brainstormed. Danny’s brain whirred through the choices at lightning speed, adding and tossing ingredients in different combinations and configurations. It was hard to work out what he’d be doing for his dessert course until he knew what the main would be, because all three courses needed to flow together seamlessly to create one perfect, coherent taste experience.
When Beck was the one to break the pause, they all looked at him with varying degrees of startlement. It wasn’t that Beck never spoke, but he was on the strong-and-silent side, more a supporter than a leader.
But something was different about him today. Danny studied him closely, trying to figure out what it was that made the guy seem more … there, and present, than he usually did.
“I’ve got an idea,” Beck said slowly, his deep voice rumbling over the words like tires over gravel. “What if we did a breakfast-for-dinner thing? There’s this seafood sausage I’ve been wanting to try my hand at…”
And just like that, a world of possibilities opened up. Danny licked his lips as the potential swirled through him. Around him, his teammates were all lit from within by the fire of a great idea, talking excitedly and sketching plans on Jules’s notepad.
They had a shot. They could win this thing, Danny knew it down to his bones.
And as the wall timer ticked down, Danny looked up to catch Eva Jansen’s eyes on him.
One moment of eye contact, the suggestive curl of her shimmery red lips, had Danny hardening in a scorching hot rush.
Okay. They could win this thing—if he could manage to keep his dick in his pants and his mind in the kitchen.
Somehow, as he watched the way Eva’s hips rolled while she sauntered around the room making sure each team had what it needed, Danny thought that might be easier said than done.
Chapter 9
As soon as the judges left the kitchen, Claire handed her wireless mike to the PA and took off down the hall without a single glance back.
Kane clenched his fists and forced himself to pay attention to what the other male judge, celebrity chef Devon Sparks, was saying.
“You’re my wife’s favorite singer. She’s beyond pissed that I get to hang out with you all over the country for the next few weeks. Almost as pissed as she is that I’m leaving her alone to deal with morning sickness and cravings for peanut butter and fried pickles.” Devon smiled, and unlike the brilliant grin the cameras loved so much, this one went all the way to his electric blue eyes.
It made Kane pause, breathe in, because Devon was clearly talking about something—someone—that mattered to him, and Kane had promised himself a long time ago that he would never, ever be the kind of person who ignored what mattered.
It was a hard promise to keep when he existed between the shallow, glittery world of LA parties and the surreal eternal road trip of touring, but he did his best.
Ignoring the fact that Claire was waiting for an elevator, about to slip out of his reach, Kane returned Devon’s smile and said, “Congratulations on the baby thing! And thanks, man. It never stops being awesome to hear about someone listening to my stuff. What’s your wife’s name?”
The guy’s almost-too-perfect face melted into something human, right before Kane’s eyes. “Lilah. Lilah Jane Sparks, and she listens to your music so much—if I didn’t know she loved me, I would’ve tossed every one of your CDs out in the street a long time ago.”
The deep, comfortable assurance of his wife’s affections gave Devon a settled, grounded air that affected Kane strangely.
He was curious about it—what would it be like to know yourself to be loved, completely and utterly, by someone other than your family?—but he was curious about a lot of things, so that wasn’t weird. What was weird was the way Kane was simultaneously attracted to and repelled by the idea.
To be loved … sure, who didn’t want that? But to be settled and
When Beck was the one to break the pause, they all looked at him with varying degrees of startlement. It wasn’t that Beck never spoke, but he was on the strong-and-silent side, more a supporter than a leader.
But something was different about him today. Danny studied him closely, trying to figure out what it was that made the guy seem more … there, and present, than he usually did.
“I’ve got an idea,” Beck said slowly, his deep voice rumbling over the words like tires over gravel. “What if we did a breakfast-for-dinner thing? There’s this seafood sausage I’ve been wanting to try my hand at…”
And just like that, a world of possibilities opened up. Danny licked his lips as the potential swirled through him. Around him, his teammates were all lit from within by the fire of a great idea, talking excitedly and sketching plans on Jules’s notepad.
They had a shot. They could win this thing, Danny knew it down to his bones.
And as the wall timer ticked down, Danny looked up to catch Eva Jansen’s eyes on him.
One moment of eye contact, the suggestive curl of her shimmery red lips, had Danny hardening in a scorching hot rush.
Okay. They could win this thing—if he could manage to keep his dick in his pants and his mind in the kitchen.
Somehow, as he watched the way Eva’s hips rolled while she sauntered around the room making sure each team had what it needed, Danny thought that might be easier said than done.
Chapter 9
As soon as the judges left the kitchen, Claire handed her wireless mike to the PA and took off down the hall without a single glance back.
Kane clenched his fists and forced himself to pay attention to what the other male judge, celebrity chef Devon Sparks, was saying.
“You’re my wife’s favorite singer. She’s beyond pissed that I get to hang out with you all over the country for the next few weeks. Almost as pissed as she is that I’m leaving her alone to deal with morning sickness and cravings for peanut butter and fried pickles.” Devon smiled, and unlike the brilliant grin the cameras loved so much, this one went all the way to his electric blue eyes.
It made Kane pause, breathe in, because Devon was clearly talking about something—someone—that mattered to him, and Kane had promised himself a long time ago that he would never, ever be the kind of person who ignored what mattered.
It was a hard promise to keep when he existed between the shallow, glittery world of LA parties and the surreal eternal road trip of touring, but he did his best.
Ignoring the fact that Claire was waiting for an elevator, about to slip out of his reach, Kane returned Devon’s smile and said, “Congratulations on the baby thing! And thanks, man. It never stops being awesome to hear about someone listening to my stuff. What’s your wife’s name?”
The guy’s almost-too-perfect face melted into something human, right before Kane’s eyes. “Lilah. Lilah Jane Sparks, and she listens to your music so much—if I didn’t know she loved me, I would’ve tossed every one of your CDs out in the street a long time ago.”
The deep, comfortable assurance of his wife’s affections gave Devon a settled, grounded air that affected Kane strangely.
He was curious about it—what would it be like to know yourself to be loved, completely and utterly, by someone other than your family?—but he was curious about a lot of things, so that wasn’t weird. What was weird was the way Kane was simultaneously attracted to and repelled by the idea.
To be loved … sure, who didn’t want that? But to be settled and
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