Page 69 of Turn Up The Heat

Bellamy jumped and banged her head on the lip of the table. How the hell had the chef made it down the row so fast? She was barely five-foot-two!

“I, ah. Yes,” Bellamy said, straightening and clutching the tray. Damn, the woman was intimidating. Bellamy had a good four inches on her, yet she felt as if Carly was ten feet tall and bulletproof. A flicker of recognition appeared in Carly’s dark glance as she looked at Bellamy closely.

“Where did you learn how to cook like that?”

“In my kitchen,” Bellamy squeaked. Where else would she have learned how to cook?

Adrian chuckled over Carly’s shoulder, but a head-turn, eyebrow-lift maneuver from Carly cut him off pretty fast.

“When we met the other night, you didn’t tell me that you’d gone to culinary school, Miss…?”

Bellamy’s heart made a beeline for her shoes. “Bellamy. I mean, Blake. Bellamy Blake,” she corrected herself, cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you that because I don’t have any formal training.” She was tempted to add that she’dtoldAdrian that when he’d set her up at this workstation to begin with, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. God, this had been a crushing mistake. As boring as it was, she belonged in an office with the suit and briefcase set.

“Mmm. Chef Holt?” Carly perched her chin on her shoulder to fasten Adrian with a stare. “Can you please escort Miss Blake to my office?” Her eyes skimmed over Bellamy’s, and even though she wanted desperately to look down, Bellamy stood her ground.

“I’d like to have a word with her in private.”

* * *

“Jesus, Bellamy,”Shane said, his gut twisting at the serious look on her face in the low light of the cabin. The thought of some huge sous chef and his iron-fisted boss giving Bellamy a hard time made his insides churn. Maybe he’d just have to go over there to let them know that toying with people’s dreams wasn’t very good manners. He pondered Bellamy’s description of the guy for a second. Maybe he’d take Jackson, just in case.

“I know. It was all I had not to throw up right then and there.” Her cheeks had a rosy glow in the firelight from the wood burning stove, and she re-crossed her jeans-clad legs as she sat across from him on the floor. Man, she was beautiful.

“So, what’d she say?” Shane tried to keep the tension from his voice, but he was pretty sure he was doing a bad job of it.

Bellamy’s mouth curved into an ear-to-ear smile. “She said my chicken was the only decent representation of her recipe that she’d tasted all day, and that while my workstation was unacceptable”—Bellamy paused to wince, but then continued—“she wanted to see me do a few things herself. After about twenty excruciating minutes, a little bit of slice and dice, and some garlic aioli later, Chef di Matisse put my name on the list of people she and Chef Holt are considering for their new staff. They’re going to choose their line cooks next week, once they’ve seen enough candidates.”

Shane’s brows felt permanently lifted in shock, and Bellamy tossed her head back and laughed.

“Wait, so she didn’t throw you out?” Shane asked in shock, starting to laugh as Bellamy shook her head. Damn, her poker face was good.

But the smile lighting up her face was downright stunning.

Shane was on her in a second, bracing an arm around her back as he softly tackled her to the floor. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that made his insides turn soft and his outsides turn decidedlyunsoft.

“Fooling me like that isn’t fair, you know.” He kissed the spot where her neck met her ear.

Bellamy threaded her fingers in his hair, which didn’t make him want to stop kissing her. “I know. But you should have seen your face,” she sighed, arching into him. “Plus, having my name on the list just means that now I have an ice chip’s chance in hell rather than no chance at all. I hardly think it’s worth getting my hopes up for.”

“You’re such a pessimist,” he said, nipping at her earlobe.

She rewarded him with a laugh that he felt all the way to his fingertips. “I’m really not kidding when I tell you that the list of hopefuls is as long a freeway. And they’re all talented, probably with impressive résumés. Comparatively, I’m a nobody.”

“I wouldn’t recommend this level of confidence once you get back in the kitchen. You’re going to have to do better than that.” Shane pulled back to kiss the cute little crease in her forehead.

“I’m just trying to be realistic. It’s really cutthroat, and I doubt I’ll make it.”

Shane turned her so they could lie side by side in front of the wood stove. “You’re a cutthroat kind of woman. And I mean that as a compliment,” he added when she parted her lips to protest. “Come on. You whipped up tonight’s dinner with a handful of things we grabbed on the way back here and it was amazing. You’re great in the kitchen.”

Bellamy rolled her eyes even though she wore a sheepish smile. “It was lasagna, Shane, with sauce that came from a jar. I could’ve made it in my sleep.”

“Uh-huh. Right. The sauce tasted homemade by the time you were done spicing it up.” That lasagna she was trying to pass off as nothing special had been the best Italian food he’d had since…well, ever.

Her eyes lit up before he could argue with her any further. “Oh! That reminds me. There’s a ton left over, so I wrapped up a bunch in one of those disposable containers we snagged at Joe’s. That way you can bring some to Grady.”

Shane’s heart lurched in his chest, and he pulled back to look at her. “What?”

Her green eyes grew wide. “Well, you said that you sometimes get extra groceries for him, so I thought maybe he’d like it.” Bellamy looked at him, tiny lines of confusion etched on her face.

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