Some Like It Spicy

by Robbie Terman

  “Claude,” Ty said, “will you please announce the loser of the Medium Heat challenge.”

  Exposing the loser was the perfect job for Claude, who reminded her so much of her dad at times it was scary. His face held a perpetual pucker, as if he’d eaten something rotten. Funny, really, for a guy in his line of work.

  “Today’s losing dish was a disaster from conception to execution.” Claude’s gaze roamed past each of the chefs, causing squirms down the line. “Jin—”

  Her knees nearly buckled with relief.

  “Your barbecued carp patties à la gefilte fish with a sweet-and-sour dipping sauce was an abomination to both the Jewish and Chinese cultures.”

  Jin kept a neutral expression, but standing next to him, she could feel him shudder. She knew this had to be killing him. He was so proud of his background, wanting to prove the two cuisines could be successfully fused. Today, he had failed.

  “And now for the winner,” Ty continued. Ashton snapped her attention back to him.

  She held her breath while he paused for an anguishing amount of time.

  “Duffy.”

  Not a surprise, but a wave of disappointment washed over her. In Medium Heat challenges, only the loser and winner were announced, so she had no idea where she fell among the other chefs. Was she just above Jin with her head mere inches from the chopping block? Or had Duffy edged her out? Or worse, had her tuna burgers been mediocre? Unmemorable and not worth even mentioning. She stared at Ty for an answer, but he kept his gaze locked on Duffy’s.

  “Duffy,” Ty said, “your blackened catfish was some of the best I’ve ever tasted. And if I can get that secret recipe for your spice rub out of you, I’m putting it on the menu of my restaurant.”

  The cast and crew laughed. Duffy beamed so brightly, he practically reflected light.

  “As the winner of this challenge,” Ty continued, “you get an advantage in the elimination round.”

  Andrea jumped in to announce the challenge. “La Maison de Rêves is a new wave of bed-and-breakfast inns. They offer luxurious rooms with gourmet breakfast in bed. We’ll be spending the night at the inn. Your challenge is to create a gourmet breakfast that you will serve to each of our judges in bed.”

  Ashton’s chest dropped to her feet. Her idea of a gourmet breakfast was a hearty turkey sandwich. She’d never understood the appeal of pancakes and waffles; eating food that sweet in the morning turned her stomach. And eggs, while filling, had always bored her. Great. Her friends had teased her all her life about her views on breakfast and this would probably be her downfall.

  Her heart stopped. If she was eliminated, she and Ty were done. She would go back to Chicago, he would stay here, and that would be that.

  She wasn’t ready to give him up yet.

  “Ashton, you’re pale.”

  Ashton lifted her head to find Jolene in front of her, concern in her big brown eyes. She looked around and realized filming had stopped.

  “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

  Ashton shook her head. “I’m fine. Why did filming stop? Did they say what Duffy’s advantage is?”

  Jolene looked at her strangely. “A bird pooped on Claude’s head. He ran inside screaming. You didn’t hear?”

  No, but she wished she had. Too bad she’d been so lost in her thoughts she’d tuned the world out. She’d learned the skill early in life, when her father spent their entire dinnertime berating her mother. She’d go inside her head, to her own world. A fire could be lit two feet in front of her, and she wouldn’t notice.

  Claude’s assistant came running out of the building and straight to Sally. She whispered in the producer’s ear. Sally rolled her eyes and seethed in exasperation. “Let’s get back in line, people,” she said. “Claude will not be rejoining us. He has an emergency visit with his hairdresser. We’re just going to shoot the rest without him.”

  When everyone was in place, Sally yelled, “Action!”

  “Due to the small size of the Inn’s kitchen,” Andrea said, “we will have staggered start times for the chefs.”

  “Duffy,” Ty said, “as the winner of the Medium Heat challenge, you will get to pick the order in which the chefs cook.”

  Ashton whipped around to face Duffy, sending him a pleading smile. She was at her worst first thing in the morning. The earlier her start, the bigger her disadvantage.

  The other chefs clearly had the same idea and all were sidled up to Duffy, who wore an even brighter smile now, if possible. “Well, now. Let me think.”

  Apparently, thinking didn’t take too much time, because he almost immediately continued. “Morgan first. Then Jin, Jolene, and Ashton. I’ll go last.”

  Ashton let out a breath of relief while Morgan went into her hissing-snake routine.

  “Whatever,” Morgan spat. “Obviously you’re afraid of being beaten by a sous chef. And you should be. I’m going to wipe the floor with you so hard, your tooth is going to leave a scuff.”

  To Ashton’s delight, the cameras were still rolling during Morgan’s rant. Finally America would be treated to what the cast and crew had seen from day one.

  When the cameras cut, Ashton thanked Duffy for placing her near the end.

  “No problem,” he said, knocking her knuckles with his. “I’ve got your back, girl.”

  When she had the chance, she’d return the favor. She wished Morgan would get the memo that just because they were competitors, they didn’t have to be enemies.

  The group wouldn’t be leaving for the next challenge until tomorrow, so she had time to think about her dish and do some breakfast food research.

  Or, she thought with a grin, she could practice feeding Ty in bed tonight. Only, it wouldn’t be breakfast food, and they would work off the calories vigorously afterward.

  She caught his gaze and sent him a sweltering look that, if done correctly, should have gone straight to his groin.

  Clearly, it did. He mouthed, Office, to her and she nodded. She had to wait ten minutes before she could sneak to his office without being seen.

  She crept inside, closed the door behind her, and ran straight into Ty’s chest. He tugged her into his arms and then lifted her, tossing her back on his couch.

  In an instant, his body covered hers. “What took you so long?”

  She answered him with a soul-draining kiss.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ashton allowed thirty seconds to lose herself in Ty before she had to push him away. One, two, three…

  His mouth was hot on hers, near bruising with urgency. But his tongue was gentle, caressing.

  Four, five, six…

  His hand found the bottom of her shirt and pushed beneath it.

  Seven, eight, nine…

  And then he pushed the silk and lace of her bra under her breast and his thumb found her nipple.

  Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten, ten…

  Thirty seconds turned into minutes before clarity perforated her cloud-lined brain.

  “We need to stop,” she whispered to Ty. “The door isn’t locked.”

  Ty stopped nibbling at her neck to look up. “No one will come in without knocking.” His lips found her pulse again.

  She let him play for another minute, enjoying him too much to stop him. Then, she asked, “Did you like my tuna burger?”

  He groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. “I was hoping I could arouse you into forgetting.”

  Her breath caught. “Was the dish that bad?”

  He sat up. “No. It was delicious, but Duffy’s dry rub is freaking amazing. No one could beat that. I couldn’t beat that.”

  “If you like dry rub, I have one that I use on ribs.” She swung a leg over his thighs to straddle him. “I could make it for you. Tonight.” She leaned down and bit at his lower lip.

  Ty’s hands cupped her bottom, placing her aching center directly on his. She ground her hips, taking delight in the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

  “Bring the
rub,” he said through gritted teeth. “Forget the ribs.” His shoulders dropped. “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “I have plans tonight.” He looked even more seriously pained now.

  “A date?” she quipped.

  He gave her a light smack on the ass. “No, sassy. Bowling. We have our league championship next week and tonight is our last practice. Scott will kill me if I skip out.”

  She actually thought it was pretty sweet he was worried about his best friend, but she gave him a pout just for fun. “I guess I’ll have to make my rub for someone else. Maybe Duffy and I can share recipes.” She started to slide off his lap.

  He grabbed her by the waist and yanked her back to him. “Come with me.”

  She froze. “Are you serious? You know we can’t go out in public.”

  “No one cares there, believe me,” he promised. “That’s one of the reasons I enjoy bowling so much. There isn’t a single person in that alley who gives a damn about me. I don’t get hassled at all. No reporters, no paparazzi, and no wannabe actresses trying to make names for themselves.”

  She knew she should say no. Going out in public together was too big a risk, even if no one noticed them. But she wanted to meet Ty’s best friend and see what his life was like outside the kitchen. Still, if they were caught…

  “Please.” His eyes were glassy with hope.

  “Okay,” she whispered. And prayed this wouldn’t be a decision she’d regret.

  …

  Ashton hovered in the doorway of the bowling alley. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

  Ty gently rubbed the worry lines from her forehead and then replaced his thumb with his lips. Her skin was soft and sweet and he wanted to keep his lips there indefinitely. “Everything will be fine,” he promised. “No one here cares about Ty Cates, celebrity chef. I doubt you’d even find someone who watches the show.”

  A young couple shoved past them, talking and laughing. Ashton stiffened, as if waiting for Ty to be recognized, but they didn’t even spare them a glance.

  “See,” Ty said. He grabbed her hand and tugged her to the lanes. “We need to hurry. Scott’s going to bust my chops about being so late.”

  She held onto his hand as if it were a lifeline, lacing her fingers with his.

  As they passed lane after lane, ignored by the other bowlers, Ashton’s tension—and her iron grip—eased. By the time they reached Scott and Ellen, a small smile had formed on her lips.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Scott said sarcastically. He stood next to Ellen in their matching blue shirts. “Did you have trouble finding the place?”

  “Sorry, guys. Shooting ran late. Then we got stuck in traffic.”

  At the “we,” Scott swaggered to them, sporting a huge grin. “Well, well, well. Who do we have here?”

  Ellen—thank God for her—smacked Scott on the back. “Don’t be an ass.” She turned to Ashton. “Hi. I’m Ellen.”

  “Ashton.” Her voice was low, as if afraid someone else would hear.

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Ashton, I’d like you to meet Scott and Ellen Moran.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Ashton murmured.

  “Are you a chef?” Ellen asked.

  Ashton froze.

  “Because,” Ellen continued, “we do pizza and beer here. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Pizza and beer sound great,” Ashton replied with a smile.

  He felt the relief shudder through her body. If Scott wouldn’t have kicked his ass, he’d have kissed Ellen. He glanced at Ashton. “We need to get you shoes and a ball.”

  “I’ll take her,” Ellen jumped in. She grabbed hold of Ashton’s hand and led her to the front desk.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Ty looked at his friend, who was still grinning like an idiot. “I’m surprised Ellen didn’t send Ashton to the desk by herself so you both could grill me.”

  “We prefer to work separately and compare notes,” Scott said. He leaned closer. “Is this her? The one you were mooning about at dinner?”

  “I wasn’t mooning.” Ty scowled. “But, yes. This is her. And it’s on the downlow. Understand?”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “Is she married?”

  “Of course she’s not married,” Ty snapped. “She’s…” He sighed and maneuvered Scott so the bowlers in the next lane were out of earshot. “She’s a contestant on the show.”

  “Which show?”

  “Mine, dumbass!” Ty hadn’t meant to shout. He lowered his voice. “The Next Celebrity Chef.”

  “Ohhh.” After a pause, Scott shrugged. “Who cares? The show ends in, what, four weeks?”

  “I assure you, the network cares. And so do their attorneys. We shouldn’t even be out in public, but I wanted her to meet you and Ellen.”

  Scott put an arm around his shoulder. “I love you too, man.” He bit back a fake sob.

  Ty elbowed him. “Why am I risking my career for you to meet her?”

  The theatrics suddenly stopped and Scott’s face was all-out serious. “Because this girl matters to you.”

  Now Ty had to swallow back a sob, only his wasn’t fake. “Yeah, well, this relationship has nowhere to go. It’s temporary.”

  “Then to repeat your question, why are you risking your career?”

  Ty didn’t have time to answer because Ellen and Ashton returned.

  “How do I look?” Ashton asked, twirling around.

  She was holding a black-and-blue ball, the colors swirling together to look like a bruise. Her hair had been pulled into a messy bun. And her brown-and-red shoes, only slightly less ugly than the clogs he’d seen her wear around the kitchen, clashed with her orange T-shirt.

  “You look gorgeous,” he told her.

  She smiled then, making herself, impossibly, even more beautiful.

  “Have you done this before?” He nodded toward the lanes.

  “Not since high school,” she admitted. “And I got more gutter balls than ones that made it all the way.”

  “I’ll show you how it’s done.” He put a hand on the small of her back and led her to the top of the lane. “We’ll save the approach for another lesson.”

  Ty stood behind Ashton and placed her in the correct stance: left foot on the center dot, right foot behind. “Keep your body straight,” he whispered to her, running his hands up and down her torso. He moved his hands lower, to her thighs. “Bend your knees.”

  She did as he told her, pushing her hips into him in the process. “Is this right?”

  Blood rushed to his groin as she continued to wiggle against him. “Perfect,” he croaked. “Now, put your fingers in the holes of the ball.”

  He mimicked her motions with his right hand, only he grasped the ball from the bottom. His left hand held firmly around her waist. “Pull back…that’s right. Now, turn your wrist to the left as you bring your arm forward. Keep it straight, like the arm of a pendulum clock going back and forth.”

  The ball fell from her hand. It landed with a thud but continued down the lane in a relatively straight line. He wrapped both arms around her waist as she jiggled with anticipation. The ball hit the pin directly to the right of center, sending a ricochet that knocked down seven others.

  Ashton jumped up and down, screeching. “I did it!” She turned in his arms, grabbed him by the jaw, and yanked him down for a kiss.

  “Mmm. If I’d known bowling would make you this hot, I would have brought you here the day we met.”

  She punched him lightly on the arm. “You didn’t like me the day we met.”

  “Yes, I did,” he corrected. “But I knew it would be impossible.”

  The light in her eyes deflated. “Let’s not think about that now.”

  “You’re holding up the line,” Scott shouted from behind them. “Some of us have a league championship coming up.”

  “Sorry,” Ashton said as she pushed out of Ty’s embrace. She moved to get her ball for her second shot. “Bet you I can get a spare.”
r />   “Oh, yeah? And what are the terms?”

  She licked her lips. “Let’s put it this way. Either way, we’ll both win.”

  God, this woman was amazing. “Deal.”

  He watched her walk back to the lane, lining up her shot as he’d taught her. She glanced over her shoulder, sporting a smile of pure mischief, before sending the ball flying.

  He hadn’t been lying before when he’d said she was gorgeous. She was, far more so than any model he’d ever dated. She didn’t just have a smile that made his heart race. Ashton was funny and feisty, and she was one hell of a chef. He wanted to take her to Atlanta and introduce her to his family.

  But he couldn’t. Because they both loved their jobs more than anything and their reputations weren’t worth losing over lust. This need to be with her all the time, this obsession to be inside her, would eventually wear off.

  Even when his desire cooled, though, he doubted he’d find another woman like Ashton.

  “Yes!”

  Lost in his thoughts, Ty hadn’t even seen the ball go down the lane. From the way Ashton pranced toward him, though, he guessed she’d gotten her spare.

  “Nicely done,” he said, moving his hands to her waist. “What do I owe you?”

  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips. “I have something in mind, but we probably want to wait until we’re in a much less crowded place.”

  “My apartment? Say, two hours?”

  She lowered her lips. “I can’t stay out all night again. I have to go back to the brownstone.”

  Smart choice, but Ty resented it all the same.

  His annoyance must have been obvious, because she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you pay up.”

  “Coming through,” Scott said as he brushed by them, ball in hand. “Don’t mind me.”

  “Thanks, man,” Ty ribbed. “You really know how to kill the mood.”

  “So my wife tells me.”

  Two hours later, the group left the bowling alley. Ashton and Ellen walked ten feet in front of the men, chatting away like long-lost friends.