Romancing the Chef

by Robyn Amos

  “Hey, isn’t that your friend Veronica?”

  “What?” Ace swiveled his neck so fast he could have given himself whiplash.

  Sure enough, Ronnie was sitting at a table with a rowdy group of girls. One was wearing a short white veil and bending over the table, arms behind her back, to upend a shot using only her mouth. Ronnie and the others were cheering her on.

  Surprised, Ace stared in her direction. She must have felt the heat of his gaze because she looked up and caught his eye. Smiling wide, she waved and reluctantly Ace waved back.

  He’d been wrong. It seemed she did have plans all along.

  Feeling a little less sure of himself, he followed Garett to the bar. “I guess I will join you in the casino tonight, Garett. This is Las Vegas, after all.”

  Ronnie smiled to herself as she watched Ace walk to the bar. He had the perfect butt. Firm, tight, and it filled out his pants beautifully.

  Then she blinked in the direction of her thoughts. Sitting up straight, she realized she’d had too many champagne cocktails. She’d had only two, but Ronnie didn’t drink much anymore. History had proven that drinking made her … amorous.

  One of the girls let out a whoop, bringing Ronnie’s attention back to the table. “Okay, we can cross ‘get a stranger to buy you a drink’ off the list,” a tiny blonde said. “We have to leave the bar now and get Jen a body piercing.”

  Two hours ago, Ronnie had walked into the bar alone, petrified of appearing lonely and desperate. She’d found a table in the back and stared at the drink menu. When she’d been on the verge of creeping back to her room, the bachelorette party had clamored in and swept her up in their celebration.

  The girls had a long list of tasks for the bride to complete, and they wanted to borrow Ronnie’s lipstick so the bride could kiss the top of a bald man’s head. After finding out that Ronnie was on her own for the evening, they’d insisted she join them.

  “Wait a minute,” one of the girls shouted. “We can’t leave until we have another round. Screaming Orgasms for everyone.”

  Sometime after midnight, the bachelorette party broke up, and Ronnie found herself teetering toward the hotel elevators with her shoes in her hands.

  Still off kilter, Ronnie careened into the side of a man who was already waiting for the elevator.

  “Whoa, are you okay, Ronnie?” he said, steadying her on her feet.

  “Ace, all I have to do is think about you and you appear.” Right now he looked like a giant hot fudge sundae to her and Ronnie knew she was grinning widely at him.

  “Sounds like you had a lot of fun with your new friends. You didn’t mention that you couldn’t join us for dinner because you were attending a bachelorette party.”

  “Oh, I lied about having plans,” Ronnie said, a bit more loose lipped than she had expected. “I met those girls after I got to the bar.”

  The doors to the elevator opened and Ronnie carefully made her way inside. Ace followed her, laughing under his breath. “I knew it.”

  Ronnie moved closer to him. “What about you? Did you have fun tonight?”

  “It wasn’t bad. Obviously I didn’t have as much fun as you did. What kind of trouble did you girls get into?”

  “Trouble? No trouble.” Then a slow grin broke out on her face. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  The elevator chimed and the doors opened on Ronnie’s floor. “Aww, our ride is over already.”

  Ace took her arm and helped her through the doors.

  “Ooh, are you on this floor, too?”

  “No, but I think I’d better make sure you make it back to your room safely.”

  She nudged him with her elbow. “What a gentleman,” shesaid as they stopped in front of her door. “But if you’re not too much of a gentleman, you can come in for a while.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, and Ronnie knew he wanted to say yes.

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had all night, but I think we should save that for a time when you’re a little less tipsy.”

  “Then how about a kiss good-night?” Ronnie dropped her purse and shoes on the carpet and pressed herself against him, throwing her arms around his neck.

  Their mouths came together in a steamy lip-lock. Ronnie felt like her whole body was floating as she felt the roughness of his light stubble brush against her face.

  After a moment, Ace pulled away, setting her back on her feet. Immediately, her foot connected with something round, which rolled under her toes and then started vibrating. “What the—”

  With a burst of laughter, Ace reached down. “Looks like you dropped something,” he said, handing her the mini-vibrator she’d gotten as a party favor from the bachelorette blowout.

  Ronnie giggled, the alcohol in her system taking away her embarrassment. “Oops! I forgot about that.”

  Ace raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “I see….”

  She dropped it back in her clutch and snapped it shut. “No, you don’t, silly. That isn’t mine.”

  “Really? Because it seems to have fallen out of your purse.”

  “I mean, I didn’t buy it. It was a gift. From the party.”

  “I see.” He laughed.

  “But, hey, it’s just plastic. I prefer the real thing,” she said, looking him up and down.

  Ace laughed. “Oh, Ronnie, if I thought for a minute you’d feel the same way tomorrow, I’d make good on thatsuggestion. As it is, I have a feeling you’re going to need all the sleep you can get.”

  He took her purse and found her key card inside. After unlocking her door, he saw her safely inside and then disappeared back into the corridor.

  As Ronnie fell back on her bed, her head was spinning. She wasn’t sure if it was from the drink or Ace’s lips. His face was the last image that floated in her mind as she fell asleep.

  Chapter 6

  Ronnie woke the next morning with her brain slam-dancing inside her skull. Moaning, she fought to turn off the alarm. Without it, Ronnie wasn’t sure she would have awakened before nightfall.

  Her eyelids were swollen and the crack of sunlight that made it through the curtains hurt her skewed vision. Clutching her head, she realized this was exactly why she didn’t drink.

  Swinging her legs off the bed, Ronnie suddenly became aware of a stinging pain coming from her middle. Sending a hand to her abdomen, her fingers ran over something chunky.

  Startled, she raced to the bathroom and hiked up the old T-shirt she’d slept in. A simple gold stud was jutting through her navel.

  “Oh, no,” she moaned, sinking down on the toilet seat before her legs gave out. She hadn’t thought she’d had thatmuch to drink. But, she now remembered that the bride hadn’t wanted to get a piercing unless everyone in the party joined in. Ronnie had tentatively considered a third earring, so how had she ended up with a navel piercing?

  Head in her hands, Ronnie considered what the day had in store for her.

  Could her brain function properly with this hangover pounding in her head and making her slightly nauseous? She wasn’t sure, but she had to at least look like a winner. It didn’t matter that she felt terrible—she’d rather die than go on television looking this way.

  After a hot shower, ibuprofen and a lot of careful grooming—she slicked her hair back into a ponytail, then braided four sections, which she wove into an elaborate bun at the back of her head—Ronnie showed up at the holding room just in time. She only felt slightly better, but she looked absolutely terrific.

  All the chefs and their sous chefs were gathered there before they’d be released to their kitchens to start the competition. As she entered, she found everyone milling around, talking.

  “Good morning, Ronnie. How are you feeling?” Ace asked.

  As soon as Ronnie saw him, her cheeks started to burn. She’d been so preoccupied that morning, she hadn’t taken the time to dwell on her biggest humiliation of the night.

  Memories of her tipsy elevator ride, co
nfessing that she was a liar and then throwing herself at Ace all came rushing back.

  “Good morning,” Ronnie said, hoping that if she pretended not to remember, he might be enough of a gentleman to let the moment pass. “I’m feeling okay,” she exaggerated.

  He winked at her, leaning down so only she couldhear him. “Got any more goodies tucked away for me to find?”

  “Not today,” she said through her teeth, as she waved her greetings to the other contestants.

  Stewart clapped his hands together. “I hope you came ready to work, people. Because it’s going to be tough to beat my authentic French cuisine. I hear Jean Paul Pelletier is one of the judges.”

  Ann crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Oh get off it, Stewart. First of all, I’m more French than you’ll ever be. And second, if Jean Paul Pelletier wanted to be fed nothing but French cuisine, he wouldn’t have opened a steakhouse in Las Vegas.”

  Ace laughed out loud. “Besides, this round is about showing off our signature dishes. The judges will be looking to see us do what we do best.”

  Ronnie found herself giggling. “Does that mean you’ll be filling the judges up with natural aphrodisiacs, Ace?”

  “I don’t think it would be a bad idea. They’ll be in a really good mood by the time they reach a verdict.”

  Stewart clapped his hands again, loving to talk trash. “You’ll see. I’m classically trained—”

  Ann, who was self-taught, shot Stewart a dirty look, freezing the words coming out of his mouth.

  “That’s enough of all that, now,” Etta said, getting up from her seat in the back of the room. “We have to remember that this is still a friendly competition. None of us would be here if we weren’t all talented chefs. So let’s quiet down now and focus on what’s ahead of us.”

  Etta’s voice was as soft and sweet as honey. The room instantly fell silent. Ronnie felt like they’d all just been chastised by their grandmother, so she ducked to the other side of the room to join LQ.

  “You don’t know how relieved I was to see you walkthrough that door,” her friend whispered. “You had me in a panic. I called your cell phone three times. I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

  “Are you kidding? This is the big day. I’m ready to win this thing,” Ronnie said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

  “All right, boss, that’s what I wanted to hear. Should we go over the menu one more time?”

  “Go over it in your head. I don’t want anyone overhearing our game plan.”

  Ronnie honestly believed in the integrity of the other chefs in the competition, but something about the intense atmosphere of this contest made her wary.

  The Las Vegas round of the All-Star Food Fight would focus on signature dishes. They would have ninety minutes to create a three-course meal, including a cocktail. The dessert was a no-brainer for Ronnie. Even though she wasn’t a pastry chef, she had a knack for desserts. When she worked for the Embassy Plaza hotel, she even made wedding cakes. And in her own restaurant, her chocolate kiss dessert had gotten her a stellar write-up in the Washington Post.

  Ronnie used a handmade chocolate mold in the shape of lush lips as a frame. Inside, she piped alternating layers of chocolate mousse, crumbled Black Forest cake mixed with a Chambord Liqueur and white-chocolate ganache. Then Ronnie topped the dessert with raspberry puree to make the lips red.

  The rest of her menu was carefully designed to complement the dessert. For her cocktail, Ronnie planned to serve a fruity pink drink with coconut rum, pineapple and grenadine. She needed bright, clean flavors to prepare the palate for her rich dessert.

  They would start with citrus-glazed scallops for her firstcourse. Then, for her entrée, she would prepare a lobster tail seasoned with delicate Asian flavors over a crisp cabbage-and-herb salad. She planned to drizzle the plate with just a hint of wasabi oil to add a bit of heat to her dish.

  The judges would score them on taste, presentation and originality. On paper, her menu might appear simple, but she’d spent a good deal of time composing the flavors—smoky, citrusy and sweet—so that they unfolded in layers that would keep the judges wanting more.

  Ronnie had carefully designed her final plates in her head so that her presentations would have a wow factor. Her scallops and lobster dishes may not score big in originality, but she knew her dessert would bring home all the points she needed in that category.

  She and LQ would have to work quickly, in a carefully orchestrated dance to make sure everything was ready on time. But Ronnie believed they could do it. It surprised her how important winning had become over the last few days.

  Her confidence would’ve had a stronger foundation if Ronnie didn’t feel sick to her stomach and her belly button didn’t sting. What had she been thinking when she’d joined that bachelorette party last night?

  Fortunately, there wasn’t time to worry over her physical ails as the producer announced that the competition was about to begin. Ronnie and LQ filed out of the holding room and rushed over to their kitchen.

  Ronnie knew from past competitions that it was important to stay calm. Cooking under hot studio lights with cameras milling around was a completely different experience from cooking in her own kitchen. Luckily, LQ had done all the previous Food Fights with her and knew the drill.

  As soon as they got to their kitchen, things startedhappening quickly. LQ began pulling together the ingredients for their scallop dish, while Ronnie went right to work on her mold for chocolate lips.

  Ronnie had just finished tempering her chocolate when the camera and one of the judges stopped by her kitchen. She raised her head and smiled. As soon as she’d started working, the effects of her hangover were forgotten, and she was in the zone.

  “I’m working on my dessert first,” she told the camera, “because I need to give the chocolate time to set up in the mold.” She went on to describe how she would later fill and present the chocolate kiss when it was ready.

  Things were off to a good start, and Ronnie began gaining confidence as she steamed her lobster tails. Then she heard some commotion in the kitchen next to hers.

  Over to her left, Stewart beamed as he chattered to the judges about his escargot starter, followed by chateaubriand steak and crème brûlée taken straight off the Compton Arms menu. But the ruckus Ronnie heard originated in Ann Le Marche’s kitchen to her right. Ronnie didn’t want to get distracted from her own dishes, but Ann was making a fuss that was hard to ignore. Instantly, the camera crew dashed away from Stewart’s kitchen to follow Ann.

  “Half of my tools are gone,” she shouted. Ann was overturning every item in her kitchen, not bothering to stifle her long string of expletives as she stomped around.

  Ronnie knew Ann was a student of molecular gastronomy, which relied heavily on science and technology in food preparation. It seemed some of Ann’s fancy gadgets had gone missing.

  Ronnie just shook her head as she focused on chopping cabbage. Sometimes that happened in competitions. People forgot to pack things or left ingredients off their acquisitionlist. In times like this, chefs got to prove how well they functioned under pressure.

  Just then, LQ leaned over her shoulder. “At the risk of sounding like a copycat …”

  Ronnie’s back straightened. “What’s wrong?”

  “Most of our herbs are missing.”

  “What do you mean? Missing—as in, you forgot to order them?”

  “No—as in, I ordered them, but they’re not here.”

  Ronnie resisted the urge to storm around the kitchen, swearing as Ann had just done.

  “Okay, this means we’re going to have to find another way to flavor the cabbage salad. Take a quick inventory of what we do have, and let’s try to put something together.”

  From there, she and LQ scrambled around the kitchen assessing their options. Ronnie hated to repeat flavors, but they finally agreed that they’d have to use citrus to flavor both the scallops and the cabbage salad that would accompany the lobs
ter. In an effort to switch things up, Ronnie garnished the salad with clementine orange and pink grapefruit supremes.

  Even though the colors and flavors were milder than the herb combination she’d planned, Ronnie had to hope she’d done enough to save the dish. Fortunately, her scallop dish was still coming together the way she wanted.

  But the clock was ticking down fast, and it was time to check on her chocolate mold. Ronnie knew something was wrong the minute she pulled the refrigerator open.

  “LQ, I think it’s warm in here.” Ronnie pulled out her tray of molds and, sure enough, they were melting all over the pan.

  Ronnie heard the cameras zooming in on her station, andthe producer asked her to talk about what was happening. What was happening was that she wanted to cry.

  “There seems to be something wrong with my refrigerator. The chocolate lip molds didn’t cool, and they’re starting to melt.”

  Ronnie turned to look at LQ, and for the first time in all her years of competing, she wanted to give up and quit. Her chocolate kiss dessert was the star of her meal, and with only fifteen minutes left, there wasn’t time to start over from scratch.

  Thankfully, LQ remained levelheaded as always. “Okay, we’ve got to regroup,” she said. “What can we do for dessert without the chocolate molds?”

  Ronnie inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with air. Suddenly the gears of her mind began to turn. “Find me some cocktail glasses,” she told her assistant. “We can still use the filling and make some sort of parfait.”

  LQ rushed back to her with three martini glasses. Working fast, Ronnie began filling the bottoms of the glasses with chocolate cake. With the refrigerator broken her mousse and ganache were a bit softer than they should be. She just had to hope that the judges would overlook the texture and take the flavors into account.

  Topping the desserts with raspberry coulis and chocolate shavings, Ronnie placed them on the serving tray just as the audience counted down to zero.

  A loud buzzer sounded, indicating the end of the Food Fight. Now they’d each present their dishes to the judges and receive a critique before deliberation and the announcement of the round-one winner.