Page 13 of Desirous

So what’s with the backhanded way of talking about her now that she’s gone? She can’t honestly believe Kat poisoned that chicken bourguignon and sent Murphy to the emergency room.

“Kat was fine. I thought you two got along. She seemed very nice to you,” I say as Emma lines up my knives, instantly irritating me. How does she not know touching another chef’s knives isn’t okay?

She looks up at me and smiles. “Oh, sure. Yeah, I guess. I just meant she didn’t like you at all, so that must have made working together like you had to last week challenging, to say the least.”

Something in the way her tone of voice sounds almost gleeful that Kat isn’t here anymore grates on me. She had no problem with her, but somehow the way she was with me made her dislike the woman?

“She wasn’t bad to work with at all. She’s a talented chef. Because of that, I enjoyed cooking with her.”

“Of course. I just know what she thought of you, so I wanted you to know you won’t have to deal with any of that anger fromme. I like you perfectly fine, Alex,” she says, giving me a smile and doe eyes.

I’ve seen that look far too many times before not to understand what Emma’s up to. I need to make it clear to her that this whole romantic storyline thing we have to do isn’t real, no matter how Maria and Shane want to define reality.

“Good. I like you too, but none of what we’re doing here is real life. Like you, I’m just on this show to win the million bucks. That’s it.”

While I speak, she nods like she understands, but the way she looks at me says she has something entirely different in mind for how things are going to work with us. I consider repeating myself, but what’s the point? She’s going to believe what she wants to believe no matter what I say.

Changing the subject, she says, “I think I want you to make something sweet for me, Alex.”

My stomach instantly twists into a knot. Something sweet means dessert, my least favorite dishes to make. I’m not a pastry chef. Never have been. I leave that to people who like to work with delicate ingredients that tend to be incredibly fussy.

“Something sweet? Like what? I make a great pineapple ham with caramel sauce. Trust me. That’s sweet enough to make dessert unnecessary.”

Emma shakes her head and stares up at me in a way that screams she’s flirting. “Nope. Guess again.”

I don’t want to guess. I’m already annoyed by how she was talking about Kat, and now I suspect she’s going to have me create something with fucking phyllo dough. That shit never does what I want it to do. It’s like working with tissue paper with how goddamned easily it tears. There’s a very good reason I didn’t become a pastry chef.

“Not really into guessing, so why don’t you just tell me what you want me to make?”

From across the set, Maria yells, “Okay, everyone. You remember, Jonathan, right? Well, he’s our host, so give him a big Chef on Chef welcome and get ready because we’re about to start.”

I’d wondered where he went to after not seeing him since that night he, Maria, and Shane showed up at CK to invite me onto this show. He didn’t look like a game show host that night, but somehow today in his light grey suit and ultra tan that makes him look like he’s spent the last month baking on the beach, he’s the epitome of game show guy.

“Good to see everyone. I’m looking forward to working with all of you. Good luck!” he says with a big smile in that deep voice of his.

Maria waves her hands and announces, “Cameras rolling in three, two one! Enjoy!”

Instantly, I feel like I should paste a smile on my face, like it’s elementary school and I just sat down on that hard wooden stool every photographer brought for school pictures. I don’t, mainly because dread is filling me over what my new fake romantic interest has in store for today’s challenge.

Emma, though, turns her smile up and begins running her hand down my arm like we’re at the club right before closing time and she’s making her last play of the night. “Chocolate soufflé. Are you ready?”

Fuck me.

No, it doesn’t involve phyllo dough, but it’s just as bad. A fucking soufflé. And she thinks working with Kat was challenging. At least she wouldn’t have wanted me to make some goddamned dessert that’s likely to turn out like shit.

With a nod, I look down on the countertop next to the burners and see a recipe waiting for me. At least she doesn’t expect me to do this by memory. The only time I’ve made asoufflé was back in culinary school, and that didn’t turn out well. It was then that I knew desserts weren’t my thing.

Cade’s going to get a good laugh out of this when I tell him. Hailey does the sweet stuff. It’s why I was so impressed by her baking. Desserts may look like the easiest part of the meal, but that’s a mistake to believe that. They take a delicate hand, and I’m not known for that skill.

“I made sure to tell the crew to have the butter room temperature for you,” Emma says as she points toward the dish of butter on the other side of the countertop.

“Thanks.”

Eying up the block of semi-sweet chocolate sitting next to it, I wish she had them chop up enough for this damn soufflé. That she left for me. Great.

I reach over and grab it, setting it down on the cutting board in front of me. Christ, I hate working with sugary stuff. It gets all over you, and there’s nothing like sticky gloves to make cooking a nightmare.

I keep the sweet stuff for sex only for good reason.

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