Perfectly Matched: ...And the Rest of the Matchmaking Chef Books

by Maddie James

  “So what’s up with you this morning?” she prodded.

  “Nothing.” Sydney moved to another bowl of dough waiting to be punched down and put her fist into it with a satisfying pop.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  The pressure inside of her was enormous. It bubbled up inside her chest, squeezed her neck, and couldn’t help but spill over and out of her mouth.

  “If you must know, I slept with him, all right! Are you happy now?” she yelled, looking straight into Suzie’s face.

  The look Sydney got back was blank.

  “You slept with whom?”

  Whom? Whom else? Why does she need to make me say it?

  “Oh, the hell with it.” Sydney attacked the dough again with full force, punched and kneaded it, then all of a sudden, reached her arms around it, wadded it up into a big, fat ball, scooped it up close to her chest, and dropped the entire thing into the trashcan.

  “Sydney? What on earth?”

  She whirled. “I slept with him, okay? The scone man. The stalker. The Stone of Stone’s Scones. Not Steve. Not an editor. A traitor. A stealer of recipes. A jealous scone man from Atlanta who swept me off my feet, temporarily, that is, because I do not feel one bit of emotion for this man except contempt. And hate. And humiliation. And stupidity.

  “He wasn’t after me, he was after my scones.”

  “Sydney...”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she sank onto a high stool. “I slept with a scone stalker.”

  For a moment no one moved. Suzie didn’t say a word and kept her distance from Sydney, who swore if she heard the words, I told you so, come out of her mouth she would probably have a conniption, whatever that was.

  “Stone Kellerman? That Stone? Of Stone’s Scones in Atlanta who had the best scones of the south until you…”

  Sydney sniffled. “Yes. That Stone.”

  “Oh, Syd…”

  She put up a hand. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

  “I understand.”

  “But he’s not a stalker. Not of the people kind, anyway. He’s just a scone stalker. Damned man was just after my scone recipe.”

  “Unthinkable.” Suzie moved one step closer.

  “He’ll never work again in this business.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’ll write a letter to Southern’s Best.”

  “You do that.”

  “I slept with the bastard.”

  “I know.”

  “It was good.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.”

  Another moment of silence fell over the kitchen, then Suzie said, “You like him, don’t you?”

  “I hate his guts.” She sighed.

  Suzie stifled a smile.

  “He better get his ass out of town, or I’m gonna have it on a cake pedestal.”

  “I’m sure he’s long gone.”

  “He better be.”

  She sniffled again and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Goddamned scone stalker.”

  ****

  On his way back to Atlanta, Stone took the long way to the Interstate. A very long, round-about way. In fact, the route took him right through downtown Legend, and while he was there, he figured he might as well take one last look at the bakery across the street.

  He parked in the parking lot beside the library and for a while, just watched the morning coffee-goers go in, and out, with satisfied looks on their faces.

  He wondered if today was an orange scone day.

  A boy of about thirteen crept by on his bicycle. Stone rolled down the window. “Hey kid!” he called out.

  The boy looked back over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Wanna earn five bucks?”

  His eyes lit up. “Sure!”

  Stone reached a ten-dollar bill out of the window. “I’m in kind of a hurry here. Can you go into Sydney’s over there and get me an orange scone and a cup of coffee to go? You can keep all the change. I’ll be right here.”

  The boy nodded, eagerly. “Sure thing!” He grasped the bill and parked his bike, then after looking both ways, crossed the street and entered the bakery.

  ****

  About ten minutes later Stone sipped at his coffee while cruising down I-75 toward Atlanta. He had Hawaiian coffee in his cup and an orange scone in a little white bag on his seat, but in the place where his heart usually beat strong and happy, he felt a little hollow.

  It was not how he expected to feel leaving Legend, Tennessee. He had expected to feel elated, after having romanced the winning scone recipe from Ms. Sydney Schul. But no recipe, and obviously, since she flat out fled from his hotel room the day before, no romance either.

  He sure had mucked this idea up to hell and back.

  But no matter. He would soon be back home in Atlanta, and working on next year’s award. Thing was though, with every turn of his wheels, taking him further away from Legend, the anger in his gut rolled up into a little empty place that he wasn’t sure he knew how to fill.

  Strange. That empty place couldn’t be because of Sydney. Could it?

  No. Women didn’t affect him like that.

  Did they?

  Chapter Seven

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

  Glancing about the New York set at The Food Channel, Sydney felt a mite uncomfortable. She was not used to this. Suzie? That was another ball of wax. Her cousin was very used to television sets and cameras following her every move as she cooked. But Sydney, no.

  “You wanted fame? I give you fame.”

  “I sort of didn’t expect this. I was thinking another magazine article, or something.”

  “Well, getting out of Legend wasn’t such a bad idea, was it? You’ve been pining away there ever since you ditched out of Stone Kellerman’s hotel room. Time for a change, sweetie.”

  “I did not ditch.”

  “You left him without a word while he was taking a shower, Sydney!”

  “The man lied to me. You know that as well as I.”

  “You could have cut him some slack. I mean, he never really did anything to you, did he? The man was just upset about losing out to you, and you know how men are when they lose. They do desperate things.”

  “Like lie? Give fake names? Snoop around? I can’t believe I’m hearing what I’m hearing, Suzie. Criminy! You were the one who thought he was a stalker!”

  “I was wrong. When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong.”

  “Humpht.” Sydney had just about had enough. “Well, he’s the one who left town without a backward glance. I’m sure he’s not pining away after me in Atlanta. Besides, I don’t know what Stone has to do with today and this stupid show—which is going to be a disaster, by the way. I don’t know a thing about doing a television show.”

  Suzie grasped her by her upper arms and turned her bodily to face her. “Sydney Schul, snap out of it. You know that Patricia, the producer of my show, would never have agreed to this if she hadn’t thought it would make an excellent show. And it’s Valentine’s week, for goodness sake. The perfect time to talk scones.

  She frowned. “I don’t get that.”

  Suzie waved her hands in the air. “Never mind, you will. Now, how was makeup?”

  “Like I thought I would never get out of there. Is that stuff sliding down my face?”

  Smiling, Suzie brushed a wayward hair from her cheek. “No, you look beautiful. Hey listen, this is a great opportunity to promo your shop and your scones. It’s like a cakewalk once you get started. Just let me do the talking. .”

  A deep voice broke the air between them. “Quiet on the set. Cameras rolling in...”

  “...and you’ll be fine. Follow my lead.”

  “...in three...two...one...” Pause.

  Suzie looked straight into the camera. Sydney felt like a statue beside her.

  “Good morning and welcome to the Matchmaking Chef! I’m Suzie Matthews and today we are romancing the scone. Not your everyday scone, mind you, b
ut a perfect match made in Heaven, of scone and coffee, that will tickle your taste buds and pacify your palate with a sweet blend of orange and nutty flavors that are to die for.”

  Suzie turned to Sydney. “Today I have a very special guest, my very own cousin, Sydney Schul, owner of Sydney’s Sugar High Coffee Stop and Bakery in Legend, Tennessee, my home town, and whose Double Orange Scone of Sinful Decadent Desire recently earned the title of Southern’s Best magazine Best Scones of the South. Sydney, welcome!”

  An errant and unexpected smile broke across her face. “Hi! Thanks! This is fun!”

  Suzie smiled back and hooked her arm into her elbow. “And we’ll be back, right after this.”

  “Cut!”

  Grimacing, Sydney looked to her cousin. “That was bad, huh.”

  “Just relax, Syd. It’s all going to be fine. Just pretend we’re in your kitchen back at the bakery.”

  “Then give me something to do with my hands. I need something to do with my hands.”

  The voice, again. “....and rolling again three... two...”

  “Here.” Suzie pushed toward her a bowl of dough.

  “...one.”

  “Today we are making orange scones, the recipe that made you famous, right Sydney?”

  “Well,” Sydney pulled the dough out of the bowl and began fiddling with it on the counter, “this is the scone that got me the award, but I’m not giving away all my secrets here, Suzie.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Even if you are my cousin.”

  A few snickers went up from the set. Sydney relaxed a bit.

  Suzie leaned in. “I’ve heard, Sydney, that I wouldn’t be the first person to try to romance the orange scone recipe away from you. Is that true?”

  Suddenly, Sydney had visions of tabloid articles about her and Stone plastered all over supermarket checkout lanes worldwide. Would Suzie not let this rest?

  Besides, it had been a couple of months. It was a bygone. A distant memory.

  A sad dream that haunted her every night.

  But she smiled sweetly for the camera. “Now that’s a story that will never be shared on national television, my dear cousin.” Inside, her guts were quaking like an 8.6 on the Richter scale.

  “But it’s true, right? That a few weeks ago someone was stalking your scone recipe?”

  If she were able to look at herself, Sydney was certain her eyebrows would be positioned into a perfect vee, with the ends of both right and left brows pointed up, and the insides pointing down at her nose, and her face squished into a surprised, but deliberate, scowl.

  “Dear cousin, we are not going there.”

  Suzie reached to Sydney’s dough and broke off a hunk. “I do understand, but it’s an incredible story, you know. That’s why I figured out I had to get to the bottom of it. Particularly since it’s Valentine’s week.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The scone stalker, my dear. Remember?”

  Out of the corner of her mouth, Sydney bit, “Are you freakin’ crazy?”

  “Cut that part, but keep rolling,” the voice said again.

  She wished he’d stopped the cameras so she could get a grip on Suzie and the direction this conversation was going.

  “He was not a stalker,” though, were the words that came out of her mouth.

  “Oh?”

  “No. And if I remember correctly, I kept telling you that he wasn’t a stalker, Suzie, but you kept insisting.”

  Suzie looked directly into the camera, leaning forward a bit. “I know. I was a bit unnerved. But I was wrong, and when I am, I do correct myself. In fact,” she glanced at Sydney again, “I’m going to make a public apology right now.”

  This didn’t feel good. “Suzie, what in the world?”

  Sydney looked down into her hands and realized that she had rolled a handful of dough into a very tight wad.

  “Which brings me to the introduction of our next guest.”

  What the hell? I am your guest, Suzie.

  “This is really quite a story, folks. You see, before Sydney held the honor of Best Scones of the South, another gentleman held that title for five years in a row. Please meet, Stone Kellerman of Stone’s Scones in Atlanta.”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sydney heard applause, but knew that couldn’t really be happening. Could it?

  What. The. Hell.

  And then in walked Steve, er, Stone. Her stomach plummeted and her heart kicked up some kind of weird pitty-patty cadence.

  But there he was, looking sheepish as hell. Looking even more handsome than ever.

  Looking good enough to eat.

  Please. I can’t be here if he talks food to me. I’ll have an orgasm on the spot.

  Suzie faced him. “So, Stone. It was quite a surprise when you were ousted by a small town girl, huh?”

  Sydney squeezed the dough in her hand. Hard.

  He chuckled and looked to Sydney, who couldn’t muster up a word.

  “Very surprised. I was used to winning.”

  “So much so,” Suzie went on, “that you took a little undercover trip to Legend to check out Sydney’s scones, did you not?”

  “I must confess. I did.”

  His gaze never left hers.

  “And did you check out Sydney, as well?” Oh, shit, Suzie!

  He smiled. “Afraid so. In fact, I became quite enamored of her.”

  Gulp.

  “Enamored? Well...” Suzie glanced back to Sydney, who wanted to stick her tongue out at her, but didn’t. “And were you able to romance the recipe out of her?”

  Sydney felt her gaze narrow.

  “No ma’am,” he said. “She’s got that recipe locked up tighter than a drum.”

  “But you tried?”

  “Oh yes, I tried.”

  “And do you have anything you would like to say for yourself at this point, Mr. Kellerman?”

  He paused, still looking Sydney in the eyes. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “I still think it’s Grand Marnier.”

  Sydney uttered something that sounded like, “Pphuw”

  Suzie continued to prod. “Anything else?”

  He tipped his head in a slow nod. “Ms. Sydney is definitely one tough cookie. A little tart like Key Lime Pie, but smooth and silky as a Crème Brulee with a hard sugar crust, to boot. I think that recipe is safe with her for a long time.

  “Of course, if she lets me talk food to her, anything is a possibility.”

  Enough. Her panties were wet already.

  Sydney had remained calm and civil and camera-pretty-like for way too long. She gripped that ball of dough in her hand, measured its weight, looked Stone square in the eyes and said, with quite a bit of sass and spice, “You goddamned scone stalker you!”

  And beamed him square in the center of his forehead.

  A collective group of gasps went up on the set.

  ****

  Stone chucked and rubbed dough off his forehead. “I deserved that.” What did he expect? He’d told Suzie this wasn’t going to work.

  “You bet you did.” That came from Sydney, who stare could slice a hole right through him.

  “Let me explain, Sydney.”

  He watched Suzie reach for Sydney’s arm, and Sydney jerk out of her grasp. “No!” Turning then, she added, “And get those cameras out of my face!”

  “This is over. Done. Finished! Cut!”

  Stone was a mite surprised at her fervor.

  Suzie grabbed Sydney’s hand again. “The cameras stopped rolling. Now, will you get a grip?”

  Glaring, Sydney stepped back and faced both of them. “Me get a grip?” She angled her body toward Stone. “You!” She pointed. “You scone stalker you! You lied to me. You gave me a fake name! You talked food to me, and I fell for it. You...you...you...”

  A pent-up breath escaped her lips and Stone watched the life sail out of her, exhausted, he figured. Poor thing. He wished this hadn’t happened quite this way.

  Then
Suzie stepped forward. “Syd...”

  She jerked her posture back upright. “And you! My own flesh and blood! What do you think you are doing, bringing him here? You were the one who said he was a stalker. Why did you bring me here for this...this...this...?”

  “Sydney, we need to talk.” Stone stepped forward.

  She backed away. “No. I’m not talking to anyone. In fact, I’m going home.” She whirled. “Somebody get me a cab. Now!” she yelled. “Where is that producer of yours, Suzie? I am getting out of there this very instant!”

  Rushing away, she headed toward the dressing room.

  Stone took a quick step after her.

  Suzie grabbed his arm. “Let her go,” she told him. “Patricia isn’t going to let her go anywhere.” Then turning to him she added, “Sorry this didn’t turn out exactly as I had it worked out in my head.”

  “Ditto,” he said. “Now, will you let me do this my way?”

  ****

  In the end, she didn’t get on a plane for home. There still was a matter of a television shoot that she had agreed to, signed a contract for, dammit, and Patricia Plum, hard-nosed producer that she was, would not let Sydney out of it.

  She had managed, however, to postpone it a day. She figured the world owed her that.

  She wasn’t leaving Suzie’s New York hotel room suite until then.

  Scones be damned. The last thing she felt like doing was a Valentine’s week matchmaking show.

  She should have seen that coming. After all, that’s what Suzie does.

  Play matchmaker.

  It had worked for Chelly. It had worked for Patricia. And it had even worked for Lyssa Larkin. But it hadn’t worked for Sydney, and it wouldn’t. No use in trying.

  Thing was, Stone had looked delicious standing there yesterday in the studio. Totally and utterly handsome and sinfully delicious. But she could never trust him. Not after what he’d done in Legend. And she really didn’t even know him, did she?

  This was all a ridiculous bit of nonsense.

  The door to her bedroom cracked ajar, and Sydney lifted her head off her pillow to glance that way. “I’m going out for a little while, to take a walk,” Suzie said. “Won’t be gone long, just want some fresh air. Sleep in as long as you want.”

  “Okay.”

  She left, and Sydney snuggled deeper into the down covers. Her eyelids grew heavy again, and she had nearly dozed back to sleep when the bell to the suite sounded.