Some Like It Spicy (9 page)

“Hey!” Ashton said again, louder this time, adding a pissed-off edge to her voice. “That’s not true. I mean, about my relationships.”

She got a pair of hard stares. “It’s not,” she insisted. “Could we just watch the show without commentary? They’re starting the judging.”

They turned their attention back to the show.

“This fish is perfectly cooked,” Ty said, speaking about Jolene’s dish. “The seasoning is well-blended.”

“I agree,” Andrea said. “And Jolene is an absolute natural in front of the camera.”

“She’s had a lot of experience,” Claude put in.

They threw around a few more adjectives, like
amazing
,
charming
, and
beautiful
.

Chloe turned to Ashton. “Can we hate her? Please, I want to hate her.”

“You can try,” Ashton told her. “But she makes it really difficult.”

“They’re tasting your dish.” Jenna grabbed her hand.

“This is another fantastic dish,” Ty put in. “The lobster is perfect, and the blend of cheeses meshes wonderfully.”

“This is a sophisticated dish,” Claude said. “Yet very accessible.”

Ashton beamed.

“It’s very good,” Andrea said. “But I find the dish heavy.”

“I wouldn’t call it heavy,” Ty protested.

But Claude was nodding. “I enjoyed a few bites, but I’m not sure how I’d feel about a whole plate of this. When I’m eating a meal this rich for dinner, I usually end up spending the night in the bathroom instead of the bed.”

Ashton turned red, and this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. “That little weasel. When I get back—”

“Ashton, didn’t you already hear this?” Jenna asked. “Calm down.”

“No,” she said. Jenna was right, though. Ashton knew she had done well, so what did it matter what comments were made? Claude was probably just trying too hard to be entertaining on television. Her father would have applauded his effort.

“This dish represents comfort food,” Ty was saying. “That’s what Ashton is all about.”

“He’s really defending you,” Chloe said, her eyes on the television.

Embarrassment flowed through her as she thought of the way she’d pounced on Ty after the challenge. She’d made horrible accusations and all the while he’d been on her side.

“I’m not saying the dish isn’t superb,” Claude pointed out. “But could you see yourself eating more than one small helping?”

Ty remained silent.

They watched the rest of the critiques, which were followed by a commercial.

Jenna glanced at the clock. “There isn’t much time left. You may have gotten lucky. They probably edited out the whole puking thing and just put in that little bit for a promo.”

But when the commercials ended, the drinking game was beginning.

“Wonderful,” Ashton groaned.

The chefs were sitting in a circle. “If you’ve ever worked for a chef who threw a plate at your head, take a drink,” Duffy said.

Every single chef in the circle took a shot.

“Wow,” Jenna said. “I would say that’s sad, but at least a plate’s not pointy.”

“Morgan looks like she’s about to cry.” Chloe pointed.

Ashton leaned closer, and sure enough, Morgan’s eyes glistened with moisture. Temperamental chefs with bad tempers were common in this industry, yet Ashton had a feeling there was a bigger story behind Morgan’s unshed tears. Maybe that was why she was so volatile, why she felt she had something to prove.

“If you’ve ever thrown anything at an employee, take a drink,” Lance said, the game continuing.

Ashton, Duffy, and, surprisingly, Anthony took a shot.

“How many shots did you do?” Chloe asked.

“I lost count after five.” She gagged, remembering. Sure enough, the shot cut to the end of the drinking game, when she was sprawled on the floor.

“I’m going to kill myself now,” Ashton said with a moan. “Revive me when this is over.”

“It’s not that bad,” Chloe said. “Really, it’s kind of funny.”

Ashton glared at her. “This is my reputation on the line. I don’t want people to think I’m a drunk.”

“No one thinks that,” Jenna started, watching as Ty peeled her off the floor. She cringed when Ashton doubled in half and heaved on Ty’s shoes. “Think of it this way: if you were a drunk, you would be able to hold your liquor better.”
Chloe eyed the television, then turned to Ashton, her forehead creased. “He’s holding you awfully close for someone who’s just been thrown up on. And what’s he saying? I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear.”

“I can’t remember,” she lied. “And he’s not holding me as much as he’s holding me
up.
”

“I agree with Chloe. He looks like he’s holding you. And his face looks…tender.”

“No,” Ashton retorted.
Please don’t let me blush
. “You just want to see something that isn’t there.”

Her friends looked suspicious instead of appeased.

“Look, they’re going to announce the winner.”

When Jolene was announced, Chloe put her arm around Ashton and hugged her.

“It’s fine,” Ashton said, but even she realized her voice shook. “I was in the top three.”

“You were great,” Chloe declared. “And you’re going to kick the beauty queen’s ass.”

“Here, here,” Jenna cheered. “I’m going to get some champagne to celebrate.”

“No, thanks,” Ashton said quickly. “I still can’t look at alcohol.”

“Who gets eliminated?” Chloe asked.

“Watch,” Ashton said.

Minutes later, Elena was revealed as the first to go.

“No surprise there,” Chloe said. “She served them raw meat. Ew!”

Ashton thought the show was over, until she saw her face pop up on the screen. “What’s this?” she murmured.

“Do you see Jolene as your main competition?”

Ashton recognized Sally’s voice, but shook her head in confusion. Sally had never asked her this question during the interview.

“Not at all,” came Ashton’s reply. “This competition is about cooking skills, not about how you fill out a blouse.”

Jenna’s and Chloe’s mouths fell open.

Ashton’s stomach clenched like she’d been punched. “I never said that! Okay, I might have said that, but not in that context. Sally never asked me about Jolene specifically. They edited the question in later.”

Her friends were still agape.

“I swear!” Ashton took a deep breath. “I feel bad about Jolene. I hope she doesn’t really think I feel that way.”

“When you get back, you’ll explain.”

“And I bet you can’t wait to see Ty again,” Chloe said, giggling. “You are so hot for each other.”

Jenna joined in the laughter. “Really, Ashton. I half expected you two to start making out over your plate of pasta.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” God, had she really been that obvious? And if Jenna and Chloe had noticed, did that mean anyone else had?

The next day, Ashton headed to the airport to go back to New York. She’d slept restlessly the night before, unable to get Ty out of her mind. She’d replayed their every encounter in her head, her every reaction. Could it be possible that he’d felt the same things she had? The heat, the dizziness, the quaking inside just from being in the same room?

Could he want her as much as she wanted him?

It was wrong. She knew that. Wrong and impossible. And it was probably just her imagination that he’d been about to kiss her before Sally had interrupted them. But if it hadn’t been her imagination…

Then what?

The
what
was what she couldn’t get out of her mind.

She spotted a kiosk just before her gate, and decided she needed some caffeine to get through the flight.

She was standing in line with a bottle of cola when she spotted the headline of some weekly tabloid.

“Ty Cates Hits the Town with Girlfriend, Model Greta Von Hoff.”

And below the headline, Ty and Greta were wrapped in a passionate kiss.

Chapter Eight

By the time Ashton reached the brownstone, she was halfway between feeling like a colossal idiot and fuming mad.

The ninety-minute flight was the perfect amount of time to read and reread the article about how Ty and Greta were “so in love” and how Ty was planning to propose next month on Greta’s birthday.

What had she expected? She knew the kind of man Ty was, and yet she’d let herself fantasize, believe there was something between them. If Ty knew she’d thought he was going to kiss her the other night, he’d probably pass out from uncontrollable laughing.

As she hastily unpacked her suitcase, she heard noise in the doorway. She looked up and saw Jolene. She murmured hello and smiled at Ashton, but it was stiff and didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Pain squeezed Ashton’s chest like a vice. “I’m so sorry, Jolene,” she said. “They edited my interview. What I said was taken completely out of context.”

Jolene remained silent.

“I think you’re an amazing cook,” she continued. “I would never imply you were too pretty for your food to taste good.” Wow. Could this be coming out any worse?
She took a deep breath. “You have every chance of winning this competition because you’re talented.”

“Thanks.” Jolene’s lip lifted. “They edited my interview too. I think they wanted to cast me as the bimbo.”

Ashton shrugged. “I’m apparently cast as the bitch. And a drunk.”

“Amazingly, Morgan came off as normal!”

They laughed. When the laughter died down, she caught Jolene’s gaze. “America’s in for a surprise.”

“Yeah,” Jolene agreed. “They are.”

From downstairs, Lance called up to them. “Ladies, the vans are here.”

Ashton stood. “Shall we?”

Jolene nodded. “Let’s go kick some butt.”

Impulsively, she gave Jolene a hug. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“Careful,” Jolene warned. “Too much hugging, and you’ll ruin your bad-ass image.”

When they arrived on set, they discovered they wouldn’t be cooking that day. Sally had set up a cast interview with
Entertainment Weekly
for a cover story.

As they waited for the reporter to arrive, Ashton grew restless sitting in the Wreck Room, and decided to grab a cup of coffee from the catering cart. She walked into the kitchen and froze. Ty stood across the room. He looked fantastic in a black suit, the jacket open and the top three buttons of the shirt undone. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a very, very good night.

Bastard.

She tried to look away, but it was too late; he’d caught her eye. She turned her back to him, hoping he would stay away.

“Ashton.”

Her brain screamed at her to act casual, but she was too angry. She gritted her teeth and turned. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Forget the coffee. She turned back to the Wreck Room, but Ty grabbed her arm.

“Careful,” she snapped. “There are cameras around. I wouldn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong idea.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

“So that’s what this is about.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

“You make a great couple, by the way.” She forced a smile to her lips.

“For your information, Greta isn’t my girlfriend. That’s the one—and only—time we’ve ever gone out. And why should you care, anyway?”

“I don’t,” she said with an indifferent shrug.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to believe everything you read?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “You mean it isn’t true that you’ve dated at least half the runway models in the city?”

Ty’s shoulder’s stiffened. “Maybe that was true a year ago, but not anymore. Stories about me bowling a two-eighty just don’t sell copies. That’s what I’ve been doing lately.”

Before she could respond, Sally called out to her from the doorway, “Ashton, we’re ready for you.”

When she made a move to leave, he stepped in front of her, blocking her escape.

“Watch it,” she muttered, casting her eyes down. “You don’t want to give people the wrong impression.”

“About what?”

“Our relationship.”

“We don’t have one.”

“Exactly.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?”

Inhaling a deep breath, she glanced up, straight into Ty’s hypnotizing eyes. She felt a quiver from head to toe, especially in all those places that screamed for his touch. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton; she licked her lips, trying to create any sort of moisture.

“You need to stop.” The words came out in barely a whisper, as if Ashton were trying to remind herself, rather than tell him.

But he heard, and his response was as quiet and desperate as hers. “You first.”

…

As soon as Sally had whisked Ashton away, Ty headed to his office to wait for his turn with the reporter. He went straight for the private bathroom and splashed cold,
very
cold, water on his face.

He still couldn’t figure out why he was so attracted to Ashton. Certainly he’d dated models more traditionally beautiful than her, and it wasn’t her sunny personality. As his mother would say, she was as prickly as a porcupine. It was as if her only goal for this show was to argue with him.

Just thinking about the way she challenged him made a grin jump to his lips. That’s what set her apart from the other women he’d dated. She didn’t hang all over him, trying to get her picture in the paper. She didn’t want anything from him—except for him to admit she was a great chef. Which, of course, he already believed, but it annoyed her to wonder, so he was going to keep her guessing a bit longer.

For a moment, he imagined what would happen if she got eliminated early. If she was out of the game and never really a contender, then it would be all right for them to date. No one could accuse her of sleeping with him to advance, and maybe the powers-that-be at Food Fanatics wouldn’t care as much.

But the thought was fleeting. Ashton was one of the most talented chefs in the competition. She had the ability to go all the way, perhaps even win. He couldn’t ruin things for her by eliminating her early, but if she advanced, there was no way they could start a relationship.

As he contemplated both impossible options, his pocket vibrated.

He pulled out his cell and glanced at the screen. Smiling, he answered. “Hey, Ruby!”

“Were you even going to tell your family that you’re engaged?” came his younger sister’s amused response.

He groaned. “I’m not engaged.”

“How many is this now?” she mused. “At least your fourth engagement, right? Ty, you really do get around.”

“For the last time, I’m not engaged. I’ve never been engaged. I’m not even dating.”

“Maybe you need to take out an ad in
People
. Set the record straight.”

“I’d take out a billboard if I thought it would help.”

“Lighten up. It can’t be that bad being the darling of New York.”

Actually, it was. But how could he explain that to someone who’d barely ever left Atlanta? “Did you call to torture me?”

“No, that was just a perk.”

“Ha-ha.”

On the other end of the phone, he could hear his niece and nephew talking and laughing in the background.

“How are Maryanne and Lucas?”

“Growing like weeds. You won’t even recognize them. Those pictures I send you are like computers—a month later and they’re obsolete.”

“Then I’ll expect some new pictures in my e-mail tonight.” He felt a twinge of pain that he was missing their lives. Family was everything to the Cates clan, and yet, he hadn’t seen his in longer than he could remember.

“So, are you going to make it to the restaurant this weekend?”

He searched his memory but came up with nothing. “What’s this weekend?”

“The
Today
Show
is filming a segment here on Saturday. You were going to try to get home, drum up a little publicity.”

Damn. He’d completely forgotten. “I have a book signing in the city on Saturday, plus filming. I can’t make it.”

“That’s okay,” she said, too swiftly for his taste.

“Is everything all right with the restaurant?” he asked. “How’s business?”

“Great, actually. It’s been really steady.”

“I’m so sorry I forgot. Maybe I can fly in Friday morning, help setup, and then fly out Friday night.”

“Ty, it’s fine. Denny has everything under control.”

Her husband had been the executive chef since Ty had left Atlanta. According to Ruby and his parents, Denny was a natural at the job, despite the fact that he’d never been classically trained. He’d learned as he went, starting with a dishwashing job at age fifteen, and finally, training under Ty for several years. Without Denny and Ruby, who acted as the general manager, the restaurant probably would have shut down when Ty moved to New York.

“I’ll try to watch the segment,” he said. God, that sounded lame. He’d
try
to watch his restaurant being singled out on a major television program? When had he become such a bastard?

“I don’t care about the segment, but you better plan on being here for Mom’s birthday. The party is the first weekend in October, and if you don’t show up, I’m going to track you down in New York and skin you alive. With a paring knife. In long strips.”

He laughed at the image. “You sound like someone else I know. She likes to threaten people with knives, too.”

“She?” He could almost see his sister’s eyebrow rise.

“One of the chefs on the show. Didn’t you watch the premiere last night?”

“Hey, you’re not the only one who’s busy.”

There was a crash in the background that made Ty wince.

“Lucas!” Ruby yelled. “Sorry, got to go. Lucas just broke a dish.”

“Give my love to the family.”

“I will. But it would be nice if you could come home and do it yourself.” She hung up the phone.

Her words stung, but he knew she was right. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

…

The next day, the chefs were back on set to film challenge number two. Although doing well in the last challenge had bolstered her confidence, enough sweat pooled on Ashton’s hands to boil pasta. And when she thought about seeing Ty again, well, the water boiled over.

The remaining chefs gathered around the prep tables with coffee and snacks in hand. Sally came bursting through the door, clutching her clipboard.
“Good morning, chefs,” she said. “I hope you all got the chance to watch the premiere.”

“Don’t you mean the Jolene and Ashton show?” Morgan scoffed.

Sally didn’t respond, just rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You all did a great job. We got great reviews on the first episode and the message boards have been going crazy. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Today we have a High Heat challenge. Ty will be here in a few minutes to film the intro.”

Ashton had just gulped down her third cup of coffee when Ty walked in. Afraid to catch his eye, she looked around at the crew, at the chefs, even at the refrigerator. Anything to avoid him.

“Places, everyone,” Sally said, clapping her hand against her clipboard. “Chefs, get to your assigned tables, please.”

Ashton took her place as the cameras rolled.

“Chefs,” Ty started, “today you will be catering a dinner for the Board of Directors at the Passionate Animal Lovers Society, or PALS. We have a guest judge with us: president of PALS, Janet Hayes.”

The doors to the set swung open and a stylishly dressed, older woman with cropped, gray hair stepped in. “Hello, chefs,” she greeted. “First, I want to thank you for catering our very important dinner tonight. The Board of Directors not only runs our organization and saves the lives of thousands of animals, they are also our biggest donors. So, tonight needs to be special. Twenty-five guests, including myself and your judges, will be in attendance. You will each be responsible for making a portion of the meal. Most importantly, the meal must be completely vegetarian. I look forward to tonight. Thank you.” After her speech, she left the set.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ashton saw everyone maintain a smile for the sake of the cameras, but undoubtedly they were as disappointed as she was. She loved a good cut of meat, loved to cook it to perfection. To be told she couldn’t use meat in her dish was like being told she had to use Velveeta in her macaroni.

She brought her attention back to Ty, who held an upside down chef’s hat in his hands. “In this hat are pieces of paper with different aspects of the meal: two appetizers, two entrées, two sides, and one dessert. You will each draw one and that will be your responsibility for tonight. After, you will go shopping, where you’ll have a five-hundred-dollar budget.”

He walked over to the tables and went down the line, starting on the opposite end of Ashton. Morgan drew first. She opened the paper, and then smiled smugly. “Entrée.”

Various noises arose from the line. Entrée was the course everyone wanted because it would show off his or her skills best. None, Ashton was sure, wanted to be stuck with dessert.

Jin picked appetizer, Jolene got appetizer, and Anthony a side. When Duffy reached his hand in the hat, Ashton was about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Duffy’s usual toothy grin fell. He held up the paper. “Dessert.” He practically spit the word.

Ashton’s knees almost buckled with relief. She managed not to hoot happily as Ty stepped in front of her.

She looked at the hat instead of him and pulled her course. “Side.”

Which meant Lance got the second entrée.

While Ashton’s brain raced, Sally said, “Chefs, the vans are out front to take you to the market. And we have a Low Heat challenge for you. The first chef to reach the van will get an advantage in the challenge.”

A race, like in elementary school?

As Ashton looked around to see if anyone was as confused as she was, Sally yelled, “Ready, set, go!”

The other chefs raced toward the doors.

Oh, crap.

She took off in a dead run.