Free Seducing the Secret Heiress Page B

hall. He was directing a small group of people surrounding him. Even at this distance she could tell he held their absolute attention. She understood immediately. Gabe had the power to enthral. A smile crept across her lips.
    She sighed. She wasn’t ready to go home yet, but the risk of being discovered was too great. She picked up her backpack and turned towards the exit.
    â€˜Can you believe it?’ The guy behind her was dressed in a dark suit and spotted tie. He was probably nudging forty.
    â€˜What?’ she asked.
    â€˜This,’ he said, spreading his arms wide to take in the whole room.
    â€˜Yeah. Incredible.’
    â€˜Imagine making it through.’ The wistfulness in his voice didn’t match his proper executive image.
    â€˜Mmm.’ She nodded, anxious now she’d made her decision to leave.
    â€˜Imagine living your dream. I mean, I’m an accountant.’ The man pointed to his suit as if it explained everything. ‘But cooking’s my real passion.’
    She cocked her head and looked at him intently. ‘Then why are you an accountant?’
    He laughed, the sound heavy with irony. ‘Father.’
    She raised her eyebrows in a query.
    â€˜A chef’s not an acceptable occupation for an Etonian.’ The sneering, clipped British tone was obviously designed to mimic his father.
    â€˜Oh.’ She nodded. ‘I have one of those too.’ Harry Andrew Wentworth. He’d predetermined almost every step of her life.
    â€˜Hey, we’re moving,’ her companion said.
    She turned back and took a large, deliberate step closer to the registration desk. For the first time in her life she could see what her own dreams might be. She glanced over at Gabe. And cooking was only part of them.
    Finally Charlie reached the head of the queue.
    â€˜Name?’
    â€˜Charlotte We— Brown. Charlie Brown.’
    The young woman behind the desk looked up at her. ‘Cute.’
    She held out her hand. ‘Registration form?’
    Charlie handed over the document signed with her newly practised signature. She’d skimmed the document but hadn’t wanted to read it too closely. She didn’t want to see a rule about not falsifying your identity.
    The woman glanced at the form. ‘We’re processing people in batches of twenty. The trial consists of two parts. First there’s a two-minute interview. If you’re successful, you then have twenty minutes to cook something from the ingredients provided.’
    The registrar handed over an ingredient list. ‘The top ten candidates for this region will be selected today.’
    Charlie skimmed the list. Immediately ideas swirled in front of her.
    â€˜Take a seat and listen for your name. Good luck, Charlie Brown.’ The woman shot Charlie a big grin.
    â€˜Thanks.’
    Charlie loved the sound of her new name. Each time she said it, someone smiled.
    Finding a seat, she extracted a pen and paper from her bag. She needed something really distinctive. She began making notes on the various dishes she could make from the limited list. Everything she thought of was good, but not really special .
    She needed an edge.
    Charlie leaned back and scanned the room. The mix of people was vast. Teenagers to grannies. Conservatively dressed to outrageously alternative. Food certainly united people.
    â€˜Charlie Brown.’
    Charlie jerked her head up. She glanced at her notes one more time and headed towards the interview area.
    A lone chair sat within an array of bright stage lights. A television camera trained its lens on the chair. A woman sat outside the lit area. She looked so cool in her head-to-toe black outfit. Charlie glanced at her own clothes and suddenly felt very conservative.
    The woman pointed to the seat.
    Slightly blinded, Charlie sat down. She squinted under the heat and intensity of the lights.
    â€˜Charlie Brown?’ she asked.
    â€˜Yes,’ Charlie replied. Her stomach