Free Some Like It Hot by Louisa Edwards

name, so formal, didn’t seem to suit him—Lunden.

    He was like an artichoke, she mused, watching him skillfully extricate his boys from a roomful of men who’d been doing their best to kill them not ten minutes before. Lots of tasty layers.

    And Eva couldn’t wait to peel all the way down to the heart of him.

     

    So close. They were so close to getting out of this mess with no harm, no foul, but just as his hand touched the door, he heard, “Not so fast.”

    It was Eva.

    Turning slowly, he arranged his features into his best pleasant expression, eyebrows arched over innocent eyes, slight smile stretching his mouth.

    What now, damn it?

    Eva stood in the center of the kitchen, surrounded by men who were taller than her and outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.

    It said something about her that Danny had felt no compunction leaving her alone in the midst of all that raw, seething, thwarted aggression. Ryan Larousse might be a violent little punk who resented the hell out of authority, but he was no match for Eva Jansen.

    Holding up one scarlet-tipped fingernail in a silent command for them to wait, Eva turned away from the East Coast Team and focused her high beams on the Limestone chefs.

    “You boys have better things to do than pick fights in my kitchen, I’m sure. And since you know the layout, you’ve already got the advantage on the rest of the teams. So unless you’re in here booby-trapping the place—yes, Larkin, I said booby, try to keep it together—I suggest you head up to the rooms we’ve so graciously provided for you, and get some rest. I expect great things from you tomorrow. Go!”

    They went.

    Danny watched the scarred, tattooed gang of kitchen hooligans march past and tried not to envy them.

    Ryan Larousse, clutching one hand to his lividly bruising chin like a drama queen, gave Beck a nasty stare on the way out. Beck, back to doing his normal impression of an oak tree, didn’t appear to notice. Not for the first time, Danny wished he could borrow a little of the guy’s invincible poise.

    “Now,” Eva said when the other team had gone. “I don’t need to know what this was about—since I know Ryan, I can make an educated guess. And as he’s technically my chef, I’ll apologize for him.”

    Approaching the unapproachable mountain that was Beck could be unnerving at the best of times. When he was like this, sweaty and disheveled and strung wire-tight from a fight? Put it this way: Eva’s quick, fearless stride right up to him earned her some respect in Danny’s book.

    She held out her hand, head tilted way back to be able to make eye contact with Beck. “For whatever he said about her, however he mocked what she means to you, I’m sorry.”

    Danny still had no clue how or why she’d gotten the idea that this whole scuffle was over a woman. That seemed way out of character for gruff, unsentimental Beck—but instead of setting her straight, Beck actually took her hand and said, “Thanks. I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that.”

    She nodded, dropping his hand but never his gaze. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but you should probably let your teammates know, so they can watch your back and keep this from happening again. Because Ryan is not the type to let up on something once he knows it bothers you. And I don’t need to know what that is.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes went flinty. “But I do need to know that a fight like this isn’t going to happen again. Not while I’m in charge of this competition.”

    Danny held his breath for Beck’s response. The guy had proven himself unpredictable today, after all. But he shook his head, shoulders back and straight like a prisoner at a parole hearing. “I get it. I take full responsibility. It won’t happen again.”

    “I know it won’t.” Eva’s voice was gentle again, and she smiled as she leaned down to scoop up her shiny leather satchel with the big interlocking C’s on the