A Taste of Temptation

Ashton swiveled around and gave the assembled group an easy smile. “Whenever you are, gentlemen.”

He could see that his manager was on the call from his L.A. office. Vince’s expression gave away none of the concern he’d voiced to Ashton late last night, but he wasn’t looking as relaxed as usual. This show would take Ashton from celebrity chef to household name. From there the possibilities were endless.

“Chef Croft,” began Steven Bell, a midlevel executive who’d been acting as the group’s mouthpiece these past several months. He was the third in a line of conservatively dressed, middle-aged men with a talent for pointing out problems and little else. “We have slotted the new show to begin the end of February and would like to start taping in three weeks. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.”

Several of the men exchanged glances, and Ashton picked up on it. If he’d learned anything in the past several months, he’d discovered the path to superstardom wasn’t a smooth one.

“We’ve been told your restaurant in the Fontaine hotel is behind schedule,” said the man Ashton thought of as Executive Orange because whatever spray tan he used gave his skin a sunset glow.

“Untrue. It’s set to open in two weeks.”

“And your expectation is that you’ll have it running smoothly immediately?”

Ashton knew what was going on. Vince had warned him that since Ashton was unwilling to give in on the matter of quitting The Culinary Wanderer they were looking at other chefs in an effort to force his hand.

“I will be leaving my kitchen in good hands. I offered Chef Dillon Cole the head chef position.” He left out the fact that Cole hadn’t agreed to take the job.

“He’s out of Chicago, correct?”

Unsure which of the six executives had spoken, Ashton nodded. “A talented chef.” Which was perfectly true, despite his earlier criticism. Ashton just wasn’t sure he was the right man for Batouri, but he was running out of time and options. If he wanted to host the new show, he needed to be available.

“We’d like you to come to New York next week and spend a couple days working with our producers. We feel you should be on the set and run through a couple versions of the show to get some film that we could run past a couple of our current hosts for their input.”

“What days did you have in mind?”

“Wednesday and Thursday. We could schedule something in the afternoon, say around two?”

Harper was going to filet him when she caught wind of this impromptu trip. “I’ll be there.”

“We’re looking forward to seeing you.”

After a few more niceties and good luck wishes for his restaurant opening, the New York executives signed off. When it was just Ashton and Vince still on the call, the manager let his true feelings show.

“Those bastards are not making this easy, are they?”

“Did you really expect them to?” Ashton countered. “This isn’t a travel network with a couple hundred thousand viewers. This channel draws over a million viewers for some of its least popular primetime shows.”

“What I expected is for them to be falling all over themselves to bring you in. They’re looking to give their lineup more sex appeal. While the numbers have been slipping for cooking shows lately, home improvement segments are on the rise.”

“Any idea why?”

“If you listen to my wife and daughter, it’s all due to the hunky carpenters they’ve been hiring.”

Ashton grinned. “So you’re saying they aren’t as interested in my culinary expertise as my impressive physique?”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Like we should be negotiating for more money.”

“Maybe I should suggest you do the episodes shirtless.”

“Don’t give them any ideas.” Ashton grimaced. “They’ll probably turn it into a bit. Stay tuned for the next segment when Chef Croft will burn off his shirt.”

“Well, you’d better get that restaurant of yours open in Vegas or you won’t have to worry about what they want you to wear.”

“Have you heard from the guys over at Phillips about the proposals I made regarding next season’s location?”

In addition to negotiating with the Lifestyle Network, he was in talks with Phillips Consolidated Networks for his seventh season of The Culinary Wanderer. They were pushing him to film next season in Africa. They’d reasoned that since he was South African, he would enjoy returning to the land of his birth. The exact opposite was true, but since he’d created an elaborate backstory that had nothing to do with his true history, he couldn’t provide an excuse strong enough to dissuade them.

“They rejected England immediately. Apparently your best ratings come when you are off the beaten track. The Indonesian stuff has been a huge hit with everyone who’s seen it.”

“What about South America? I could get six or seven episodes out of Brazil alone.”

“They said they’d consider it for next year.” Vince rolled a pen between his palms. “I think if you want to keep doing the show, it’s going to have to be Africa. Of course, that’s dependent on whether Lifestyle Network gives up on getting an exclusive on you.”

Frustration with the producers of The Culinary Wanderer had led him to talk to Lifestyle Network. He wanted to grow his career in a big way and the new show could do that. Becoming a household name would open a lot of doors. But it wasn’t where his heart lay. He’d never stop craving new adventures in exotic locations. It’s why he intended to find a way to do both. Being forced to choose between his passion and his ambition wasn’t an option.

“I really don’t want to go to Africa.”

“Come on. How bad can it be? You still have family there, don’t you?”

“Sure.” In fact, he had no idea if his parents were still alive. He hadn’t spoken to them since he left home at fifteen. A lot of bad things could happen in twenty years, especially in the sort of places his parents took their missionary work.

He heard the door open behind him and noticed the change in Vince’s demeanor. His manager sat forward in his desk chair and ran his fingers through his short sandy-blond hair. Glancing over his shoulder, Ashton noticed Harper had entered the room. She didn’t look happy.

“Gotta go, Vince. Keep in touch.” He ended the network connection and the monitor in the room went blank. “Thanks for letting me borrow your equipment. This is some nice stuff.”

“Chef Cole tells me he’s not going to be our head chef.”

“I offered him the job just like you wanted.”

“I wanted you to hire him.”

“He turned me down.” Ashton pushed his chair back from the conference table and stood up.

“So, now what?”

“You have me.”

“I need someone permanent. How long before you take off again?”

Next week, but in her current state of displeasure, he wasn’t going to mention that.

“Not to worry. I have someone I trust who I’ve been training. He arrives tomorrow.”

“Who is it?”

“I met Dae Tan a few months ago. Helped him out of a jam.”

“What sort of a jam?” Her skepticism came through loud and clear.

“He was arrested for something he didn’t do.”

“You’re sure he was innocent.”

“Absolutely. After that, things got a little hot for him. He’s been traveling with me and I’ve been training him.”

“Why didn’t he come with you today?”

“He wanted to see L.A. He has this thing about movie stars.”

Harper regarded him with suspicion. “Where has he worked? Is he capable of handling the pressure of a restaurant like Batouri?”

“It’ll be fine. The kid’s got talent.”

“Kid?” She echoed his description and her irritation grew. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-five. Twenty-six.”

“You can’t be serious.” Harper advanced on him. “You’ve passed on chefs with twenty-five years of experience and now you’re telling me you want to hire someone who’s been in the field a couple years.”

“Months,” Ashton corrected. “He only had the most rudimentary skills when I met him.”

Harper’s eyes closed while she sucked in a deep breath and let it out. When she opened them again, she looked no calmer. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll go for this.”

“You really don’t have a choice.”

“We’ll see about that.” Harper folded her arms across her chest. “You forget we have a contract.” Her tone indicated he’d stretched her goodwill as far as it would go.

“I have a great deal riding on this restaurant, as well,” he reminded her.

“Then act like it.”

The trouble was, he had a great deal riding on every iron he had in the fire. He was determined to leave his mark on the world and that meant going big. Would it have been smarter to not stick his neck out? Sure. He could have played it safe, kept going with the same shows he’d had success with these past eight years, but Ashton liked the rush of conquering new territory, seeing what lay beyond the horizon.

Harper continued, “Go convince Cole to take the job at Batouri.”

“I thought you said he’d gone to the airport.”

“I caught him before he left the hotel and convinced him to fly to Chicago tomorrow. You have reservations next door at Fontaine Chic’s award-winning steakhouse at seven. You might as well sample the competition. Perhaps you will both dislike the food and find some common ground to build a relationship on.”

“And our evening together?”

She shot him a cool smile. “When Cole takes the job, I’ll block out two hours for you.”

“Make it three and you have a deal.”

Three

With the Chef Cole problem handled for the time being and her mother safely ensconced in the day spa, Harper was able to steal a few minutes to herself to take stock of the day. Thank heavens they weren’t all like this.

Unable to imagine what her mother had done to open herself up to blackmail, Harper paced her hotel, trying to find comfort in achievement. The ceilings throughout had been painted to represent different aspects of the sky her hotel was named for. In the lobby, it was a pale midday blue dotted with clouds. Lighting changed from dawn to dusk to match what was happening outside. The casino ceiling was a midnight indigo sparkling with thousands of pinpoint lights configured like the star patterns above Las Vegas.

It was a simple concept, beautifully rendered. She was proud of all she’d accomplished. But today, there was no joy to be found in surveying her domain. Harper glanced at her watch. Two hours to kill. With her ability to concentrate shot and no meetings or crisis pending, she considered returning to her suite and running on her treadmill. Or she could go talk to Scarlett.

Five years ago when her grandfather had come to her with news that she had two half sisters, she’d been angry, miserable and excited. She’d been eleven when she’d first learned her father regularly cheated on his wife, but until five years ago, she’d had no idea his extramarital wandering had messed up more lives than just hers and her mother’s.

A quick walk through the skyways that connected the three Fontaine hotels brought Harper to Fontaine Richesse, Scarlett’s hotel. She sought out her sister in the casino. Spotting Scarlett was easy. She radiated sex appeal and charisma in her emerald-green flapper costume, her long brown hair tucked beneath a twenties-style, shingle bob wig with bangs.

The rest of the casino staff was dressed like something out of a movie from the forties and fifties: men in elegant tuxedos and suits or military uniforms from the Second World War, women in evening gowns or stylish dresses.

Harper had thought the whole idea of a Golden Age of Hollywood night was crazy. But she’d underestimated her sister’s brilliance. The casino was packed. Many of those playing the machines or lining the tables were also dressed in costume. There were prizes awarded for best outfit, and casino cash was given to anyone who guessed what particular movie the dealers or waitresses were dressed from.

Scarlett wore a delighted grin as the man who’d approached her guessed her costume.

“Cyd Charrise, Singin’ In The Rain?”

“That’s right.” She handed him a card he could trade in for money to gamble with. As he walked off, she spotted Harper. “What a surprise.”

“You look amazing,” Harper said, admiring the dress and matching green satin pumps. “Is it new?”

“First time I’ve worn it.” She struck a pose. “I think Laurie outdid herself.” Scarlett had been friends with the Hollywood costume designer for years and used her for every costume in the casino.

“I would agree.”

When she’d first met Scarlett, Harper hadn’t given the former child actress much credit. She couldn’t imagine what her grandfather had been thinking when he’d concocted the contest between his three granddaughters. What could someone with Scarlett’s background know about running a multibillion-dollar hotel much less a corporation the size of Fontaine Hotels and Resorts? Five years later, Harper was a huge fan of Scarlett’s creativity and authenticity. She knew exactly who she was and had played directly to her strengths.

“Do you have time for a drink?” Harper asked, instantly seeing her request had startled Scarlett.

Harper was the family workaholic. Rarely did she sit down in the evenings when the casino was busiest, much less take time out to eat or drink.

“For you, always.” They found a table in a quiet corner of the lobby bar. Scarlett ordered two glasses of cabernet and made small talk until the drinks arrived. “What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as Harper had taken a sip of wine.

“What makes you think...?” She could see Scarlett wasn’t fooled. “I don’t want you to assume that I’m only here because I needed help.”

“I don’t care why you’re here.” Scarlett gave her a lopsided smile. “And I’m glad Violet is out of town with JT. Otherwise, I know you’d have gone to her first.”

“That’s unfair.” But probably true. As much as Harper loved her half sister, she wasn’t always comfortable with Scarlett.

In so many ways, they were opposites. Scarlett was gorgeous, flamboyant and utterly fearless when it came to her relationships. Hadn’t she tackled Logan Wolfe and turned the tetchy security expert into a big purring lion? She’d managed to do the same thing with Harper. Wariness had become loyalty, something Harper gave rarely and not without reservation. But Scarlett had won her over for the most part.

“Okay, there is something wrong.” Harper paused, knowing Scarlett deserved more. “But you aren’t right about how I’d go to Violet instead of you. If she was here, I’d have come to both of you with this.”

“Must be serious.” Scarlett’s lips curved into a wicked smile. “Do you need some advice about Ashton Croft? I heard he’s back in town.”

“Nothing like that.”

“I suggest you sleep with him.”

“What?” Harper cursed the sudden heat in her cheeks. “I’m not going to sleep with him. Our relationship is strictly professional.”

“You should reconsider that. I know you have a thing for him. And he looks like he’d be a riot in bed.”

Harper needed Scarlett to get off that particular subject. “My mother is being blackmailed.”

All mischief went out of Scarlett. She paled. “Blackmailed? Why?”

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me.”

“Does she know who is doing it?”

Harper shook her head. “It’s all so crazy. My mother. The perfect Penelope Fontaine. I can’t imagine her doing anything wrong much less anything scandalous enough to invite blackmail.”

“How did you find out?”

“She came here needing to borrow money.”

“How much?”

“Three hundred and fifty thousand.”

Scarlett gasped. “That’s a lot.”

“I keep wondering what she’s done. It must be something truly awful for them to be asking that much.”

“From what you’ve told me,” Scarlett began, “your mother isn’t great at considering the value of something before she spends. Is she sure what happened is worth that much money?”

“It’s hard to say with my mother. She’s so big on keeping her reputation unsullied, it might be something as simple as a bump and run.” But Harper couldn’t picture her mother having a minor accident much less fleeing the scene of one.

“Could she have cheated on her taxes?”

“Impossible. Grandfather handles all her finances.” Penelope’s lack of financial smarts was what had caused Grandfather to put her on an allowance and hire a money manager to pay the bills.

“I don’t suppose she wants to call the police.” Scarlett framed the question as if she already knew the answer.

“She won’t do that,” Harper said. “The blackmailer will make her secret public.”

“Do you need help coming up with the cash? I have some money set aside.”

Her sister’s offer came so fast Harper doubted Scarlett considered the magnitude of the gesture. She was humbled by her sister’s affection. “Thanks, but I didn’t come here for that.”

“Then why?”

“I thought talking with you would put me in a calmer frame of mind before I have dinner with my mother.”

“She’s here?”

“Showed up this afternoon out of the blue.”

Harper had never spoken directly about how she and Penelope got along, but both her sisters knew that Harper’s mother had left her daughter behind in New York City and moved to Florida. It wasn’t a stretch to deduce that things between mother and daughter weren’t good. But if anyone understood that family could produce the most complicated relationships, it would be Harper and Scarlett.

“Why don’t I talk with Logan,” Scarlett suggested. “Maybe there’s something he or Lucas can do.”

“I don’t know if anyone can help at this point.”

“Are you kidding? Logan and his brother are security experts. They should be able to figure out who’s blackmailing your mom without breaking a sweat. If not before the blackmail is paid, then I know they can track where the money goes.”

Harper was suddenly feeling a whole lot better. Impulsively, she hugged Scarlett. “I don’t know what I would do without you and Violet.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. I wasn’t always sure you liked having us in your life.”

Scarlett’s admission twisted Harper’s stomach into knots of regret. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. In the beginning it wasn’t easy embracing you as sisters. I’d been alone my whole life and hadn’t exactly been smothered with love by my parents. I didn’t really understand what it meant to be family.”

“I hope that’s changed.”

“It has. You and Violet are the most important people in my life along with Grandfather.” Seeing the tears that filled Scarlett’s beautiful green eyes, Harper wished she’d made this confession long ago. “I’m sorry if I made it seem otherwise. I’ve been so focused on getting Fontaine Ciel built and running that I haven’t been a very good sister.”

Scarlett waved the apology away and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. Delight filled her voice as she said, “You didn’t need to say anything. We knew how you felt.”

Harper made a resolution to be more open with her sisters going forward. It wouldn’t be easy. She’d spent her whole life bottling up her feelings. Her mother wasn’t demonstrative and her father’s rare appearances in her life hadn’t been filled with warm moments. In school she’d been a leader and her habit of ruling by persuasion and occasional ruthlessness hadn’t won her the love of the majority of her classmates. But it hadn’t mattered as long as they followed her. Or so she’d told herself.

“Let me call Logan and see what he suggests we do.”

“I’m sure he’s not going to want you to do anything,” Harper said with a faint smile.

“Since when has that stopped me?”

Scarlett had given her fiancé a lot to worry about after inheriting some files from Tiberius Stone, Violet’s surrogate father. The casino owner had been murdered by a local councilman who’d been embezzling campaign contributions. Tiberius had accumulated a storage unit full of people’s secrets including his brother-in-law, a man who’d stolen the identity of Preston Rhodes, a wealthy orphan from California. Violet had gone to Miami intent on bringing him to justice in order to help her husband take back his family’s company.

“It’s rolling to voice mail,” Scarlett said. After leaving Logan a brief summary of the situation, she hung up. “It won’t take him long to call me back. Do you want to wait?”

About to say yes, Harper suddenly remembered she still had Ashton’s go bag. “Can’t. I have to see a man about a bag.”

Scarlett cocked her head in puzzlement, but nodded. “As soon as I hear from Logan, I’ll call you. In the meantime, can you stall your mother?”

“I can try.”

Leaving Scarlett, Harper made her way back to the Fontaine Ciel’s executive floor. Mary had gone for the day, locking Harper’s office before she left. Harper half expected Ashton to have persuaded the personal assistant to give him his bag, but to her surprise, either Mary had resisted the celebrity chef’s charm or Ashton had stuck to his part of the bargain.

Either way, she grabbed the bag and shot a quick text to let him know the luggage would be waiting for him at Batouri. But when she got there, she was surprised to find Ashton sitting at the corner table where his bag had sat earlier.

* * *

When the door to the restaurant opened, Ashton was nursing a tumbler of ten-year-old Scotch. It was his third. The first two had gone down fast and smooth. He didn’t think he should continue at that pace or his dinner with Cole might not go the way Harper wanted.

That she spotted him so fast made him smile. She felt it, too. This irresistible pull between them. How had he ignored it until now? Oh, she was good at hiding it. And he hadn’t exactly given her any reason to feel more than irritation toward him. He wanted to strip her layers of professionalism away and get to the firecracker below. How hot would the fire burn? And for how long? With fireworks, the thrill was in those seconds of exhilarating danger. The breathtaking waterfall of light. The big boom that lingered in the chest even after the sound faded.

Still, it might be worth sacrificing her goodwill to experience the rush.

“What brings you here?” He sipped the Scotch, felt the burn in his chest.

“I’m returning your go bag.”

He’d been so focused on Harper he hadn’t even noticed that she was towing his bag along.

You’re slipping.

In the places he traveled, being distracted for even a moment could be trouble.

“The deal isn’t done with Cole yet,” he reminded her. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it hostage for a bit longer?” Maybe take it back to her suite. “I could pick it up later.”

She parked the bag beside the booth. “I’ve lost my taste for blackmail in the past few hours.” Her gaze flicked to the glass and then to his mouth.

His heart tapped unsteadily against his ribs. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Was it the alcohol that was making him light-headed or the way she was staring at him as if she wondered what he’d taste like? She reached for his glass, and he figured she was going to chastise him for drinking up the restaurant’s stock. Instead, she lifted the tumbler to her lips and tossed back the last ounce of Scotch. He expected her to come up coughing as the strong liquor hit her throat. Instead, she licked her lips and smiled, her eyes thoughtful and distant.

“My grandfather loves Scotch.” She set the glass back on the table and turned to go.

“I’m a very good listener.” Ashton claimed few virtues. Giving a speaker his full attention was one. But would she trust him to share what was going on?

Harper hesitated before facing him once more. “My mother came into town unexpectedly.”

Ashton relaxed, unaware until his lungs started working again that he’d been holding his breath. “I noticed the air between you two wasn’t particularly cheerful.”

“Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”

He shook his head, the twinge in his gut barely noticeable. “I left home at fifteen and never looked back.”