Don't Tempt Me (31 page)

Oddly enough, she seemed far more flustered and fumbled her way through the first few minutes until she dropped an egg on his foot and froze. He stared at the egg, then her scarlet face, and had one split second to decide if he should ignore it, or tease her about it.

"Well," he said, deciding on teasing, "it's better than having egg on my face." The comment had her fumbling and blushing even more. Within minutes, both she and the audience were laughing uproariously.

His turn to blush came when viewers started calling in.

"Yes, I have a question for Adrian," the first caller said. "Are you married?"

"Uh, no." He chuckled, slightly taken aback.

"Involved?" the next caller asked.

"Actually, yes." He flashed Susan a look of confusion.

She laughed, enjoying his moment in the hot seat. "I believe we have another caller on the line. Did you have a question?"

"Yes." The disembodied voice came from somewhere overhead. "When you say 'involved,' do you mean seriously involved?"

He smiled into the camera. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask her. In the meantime, does anyone have a question about cooking?"

"I do!" said the final caller in a thick Southern accent. "Will you come cook in my kitchen?"

"Not a chance, I'm keeping him!" Susan said unexpectedly, then looked ready to die of embarrassment at her own words.

When the show ended, the producer came out to shake his hand and tell him they'd had more callers than any other episode in the show's history and several e-mails asking when he'd be back.

By the time Adrian reached his hotel, exhausted but flushed with victory, he had a message to call his agent.

Brian informed him that offers were already coming in from other cooking shows, a publisher wanted first rights to a cookbook, a company that made chef's apparel wanted him to model for their catalog, and a canned-soup company wanted him for a TV commercial.

"You're kidding," Adrian said, stunned as he sat on the hotel bed. "But the show only ended an hour ago."

"Babe, in this business, you move fast or miss the boat. It's like that college football player who was standing on the sidelines. His face flashed across the screen on national television and he had a modeling-contract offer before the game ended. Your face was up there for half an hour, and you were doing a lot more than just standing on the sidelines."

"Still ..." He shook his head.

"There's one more offer I need to pass on. How do you feel about posing nude?"

"Excuse me!"

"Playgirl wants you for a centerfold spread."

"Now I know you're putting me on."

"Not at all. One of the editors is a cooking show junkie."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Babe, I'll be stunned if you don't get similar offers from the gay skin magazines and at least one offer for a porno movie. So tell me now if I pass on those or issue an automatic no."

"No! Good Lord." He laughed in nervous disbelief. "This is unreal."

"Actually, no, this is the real world, so welcome to it. You're a hot commodity. Speaking of, you have a meeting in the hotel bar with Eva Phillips and the network bigwigs. They liked what they saw and are eager to get moving on
Breakfast with Adrian
. It would also be a good idea for you to keep a high profile while you're there. Meet people, socialize. Attend a few parties. I've asked Eva to assign you an escort."

"An escort? As in a professional date?"

The agent sighed heavily. "As in a driver and all-round personal assistant. Call me tomorrow when some of this has had a chance to sink in and we'll go over the offers in more detail. For now, just enjoy. You're the new 'hottest game in town'."

His head spinning, he hung up from his agent and called Jackie's number. Her ship would be docked at Pearl Island by now, so her phone would be within range of a tower. All he got was her voice mail, so he called the inn next and Rory picked up.

"Did you see the show?" he asked.

"Yes! God, you were fabulous. Alli, it's Adrian. Alli says you were great, too."

"Is Jackie there?"

"She was, but she's diving with Carl right now. She seemed pretty disappointed that you weren't here when she arrived."

"Did she see the show?"

"She watched it with us and looked suitably impressed with how good you were. Although I don't think she cared for those women callers hitting on you."

"Personally, I thought it was hilarious."

"You would."

He started to tell her about all the offers, but everything was too up in the air. He didn't need Rory to get all excited, or worse, start worrying he'd run off chasing fame and fortune and she'd never see him again. If only Jackie were there so he could think things through aloud. He needed a levelheaded sounding board. "Listen, will you give Jackie this number and ask her to call me?"

"Will do. Also, guess what?"

"At this point, I'm almost afraid to." He chuckled.

"Aunt Viv is coming back to Galveston for a while. Sort of an extended vacation."

"Really? Is she still thinking about retiring?"

"Yep. She sounds pretty tired of life on Broadway. Chance and I told her she could stay with us, since Alli and Scott are living in her house and we have more room."

"You know, I just don't get her being tired of Broadway. Acting has always been everything for her."

"Alli thinks she's lonely."

"I guess." He glanced at his watch. "Look, I have to go. I'm having a meeting with some 'people from the studio' in a few minutes, but I shouldn't be gone long. Be sure and tell Jackie to call me this evening if I don't get hold of her first."

"Will do. And congratulations. You really looked wonderful on TV. I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks." Hanging up, he went to the floor-to-ceiling window and discovered his room overlooked a swimming pool surrounded by lush tropical gardens. On the lounge chairs around the sparkling water were at least a dozen female bodies in some of the skimpiest bikinis he'd ever seen.

Welcome to California
, he thought, wanting to laugh. He raised his gaze to the tall buildings shimmering in the bright sun and had the overwhelming urge to tell someone, "I can't believe I'm here. This is so cool!"

The only thing that would make it better would be having Jackie with him. She'd probably make some wisecrack that would help put everything into perspective while making him laugh. The more they talked, the more he loved her sense of humor. Beneath her tough façade lurked a woman longing to have fun. Nothing pleased him more than drawing that out.

If she were there, they could go out and celebrate. Or stay in and celebrate, which could be even more fun, he thought with a glance at the king-sized bed.

Then he remembered her refusal to come to L.A. for even a few weeks. What would he do if he had to move? Give up seeing her? Moving the ship would be hard and he'd never get her to leave it behind. Even if he did somehow manage to talk her into leaving the ship, what would she do for a living?

The thought flickered through his mind that if half the offers Brian had mentioned panned out, Jackie wouldn't have to work. He could support both of them.
Yeah, right,
he snorted. Like Jackie would agree to live off him.

What if he married her, though?

His heart jolted in shock and he struggled to breathe without hyperventilating.

Okay, he thought slowly, what if he did marry her? First, he'd have to get her to say yes ---not a sure bet when he'd had a hard enough time just getting her to date him. Then there was still the whole issue of her moving to L.A. Try as he might, he couldn't see her in the role of a pampered Hollywood wife spending her days shopping and sunning by a pool.

On top of all that, he was right back to having to decide something that momentous up front. Why did everything in their relationship have to be all or nothing? He remembered Jackie telling him to go to L.A., think things through, decide what he wanted. Lord, she'd certainly said a mouthful!

He headed to the meeting in the bar, telling himself he'd talk to Jackie when he got back: not about anything major that would terrorize her, just one of their talk-about-nothing conversations that always settled the restlessness he'd been battling lately. Except cocktails turned into dinner at Spago, which segued into a party at a mansion in the Hollywood Hills. By the time he got back to his room, it was three in the morning and the message light was blinking. He'd missed Jackie's call.

He tried to call her the next morning, but got her voice mail again. They ended up playing phone tag as often as talking for the next three weeks. But when they did get on the line, they talked for hours.

And every time he hung up the phone, he was more determined to find a way around all the obstacles keeping them apart.

~ ~ ~

Jackie sat at the table in her cabin, trying to balance the books on her antiquated laptop, but smiling into space instead. Adrian was coming home.

He'd been in L.A. for just over three weeks but they'd gone two months without actually seeing each other. Tomorrow, though, she'd set sail for Pearl Island and he was due to fly home the day she would arrive.

His appearances on TV the past few weeks had brought a flood of interest in the inn and the cruises. Especially since he'd been on the Letterman show.

Unfortunately, the conversation on that show had strayed from cooking and the instant popularity of Chef Adrian to the search for Lafitte's treasure and questions about why it was taking so long to find. While he had handled the topic smoothly, it had sent up a red flag to the local media, making people wonder, "Why is the search taking so long?"

From Jackie's last conversation with Rory, she had an image of a disgruntled Carl holding impromptu news conferences on the beach, explaining to nondivers how tricky marine archeology could be.

All in all, the last two months had been an emotional roller coaster. At least she'd had her conversations with Adrian to look forward to. The sheer number of calls lent weight to his claims of missing her.

For the first time since agreeing to a relationship with him, she started to believe that maybe it would last long term, even with the possibility of him moving away ---a fact she tried not to think about. Whenever they talked, she felt so connected to him, as if she could tell him anything and he'd still look at her as if she were special. She'd never had that with anyone. It made her want to let go that last little bit and trust him completely. Trust that life wouldn't jerk the rug out from under her.

She waited for panic to kick in at the thought of trusting anyone, but then she pictured Adrian and wound up smiling into space like a love-struck loon.

A knock came at her door. She looked up to see Ti standing in the open doorway. "Hey, Ti. What's up?"

"You see da paper?" he asked, looking cautious.

"What paper?"

He came forward with a newspaper in hand. "I know dese things full of lies," he said. "So it probably mean nothing, but I know you want to see."

"What is it? More speculation about the missing treasure being a hoax?"

"Not exactly." Ti dropped a copy of the
National Enquirer
on the desk in front of her.

She looked down and froze at the sight of Adrian with his head clasped to the voluptuous breast of Shawna Simmons, Hollywood's newest box office draw. Both he and the impossibly beautiful actress were laughing. The headline read: "Could Things Be Heating Up for America's Sexiest Chef?"

She flipped to the page number printed on the front and found more photos of Adrian having a grand old time at some nightclub with Shawna Simmons hanging all over him.

In her mind she could hear his voice:

"Things are going great, but I miss you.

"I wish you were here.

"I'm so tired, though, all I want is one night at home in my own bed, preferably with you."

Tired? Ha! No wonder he was tired. The snake! Just how many beds had he been crawling into to miss his own so badly? Her mind started off on a tangent, but she stopped it. Dancing at a nightclub did not mean he was sleeping around. Even if he was dancing with one of the most blatantly beautiful women in the world, who had her hands all over him, and was giving him an eyeful of cleavage down the front of her halter dress.

"It probably don' mean a thing," Ti said. "Dat paper make everything sound like more dan it is."

He was right, of course, but she still felt as if a knife had been plunged straight through her heart. She'd actually started to trust the man, to believe him when he said he cared for her deeply. She'd dared to reach for that pretty box of joy he'd offered ---and found a snake inside after all. A lying, cheating snake!

Her pulse pounded in her temples until she thought her head would explode. Even so, she forced her face to relax as she leaned back in her chair. "Of course it doesn't mean anything. And even if it did, I don't own Adrian. If he wants to go out partying with some movie star with fake boobs, that's his business."