© 2013 Amanda Usen
Chapter One
Lila slipped away from the crowded graduation party, carrying her glass of wine out to the empty back porch. She felt ridiculous in her too-small, borrowed cocktail dress and couldn’t wait to kick off her uncomfortable heels. How much longer did she have to stay to justify all the work Jenna and Betsy had put into her hair and makeup?
Getting dressed up had sounded like fun, but she couldn’t take a deep breath without risking indecent exposure, and her feet were killing her. Unlike her vivacious friends, she was never going to be the life of the party. She was happiest in the kitchen, making the party happen behind the scenes. Or in her dorm room, going over her game plan for the culinary competition tomorrow.
The door opened behind her. Please, God, no more small talk. Pasting a polite grin on her lips, she turned. When Jackson Calabrese smiled back at her, her heart hammered. A blush burned at the roots of her hair and blazed its way down to the ground—just as it did each time she saw him.
He raised a bottle of wine toward her glass. “I brought reinforcements.”
“How on earth did you get a bottle of the Margaux?” she stammered.
He shrugged, giving her a wicked grin that made her feel faint. Of course. It was good to be a Calabrese at the Culinary Academy. The president of the school would probably put a case of the priceless wine in Jack’s car if he asked.
She took a sip to wet her dry mouth. “Are you ready for the big competition tomorrow?” she asked, figuring she might as well mention the elephant standing on the porch with them.
He grimaced, running a hand through his short dark hair. “I guess.”
She had expected him to boast and try to psych her out with trash talk. They were frenemiescompeting against each other, after all, and most of their class was betting one of them would take the top prize of twenty-five thousand dollars. The last thing she expected was for Jackson Calabrese, golden boy of the Culinary Academy, to sound uncertain. Or was he playing with her? She cocked her head to the side and watched him take a large gulp of wine.
She had no idea.
He tipped his head toward the house and shrugged. “It’s hard to be in there pretending I’m not nervous as hell. I’m already having nightmares.”
“Why are you nervous? It’s not like you need the money. I know that’s a tacky thing to say, but I can’t imagine you’ve got student loans to repay.” Winning the competition would put a big enough dent in her loans that she might only be in debt for half her life, instead of the whole thing.
He scowled. “No loans, as my father loves to remind me. Just the honor of the entire Calabrese family. The old man doesn’t think I’m going to win. In fact, he’s sure of it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She rolled her eyes. “Even I think you’re going to win.”
She raised the glass to her lip, trying to act normal while every nerve tightened with awareness of him. It wasn’t easy. Her skin felt taut and tingly, and her mouth watered even after she swallowed. Damn, he was hot—tall, dark, and built like an underwear model. Whereas she was…not. Every time she passed the pub on her way to one of her part-time jobs, he was in there surrounded by an adoring crowd well stocked with beautiful women from neighboring universities. To top off his lucky lot in life, he was rich, too. Could two people be more opposite? For goodness sake, her father had mortgaged the house to pay for her abandoned art degree, but Jack was so loaded there were buildings on campus named after his family.
He smiled, not the charming grin she’d seen him use on the instructors during class when he was being, well, Jack. This smile was real, and it made her heart beat faster. Snap out of it! Her crush on Jack had been instant, epic, and excruciating, but she couldn’t afford to let him distract her tonight. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not going to throw me off my game tomorrow by playing on my sympathies. You’re not going to get me drunk, either.” She set her glass on the porch railing and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Unlike you, I do have loans to repay. Big ones. You’ll have to forgive me for kicking your ass tomorrow.”
He didn’t react. Actually, he didn’t appear to have heard a word she said. His eyes roved over her body, finally settling on her breasts.
“Hey! Up here.” She pointed at her eyes. “I’m talking to you.”
His gaze snapped to meet hers, and time stopped. His pale green eyes were mesmerizing, and she saw something in them she had never imagined—desire. She stared at him, feeling dizzy.
He stepped closer. “Sorry, did you say something? I was trying to figure out how we could have been in class together for so long without me noticing how beautiful you are. Have you been hiding from me?”
He didn’t know the half of it. When she saw him coming, she ducked behind whatever was available, no mean feat considering her curves. Better to hide than to face him, flushed with desire and breathless. In class, it was easier to act normal. She was wearing her uniform, had a game plan, and knew all the right answers.
He set his wine glass next to hers. “Now that I think about it, you always seem to be going the other direction every time I see you. I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation outside of class before tonight. Why is that?”
Because my panties would start fires around campus. “Absolutely nothing in common?”
“I don’t buy it. We’ve traded the top spot back and forth for two years now. We’re both nervous about tomorrow. Obviously, we both love food. We have tons in common. Don’t you like me?”
Was he joking? “Seriously? Everybody likes you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Their eyes locked, and her heart beat so fast she thought it might lunge out of her chest. Her knees weakened, and she leaned back to brace herself against the railing, feeling her cheeks burn. A triumphant grin spread across his face. “You do like me.”
“It’s not a crime.”
He stepped forward, trapping her. “No, but giving me the impression you didn’t want anything to do with me is.”
“So sue me.” She looked away into the darkness, grateful for the early spring breeze that cooled her fiery cheeks. “I’m not your type, Jack. I never had any illusions about something happening between us.”
He made a dismissive sound. “You gave off the not interested vibe so hard, I didn’t even think about it. Now I’m remembering how much fun it was to square off with you in the kitchen and imagining how we might match up in other ways.”
She jerked her gaze back to his. She’d imagined how they might match up a thousand times but had never thought it would happen. He leaned forward. “Want to find out?”
Heat soared through her, and she was certain she would catch fire when he kissed her.
His lips touched hers.
She melted and then turned into pure flame as he wrapped his arms around her, welcoming the instant and all-consuming fire between them. When she felt the flick of his tongue against her upper lip, she opened her mouth, inviting him deeper. For long moments they explored each other, and she exhilarated in his touch, loving the firm caress of his fingers on her aching breasts and delighting in the impatient grasp of his hands on her ass as he pulled her closer. “A perfect fit. So damn hot, and right under my nose all this time. No more hiding.”
His teeth grazed her throat, and the sharp sting thrilled her. Would any of the other party guests see them making out on the porch? She didn’t care. She had wanted this for so long, and it was actually happening.
“This is silly,” he muttered.
She froze, eyes shut tight. She should have known it was too good to be true. Guys like Jack didn’t need girls like her.
He lifted his head. “I don’t suppose you want to get out of here?”
She opened her eyes and found his cool green gaze just as hot as it had been before he kissed her. He wanted her, really and truly. Unmistakable evidence of his desire was cradled against her belly, but it was hard to shake off her doubts. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. We’re competing against each other tomorrow, and we have to be up really early.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, are you?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. Even if she hadn’t been nervous about the competition, now she’d be lying awake thinking of him.
“I can think of many pleasurable ways to not sleep…together. And I may have been slow to notice your killer body and beautiful smile, but I’ve always been aware of your mad cooking skills. I bet your game plan for tomorrow is mapped out minute by minute, isn’t it?”
She nodded slowly. “Is yours?”
“Of course.” He bent to nibble her neck. “We’re both prepared, and I think working off some nervous energy will be good for us.” His lips cruised south. When the tip of his tongue dipped between her breasts, her reservations disintegrated, no match for the need igniting in her core. She didn’t care about tomorrow; she wanted tonight. “Your place or mine?”
“Do you have a roommate?”
She nodded. It was cheaper to share dorm costs.
“My place then. I want you all to myself.”
***
Anticipation shot through her, and she grabbed her purse and followed him around the side of the house to his car. The ride to his apartment was short but seemed to take forever. His hand clasped hers, caressing her fingers until she felt his touch everywhere. When they got inside, he locked the door and pulled her into his arms. His hands molded her curves while his lips slanted over her mouth. The bold thrust of his tongue against hers made her feel equally brave, and she loosened the knot on his tie, eager to uncover the body she’d fantasized about touching. He walked her backward down the hall, never losing contact with her mouth, as she swiftly unbuttoned his shirt.
They went through an open door, and he flicked on a light. “Turnabout’s fair play.” She tensed as he turned her around. That light was bright and would highlight every flaw. She clutched the fabric to her chest as he eased the zipper of her dress down to her waist and nudged the straps of her dress off her shoulders. “Any chance we can turn the light off?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
She glanced over her shoulder and gave him an eye roll. He grinned and tugged at her dress. She held on. “Some of us don’t spend as much time at the gym as other people.”
“Some of us don’t care.” He turned her to face him, trapping her dress between them. The neckline gaped, and the way he looked at her breasts made her nipples tighten. “Your curves are hot. I want to see them, touch them…taste them. If I have to turn the light off, I will, but I’d much rather leave it on.”
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable and empowering, giving her the courage to let the dress fall slowly to her waist. His gaze grew fierce, and color swept over his cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat as he bent to kiss his way down her body. He kneeled to tug her dress over her hips. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, caressing her bare thighs, and she believed him.
“Lights on.” She stepped out of her heels and left the dress on the floor.
“Good decision.” He stood and lowered her to the bed. They both sighed as he settled on top of her, the weight of him sending a hot burst of pleasure through her. He shifted to the side. She clutched at his shoulders, not wanting any space between them, but he caught her hands and pressed them to the bed, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. “Let me enjoy this amazing body. I’ve got plans for you.”
How could she say no to that? She grew boneless as he kissed her again, this time lingering, tasting every corner of her mouth. Her breath came in pants as she imagined what else he might do with his tongue. His hands were busy stroking her breasts, belly, and hips. He thrust one knee between her thighs, easing the ache and making her sob from relief until he began to lick his way across her tender breasts. When he teased her nipple through her lace bra, she whimpered, wordlessly begging him to suck harder and give her more of the intense sensations that were making her simultaneously want to climb the walls and lie still so he wouldn’t stop. His fingers hovered over the front clasp of her bra, and she nodded.
He popped the catch and helped her struggle out of it, leaving her in her panties. She forgot her half-formed desire to reach for cover when he shrugged out of his shirt and tie. Her mouth watered, and her fingers tingled. She stared greedily at his broad chest, the sleek muscles of his arms, and his rock-hard abs while he made short work of his pants, shoes, and socks. Definitely a good decision. The man was a god, and if they’d turned out the light, she wouldn’t have been able to see all the places she wanted to touch and taste, either. She held her breath as he shucked his boxers, revealing hot, hard flesh.
Then he was on her again, and he felt even better than he looked. He bent his head to her breasts, tormenting her nipples with his tongue, moving from one to the other, while his hands stroked and squeezed her. The sensations shot straight to her clit, and she groaned, pulling his mouth tighter against her breast. With a soft chuckle, he stretched out beside her, propping his head on one arm and smiling down at her as he traced the top edge of her panties with one finger. She sucked in a harsh breath as his hand slipped beneath the fabric to circle the center of her, making her desperate and needy. Slowly, he pressed one finger inside, capturing her whimper with his lips as she clenched around him, and then he moved lower, scattering kisses across her belly. When he tugged her panties down, she lifted her hips, her modesty long gone. At the first touch of his tongue, she screamed, shamelessly thrusting her hips toward his mouth. Pleasure flowed over her, a hot cascade, and she surrendered, climaxing so hard her legs closed around him, and she felt the rough scrape of his five o’clock shadow against her inner thighs. His movements slowed, but didn’t stop, an intimate kiss that urged her to seek more pleasure.
Her pulse was a drumbeat as she tugged him up over her. The heat in his gaze seared her, and his urgency filled her with greed. More—she wanted more of him.
“Hang on.” He reached into the bedside drawer to get a condom. He swiftly rolled it into place. As he entered her, she stroked her hands over his back and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close. His harsh gasp filled her with satisfaction. She gripped him tight, pulling him down for a kiss and tasting herself on his lips. He cradled her shoulders with his forearms, holding her in place, making her feel utterly secure as he rocked her higher and harder with his hips. Over and over he thrust into her, a rainbow of fire bursting in her center and spreading outward. He shouted, clutching her impossibly closer and burying his face in her neck as they shuddered together.
Gradually she came back to earth and eased her hold on him. He lifted his head, and the tender intensity in his gaze sent aftershocks rippling through her. “Hold that thought.” He slid away from her and headed toward the bathroom. She watched him go, marveling at his muscled back and his truly perfect ass. While he was gone, she indulged in a long stretch, resisting the urge to pinch herself. Quickly, she crawled under the covers, not wanting to put her dress back on but also not wanting to be quite so naked when he returned. Would he want her to stay?
Her question was answered when he slid into bed and spooned her. His hand cupped her breast, and his lips brushed the back of her neck. She shivered in delight. It was hard to believe she was with Jack, who used to make her so nervous. Cocooned in his incredibly soft sheets, with his strong arms wrapped around her, she was more comfortable than she’d ever been in her life.
“God, I feel great,” he said echoing her thoughts. “I wish we could start cooking right now. My food would be awesome.”
She cast a teasing glance over her shoulder. “You’d certainly get high marks from the judges if you served it naked.”
“I will if you will. On second thought, I’m glad we don’t have to be anywhere for a while.” He leaned back, pulling her with him until she was half-lying over his body. His hand slipped between her thighs. She made room for him, bemused that she could become aroused again so quickly. A few flicks and strokes and he had her on the edge. His fingers dipped and swirled in a more complicated rhythm, and she gasped, flying hard over the peak.
“Women might be the weaker sex, but your fast recovery time is a definite advantage. I’m jealous.”
It took a second for her jellified brain to process his teasing. With effort, she threw off the covers and rolled to straddle him. “You should be jealous. Women are more flexible, good at thinking on their feet, and very creative.” He didn’t look or feel as if he were in need of any more recovery time, so she asked, “Want me to show you?”
His answer was to reach into the drawer and grab another condom. She took it from him. “We’re efficient.” She rolled it down his length and followed it with her body.
“Determined.” She began to move. When he gazed at her bouncing breasts, she grabbed his hands and held them to her chest. She watched his expression tighten. His gaze became savage, and new tremors ignited in her body. As he shuddered, he shouted her name, tipping her over the edge. “And fast.”
His voice was a rough whisper as she collapsed next to him. “Very good points, but you still don’t stand a chance tomorrow. On second thought, let’s skip it and stay in bed. My desire for a Calabrese restaurant and my father’s approval gets weaker with every orgasm. I’m pretty sure I have everything I need right here.”
His hand staked an intimate claim, and she laughed. “Not a chance, pal. You lost me at restaurant, but I understand all about wanting to please a father. Before my dad lost his job, he was working sixty-hour weeks to pay off the loans from an art degree I never finished.” She shifted away from him, uncomfortable at being held so close while she shared something so embarrassing. “I’m on my own now, with massive bills and even bigger loans, so you better watch out.”
She put a pillow between them, but he edged closer. “Got something to prove, huh?” He tossed the pillow to the floor and propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her.
“Let’s just say finishing things isn’t something I usually do. An unfortunate incident with my thesis advisor threw a wrench into my art degree. I thought we were dating, but he just needed someone to research his papers. He published them without even mentioning my name, and I was so mad I left the university and enrolled in culinary school. Food is a little bit like art, and I know I can get a job somewhere. At least I’ve finished something, and I won’t be a starving artist.”
Jack nodded. “I hear you. I’ve got something to prove, too. If I win tomorrow, my father will give me a restaurant. The man has done everything but bar the door to keep me out of his kitchens, but all that changes tomorrow. So you’re the one who better watch out.”
When she chuckled, he nudged her with his hip. “What are you making for the competition, anyway? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” His grin was wicked. “I’ll even go first. I’m making a perfectly rare herb and goat cheese crusted rack of lamb with a zinfandel demi-glace that will be rich enough to make you cry, paired with potatoes Lyonnaise and haricot verts. Nothing fancy. Nothing crazy, but it will be a perfect showcase for classic techniques.” He raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for her response.
She hesitated. Their recipes were a big secret. No one was supposed to know until the judges announced each dish. Was Jack trying to trick her? Was this his game all along?
She realized she was frowning when Jack smoothed his finger over her brow. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me. No big deal.” He pulled her into his arms again.
Surrounded by his warmth, she felt safe and secure. What was the harm in telling him? Her game plan was set, ingredients requisitioned and waiting for her in the kitchen. She didn’t want anything separating them, not after what they had shared tonight, not when it felt so right to be with him. She snuggled closer.
“I’m going to do a play on Duck, Duck, Goose with five-spiced duck leg, seared duck breast, and foie gras dumplings. I’ll drizzle the sauce in a circle and garnish the plate with miniature vegetables. Do you think it would be overkill to put a poached quail egg on top?”
A sharp breath shuddered out of his chest, and his body stiffened. She raised her head. His eyes were dark, his expression hooded. She started to pull away from him, but he held on, giving her a brief hug. “Nope, go for the egg. I think that sounds amazing, and I can’t wait to see you make it happen tomorrow.”
She searched his expression for evidence of insincerity or criticism, but could detect no clue to his thoughts. Slowly, she settled beside him again, wishing she had kept her plans to herself. He pulled the covers up around them and closed his eyes. When she turned her back, he spooned her, but not quite as close as he had before.
Maybe she was imagining the distance between them?
Her heart began to race, making sleep impossible. Was Asian-inspired duck overplayed? Did he think her idea was stupid, but hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings? She’d be crazy to take a risk on a whimsical, played-out duck dish when he was bringing the big guns to the table. Her mouth had watered when he described his rack of lamb. A straight-up favorite like that would make the judges drool, too.
Shit.
She needed to win, but judging by what Jack had told her about his dish, the competition was already over. No wonder he was sleeping like a baby. He had her beat before they even got into the kitchen. She couldn’t help feeling like she’d been set up somehow at the party, his trapping her against the railing when he’d never given her a second glance…It all made perfect sense. A sudden sense of dread swept through her.
She slipped out of bed, feeling sick when she saw the clock. She had five hours to come up with something better than duck. The school coolers, freezers, and storage rooms were well-stocked, and the competing students had free run of them. If Jack thought seducing her ideas out of her would give him an edge, he was going to get a big surprise.
She wasn’t beaten yet. Hell, no.
In a couple hours, she would show him the true meaning of creativity, and she didn’t want him to be late, so she set the alarm for him. She gathered her clothes, shoes, and purse, and dressed in the hall. She walked back to campus, and by the time she reached her dorm room she had a new plan.
A better plan.
Jackson Calabrese didn’t stand a chance.
Chapter Two
What the hell was Lila doing with those pork ribs? She was supposed to be cooking duck, but he hadn’t seen her anywhere near one this morning. She had to know ribs wouldn’t get done in time. They only had three hours left, and she hadn’t even put them in the oven.
He tried to catch her attention, but she ignored him. She hadn’t said a word to him at all. Maybe the pressure was getting to her, and she wanted to stay focused on her menu? She couldn’t possibly be blowing him off after what had happened between them last night. His world was still rocking. Since she’d crept out before he woke up, she could at least throw him a bone…or a smile. Hell, he’d be happy if she just looked at him. As if to grant his wish, she turned. The cold glare she leveled on him felt like a punch in the gut. He sucked in a breath, then shut his mouth and returned her stare. Clearly, she wasn’t happy to see him.
As soon as she’d shared her game plan with him last night, he’d come to terms with losing. Her concept was brilliant, and duck was easy to cook. Oddly, he hadn’t been upset at the prospect of losing. She was right. He didn’t need the money. As far as his father’s approval, well, finally getting his dad to acknowledge Jack was a chef in his own right didn’t seem to matter last night. Being with Lila had eased something inside him he hadn’t known was tight enough to snap. She’d made him feel so good nothing else had seemed important.
With a last venomous glare over her shoulder, Lila covered her ribs with foil and shoved them in the oven, snapping Jack out of his fog and reminding him she wasn’t cooking duck. He went cold then hot.
She’d lied to him.
Had she come up with that Duck, Duck, Goose dish on the spur of the moment to hide her true plan for her menu? Holy shit, if she could come up with something that good off the top of her head, what was she going to put on the plate for the judges? His lamb was going to look like a lame duck next to her rib dish, whatever it was.
Frustrated fury sent him stalking toward the walk-in cooler. Since they received their ingredients during the first hour of the competition, he could cool off where no one would see him. Once inside the chilly space, he pressed his hands to his face. He burned hotter when he thought about how many times his eyes had strayed over to her station this morning.
She had totally blown his concentration. An hour had elapsed, and all he’d done was clean a rack of lamb and get hard thinking about her body under that shapeless uniform. She had twisted her long red-gold hair into a braid and stuffed it under her hat, but it didn’t stop him from picturing how it had looked spread over his pillow last night. Even when her blue eyes had shot daggers at him, he’d noticed how pretty they were.
If Lila had seduced him in order to distract him, her plan had worked like a charm. Now he doubted the sob story about her finances and whether she liked him at all. However, not everything she’d said was a lie. She’d flat-out told him she planned to kick his ass today. She had just fudged the details on how she was going to do it. Shame swept through him as he realized he would have happily watched her win if their connection had been real. He’d been so into her, he’d forgotten his own goal: proving his cooking skills to his father. He sagged against a shelf then jerked forward as his shoulder touched something wet and squishy. He turned to see what it was, anger flaring again when he saw a tray of defrosted ducks. Naturally, the universe would mock him with a visual reminder of his idiocy.
Wait…he stared at the ducks, then counted an even dozen. This particular walk-in cooler supplied several restaurants on campus, but would they miss a couple ducks? And did he have time to cook them? He looked at his watch. Yes, barely. Lila Grant might be creative, but he’d grown up in kitchens trying to impress his impossible to please father. Very few chefs could match his speed. He gathered ingredients thrilled it was so easy to find everything he needed. She’d made a fool out of him, but he was going to teach her a lesson. He’d take her fictitious recipes and turn them into reality, and when he won the competition, she’d regret messing with a Calabrese.
***
Lila was falling apart.
Her hastily cobbled together strategy had unexpected pitfalls, such as the temperamental smoker and the dull blade on the spice grinder. Her smoked dry rub was finally finished, but she had lost precious time. The clock ticked faster and faster, but she felt like she dragged more every minute. Everyone else in the kitchen was accelerating, especially Jack. She hadn’t dared look directly at him except for the one time their eyes locked. With one look, he’d set her body on fire, replacing her urgent desire to get her menu prepped with an entirely different need. Even without looking, she couldn’t help but be peripherally aware of him, working with a single-minded focus that filled her with envy. If she didn’t pick up the pace, she was toast.
She checked on her ribs, glanced at the clock, and nearly burst into tears. She turned the temperature up a few degrees and forced herself to focus. If she turned the heat any higher, the ribs would turn into leather. She’d have to let them cook until the last minute, and rely on her sides to carry the dish.
She grabbed a pen and made a list, something she should have done three hours ago. Now she only had an hour left, and it was going to take a miracle to pull off a win. She turned back to the stove, determined to find her zone. With ten minutes left, she crossed her fingers and opened the oven. She peeled the foil away from the pan and stuck a fork into the slab. Her heart sank. No miracle. They needed another hour, at least.
“If you’re not plating now, you should be.” The judge’s warning silenced the busy kitchen, and everyone moved faster.
Lila hurried back to her station. She used tongs to pull the slab out of the pan and then cut it into sections. She arranged the ribs into an artful pile on each plate, adding judicious scoops of truffled macaroni and cheese, and a colorful baked bean medley that was more bacon than bean. Then she added the final touch, a bright green garnish of fried collard greens. She stood back to take a final look. Something wasn’t right. What was missing?
“Two minutes.” The judge’s voice exploded in her head. Panic rose, threatening to choke her, as she finally realized what she had forgotten.
The sauce.
Even with the dry rub, the ribs needed something more. She grabbed her pan, burned her hand, and cursed. The cooking liquid was a thin, oily mess, and she didn’t have enough time to skim it or reduce it. She didn’t even have time to slurry it with cornstarch. She had to make a choice, and she had to make it now—no sauce or bad sauce? Her ribs were looking drier every second. She grabbed a ladle and poured.
Just as she stepped away from her last plate, the lead judge called time. She stood back, feeling sweat pour down her back, and watched the cooking liquid slide over the ribs and land on the plate, forming unappetizing pools of pale orange grease. Unless the judges arrived at her station right now, it was going to congeal on the plate. No such luck. They were talking to Jackson, who looked cool as a cucumber mojito and absolutely delighted with his offering. As well he should be, the bastard. Even though she was sick to death of food and everything to do with it, the thought of his rack of lamb made her stomach rumble.
The judges blocked her view of his table, but she was sure his food looked great and tasted even better, the perfect showcase of classic techniques. She stared at the hot mess on her plates, regretting every decision she had made since the graduation party last night. Defeat settled in her gut. It was small consolation that she’d finished her culinary degree before jumping into bed with someone who could ruin her. She wasn’t going to win this competition, but at least they couldn’t take her diploma away from her. As soon as this nightmare was over, she was going to hop on a train and get as far away from Jack Calabrese as she could. There was no way she was going to stick around and let him lord his win over her. She turned her face away from the plates, sickened by the sight of her failure.
“What do you have for us today, Mr. Calabrese?” the judge asked.
Lila gritted her teeth, barely restraining an eye roll. Naturally, she had to stand here and listen to the judges praise Jack’s food while waiting for them to rip hers apart. If they could even chew it, that is. Really, could it get any worse? When Jack looked up and met her gaze, heat flashed through her, and she knew it could. An answering spark flashed in his eyes, and she felt herself respond. She closed her eyes in humiliation, and when she opened them again, the judges had shifted position. His plates were clearly visible. Not a rack of lamb in sight.
“I call it Duck, Duck, Goose,” Jack said, looking right at her.
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