Carly Phillips: Simply Scandalous

Catherine shook her head and raised her chin a notch. There was no sense denying it. The rich were different. But Catherine had worked too hard and come too far to let insecurities hit her now. She’d survive this party. As long as the threatening rain held off…and her chef didn’t bail out.

She and her company Pot Luck couldn’t afford the disaster. With Kayla, her business partner and sister, pregnant and under doctor’s orders to stay in bed, Catherine was handling more than usual. Between doing the food prep work for today, substituting as bartender, overseeing along with her manager and planning upcoming bookings, Catherine was overworked and stressed. As soon as the temperature warmed, people clamored to organize outdoor events and Pot Luck was booked solid.

She couldn’t complain about being busy, but she did long for future days when all they would have to cater was full-scale parties like this one. But for now Pot Luck accommodated any request—from complete party packages, to hors d’oeuvres only, to simple decorations and party favors. Some day, once their reputation was more firmly established and the bank account posted a hefty surplus, they could be more discriminating—and Catherine could make more use of her culinary background as well. After this event, someday could arrive faster than she’d ever imagined.

The Montgomery party had been a coup and Catherine had no problem with rearranging her schedule to accommodate Emma Montgomery. Success here would mean referrals to the wealthiest people and most prestigious companies in Hampshire. She wouldn’t allow anything to ruin this chance, especially not a temperamental chef who was her oldest friend.

She entered the state-of-the-art kitchen where stainless steel and chrome gleamed from every corner of the room. “Nick, you’re a hit!” Catherine made her way around a long center island and placed a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.

“The duck isn’t cold,” he denied, whacking at a large chunk of meat with a knife.

“I never said it was. The guests love the hors d’oeuvres. They’re going to spread your name from here to downtown Boston.”

Another loud whack sounded against the cutting board. “I’m already famous in Boston. I don’t need to take abuse because your help can’t get in here fast enough to serve hot food.” Beneath his anger and frustration, she recognized the concern and warning. Someone had been complaining about the temperature of the food. She cringed. She’d take care of her lazy help, but first she had to calm the chef.

Catherine glanced at his exaggerated pout. She’d grown up with Nick. She knew when to worry and when a word or two would smooth things over. She snuck a peek inside the large oven and inhaled an enticing aroma. “This smells heavenly. I don’t know another chef who can create the way you do.” She returned to his side. “The food is almost as good-looking as you are.”

The knife slammed into the wooden board again and he glanced up, dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to flatter me, Cat. It won’t work.” His gaze settled on her for the first time and he touched her cheek with one hand. “You’re red.”

“The day is so overcast I forgot the sun-screen.” Catherine shrugged. “Besides we can’t all bronze like you.”

“You’re fair. You ought to be more careful.”

She rolled her eyes. For as far back as she could remember, Nick had looked out for her. He had classic Mediterranean looks and most women would have snatched him up at the slightest chance. Not Catherine. Lovers came and went; best friends were for life. “If you’re so worried about me, stop yelling at the help.”

“They’re incompetent.”

“I’ll talk to them. I promise.”

“It’s a start. What’s going on out there? Is Mr. Right mingling among the guests?”

“Back off, Nick. Just because you’re engaged doesn’t mean everyone else wants the brass ring.” Catherine had no desire to have this conversation with Nick yet again. “Look, the bartender never showed. I’m already pulling double duty and I can’t afford to have the help leave in tears. Now will you lay off the girls?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you promise to use this party as an opportunity. There are men out there, Cat. All types of men. Tall and thin, fat and balding, rich and richer. Take your pick.”

A sexy stranger with dark hair and compelling eyes filled her mind. She pushed the thought aside. Before she’d entered this immense house filled with elegant women, she’d believed herself over the painful memories associated with her lower-class upbringing. Just working this party, being surrounded by delicate perfection, brought the painful memories back full force.

Sexual attraction from across a crowded room meant nothing when she and the stranger were obviously worlds apart. “You know the guests here are way out of my league,” she told her friend.

“Only because you think so, not because it’s true. You spend too much time alone.”

Catherine shrugged. “At least the company’s good.”

Nick groaned.

“Is it my fault every guy I’ve dated isn’t the one?” Catherine had yet to meet a man worth risking her heart for. Despite what Nick thought, she certainly wouldn’t find him here.

“You walk away before any guy can prove himself. Take me, for instance.”

She rolled her eyes. “I turned you down when we were sixteen and you survived.” She glanced at her watch. “I promise nothing else will leave this kitchen cold. Back off the help?”

“Consider opening your eyes to the men out there,” he countered.

“I’ll consider it,” she lied. “You’re a prince,” she called over her shoulder, adjusting her bow tie as she ran out of the kitchen.

She darted back outside, dismayed to find the clouds darker and heavier than five minutes before. The storm was rolling in faster than predicted. Winded from her sprint out of the kitchen, she rested her hands on the bar and closed her eyes. She inhaled deep, then exhaled, searching for calm. Too much hinged on getting through the rest of the afternoon without mishap.

A deep masculine drawl captured her attention. “So tell me what put the frown on that beautiful face.” She’d never heard that voice before but her body reacted instantly. She knew who it belonged to. She just didn’t know how in the world to handle him.

CATHERINE OPENED HER EYES and found herself staring into brown eyes the color of her morning coffee, after she’d added the cream. She forced a confident smile. “What can I get for you?” she asked.

“The specialty of the house. What’s yours?” A sexy near-perfect grin blindsided her and her breath caught in a hitch.

Heavy awareness pulsed through her veins, a delicious accompaniment to the steady beat of the music in the background. Catherine wondered just how many women this man charmed with his good looks alone. Enough to make him dangerous, she thought.

He wore an Italian-cut suit as if he were to the manor born, and when those eyes captured hers, they didn’t let go. Not even loud laughter from across the expanse of the outdoors caused his gaze to slide from hers.

She narrowed her eyes to gauge his preference but she wasn’t a bartender by trade. She was merely substituting for her absent employee. Glancing at this man, she couldn’t begin to guess his drink of choice. And though she could offer an interesting mix of cocktails, the general requests here had been for champagne or Mimosas and, somehow, she couldn’t see him as a delicate-drink kind of guy. “Why don’t you tell me what you had in mind?”

He leaned closer, elbows propped on the edge of the bar. His cologne smelled masculine and expensive, a sensual combination that reminded her of spice, temptation and trouble. “Something to cool me down and take the edge off the heat,” he said.