Romancing the Chef

by Robyn Amos

  * * *

  Ace woke up early the next morning, realizing that he’d have to work fast if he wanted to make good on his promises to Ronnie. He carefully climbed out of bed, trying not to disturb her in her sleep. As he pulled his pants back on, he couldn’t help but watch as she lay peacefully on the bed.

  She always came off confident and strong, and seeing her so upset made him want to cheer her up. He wanted today to be special. Their relationship was at a tenuous point. They’d agreed to keep things casual, and it hadn’t taken long for them to push that aside.

  Ace was well aware of the fact that she could back away from him again, if he gave her the chance.

  He scrawled a note on the hotel pad, left it on his pillow and crept out of her room. He had several ideas for making it a fun day, but he was going to need some help from the hotel concierge to make everything come together.

  Two hours later, after showering and changing into navy walking shorts and a gray polo shirt, he met Ronnie in the hotel lobby. The concierge had been very helpful, and Ace was excited to show Ronnie his first surprise.

  She walked over to him and splayed her arms. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

  Ace thought she looked cute in her khaki shorts, black tank and matching sweater. “Yeah, you look great. Are those shoes comfortable?” he asked, eyeing her black leather sandals.

  “Yes, they have padded soles. Why, what are we doing?”

  “You’ll see as soon as we get outside.”

  Taking her hand, he led Ronnie through the hotel entrance. A red Vespa was parked at the curb. “This is our transportation for the morning.”

  Ronnie clapped her hands in delight. “This is great. I’ve always wanted to ride one of these. But is it safe?”

  “I drove one all over the city last time I was here. There’s a bit of a learning curve, but I’m an old pro with it now. I promise to take care of you.”

  “Okay, let’s do it,” Ronnie said, putting on the helmet he offered her.

  She got on behind him and they took off. Ace gave her a brief tour of the city through his eyes, stopping frequently to share bits of trivia he’d picked up. Ronnie added in her own anecdotes, and they had a wonderful time.

  After an amazing morning, Ronnie was stunned when Ace took her to a private room in the wine cellar of a French château for a wine-and-cheese tasting lunch.

  “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited,” she said to Ace as their sommelier, Phillipe, poured them a glass of white wine and served them some rich, sharp cheeses with a baguette.

  “I’m glad you like it. I have to admit, I’m pretty pleased I was able to pull this off on such short notice.”

  The sommelier poured five different wines for them over the course of the lunch, serving different meats, cheeses, fruits and breads that paired well with them.

  After he was done with his presentation, Phillipe left them alone to help themselves to what remained.

  “Uh-oh,” Ronnie said, giggling.

  Ace wiped his lips with his napkin. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I may have drank too much. I’m feeling a little tipsy.”

  “That’s okay. We don’t have to leave right away. And I’m having a car pick us up, so you don’t have to worry about getting back on the Vespa.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not my problem.”

  He frowned. “What is it?”

  “I don’t usually drink much because wine … um, puts me in the mood.”

  “In the mood for—oh, I get it now. If I’d known that’s all I had to do, we could have just stayed in the hotel room with a bottle of wine.”

  “How long will it take us to get back there?” she asked, circling the rim of her glass with her finger.

  “Too long,” he said. “We don’t have to go back right away. We’ve got this room all to ourselves. No one will interrupt us.”

  “Are you sure? What about Phillipe?”

  “He’s not coming back. Come here.”

  Ronnie got out of her seat and walked over to straddle Ace. “Phillipe forgot to tell you what goes best with Château Margaux,” she whispered.

  “Oh, yeah? What?” he asked, slipping his hands around her waist.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sucked on his earlobe, then whispered softly, “Me.”

  Ronnie bent over to pick up her sweater from the cellar floor, then stood.

  Ace gave her a sexy smile. “Are you ready to go?”

  Even though she was no longer tipsy, Ronnie still felt giddy. “Yes,” she said, giggling.

  Taking her hand, Ace led her over to the heavy oak door of the cellar. It took two hands to pull it open.

  They stepped through the opening and saw a tour group standing in the corridor admiring a long hall of tapestries while the guide described them.

  Shocked, the two of them just stood there for a second. Ronnie, remembering her loud moans, felt an embarrassed heat rushing up her neck. Some of the tourists, havingspotted them, were starting to snicker. Both of them realized at once that they had been overheard.

  Ace grabbed her arm and they began weaving their way around the tourists until they could reach the stairs and make their exit.

  Safely in the car, they headed back to their hotel, Ronnie buried her head in Ace’s broad shoulder. “I still can’t believe we just did that. When I saw all of those people standing out there, I thought I was going to die of embarrassment.”

  Ace laughed. “Who cares if they could hear us. We’ll never see those people again. Besides, now you can’t claim that you’re not sexually adventurous. I think we’ve added a couple of daring escapades to your list.”

  “That’s true.”

  Her time in Paris with Ace would make for some of the best memories of her life. Too bad they had to get back to reality when the competition started up again the next day. It had been wonderful to live in the fantasy for the last day and a half.

  And after the competition was over … Well, she didn’t even want to think about that. She and Ace didn’t even live in the same state. There were so many reasons why they couldn’t make this a long-term thing.

  “You’ve grown quiet on me. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about how much I enjoyed this day together.”

  “The day’s not over yet.”

  “You can’t possibly top what we did this afternoon,” she said, resisting the urge to giggle again.

  “Why don’t you let me try?”

  They walked into the lobby of their hotel hand inhand, but as soon as the desk clerk saw them, she waved them over.

  “We’ve been trying to reach you two. Your cooking competition is starting early. It will begin in two hours. You must dress and meet in the ballroom at six o’clock,” she said, handing them envelopes from the Gourmet TV Network.

  Ronnie and Ace exchanged harried looks. “We’d better go track down our sous chefs,” Ace said.

  “See you in the ballroom.”

  Without time to process the change in plans, they both got on the elevator and went their separate ways.

  Back in her room, Ronnie called LQ’s cell phone. LQ picked up with a panicked tone. “There you are. Did you get the message from Gourmet TV?”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m calling. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Only that we’re all meeting at six to find out. Where have you been? I’ve been calling your cell phone for the last hour.”

  “I was sightseeing. I must have had my ringer off.”

  “Okay, I guess it doesn’t matter now. You got back in time. I’ll see you there.”

  Ronnie hung up. It was just beginning to sink in how close she’d come to missing the start of the final leg of the All-Star Food Fight. Of course, Ace would have missed it, too.

  What were they thinking giving them notice at the last minute? They wouldn’t have been able to move forward without two of their contestants, would they? It wouldn’t have been good t
elevision to let Etta Foster win by default.

  Even though Etta was in the lead, Ronnie had to believe that she still had a shot at winning. There was still a chancethat Etta could have an off day. Of course, the kitchen mishaps never seemed to rock Etta the way they had messed up her and Ace.

  Swallowing hard, a terrible feeling washed over Ronnie. What if it wasn’t a coincidence? Why were all the chefs plagued by mishaps with the exception of Etta Foster?

  As the thought popped into her mind, she tried to push it out. It was hard to picture the grandmotherly figure doing anything sneaky or unethical. Of course, just because it was hard to believe didn’t make it impossible.

  Taking out the information packet sent by Gourmet TV, Ronnie found the producer’s number on the bottom and dialed it.

  “Ed Sims speaking,” the producer answered.

  “Hi, Ed, this is Ronnie.”

  “Hi, Ronnie, what can I do for you?”

  “I have a question about the competition.”

  “I can’t tell you what the next challenge is until tonight.”

  “My question isn’t about tonight, it’s about the previous rounds. Was GTV purposely messing up our equipment and ingredients to make the show more interesting?”

  “No, those were just the realities of a live television show. It might not be a bad idea for future Food Fights, though. It’s been a lot of fun watching you guys cook yourselves out of a corner.”

  “So you’re saying that the missing or broken things that every chef has had are just coincidences.”

  “Yeah, of course. What else would it be?”

  “Sabotage.”

  The man laughed. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “I’m not saying anything for sure. I’m just saying it’snot the first time someone has blamed a problem in the kitchen on sabotage. Before the Food Fights we used to do an annual pie bake-off. One year the lead contender’s stove went haywire and she never stopped claiming that she’d been sabotaged.”

  Ronnie’s heart began to pound in her chest. “I used to watch that show. Wasn’t that the year Etta Foster won for the first time? Her career really took off after that win.”

  Ed laughed. “Hey, you’re right. I’d forgotten that she’d participated.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that she’s in the lead now after all the rest of us have been complaining of so many things going wrong? She hasn’t seemed to have any problems at all.”

  Ed sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, but there isn’t much I can do about it. We don’t have any proof. And just between you and me, I suggest you don’t even bring this up again. Etta Foster is beloved by everyone at the network. If you start making accusations against her, it’s just going to look like sour grapes. They’ll think you’re picking on a sweet old lady.”

  “You won’t even investigate the possibility?”

  “Investigate? How? Etta doesn’t know what’s coming up tonight just like the rest of you. Even if you believe she’s been doing something to your kitchens in the past, there’s no way she can sabotage you this time. I suggest you put your energy toward doing your best in this leg, and let your food speak for itself.”

  Ronnie hung up the phone steaming mad. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Etta was behind these kitchen mix-ups. The chefs may not know what was ahead now, but that didn’t mean Etta wouldn’t find some way to mess them up before the entire thing was over.

  Ronnie wasn’t afraid to match her skills with Etta Foster or Ace. But she did want to make sure she started with a level playing field.

  Picking up the phone she dialed Ace’s number. “Can you and Marcel meet me in my room in ten minutes? I think we have a problem.”

  Chapter 18

  Ace, Marcel and LQ all compared notes in Ronnie’s room. It was clear now that Etta Foster wasn’t the sweet grandmotherly type everyone believed her to be.

  The question now was, how did they prove it?

  “Now that I’ve talked to Ed on the phone, it’s pretty obvious that, even if they suspect Etta themselves, they’re not inclined to do anything about it without a lot of proof. They can’t bring themselves to accuse a sweet little old lady of such crimes.”

  Ace nodded, deep in thought. “Then we’re going to have to get our own proof.”

  LQ frowned at him. “How? There’s no time. Apparently the competition is going to start in just over an hour.”

  Marcel nodded. “We don’t even know what the competition is. Maybe it will be something she can’t cheat at.”

  Ace shrugged. “There’s got to be something we can do. We may have to wait until the competition is officially underway, but I don’t think she’s done messing us up.”

  Ronnie looked at the other chefs in the room. “We’re just going to have to play it by ear. She can’t make her move until she hears what the challenge is. And when she does try something, we’re going to be ready for her.”

  The four of them tossed some ideas around and then went their separate ways to get ready.

  Ronnie, LQ and the other chefs entered the ballroom to find out the next challenge. Everything was set up, but there was no live audience. The chefs had been told the live audience taping would be tomorrow.

  The three chefs and their sous chefs were sent to their kitchens, and the cameras started rolling.

  “We’re here the day before our final All-Star Food Fight with our top three chefs for a special pre-round challenge. Right now, our chefs are going to find out for the first time exactly what their final challenge is. Are you all ready?”

  The lights flashed in the studio, and Ronnie’s heartbeat sped up. She crossed her fingers that it would be a challenge she could handle.

  “The final round is a cake inspired by a landmark in Paris. We have cars parked outside our studio to take our chefs to any landmark they wish to use. If two chefs pick the same landmark, the first one to arrive there gets to use it. Once at the landmark, the chefs will be asked to sketch their cake design. Then they’ll be brought back to the studio tonight to start baking the cakes they’ll use to build their design in the studio tomorrow.”

  As soon as the host finished describing the challenge, Ronnie knew which landmark she wanted. The Eiffel Tower. She was afraid it might be a popular choice, so as soon as she, LQ and the cameraman climbed into their car, she instructed the driver to go.

  As they were driving, Ronnie was asked to talk to thecamera about her choice and the reason behind it. She kept seeing an image in her mind of the Eiffel Tower sparkling with lights at night, and Ace kissing her in front of it.

  She couldn’t say any of that to the camera, so instead she said, “I think I’m going to make a wedding cake. Before I opened my restaurant, Crave, I used to make wedding cakes for the hotel where I worked. The Eiffel Tower may seem like an obvious choice, but I’m choosing it because it’s Paris’s most romantic icon. That’s why it would be the perfect symbol of the vow between two people to spend the rest of their lives together.”

  Etta Foster had climbed into her car behind Ronnie, and glancing out the window, Ronnie realized Etta’s car was following hers, turn for turn. As the Eiffel Tower came into view, Etta’s car began to pass them.

  “Vite, vite, s’il vous plait.” She told the driver to go faster, using the limited French she’d learned from Ace.

  The driver nodded and their car surged forward, edging in front of Etta’s as they crossed through traffic trying to get close to the tower. As Ronnie’s car pulled over, Etta’s car sped away.

  Ronnie looked back to LQ as she climbed out of the car. “I guess she knew it was pointless to get into a footrace with me.”

  Back at the set, Ace had just started pouring his cake batter into rectangular pans as the cameras came over to his kitchen. He’d had no competition traveling to the Arc de Triomphe, the large arch in the middle of Paris.

  “My c
ake is going to be more of an architectural structure rather than just a cake. I’m going to bake oversized bricks that I can use to build the arch. I’m not a pastry chef, so I am a bit out of my element, but I think this is something I can do.”

  Ace tried to sound confident, but there was a lot to be done and he needed everything to go well if he was going to bring his vision to life. That meant he couldn’t afford any inconvenient mishaps in this round.

  Since they were baking the cakes tonight, he had a strong feeling that if anything were going to be sabotaged, it would occur overnight. They were going to have to find a way to make sure their cakes stayed untouched.

  But there wasn’t much time to strategize about that when he and Marcel had so much baking to do. They also mixed up a huge batch of icing to use on the crumb coating that would go beneath the fondant.

  The Arc de Triomphe was a simple structure compared to Ronnie’s Eiffel Tower and Etta Foster’s Cathédrale Notre Dame, but Ace felt it was something he could do cleanly in the allotted time. If he was able to execute the cake well, maybe he could win this.

  It was nearing midnight when all the chefs had finished baking their cakes and finally left the ballroom. Ronnie waited for Ace near the elevators and stepped inside with him.

  “So, do you have a plan?”

  Ace nodded. “Yes, I do. I had Marcel text Garett while we were baking. In a little while he’s going to place video cameras in each of our kitchens so we’ll be able to see if the cakes we baked are contaminated.”

  “When he recovers the cameras tomorrow, won’t that be too late?”

  “No, he’ll be able to monitor the cameras on a live feed from his laptop. That way we don’t have to lose sleep before the final leg of the competition. He’ll call if he sees something shady.”

  Ronnie realized that with the rest of this sting operationin Ace’s hands, she was going to have to trust both him and Garett. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but she didn’t have a lot of choices anymore.

  “Okay, call me if anything turns up,” she told him as Ace got off on his floor.