Love Connection

by Crimson Romance

  “Good night.” Surprised she was able to say anything at all, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. He was close enough that she could smell his minty toothpaste, close enough to feel the warmth from his body. There was no way she would be able to fall asleep.

  Chapter Four

  “Where do you think we’re going?” Carly checked her makeup in a hand mirror as their car took them through Los Angeles traffic.

  “I have no idea. I thought it might be something baking-related, but that seems kind of boring. These shows usually send contestants on things like helicopter rides or cave explorations or something crazy to make things more interesting, so it’s anybody’s guess. Don’t be surprised if it has nothing to do with us, even though they said they’d match the date to our personalities.”

  “Well, whatever it is, the suspense is killing me.” As was the close proximity to Michael in the backseat of the car. The cool air conditioning was the only thing keeping her from overheating in such close quarters.

  “Try to relax and enjoy the last few minutes before cameras are on us. Save your energy for pretending we’re a happy couple,” he whispered, though the driver wasn’t likely listening. His warm breath against her ear sent a shiver down her spine and had goose bumps dotting her arms.

  “I think we did pretty good last night at the dinner, don’t you? It seemed real, right?” She patted her neat bun, checking for rogue locks of hair.

  “Absolutely. After that, today should be no problem. I mean, most of the people last night knew us when you hated my guts. If they can be convinced that we’re a real couple now, today should be a cakewalk. We’ll have to keep up appearances in front of the crew, but wherever they’re sending us, people won’t know anything about us. They’ll have no reason to ask questions.”

  “You’re probably right. I’ll be glad when it’s all over, though. All this pretending is exhausting.” Not to mention excruciating, between grappling with her confusing feelings for Michael and hiding them from him.

  “It’s nowhere near over, cupcake. We’ve got to keep it up until after the wedding, too. Might as well buckle up and enjoy the ride.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  They pulled into the parking lot of Angel City Italrican, an Italian-Puerto Rican fusion restaurant, and Carly sucked in a breath. Why couldn’t they be pulling up to a place that actually had something to do with Sugar Shock? Why not a bakery or even a winery for a tasting or something? A studio tour would’ve been nice—anything but complicated fusion food.

  Baking and cooking were completely different skill sets, and Carly was much more comfortable with the precise chemistry that went into baking than with the experimental, loose guidelines of cooking. Showing off her finished pastries was easy, but being watched as she put together a meal step by step was excruciating. The pressure to get everything perfect flustered her so that she made mistakes, stumbled over her words. The show producers either had a publicity deal with the business or were looking forward to placing them in an unfamiliar situation.

  “Ah, so it looks like they’ve got a cooking show segment lined up. I’m actually surprised they don’t have us doing something crazy.” Michael shrugged, though he still looked cool and confident. He might not be an accomplished chef, but he didn’t seem too worried about it. He’d probably take it in stride like everything else that came his way.

  “Crap.” She was a lot less calm about the prospect of walking into the restaurant and trying to act like she knew what she was doing.

  • • •

  “Come in, come in, you beautiful people. I’m so glad you’re here!” A tall, wiry, and very tan man greeted them at the door and whisked them into his orbit. His coal-black hair shined under the bright staging lights, and a gold tooth caught the light when he smiled. “I’m Antonio, and today, you are in my capable hands. We’re going to have a wonderful time together, so I hope you are ready for some fun in my kitchen.”

  The production crew bustled in behind them and set up around the otherwise empty restaurant. Michael took Carly’s hand and followed Antonio further inside, their shoes squeaking on the polished floor. She was clearly nervous; her body practically thrummed with tension. He squeezed her hand and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging look. Whatever happened, he’d do his best to help her get through the segment without making a fool of herself. Neither one of them could cook for an audience, apparently, but he wouldn’t let the segment turn into a joke at her expense.

  “Carly, Michael, tell me. Have you two beautiful lovers tried anything like my restaurant before?” Antonio laid a hand on each of their shoulders, enveloping them in an Old Spice-scented cloud.

  Carly still looked like she might throw up, so Michael took the lead. “No, can’t say that we have. You’ll have to be gentle with us.”

  Antonio grinned. “It’ll be so much fun. You’ll see. I’ve cooked for hundreds of people, and I haven’t lost anyone yet.”

  Antonio left them to confer with the production crew, and Michael held Carly by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “I just hate stuff like this.” Her shoulders fell. “I’m going to look like an idiot.”

  His touch clearly relaxed her, and he loved it. Nobody besides his little sister reacted to him like that, like he was someone you could count on, and he wouldn’t take it for granted. “Listen to me.” He took her chin in his hand, gently, and tipped her face up to look into her eyes. “You aren’t going to look like an idiot. This is for television, remember? You’re going to come off like an old pro, and look sexy as hell doing it. Follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.”

  The trust on her face nearly broke him. Had he just made a promise he couldn’t keep? It might be smarter to grab her hand and make a run for the door, but he would hang tough. This was the one time he could be the dependable one, and he wouldn’t waste the chance. Besides, once their trip ended, he’d be out of opportunities to hold Carly in his arms.

  Antonio crossed the room to meet them, light on his feet and beaming with enthusiasm. “Carly, Michael, I have your aprons.”

  Antonio gave them each aprons emblazoned with the restaurant’s logo across the front. Carly turned so Michael could tie hers in back, and he had to stop himself from running his fingers along her spine.

  He wasn’t nervous about cooking or making a fool of himself. Baking in his private workroom was a far cry from cooking a romantic meal for an audience, but he was hardly an amateur. Though he’d prefer to do it with cakes, commanding a cooking show was exactly what he wanted to do with his life. This could be his chance to prove himself, to show the Cuisine Network execs that he deserved another chance. With any luck, Antonio would do most of the talking, and they’d be there for show. If they completed the cooking segment without looking like fools, he’d consider it a success. Playing the hero to her damsel in distress was immensely appealing, and he was warming to the role. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait to see her in action, to watch her cook.

  With a hand at the small of her back, he leaned close, close enough to smell her light perfume, and murmured in her ear. “This will be fun. You’ll be amazing.”

  She turned to face him, her forehead skimming faintly across his lips. “I don’t know about that. I hope he won’t expect us to teach the audience how to make the dishes.”

  “I can’t imagine that he would. They didn’t set this up so we would look like idiots.”

  She crinkled her brow and looked away. “I can do that on my own.”

  With gentle hands on her arms, Michael held her until she met his gaze. “This is supposed to be fun, but you might as well be about to defend your dissertation. What’s really going on?”

  She shrugged out of his grasp. “Nothing. I just get nervous when I have to talk for the camera like I know what I’m doing.”

  “But what about Sugar Shock? And what about our interview for the show tomorrow?”

  “That’s different. When we were on Sugar Shock, I was just completing th
e challenges or talking to an interviewer. I don’t mind if it’s candid or something I actually know how to do. I can answer questions. I just don’t like looking into the camera and talking about something I know nothing about. It makes me nervous.”

  He lowered his voice as a staffer approached with their microphone packs. “Let me take the lead when I can, then. We’ll get through this together.”

  Carly adjusted her apron and took a steadying breath. “Okay, let’s do this. Do I look all right?”

  “You look like a goddess.” His voice caught on the last word, and he swallowed hard.

  Her cheeks reddened, and she walked around him toward the man carrying their microphones. He’d meant to encourage her, not embarrass her, but the words slipped out before he could think. As he watched her walk away, Michael tried to think about baseball, term life insurance, organic broccoli futures, anything unsexy. Anything but what those curves looked like under that apron.

  “Pardon my reach,” the production assistant joked as he snaked the microphone wire under the bottom of Carly’s shirt and out through the collar. “All right, there you go, Ms. Piper. You are wired for sound and good to go.” Now that the microphone was turned on, they could hear and record every word they said.

  Antonio breezed back over. “The crew is all set up and ready to roll camera. Are you two beautiful people ready to cook?”

  • • •

  They followed Antonio into the makeshift studio, where the crew had set up bright lights, cameras, and boom microphones around the perimeter. They stopped in the middle of the kitchen island, where Antonio was staging the area with bowls, utensils, and foods.

  “You two have never cooked together?” Antonio asked. They shook their heads. “How can that be? There is no better way to express your love for another than to create and share a meal together. Today we will learn to cook some of my favorite dishes, and you will love it. We’ll have a wonderful time.”

  Carly looked to Michael, breath catching in her throat. The snow-white shirt he wore beneath the apron set off his perfectly bronzed skin, and the top few buttons were left undone to reveal just enough to make her want to see what was underneath again. His dark hair was gorgeous, thick and shiny, practically begging for her to run her fingers through it. He always wore tight skullcaps at work, and she’d never really noticed how touchable his hair was. They needed to get to the cooking, and quickly.

  “All right, now Michael, if you and your beautiful Carly will each add your spices to your meat, we will get started on one of my signature dishes, Spanish meatballs.”

  Antonio took a small remote control from his pocket and pointed it across the room. Lively salsa music filled the space as he adjusted the sound and swiveled his hips in time to the song. “Okay, we take the traditional meatball from my papa’s Italian childhood and give it some flair from my sainted mama’s Puerto Rican culture.”

  They tossed garlic, cilantro, and finely diced tomatoes into their meat mixtures before adding eggs and seasoned homemade breadcrumbs. Antonio hummed and danced in place to the music, explaining the steps along the way.

  “Growing up, my home was always filled with music, especially when we were in the kitchen.” With hands on Carly’s and Michael’s shoulders, he encouraged them to begin. “Now, we get our hands dirty. Get in there and knead the ingredients together.”

  Carly and Michael plunged their hands into the bowls, mixing the ingredients as they laughed. As long as she wasn’t giving the instructions, the cooking was actually fun. It felt like they could be standing side by side together in her kitchen at home. They formed bite-sized meatballs and placed them on wax-paper-covered baking sheets Antonio set before them. Antonio cleared the counter and prepared the ingredients for the next dish as they left him to wash their hands.

  Antonio continued talking to the camera, giving viewers the instructions to finish the meatballs, as salsa music drifted through the kitchen. Michael hummed as he dried his hands, his hip bumping against Carly gently in time with the sensual beat. She glanced up from the sink to see that he was looking down at her, his expression heated. With an exaggerated flourish, he swept her into his arms, pressing his body against hers. His hips swiveled as his feet completed basic salsa steps. Though her first instinct was to slip out of his grasp, she found that being enveloped in his sexy bergamot scent was too good to resist. Before long, her feet mirrored his, and he was whispering in her ear.

  “One, two, three. Five, six, seven.” Even numbers sounded sexy when they rumbled across her earlobe from his lips.

  “How do you know how to dance like this?” she said breathlessly.

  “It’s a secret.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and the way the word sounded coming from his lips made her curious about what else he could do.

  Caught up in the moment, she forgot to be self-conscious, forgot that she wasn’t a dancer. She let him lead her around the tiny kitchen space behind the main area. It didn’t matter if Antonio saw, or if the cameras captured their dance. Nothing mattered but the spark between them and the way it wound through her body like a lit fuse.

  “Yes, yes, that’s it. Beautiful!” Antonio encouraged them as they danced around the kitchen. “Perfect, you two! Why didn’t you tell me you were dancers?”

  Being pulled into Michael’s orbit, seeing him in his element, clearly in charge of the situation, made Carly wonder where else he would shine when he took the lead. The song came to an end, and Michael improvised, twirling her around in his arms and dipping her low. His strong arms held her at her waist and shoulders, and as she struggled to catch her breath, he kissed her softly before pulling her back to her feet. The dance, the heat of the set lighting, the kiss—it was all too much.

  “That was beautiful, you two. Your talents are clearly wasted here in my kitchen,” Antonio said with a smile. “What a lovely pair.”

  He was right, but Carly knew it would be over too soon.

  • • •

  Blessedly, Eric Macintosh didn’t join them on the drive from the restaurant to the next mystery location. Being stuck in an enclosed space with him would probably give Michael a migraine. When they were on Sugar Shock, Eric made sure all the female contestants knew that he was open to using his influence in exchange for favors. At the time, it was irritating. Now that Michael was getting closer to Carly, feeling more protective of her, it was infuriating. She looked tired as she dropped her head back onto the seat. After cooking together, dancing together, fitting together so perfectly, it was easy to imagine that their relationship was real. It would be so natural to lean over and drop a kiss onto her forehead or move closer so she could rest against his shoulder. It was all too real, but he didn’t want to snap back to reality just yet.

  “There was a series of dance lessons for residents at my sister’s facility.” He’d never shared so much about his life with Jenny, but Carly seemed to want to know.

  “What?” She sat up a bit, roused from her drowsiness.

  “That’s where I learned to dance. Jenny didn’t want to at first, but I talked her into it because learning new things is good for her. The only way she would do it was if I took the lessons, too.”

  “That was sweet. You’re a good brother.” Carly’s casual observation hit home. All he wanted was to do right by his sister. Most of the women he knew considered Jenny an inconvenience at best and a burden at worst, but Carly was different.

  He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You look tired, cupcake.”

  “I am, but I’m sure I’ll rally when we get to the next location. I hope it’s low-key, though. I’m exhausted.”

  “I hope so too, but you never know with Sugar Shock.” She pointed out the window, and Michael realized they had parked in front of a microbrewery. “Looks like it’s our lucky night. The only thing I love more than a good whiskey is a great beer.”

  Eric hurried across the parking lot to meet them as the camera crew spilled out of their van. “Hope you like beer, guys
.” The cheesy grin on his face said otherwise.

  “We love it, Eric. Excellent choice.” Michael answered and watched Eric’s grin fade with great pleasure. The skeeze likely thought Carly preferred fruity cocktails or something. Guys like him seemed to enjoy nothing more than throwing women off-balance.

  “Great. We’ve got a brief tour scheduled, and then you two can settle in for light snacks with beer pairings.” Eric walked across the parking lot and held the door open for them. Michael was careful to stay between her and Eric.

  The brewmaster met them in the empty bar and restaurant section. “Welcome to Amber Wolf Microbrewery. I’m Steve Monk, the fool who started this whole thing.” The crew got to work setting up cameras, lights, and sound equipment. “I’ll give you two a brief tour of the brewery, and then you’ll enjoy our food and brews here at the bar. I have some of our seasonal and limited-edition brews on tap for this evening, all of which are excellent, if I should say so myself.”

  They followed the brewmaster past swinging doors into the brewery. “I opened Amber Wolf just five years ago, and we’ve grown by leaps and bounds. We’re already the largest independent copper tank brewery in California.” He led them across spotlessly clean concrete floors toward giant copper vats and tanks. “Here, we’re brewing a single-hop Belgian-style pale ale called White Liberty. It’s light but complex, with a crisp bite. Very popular, especially this time of year as we’re moving out of winter and looking toward spring.” They wandered to the next copper vat. “Here’s my personal favorite, Jubilee Lager. Other places would reserve this for the winter months, but I took a gamble that there are other beer drinkers like me who enjoy a full-bodied lager year-round. It’s a dark lager with cinnamon and vanilla undertones, and we actually rename it and sell it in souvenir growlers during Christmas. Shh, don’t tell anyone it’s the same stuff we serve year-round.” He grinned at Michael and Carly, clearly pleased with his practiced spiel.

  As Michael and Steve got involved in a discussion about brewing, he noticed Carly wander off with another staff member to chat about flavor profiles and label design. The portly bearded man grew animated as he talked about his craft, and she watched him intently, smiling and nodding. From the precious few times Michael had received that shining focus, he knew that the guy was in heaven. When Carly listened to you, it was as though you were the most interesting person in the room. Her focused attention probably made it possible for her to create her intricate wedding cakes, but it was softer, sweeter, when targeted at a person. He watched them walk, wishing more than anything that he was that beer guy.