by Donna Allen
As usual, he was dressed in a pristine white chef’s jacket, black pants, and sensible shoes. He was clean-shaven, his dark hair neatly slicked back. He was ready for business.
The other two teams lined up behind their benches, waiting for the clock to start counting down so they could run for the best ingredients. There were never enough to go around. Everything they had to prepare for the next challenge depended on the food available to them. Cassidy was pumped for action.
Dante held onto her forearm. “You’re not preparing anything until you go up to your room to get out of that ridiculous skirt,” he said. “They gave you a kitchen outfit for a reason.”
Cassidy pushed his hand away. She felt anger start to simmer inside her, which was a rare occurrence. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t even think about bossing me around right now.”
“Not until you change. You’re a debacle waiting to happen. The fact you’re accident-prone doesn’t help, and I’m not even going to get started about the fire hazard your clothes represent.”
“Damn you, we’re wasting time. Get out of my way.” She clenched her teeth as he used his body to block her path. “We need every minute as it is.”
“No, you’re wasting our time.” Dante crossed his arms.
Cassidy knew he wasn’t going to change his mind, so she made a mad dash to her room and, slightly out of breath, put on the provided outfit. In her haste, she banged her elbow on a wall and knew she was going to have another bruise from it.
Double-damn you, Dante.
She returned, out of breath. The stairs had been a killer.
She was pleased to see Dante had sourced all the ingredients she’d need to make their chocolate butterscotch fondants, along with the utensils. She was also pleased he’d even thought to preset the oven to the right temperature. She wasn’t pleased when he traced an invisible line with his finger on the middle of their bench and pointed to her side to indicate their working areas were completely separate. She saw the camera zoom in to take a shot of that one—another teaser for the show, she was sure. Dante wasn’t making things any easier for himself. No time for further arguments, though. She shrugged and started to cook.
There was a lot of shouting around the kitchen from other competitors, but she and Dante worked in silence. They had their separate roles to play in their dish, and time passed quickly. Toward the end, their single tasks became one, and, to make it work, they had to be close…close enough for her to hear him breathing, see the rise and fall of his chest. To see him working with his professional skills was provocative. A couple of times they caught each other’s eye and she had to look away. Although they’d formed a truce, it was only temporary because she knew he was going to do everything in his power to make sure they never cooked together again. He couldn’t afford to have his reputation tainted by a cook as embarrassing as her.
She took her chocolate fondants out of the oven and was pleased to see they’d risen beautifully again, with a lovely crust on the top. They came out of the trays with ease and Dante nodded his approval. He added his touches and the presentation went from being lovely to spectacular.
The final kitchen timer sounded and Cassidy heard a chef curse as something clattered to the ground.
The judges started to sample the dishes. Because the other remaining competitors were qualified chefs, there weren’t any bad dishes. However, a couple stood out. She rated the dish they’d created against the rest and knew they were onto a winner.
The judges stood before them. This was their moment to shine. Theatrics came into play when Dante ladled the fiery liquor over their dish and applause filled the kitchen. When the female judge sampled it, her smile was reserved exclusively for Dante. Dante gestured his hand toward Cassidy and the judge reluctantly acknowledged her, too.
They were now in the top four.
Beyond Cassidy’s wildest dreams, she’d done it.
With a little bit of help from an over-sensitive Italian.
Chapter 16
Dante’s decision to stay as far away from Cassidy as possible for the final leg of the competition hadn’t been made lightly. He knew she’d feel hurt and maybe even rejected, but he had to remember why he was here, and that was to save his reputation. Approval from the public was the only way to keep his sincerity intact. How sincere would they find him as a chef with ideals if they believed him to be the sort who rolled around in flour with a fellow competitor? The audience may find it amusing, but they could also believe he was only there on a whim and had no intention of following through on his initial promise in the auditions. He just hoped Cassidy would eventually understand his motives.
Carlos was also in the top four. Dante knew the dish Carlos had prepared in the last round was very good. He didn’t begrudge him winning because of it, but he did mind he’d taken full credit for someone else’s recipe. Dante’s creation. However, Dante wasn’t going to fight him on it. He’d simply stretch his own creativity to the limit and ignore what the others were doing.
May the best chef win.
Dante packed up his things and left the kitchen. He heard footsteps running behind him and Cassidy calling out his name, but he pretended not to hear her and kept walking, picking up the pace.
“Dante, wait up.” She reached him and he felt her hand on the back of his shoulder. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. Her familiar touch was already starting to melt his resolve. “Where’s the fire?” she asked him gently.
She rubbed his back in a soothing motion and he felt the warmth and rush of feel-good emotions from a few hours before. He closed his eyes and allowed the moment to rush through him before turning around to face her. Her hand dropped away.
“Congratulations.” He hated the way his voice sounded stiff. “Good job out there today. We did what we set out to do.”
“And a very good job to you, too, partner.”
Her gorgeous, impish smile lit up her face. He forced himself not to copy her happy expression and celebrate with her.
“No longer partners, Cassidy. It’s back to business and it’s time to continue our journeys on our own again.”
Her smile disappeared and his throat constricted when he saw the hurt look in her eyes.
“Are you talking about cooking or sleeping?” she asked.
“Both.” He forced conviction into his voice.
“You’re cancelling us out?” she said.
“Last night was…nice.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Nice? That’s the best description you’ve got?” Cassidy pulled her short hair up, tightening her scalp. “Nice?”
“What do you want me to say, Cassidy? Our timing’s off.”
Cassidy shook her head. “For the record, Dante, I don’t usually sleep with a man so fast and I’m not into one-night stands.”
“It’s complicated, particularly after that terrible footage.”
“It’s only complicated because you choose to make it that way.”
“One of us has to take this seriously. If my integrity and sticking to my principles has disillusioned you, and you don’t understand that I won’t take my eye off the prize, then I apologize.”
“That’s your interpretation of integrity?” Cassidy fired back, not caring to keep her voice low. “Wrong word, wrong girl to play around with.”
Dante looked around to see a few competitors had gathered.
“You’re making a scene,” he said. “Keep it down.”
Cassidy ignored his request. “I should have known what I saw in you initially was exactly what I was going to get. You’re arrogant and self-involved. I won’t tell you not to worry about us anymore because it’s obvious you never did. Stay away from me.”
She left him standing alone.
An observer coughed.
“That’s enough entertainment for one day,” Dante said to the group. His heartbeat hijacked his body and the pounding took over. He stopped himself from putting his hand over his chest to steady it. As he watched
Cassidy walk away, he had the foreboding feeling she was taking with her everything in his world that had been good.
*
To say she was hurt was an understatement.
As she had celebratory drinks with the other competitors, her new best friends, she couldn’t help noticing the irony. Suddenly, she was the flavor of the month. Not because she’d done anything differently, but because they’d finally seen her for who she really was. Pity most of them were due to leave in the morning.
The one man she’d really wanted to celebrate with had let her down badly. She didn’t know where he’d gone, but she was sure he wouldn’t try to find her any time soon—and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
She had been given sample media interview questions for the next day’s promos. She should have been nervous, particularly because Dante had spun a web with her emotions, but she chose to be thrilled instead. She left the group and decided to have an early night to prepare for the next day.
Her body went into automatic pilot as she got ready for bed. While she washed her face, her mind wandered to Dante putting both his hands on her cheeks, pulling her close, and kissing her. She put on her nightgown, but it only made her remember she hadn’t needed it the night before. Deciding she didn’t need it tonight either, she pulled it over her head and threw it on the floor. She slipped between the clean sheets. They felt fresh on her skin but also a bit cold and clinical. The small bed now felt too large because she was the only one in it.
She got up again and put her nightgown back on.
Better.
Was he thinking about her right now, too? Or had he gone to bed, shut his eyes, and gone straight to sleep without giving her a second thought?
Cassidy had always been a one-guy girl. It was going to be a while before she could trust another man with her heart.
She awoke, not at all refreshed. She’d had little sleep. Nerves had settled in, and in her restless state, the bed had been too hard, the chair too soft. What would the public think of her? What should she wear, what should she say, what would they ask her? She’d forced a positive rehearsal in her mind and replayed it every time she had a troubling thought.
And now, with the arrival of the daylight hours, it was no longer rehearsal time—it was the real thing. She opened her wardrobe and reached for one of the white jackets the sponsors had provided that had her gold finalist pin attached. She put it on with the dark trousers that went with it. They felt scratchy and constricting, and the top felt like a straightjacket. She looked down at her metallic purple toenails and sighed as she covered them with striped Bobby Dazzler socks no one would see beneath her clunky shoes. She opened her door to leave but remembered her notes for the interview and turned back to get them.
A soft tap on the doorframe gained her attention.
“Going my way?”
She looked at the man dressed identically to her.
“What do you want, Dante?” Her voice was cold. Antarctic cold. “What happened to us both going our separate ways?”
“Can’t a friend check on his fellow competitor before the media onslaught?”
“So we’re just competitors again? Give me a break.” Cassidy rubbed her eyes. Behind the lids her eyes felt gritty and she wished she’d had at least a few solid hours of sleep to help her be more alert for this conversation. Coffee would be very welcome too, but not of the instant kind.
“I’ve made it this far,” she said. “I think I can cope alone now, thanks.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought his shoulders slumped for a millisecond before his straight posture returned.
“Our conversation yesterday came out all wrong,” he said. “I hope you didn’t take it personally.”
Cassidy shook her head. “Well I am a person, Dante, and you were speaking to me, so it was personal. I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’d rather focus my energies on the interview.”
“Fair call, Cassidy. I just want you to understand the dilemma I’m in. I came in here because I wanted my causes to be taken seriously, and winning is a way to do it. Showing that footage undermined all that because they wanted to focus on a frivolous food fight. I can’t believe they televised it.”
Cassidy shook her head. “I thought it was kind of fun.”
Dante picked up her hand and kissed it.
“Please remember my answers today will be strategic, and one or two should be taken with a grain of salt,” Dante said. “I need to salvage some of this.”
“Why? Because you’ll be aiming to keep your integrity intact?” Cassidy crossed her arms and indicated with her head it was time for him to go. “You’re priceless, emphasis on the less. Just go.”
Dante took a couple of steps before turning back.
“Er…Cassidy?”
Please don’t kiss me…please don’t kiss me…I’ll fall apart.
“Yes?”
His hand ran down her arm and shook her white jacket sleeve.
“This isn’t you.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She felt a glint in her eye she wished were a blowtorch.
“Don’t be so defensive,” he said as he moved his hand back up her arm and squeezed her shoulder.
Cassidy pushed his hand away. “Please don’t touch me. I’m over your mixed messages. You may be able to treat your other women like that, but in my world, people want to be around me unconditionally.”
“About the other night we spent together…”
“It meant nothing?” Cassidy crossed her arms.
“Of course not, but we have to be careful that…”
Cassidy started to close the door to block out the rest of his words and what he’d done to her heart. He put his hand out to stop her and eased the door open again. She put her hands over her face to cover her eyes for a few seconds.
“It’s hard enough being judged by judges on what I can do,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to be judged by you on who I am—on every level. In the kitchen and…” Her voice caught. “…out of it.”
He moved inside her room and leaned against the door.
“Stay true to what makes you unique,” he said, “and ignore stuffy chefs who have a habit of saying the wrong things.”
He kissed her gently on the forehead.
Cassidy pushed him away.
“Don’t want anyone else to see that, do you?” She pointed to the door and exhaled heavily. “I’ll see you there.”
Dante nodded and left, closing the door behind him. As she exhaled the breath she’d been holding, she heard another knock.
“What now,” she called out in exasperation. “My own message isn’t mixed, it’s plain and simple—I’ll see you there.”
The knock was persistent, so she pulled the door open with more force than was necessary. Instead of Dante, there was a box waiting for her on the other side of the door.
What now?
She opened the card first. It simply read, “Sorry.”
She placed the box on the bed and lifted the lid. A smile illuminated her face as she swung the outfit around her as though it was a beautiful dress for her first school dance. The pants were a thick cotton and practical, but they looked comfortable. The top was a chef’s top, but it was made of the same material and had mixed colors of turquoise and sea green. She loved it and changed quickly, transferring her finalist pin onto it. Where had he gotten it from, and how had he gotten it here so quickly? He may have wronged her, but he was right in choosing clothing that reflected who she was. It reinforced her belief to remain true to herself.
With a bounce in her step and a quickening of her heart, she almost floated to her interview. It didn’t mean she forgave him, but it was a start. At least she felt in control of her own destiny, in clothes that reflected who she was inside.
She was directed to a new area of the building and was in awe of the set. It looked like a room Martha Stewart would be proud of, and there were a couple hundred empty seats for viewers. The cooking benches were an inv
iting warm wood for cutting straight onto. There were wine racks filled with interesting wines, herb plants in abundance, and a screen backdrop that kept changing, showing the different outdoor locations of where the final competitors normally worked. Cassidy felt homesick when she saw her beloved Cuckoo Café.
There were now only four of them left—Cassidy, Dante, Carlos, and a chef named Frederick, who could cook well, but lacked the charisma required for a chef to be successful on television.
The producers indicated for her to wait until it was her turn to be interviewed.
Frederick was the first to be interviewed and it was so uninteresting, it was boring. In contrast, Carlos was charming, funny, and confident. He came across as so sincere, but Cassidy couldn’t forget what Dante had told her about him, not to mention the way he’d tried to get close to her in order to hurt his cousin.
Cassidy’s interview went well, just as she’d played it in her mind. She waited for the interviewers to ask her about the night of the food fight, but they seemed happy to talk about her café and her dreams for the future and what it would mean to her if she won. She returned to her seat and smiled encouragingly at Dante when they called him up, watching as he strode confidently to the interview chair.
“So, Dante, we know all about your cooking skills, but let’s get to know who you are a bit better, away from your public façade,” a glamorous female interviewer said without preamble. “We’ve heard you and Cassidy are an item…should your female fans be pinning their hopes on another man now?”
Dante looked the interviewer in the eye and smiled confidently. “We only met roughly around the time of the competition.”
“So there’s nothing going on?”
“Not for public consumption,” Dante said, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows. “Got any questions for me about the exciting Slow Food movement in Perth?”
The interviewer ignored Dante’s attempted distraction.
“Come on, Dante, we’ve seen the footage. How about we remind you?”
The backdrop of the ocean and Dante’s restaurant faded into the scene of the food fight. Cassidy saw there was no way he could get out of it and she believed he had no chance but to come clean, albeit metaphorically. As she watched, she felt laughter bubbling in her throat at the memory of the great time they’d had making such a mess.