Jackie Braun - Falling for Her Rival

Ryder snickered, apparently sharing her father’s derogatory opinion of her profession.

She squared her shoulders. “That’s my current job, yes. And, as a food stylist, I know that the fresher the ingredients, the better-looking the finished product. The same, obviously, goes for taste. There is a huge difference between the flavor of a tomato allowed to ripen on the vine before it’s picked and shipped to a nearby market, and a hydroponic pretender trucked to a grocery store half a dozen states away. I don’t want that difference to cost me with the judges.”

“She makes a good point,” Finn said while several of the other chefs nodded. “I’ll be damned if I want to go home because some college intern didn’t know how to pick out decent broccoli rabe.”

Lara appreciated his solidarity.

“I can assure you, everything used on this show is carefully selected. We shop the same sources as high-end restaurants do and that includes the Chesterfield. Sometimes we shop directly from local growers. The same goes for our seafood, meat and poultry. Buyers for the show are at the seaport before dawn on weekdays picking out the best catches. Quality will not be an issue.” He eyed Finn before adding drily, “At least not the quality of the ingredients.”

Rather than being offended, Finn merely smiled. “Touché.”

It was interesting. The man could be intense, but apparently that didn’t prevent him from also having a sense of humor or poking fun at himself. Lara found it an appealing trait. God knew that neither her father nor her ex-husband had been able to laugh at themselves.

“One thing to keep in mind, chefs.” Tristan held up a finger as he revealed the troubling caveat. “Although the pantry items will be restocked after every round of competition, once they are gone during a round, they’re gone.”

“First come, first served. Sounds good to me. Get used to seeing me at the front of the line,” Ryder said to no one in particular as he folded a pair of tattooed arms over his massive chest.

Lara offered up a silent prayer that he would be the first in line for elimination, as well. Less than an hour in his presence and his unflagging superiority had grown tiresome. She really didn’t want to have to put up with it for the show’s duration.

“This is a competition intended to test your skills, Mr. Surkovski.” Ryder’s last name, Lara assumed as Tristan continued, “Sometimes even the best kitchens run out of an item and have to make adjustments on the fly. You’ve got to use your head. In other words, brain trumps brawn here. You’ll have to rely on what can be found between your earrings.”

Where Finn had taken Tristan’s teasing barbs in stride, Ryder’s skin flushed a deep scarlet and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Lara figured it was only Tristan’s position with the network that saved him from a scathing comeback. Or worse.

“The first kitchen I worked in ran out of hot dogs. It was a disaster since it was at the ballpark,” Finn quipped to no one in particular.

Lara got the feeling Finn had only said it to lighten the mood. Sure enough, Tristan and the other chefs laughed. All except for Ryder. He was stone-faced.

“You’re making an enemy,” Lara whispered as they followed Tristan to another area of the set.

“You mean Ryder?” Finn shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “It’s not like I’m here to make friends.”

Adversaries. The word rang in her head. Right.

They could be friendly, but they were competitors, each with an agenda that ran counter to the others’. Under such circumstances, true friendship or relationships of any kind weren’t likely.

So it came as a surprise when, after they finished with everything for the day, Finn turned to Lara as they headed outside and said, “Hey, do you want to go for a cup of coffee or something?”

God help her, but it was the or something that had her attention.

FOUR

Add a dash of spice

“I thought you told me you weren’t here to make friends, Finn,” Lara said, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m not.”

“But you’re willing to make an exception in my case?”

Was he?

One side of her mouth rose in a smile that had a decidedly unsettling effect on his heart rate. No, Finn wasn’t after friendship. But he couldn’t deny his interest in Lara Smith. It had been there since the get-go.

“Well, if you looked like Ryder, I wouldn’t be offering,” he replied truthfully.

“And if I looked like Angel?”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“Smoky eyes and Angelina Jolie lips?” Lara pouted and batted her eyelashes for effect. “Not to mention a pair of legs that start at the chin.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your legs.” Or any other part of her anatomy, from what Finn could tell. And, yeah, he’d been looking. “Besides, she’s not my taste. Too...obvious.” His gaze lowered briefly to Lara’s mouth and more naturally proportioned lips before flicking away to gaze up at the busy street. “I prefer subtlety, complexity.”

“Are you talking about women or are you talking about food?”

“Both, I guess.” He laughed.

She nodded, as if processing that. Then, “I’m still not clear on why you want to have coffee with me.”

Why indeed? He wasn’t quite clear on that himself. So, what he went with was “Ever hear the saying, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”

“Gee, you know how to make a girl feel special.”

He laughed at her deadpan delivery. He’d always found a good sense of humor attractive in a woman.

“Actually, I’ve got a job in this neighborhood in a couple of hours. It doesn’t make sense to go home, and I don’t feel like sitting alone while I kill time.”

“Kill time,” she repeated. He nearly winced. Had he really just said that? “That’s a lukewarm invitation, you know. You need to work on your people skills, Paper.”

She had a point. He was a little rusty when it came to flirting with women. The ink on his divorce decree might have been dry for a couple of years, but Finn hadn’t gone out much. He’d been too busy. And, yeah, too bitter.

He wasn’t feeling bitter now. Oh, no. The emotions pinging around in his head were a lot more palatable than that.

“Is that no?”

“I should go home,” she told him. “I mean, I have laundry to do.”

“Laundry?” He placed a hand over his heart. “You’re turning me down to go home and throw in a load of dirty clothes?”

A smile lurked on her lips when Lara added, “Well, my refrigerator needs to be cleaned out, too.”

“Yeah. That makes me feel better. What? No game of Candy Crush calling your name?”

“How did you know?” Her full-on grin had his heart doing a funny thu-thunk. “But I can multitask and do that while I’m waiting for my clothes to dry.”

“Who needs to work on people skills now?” he asked sardonically.

“Fine.” Her grin made a mockery of the sigh that followed. “I’ll have a cup of coffee with you.”

Finn nodded, more pleased than he wanted to be that she’d accepted his invitation.

“I know a coffee shop not far from here that makes excellent biscotti.”

“You’re not talking about Isadora’s, are you?”

“That’s the one.” He blinked in surprise. “You know it?”

“Best biscotti in all of Manhattan. And the coffee is pretty good, too.”

Together, they headed off in the direction of the café. The rain had stopped. In fact, little evidence of the earlier downpour remained except for errant puddles in places where the sidewalk dipped. He watched Lara widen her stride to step over one. Her legs weren’t as long as the aforementioned Angel’s, but they were slender, which gave them the illusion of length. And he’d bet they were toned, too, based both on the way her pants fit and the lithe grace with which she moved.