things to do, planning a wedding. You know how it is, I’m sure!” Sarah took another sip of her drink to stop herself from babbling.

  Kim laughed. She had a soft, gentle way about her and was very dainty. Her straight, waist-length dirty-blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore a simple lavender ankle-length tank-style dress.

  “She’s laughing because we eloped,” Dave explained, reaching for the bread basket. “Actually, we got married on this same beach, down more toward the town, though.”

  “Really? How exciting!” Sarah said, perking up. She’d always thought she wanted a destination wedding. When the time came, of course. Okay, if it came. But hey, she was fake engaged, so why not think about fake wedding plans?

  “Well, not exactly exciting. It’s kind of a long story. We eloped. We had lived in the community for more than a year and loved it here. We knew we wanted to be together, so we just grabbed a JP and got married on the beach.”

  “What community? You mean you have a house here, on the island?” Raffe asked, grabbing the butter and slathering it on a roll.

  “We’ve lived here for a while, yes.” Dave looked down at his plate. “Not in a house, though. Not anymore. Long story, but we’re kind of between homes right now.”

  Kim put her hand on Dave’s arm. “What Dave means is we’re homeless. It wasn’t always that way, but we’ve had a run of bad luck.”

  Homeless? Sarah’s ears perked up at the word. Suddenly she was very interested in what Kim and Dave had to say. Apparently so was everyone else, because the table fell silent as everyone looked at Dave.

  “Well, it’s such a beautiful island,” Sarah said, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence without making Dave and Kim feel bad but having no idea what to say. How did a homeless couple even get on the show?

  “I feel I should explain.” Dave squeezed Kim’s hand. Homeless or not, they seemed extremely happy.

  “Kim and I met in Boston five years ago. We’ve been inseparable ever since. About three years ago I had a great job offer as head chef at L’Ellsipa here on the island. So of course I said yes and insisted Kim quit her job and come with me. Long story short, things didn’t work out at L’Ellsipa. It all happened very fast, and before we knew it, we were homeless. We had a small amount of money to get by, and we assumed that finding jobs here would be easier than it was. At first we rented a one-room unit. We eventually ended up living on the beach by the bridge.”

  Sarah knew exactly where he was talking about. On the cab ride from the airport, the driver had pointed out different points of interest, and she distinctly remembered him saying to avoid the beach area around the bridge as it was known as “Tent City,” where the homeless lived.

  “I hope this doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable.” Kim glanced around the table.

  “How does a homeless couple even get on the show?” Brenda chimed in, asking the question that Sarah—and probably everyone else—was too polite to ask but wanted to know.

  “We heard about it from friends. Word still travels, even in the homeless world. I still know people from when I ran the kitchen at L’Ellsipa,” Dave explained. “Anyway, we applied and got accepted. They don’t really care where you live.”

  “He is an amazing chef,” Kim added, grinning at her husband.

  The servers interrupted the conversation, placing white oval platters of food in the middle of the table. Kalua pork, grilled lamb, steak kabobs, grilled pineapple, spiced rice, chicken, and in the middle, a tropical green salad with fruit and nuts.

  “So, are there a lot of homeless people on the island?” Sarah tried to sound casual as she reached for the grilled lamb.

  “Why would you ask that?” Brenda snapped at her.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” Sarah stuttered. “It’s just that… umm… there’s just so much extra food that gets tossed in the contest. I would love to see it go to people who can use it instead of it being thrown away.” It was true, except that wasn’t exactly the reason she’d asked.

  Dave smiled. “No worries. There are a lot of homeless. And it’s nice of you to think about feeding them. Most of the homeless are just regular folks who had some bad luck like us. But if you have to be homeless, this isn’t such a bad place.”

  “I guess not.” Sarah focused on loading up her dish from the platters.

  “Raffe, your name is so unique. Is it a family name?” Gina, who sat next to Raffe, leaned in closer to him.

  “Thank you. No, not a family name. My parents just liked to be different I guess,” Raffe replied, looking almost embarrassed.

  Was Gina flirting with him?

  Sarah shot a look across the table at Gina, who was staring up at Raffe. She darted her eyes to Raffe. Was he blushing?

  She looked back at Gina. She had an unnatural-looking tan, most likely from a tanning bed. Her face was pretty, but too made up. She wore pink lipstick that made her face look almost orange. Sort of like an Oompa Loompa.

  “Well, it suits you. It’s such a strong name,” Gina’s eyes lingered on Raffe for a few seconds before returning to her plate.

  Well, this was awkward. How was Sarah supposed to feel about someone flirting with her fake fiancé? Should she have fake jealousy? What did Gina’s husband, Tony, think of it? He seemed oblivious, focusing on a conversation about sports at the other end of the table.

  Sarah concentrated on her meal. She didn’t want to get involved with any of these people. If Raffe wanted to do some extra-credit cooking with Gina, then he was more than welcome. As long as it didn’t jeopardize their chances of winning, she didn’t care what he did.

  Sarah focused on making small talk, and before she knew it, they were digging into the crème brûlée. The party was almost over. It hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought. No one had asked much about their relationship, and Sarah had been surprised at how easily she could fake the answers to the questions they did ask.

  “So what do you guys say? One last drink?” Raffe looked at the others expectantly as he pushed up from the table.

  “Sure!” Tony got up too. “I’ll get them with you.”

  The two men went to the bar and came back with tall, umbrella-laced drinks for everyone.

  “A toast to good cooking!” Dave held his glass up, and they all reached over the table to clink.

  Landon Barkley appeared at the head of the table, beaming smiles at them. “Wonderful! I see you are all getting along nicely. Maybe even making friends, r
ight?” He raised his brows and looked at everyone.

  “Yeah!”

  “Sure!”

  Landon’s eyes narrowed like a hawk looking at a baby rabbit. “Great, but I must warn you all not to get too attached. This is a contest, after all. And tomorrow one couple will be going home.”

  5

  The party had gone better than Raffe had expected. A few times he’d seen Sarah twisting that ring and worried she’d blurt something out and give them away, but she’d performed well. Still, he was glad it was over and they were now standing in front of their bungalow. Felt weird, though, coming home to a romantic bungalow with someone he barely knew.

  He opened the door and gestured for Sarah to go in first. “After you.”

  His phone rang before he could enter. It was his best friend, Jasper. He sat on the deck, kicking his expensive leather boat shoes off and sticking his feet into the still-warm sand.

  “How’s island life?” Jasper asked.

  “Better than where you are, I’m sure.” Raffe grinned as he dug his toes in deeper, listening to the soothing sound of the surf and feeling the warm breeze on his face. The weather on the island was nearly perfect, but Jasper was in New York, where it was cold and snowy.

  “You can say that again. We just got more than a foot of snow. That’s why I’m calling. To see if you needed me to check on EightyEight for you?”

  Raffe’s heart warmed at Jasper’s offer. EightyEight was Raffe’s soon-to-be-opened restaurant in New York City. Renovations were still underway, behind schedule due to the rough winter. This storm had probably stalled construction even further, and while Raffe had a general manager to look after the project, there was nothing like a friend looking in on your interests for you.

  “If you could check it out, I’d appreciate it. Thanks. Anything new?” Raffe asked.

  “Aside from Edward driving me nuts? Nothing. For a retired person, he works more now than before.” Jasper’s voice held a lilt of exasperation when he mentioned his father.