Free Some Like It Hot by Louisa Edwards Page A

side. She slanted a glance at Danny. “I’ll be watching you carefully to make sure of it.”

    “Well, bye, see you tomorrow, Ms. Jansen,” Win chirped abruptly, his delighted gaze darting back and forth between them as he grabbed Beck by the sleeve and started towing him toward the door. “Danny, take your time. No rush!”

    Danny winced. The little shit must’ve watched Yentl on the plane or something.

    And then he was alone with Eva Jansen for the second time in a single hour, and honest to God he wasn’t sure his heart could take the stress.

    “I like that,” she said, running the tip of her pretty, pink tongue along her plump Cupid’s bow of a bottom lip. “It suits you.”

    Dazed, wondering if he’d missed something crucial to the conversation while zoning out on the many uses to which he’d be happy to put her tongue, Danny said, “What does?”

    “Danny.”

    How did she manage to make the name he’d been called since kindergarten sound like pure, filthy sex?

    Shutting down that thought, hard, Danny attempted to get his brain back on track. “Thanks for being so cool about the fight. We’re here to compete, period. Everything else is just meaningless distraction.”

    Arching her brow and giving him a who-are-you-trying-to-convince look, Eva said, “This wasn’t the first time Ryan Larousse crossed a line. But he’s a brilliant chef, so up till now we’ve put up with it.”

    Slinging that purse up onto her shoulder, she sauntered past him, hips twitching and fucking mesmerizing in that tight little skirt.

    “A couple pieces of advice?” she offered languidly over her shoulder. “Keep your eye on Ryan. He’s a prick, but he is talented, and after today he’ll be very motivated to kick your ass in the competition.”

    “Already planning on it,” Danny said. “What was the other piece of advice?”

    Flashing him a sultry grin that made his heart kick at  his rib cage, she said, “Don’t discount meaningless distractions—sometimes they’re just what the doctor ordered.”

    And then she was gone, leaving a cloud of perfume and a very conflicted pastry chef behind her.

Chapter 7

    “Which one is Ryan Larousse again?” Max asked out of the corner of his mouth as they trooped into the kitchen, fumbling with the wireless microphones the production assistant in the hall had handed out. “Man, I can’t believe you guys got into a scrap. You should’ve waited for me!”

    “It wasn’t fun,” Danny said for what felt like the hundredth time. “It was stupid and pointless and could’ve gotten us disqualified from the competition.”

    What he held back, for the hundredth time, was the observation that Max would have been there if he could tear himself away from sucking face with his new girlfriend long enough to actually lead the team he was supposedly in charge of.

    Or maybe Jules was supposed to be in charge. Who could keep track, at this point? Danny felt the Rising Star Chef title, the competition, his family’s restaurant, and his father’s legacy slipping out of their grasp, and while he was clinging desperately with his fingernails, Max and Jules were billing and cooing in their love nest like a pair of mated swans.

    Or something.

    It was possible Danny had some issues to resolve, once this whole thing was over. But see? he wanted to say. I’m a fucking professional, damn it. I put my personal shit aside until the cooking is done, because that is what it means to be a freaking chef.

    And people thought pastry chefs were wimps. They had no clue.

    “Aw, Dan-the-Man. You never would’ve let that happen to us,” Max said, with his usual cheery disregard for the limits of Danny’s supposed superpowers.

    Jules gave him a sympathetic look, but before she could say anything Danny gritted his teeth around a smile. “Maybe we’d better get everyone situated? I think the judges are going to be in soon to talk to us about the first challenge.”

    “Good idea,”