Some Like It Spicy (11 page)

“But you didn’t taste my dessert,” Duffy protested.

Ty glared at him, and the big man backed down.

Before they left, Sally came in with garbage bags and they removed as much of their soiled clothes as decently possible.

The ride back to the studio was completely silent. No radio, no Sally belting out instructions, no Morgan and her usual poison. When they arrived back at the studio, they silently took turns in the bathroom, cleaning up, and pristine chef jackets magically appeared.

Sally told them to wait in the Wreck Room while the judges conferred.

“What do you think will happen?” Anthony asked to no one in particular.

Duffy shrugged. “They can’t eliminate someone when they didn’t even taste everyone’s dish.”

“Maybe they’ll come up with another challenge,” Ashton said. “Since we’re banned from the Carlisle and probably from PALS, too.”

Morgan’s eyes rolled upward. “Oh, please. You know what’s going to happen. The culinary genius over here,” she said, pointing to Lance, “is going home.”

Lance shot off the chair and toward Morgan, and she bounded to her feet to stand off with him. The sight was comical—Lance towered over six feet and Morgan just barely passed five.

Someone should probably step between them
. But everyone apparently wanted to see how it would end.

The conclusion was not as climactic as hoped for. Sally poked her head in the room and snapped a command to come in the kitchen.

Ashton’s blood pressure rose when she walked in and saw seven flames burning. Ty stood by the table, the other judges nowhere in sight.

His jaw was tight and his tone somber as he directed each of the chefs to take a place in front of a flame.

Intellectually, she knew there was absolutely no reason she would get sent home, but Ashton hadn’t prepared herself for the panic she felt at being on the chopping block. She held her hands tightly to her sides, praying no one could see how badly she was shaking.

The cameras began to roll.

“Today was an experience that is unlike anything we have ever had happen in the history of
The Next Celebrity Chef
.” Ty stared down each of them. “It was an embarrassment for the show, and embarrassing for you as chefs.” He paused for effect. “We did not taste all the dishes, so we cannot fairly judge them. But, we can judge your behavior, and that is why you are all up for elimination.”
Had his eyes stayed on hers longer when he said “behavior”? Because he was the one who’d dragged her into the food fight.

“Ultimately,” he continued, “it was the actions of one chef that led to the disaster.” He stepped in front of Lance and placed the cover on his flame. “Lance, you can’t take the heat—or make a vegetarian meal. Get out of the kitchen.”

“Cut!” Sally yelled. “Beautiful. Lance, we want to film your exit first, then your interview. After, we’ll be filming the rest of the interviews, and the police would like to take reports from each of you as well.”

Lance stumbled, his face etched with shock, as Sally led him out the door. Even though she wouldn’t have admitted it, Ashton agreed with Morgan that Lance was the obvious choice for elimination.

…

It was well past ten when Ashton finally left the studio. Everyone had been exhausted, and as each chef had finished his or her interviews, first from Sally, and then by the police, they’d headed back to the brownstone.

Ashton had been the unlucky last person up, so she was the last to leave. Sally offered to have the van drop her back at the brownstone, but Ashton declined. The temperature outside was a lovely seventy-eight degrees, and she’d been stuck indoors all day.

She had just stepped onto the sidewalk when she heard her name called. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ty jogging to her. “You’re not walking home by yourself, are you?” he asked.

“It’s only two and a half blocks.”

“That’s more than enough time for something to happen.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I have a car and a driver. Let me take you back to the brownstone.”

“No, thanks. I need the fresh air.” She picked up her tired feet and started down the street.

He fell into step beside her. “I’ll walk with you, then.”

“You don’t have—”

He cut her off. “I’m not letting you walk alone,” he said.

She fell silent.

“Aren’t you going to apologize for the mushroom bath you gave me?” he asked a half block later.

She swung her head toward him. “
Me
apologize? You started it.”

He shrugged sheepishly. “So I did. But you fell on me.”

“Somebody pushed me!”

“Sure they did.” He chuckled.

“They did!” she exclaimed.

“It had nothing to do with wanting to rub yourself all over me?”

“Oh, my God.” She sighed. “You have the biggest ego I’ve ever seen, and I once interned for Gordon Ramsey. I fell on you because I was pushed. I wasn’t trying to tease you or feel you up or do anything else your giant head comes up with.”

He grabbed her arm. “Then you weren’t going to kiss me?”

She froze. “No.”

“Liar.”

She tilted her head at the brownstone behind them. “This is me. Good night.”

He wouldn’t let go. “It’s okay to admit it. You were going to kiss me.”

“No,” she denied. She knew her cheeks had turned a humiliating red, but she couldn’t let him win. “Believe me, when I want to do something, I do it.”

“Oh, really?” His eyebrow raised.

“Absolutely.”

“If we’re playing by those rules…”

And before she knew what was happening, he grasped her face between his palms and covered her lips with his.

The kiss was brief; just warm, soft lips against hers. Then, he lifted his mouth the merest inch and looked into her eyes, questioning.

She gave him her answer. Parting her lips, she raised herself on the balls of her feet and locked her mouth against him.

All the anticipation, the attraction between them, exploded. Their mouths and tongues melded. Ty moved his hands from her jaw to her shoulders and back up to her neck, as if he couldn’t touch her enough.

Her hands were just as active. They ran up his strong, muscular biceps, down his washboard abs, and around his waist to his back. Her fingers found the bottom edge of his dress shirt and crawled beneath to touch his hot skin.

She felt drunk off his taste. If she could’ve found a way to bottle and sell it, she’d be the richest woman alive.

When his lips traveled her jawline and met the pulsing point at her neck—a particularly sensitive spot for her—her knees almost buckled.

A car alarm piercing the silent night startled them apart.

And just like that, Ashton remembered where she was and whom she was with.

“That shouldn’t have happened.” Her voice sounded annoyingly shaky.

Ty looked as dazed as she felt. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he answered. “You’re right. This is a mistake.”

They stared at each other, as if they each expected something more to be said. But finally, Ashton broke the silence. “I should go in. Good night.”

“Good night, Ashton.”

She turned away before she said or did anything else stupid.

Chapter Ten

Ashton had two days to forget the kiss she’d shared with Ty. The hiatus between filming should have given her time to relax; unfortunately, the wonderful world of marketing had other plans.

She was booked nearly every minute of those two days. First, she was interviewed on
The View
. She’d taught Whoopi Goldberg how to make the world’s best mashed sweet potatoes. Then, she’d had a whirlwind of interviews for print media. The whole experience reminded her of speed dating—ten minutes for each magazine or newspaper to get to know her.

In terms of publicity for her and—hopefully—the restaurant, she couldn’t have asked for more. But even during the small amount of down time, she couldn’t escape. Whenever she flipped on the television, she was faced with an advertisement for the show. Advanced copies of their
Entertainment Weekly
issue had arrived, and she knew some of the other chefs were keeping their copy as a souvenir. Hers had gone straight into the trash.

A nagging thought kept finding its way into her brain. Was this the life she could expect if she won? She was finally starting to understand the comments Ty had made about not having time to cook. She forced that thought into the trash, too.

Tomorrow they’d be filming the next challenge. Ashton decided to go to bed extra-early so she wasn’t completely exhausted. She had just turned out the light when her cell phone rang. Her mind immediately flew to a problem at the restaurant. She grabbed the phone and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

There was a pause. “Ashton?”

With a sigh, she sat up and flipped on the light. “Yeah, Mom.”

“Imagine my surprise when three of my friends called to say they saw you on
The View
this morning. Why didn’t you tell us you were doing television? Your father was hurt you didn’t inform him.”

“Why would I? So he could tell me it’s a lousy decision and that I’m a terrible chef with no possibility of winning? I’ve heard that song and dance before, Mom. I didn’t need the repeat performance.”

Her mother tsked
. “
He means well. You just take it too seriously.”

“And you never take it seriously enough,” she shot back. She clenched her fingers around the phone until it hurt. Why did she bother? Her mother had never defended her as a child and she wasn’t going to now. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was planning to, but the schedule here is hectic.”

“I understand, sweetie.”

Of course she did. Because if she didn’t, then it might start an argument—and her mother
didn’t
argue.

Ashton’s brief stint in anger management had helped to diminish her anger at her mother; unfortunately, it had only turned those feelings into indifference. Too many times, her mother had looked the other way while Ashton suffered from her father’s cruel tongue. If there was one person in this world who should have protected Ashton, it was her mother. How was she supposed to forgive her?

Drudging up the past left an ache in her chest, so she pushed it out of her brain. “You didn’t catch the premiere episode of
The Next Celebrity Chef
?” It was doubtful, since the call was from her mother, not her father.

“No, but our neighbor’s son is going to show me how to watch it on the computer.”

Great.

“And,” she continued, “I’ll be watching the next episode. Sunday, right? Did you win?”

“I can’t discuss the episode.” She winced, thinking about the embarrassing food fight that would air. “And yes, it’s on Sunday.”

“Your father and I will be watching,” she promised. “We’ll call you after.”

Ashton hung up the phone, her stomach aching painfully. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. All of a sudden, everything was real. She couldn’t hide, couldn’t pretend this wasn’t happening. And if she fell on her face, the world would see. So would her father. So would Ty.

She didn’t sleep that night.

After the last disastrous challenge, the studio was more subdued than usual. The crew silently set up, the chefs lingered by the catering cart; even Sally’s voice was four decibels lower than a megaphone.

Ashton tried not to look for Ty, but her eyes kept scanning the room for a glimpse. Finally, she saw him push open the doors to the studio. She took a step toward him, hoping to talk to him before filming started. She needed to make clear their kiss had been a one-time occurrence. Otherwise, it would be on her mind during the challenge. And she didn’t need any more distractions.

“Chefs.” Sally clapped her hand against her clipboard before Ashton could reach Ty. “Let’s get started. After the disaster we had with PALS, we decided to nix the original challenge scheduled for today and do something a little more low-key. Take your marks.”

The chefs and Ty moved to their spots and Sally called, “Action.”

“Chefs must be knowledgeable in a variety of food,” Ty said. “And they need to know how to pair even the most unconventional ingredients. In your third challenge, you will receive surprise ingredients. You must make a three-course meal using every mystery ingredient in each course.”

He stepped over to one of the tables and picked up a box. “We’ll be playing a game of White Elephant in order to pick your surprise ingredients. For those of you who don’t know how to play, you have the choice to pick a box or steal someone else’s ingredient. We’ll play five rounds, so you’ll each end up with five ingredients. Duffy, you start.”

Duffy stepped forward. Because he had no other choice, he picked up a box from the table and opened it. Light glittered off his gold tooth as he held his ingredient. “Canadian bacon.”

Jolene picked next, pulling half of a watermelon from her box. Ashton’s pulse jump-started. She made a grilled watermelon salad that had earned her an award in culinary school. It would knock the judges’ socks off.

Guilt nipped at her as she decided to steal it away from Jolene. Jolene’s flawless face fell as she picked up another box to replace the watermelon and received cream of mushroom soup.

Ashton battled to keep her face neutral. She had three people to get through in order to keep this ingredient. If she looked too cocky, someone would steal it in the name of competition.

Neither Jin nor Anthony even glanced twice at her watermelon. She was nearly home free.

She should have known better. As Morgan stepped forward, the last chef to choose, she walked straight to Ashton and ripped the watermelon from her hands. The smile on Morgan’s face was vindictive.

Ashton forced a cool expression; she wasn’t about to let Morgan know she’d gotten to her. With her back straight, she took the only remaining box on the first table. Her heart plunged to her knees as she held up the bottle of mango chutney. For Morgan and the cameras, she smiled as bright as her lips would allow.

They played four more rounds of the game, until Ashton surveyed her final results: sweet potatoes, mango chutney, bananas, pepperoni, and corn meal. Not her ideal set of ingredients, but she could work with it.

Back at his marker, Ty said, “Chefs, you will have one hour to make your three-course meal. Time starts now.”

Ashton took off running.

When the challenge had been announced, she’d known immediately she wanted to do an amuse-bouche, a one-bite appetizer. She decided to dice a sweet potato, banana, and some pepperoni and make a “salsa” with it. She would make a corncake with the cornmeal, and then layer it with the chutney and salsa.

As she made her amuse-bouche, ideas raced through her mind for the next two courses. Something with shrimp for the second course, since her mandatory ingredients paired well with shellfish. For the third course, she came up with a cornbread for a sweet-and-savory dessert.

She realized too late that she should have started her cornbread first. As she was plating her other two dishes, waiting for the cornbread to come out of the oven, Ty called the five-minute mark.

She quickly finished plating and then went to the ovens. The timer read six minutes. She only had three left.

Her foot tapped the floor as panic choked her. The bread wasn’t going to be finished. But if she didn’t get it on the dish, she would automatically lose and be eliminated. When one minute remained in the challenge, she opened the oven door and pulled out the loaf.

She was not getting eliminated over cornbread.

Ashton raced back to her station and held her breath as she cut a piece of the cornbread. Her relief was audible when she saw the middle was cooked, if only slightly crumbly. She managed to get the bread on a plate just as the timer buzzed.

Sweat dripping from her temples, she stepped away from the table.

Before she had time to fully catch her breath, she was in a line with the other chefs to present her dishes to the judges. Then, they were sent to the Wreck Room to wait.

“That sucked,” Anthony declared as he flopped in a chair. “Someone hand me a beer.”

“It was hard,” Jolene agreed. “I had cream of mushroom soup. It’s full of fat and preservatives.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe people eat soup out of a can when it’s so easy to make from scratch.”

Ashton happened to agree with her, and was relieved she hadn’t ended up with the canned soup. Duffy seemed pleased with his dishes, probably because he’d gotten to make Canadian-bacon-filled dumplings. Morgan smirked with her usual confidence, which everyone else ignored.

The wait was surprisingly short. Only a half hour later, Sally brought them back to the kitchen. Three chairs were set in the safe zone, and three flames were set up on the table.

Her heart rate caught a now-familiar pace as she faced the three judges.

“Tonight,” Ty said, “our top three chefs are…”

She wanted to scream at his long pause.

“…Duffy, Morgan, and Ashton.”

Ashton’s legs of Jell-O nearly buckled.

“Duffy, you combined these ingredients as if you cooked with them every night,” Ty said.

“And you looked like you were having a blast doing it,” Andrea added. “You were fun to watch.” Andrea and Claude had the luxury of watching the chefs from a screening room next door.

The judges moved on to Morgan while Duffy preened.

Ty started the critique. “Morgan, you’ve had a tough time the last few challenges, but today proved you belong here.”

For the first time, Ashton thought she saw a genuine smile on Morgan’s lips.

“You had one of our most difficult pairings: watermelon and ketchup,” Claude chimed in. “But you still managed to put out three wonderful dishes. Your chilled watermelon soup with a tomato coulis and conch cracker was sublime. Nice work.”

“I agree with Claude about your dishes, Morgan,” Andrea said. “But I still need you to work on your presence in front of the camera. You always look very angry—”

Duffy snickered.

“And the audience responds to that. If you don’t look like you’re having fun, no one will want to make your dishes at home.”

Ashton could almost feel Morgan’s grin fall off her face.

Then, it was her turn.

“Ashton,” Ty said, “all the judges agree your cornbread was one of the highlights of the challenge.”

Now it was her turn to preen. She managed not to jump with excitement.

Claude and Andrea also praised her. Besides the cornbread, Claude had especially liked the shrimp she had battered in cornmeal and fried.

When it was time to announce the winner, Ashton tensed as she waited.

“Tonight’s winner is…Ashton.”

Applause rang out in the kitchen. She closed her eyes for a moment to take in this feeling, better than anything she’d ever experienced.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Ty, his hands still clapping, his eyes tender.

Andrea announced her prize. “Ashton, as the winner of today’s challenge, you will get a one-on-one cooking lesson from our very own head judge, celebrity chef Ty Cates.”

One-on-one? As in completely alone? She whipped her gaze to Ty, who suddenly found the other side of the kitchen interesting.

“Ashton, Morgan, and Duffy, you can take a seat in the safe zone,” Andrea said.

As they sat, Morgan whispered to her, “Gee, what a surprise. Did you win that challenge on your back, or did you do it standing up?”

“Get a life,” Ashton hissed.

“Maybe Chef Cates likes half-baked cornbread,” Morgan continued to muse. “Or maybe it was just a good excuse to get you alone.”

“
Three
judges picked me as the winner,” Ashton said, reminding herself as well as Morgan. Ty couldn’t have given her preferential treatment; Andrea and Claude had equal say. She shook off the offensive accusation, not about to let Morgan spoil her good mood.

The only thing that could dampen her delight was seeing Jolene on the chopping block. Even though she was serious competition, Ashton didn’t want her go home this early.

As Jolene had predicted, her downfall was the cream of mushroom soup.

“You didn’t incorporate it into any of your dishes,” Ty critiqued. “It was an afterthought. On two of the dishes, you only used it as a garnish.”

Anthony had a similar problem, but his was with butternut squash.

“You don’t use it very much, do you?” Claude asked.

Anthony shook his head. “I’ve never been a fan.”

“Jin, we enjoyed your first two courses,” Ty said. “But making soy ice cream out of the lox was just a bad decision.”

Ty walked the length among the three chefs several times to delay the moment. Finally, he stopped in front of Anthony. As he put out the flame, he said, “Anthony, you can’t take the heat. Get out of the kitchen.” Afterward, Ashton gave Anthony a hug and her cell number to keep in touch. She’d miss having him in the house; his calming presence had helped overpower Morgan’s sourness. And it didn’t hurt that he made killer pasta for midnight snacks.

When Sally dragged Anthony away for an exit interview, Ashton glanced at her watch, amazed at how quickly the day was progressing. They actually had the chance of making it out of the studio before dark.