Falling for Her Rival

FOURTEEN


Cool to room temperature

Lara leaned against the mailbox near the street and watched the traffic on Fifth Avenue while she waited for Finn to join her.

When she’d left the restaurant, she’d assumed he was right behind her. But several minutes passed before the door pushed open and he came out. She was grateful for the time to pull herself together. She had her emotions under control. Finn, meanwhile, looked as if he’d taken a surprise punch to the gut.

“Are you okay?” she asked, giving his arm a squeeze.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” he replied ruefully and pulled her close for a brief hug. “God, Lara, I’m sorry for bringing you here. Obviously, that didn’t go as I’d hoped. I guess I thought...”

He shrugged and left the words unsaid.

“You thought you could reason with my father the way you might reason with your own.”

“Yeah.” He frowned. “I guess I did.”

But their families and the dynamics at work within them were totally different. Lara accepted that. Maybe it also was time to accept that she could do nothing to change her father’s mind about her or to mend their rift. In fact, the more she tried, the wider it seemed to become.

* * *

They grabbed a bite to eat at a deli a few blocks away. They were overdressed for the casual atmosphere and Lara didn’t have much of an appetite. She picked at her turkey Reuben, but most of it wound up going into the trash.

Still, Lara used the time to give Finn a few pointers about her father’s preferences and peculiarities when it came to his restaurant. Even though Clifton wouldn’t be judging the contestants’ food, later in the competition he would be present and have some input.

After today’s debacle, she worried that Finn had dug himself into a hole that even his stellar culinary skills could not dig him out of.

It was nearly six when she headed home. Finn insisted on accompanying her to her building. The gesture was sweet, if unnecessary, especially since he wouldn’t be staying. He had a lot on his mind and an early morning looming.

“Tomorrow’s a big day for you,” she told him as they stood outside her apartment door.

“Yeah.”

“Call me when you leave the studio?”

“As soon as I clear the lobby,” he promised.

“Good luck.” She leaned in and kissed him, drawing back slowly afterward.

As tempting as it was to ask him to stay, she managed to unlock the door and tell him goodbye.

* * *

It was barely eight o’clock, but Finn had been up since well before dawn and at the studio since just before seven o’clock. In the greenroom, a large urn of coffee and a tray of pastries had been set out on a sideboard. Finn had forgone the sweets and limited himself to two cups of the coffee. He figured he would need steely nerves and steady hands for the competition.

He worked well under pressure. At least he liked to think he did. But there was no denying that his palms were damp and his heart was kicking out a few extra beats as he waited with the other chefs for the competition to start.

Adding to his nerves was the fact that he’d called Lara twice—once the previous night just before going to bed and again on his way to the studio that morning. Both times her cell phone had rung several times before going to voice mail.

Was she okay?

She’d been pretty distraught after the incident with her father, but she’d rallied afterward and had seemed fine when he’d left her at her apartment. Had something happened?

As Finn stewed over that, he listened with half an ear to the gossip in the greenroom over what the show’s new format would be now that they were one contestant short. No one seemed to know, but speculation was rampant that a new development had cropped up since they had been left cooling their heels for another hour.

“Something’s going on,” he overheard Angel tell Ryder.

The big man grunted. To no one in particular he said, “Let’s get this over with already.”

Finn was in agreement. He was in his element in a kitchen. Standing here, waiting, he felt frustrated.

The door opened. He expected to see Tristan or one of the interns who’d stopped in twice already to check on the coffee. To his absolute shock, Lara walked into the greenroom. She was dressed casually in cotton pants, flat shoes and a pale blue tunic. She’d pulled her hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail. A slight sheen of gloss drew his gaze briefly to the mouth that knew how to drive him insane.

“What’s she doing here?” Ryder’s voice rose over the murmurings of the other contestants.

The question was on the tip of Finn’s tongue, too. Their gazes met and he noticed the shadows under her eyes.

Had she come down to wish him luck again? That seemed doubtful, given her expression, which was tentative...guilty?

“Lara?” Her name finally made it past his lips. But the growing tension in the room turned it into a question.

Before she could say anything, Tristan strode in and stood next to her. He tucked his clipboard under one arm and clapped his hands together in his signature gesture.

“Chefs, chefs, your attention, please,” he called out as if every eye in the place wasn’t already trained on him. “Several of you have asked me this morning what the network decided to do about Lara’s position in the competition. To fill or not to fill,” he added dramatically and then paused for effect. “The network has decided to leave that up to you.”

“To us?” someone said.

“What do you mean?” another person asked.

“Does this mean you won’t be bringing back a chef from one of the preliminary rounds?” yet another wanted to know.

Finn listened absently to the chatter going on around him as he absorbed the news, still uncertain what to make of Lara’s presence.

“Quiet, please. And I’ll explain,” Tristan was saying. “First of all, no, none of the previously eliminated chefs will be rejoining us. Instead, we’ve decided it will be up to the eleven of you to decide if Lara stays in the competition.”


The room erupted into chaos then.

“You postponed the show for two weeks and that’s what you’ve come up with?” Ryder demanded.

“That’s not fair!” another chef exclaimed.

“Why bother with a competition at all?” Angel wanted to know.

“Yeah. Why doesn’t Daddy just hand over the keys to his kitchen now and be done with it?” Ryder made a scoffing sound before adding, “We all know that’s what’s going to happen in the end.”

Based on what Finn had witnessed at the Chesterfield the previous afternoon, he doubted that would be the case, but something still seemed off. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it might be.

“I can assure you, the fix is not in. Lara will compete for the position the same as all of you. For that matter, the same as she had been doing all along. If she wins—”

“When, you mean,” Angel snapped.

Tristan’s tone held firm. “If she wins, it will be because she has proved herself to the judges, and her father is not a judge.”

“As if he has no pull,” someone muttered.

“You said we get to decide,” Finn said quietly.

Lara glanced at him briefly. From her expression, he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. But again he got the impression she felt guilty.

“That’s right,” Tristan said. “The network decided to let the eleven of you vote on the matter.”

Finn glanced around the room. He had a pretty good idea where Angel, Ryder and a couple of other chefs stood based on the comments that had been made. That put the tally at four who wanted her gone for sure. As for the rest, it was a tougher call.

“The network is aware of your concerns about fairness. That’s why, if you decide to allow Lara to compete, the rules will be tweaked to accommodate her presence and quell any doubts about favoritism.”

“Tweaked how?” Angel asked.

“The judging will be blind. The panel will not know which chef prepared which dish.”

“Right,” Ryder muttered. “Enough talk. Let’s vote.”

“Before you do that, Lara wanted to say a few words.”

Tristan stepped aside, granting her the floor. Her nerves were palpable as she cleared her throat and wrung her hands.

“First of all, I want to apologize for entering this contest under an alias, and to assure all of you that no favoritism has been shown or will be shown if you decide to let me continue.”

That was met with a few derisive snorts and a smattering of thoughtful nods from the other chefs. But Lara wasn’t looking at anyone else. Her gaze was on Finn.

He recognized the apology in her expression, as well as the steely determination, when she added, “I’m asking for the opportunity to compete against you, but I’ll understand whatever you decide.”

“No! That’s my vote,” Ryder blurted out.

Tristan held up a hand. “Perhaps a secret ballot would be—”

“There’s no need to waste more time,” the big man complained. “Who’s with me? Who else wants to see this poser gone for good?”

Not surprisingly, Angel’s hand shot up, as did the hands of two other female chefs.

“I do, too,” another man said, stepping forward. He cast an apologetic glance in Lara’s direction. “Sorry, but I’ve gotten passed over for other positions because of nepotism.”

Nepotism was hardly an issue in this situation. If anything, her relationship to her father put her at a disadvantage, Finn thought. But she didn’t argue with the guy. She didn’t even blink. She accepted his opinion with an almost imperceptible nod.

“All right, that makes five. Anyone else?” Tristan asked. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I think she should stay.” Flo Gimball rested her fists on a pair of ample hips. “Y’all are being way too hard on Lara. She earned her place here just like the rest of us. It shouldn’t matter who her daddy is.”

The young chef named Kirby echoed Flo’s sentiments. Lara gained the support of three more chefs after that, bringing the vote to five in favor. It all came down to Finn. A hush fell over the room. He felt Ryder’s animosity. It rippled from the man the way heat wafted off the asphalt in August.

“Like we don’t know how he’s going to vote,” Ryder muttered, resting his hand on the hilt of the fillet knife that was hooked to his belt. If this were a contest to decide who was the most intimidating chef, he would win it hands down. But it was about cooking.

“Afraid to compete against her?” Finn asked mildly.

“No way!”

“Good.” He glanced at Lara as he told Tristan, “She stays.”

* * *

Lara was relieved to be back in the competition. More than relieved—she was excited. As well as about a dozen other emotions that fizzed and popped in her mind like bubbles in a celebratory glass of champagne. It was a lot to process. For the past couple of weeks she’d been on a roller coaster, seated in the first car with a faulty safety bar as it had plunged into oblivion, only to rise and plunge again.

It had been one crazy ride...in more ways than one.

Finn.

Feelings she’d never experienced before when it came to a man bubbled up inside her and threatened to boil over. It didn’t help that when she tried to catch his eye now, he wouldn’t look at her.

While his vote had determined she would compete, it was almost as if he didn’t trust her.

There was no time now, but she wanted to explain.

Sunday, a mere hour after Finn dropped her at her door, Tristan had called to summon her to the studio for a last-minute meeting with the network brass and the lawyers. She’d assumed the worst, especially since Tristan had been so tight-lipped on the phone. Was she being sued? All he would tell Lara was that she needed to sign some official forms. She’d walked into the meeting worried about the legal ramifications of her actions and walked out with her head all but spinning.

They weren’t going to sue her. Better yet, Lara still had a shot at joining the other chefs in the studio for taping and competing on the televised program. No one would explain the network’s change of heart or why it had taken nearly two weeks to make the decision they had. Indeed, no one would give her a straight answer when she asked what her father thought of the change. Tristan just kept pointing out that nothing was a done deal. Everything hinged on what her fellow competitors decided.

That caveat had succeeded in keeping her hopes in check overnight. She knew some and possibly a majority of the other chefs had to be happy with the idea of having one less person to compete against on the show. So, she’d remained on pins and needles until the votes were cast.

She was in!

Thanks to Finn.

She should be able to breathe easier now, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his vote being the reason she was allowed to compete, since she knew how much he wanted to win. Not just wanted, but how much he needed this victory. Nor could she be certain what his thoughts were either. His expression gave nothing away. It didn’t help that since giving her return the thumbs-up, he hadn’t said a word. Not to her, not to Tristan. Not even to Ryder, who’d been goading Finn with insults akin to the sous-chef remark he’d made the first day.

She supposed she couldn’t blame Finn for giving her the silent treatment. Technically, she’d done the same to him. He’d phoned her twice. She’d let both calls go to voice mail. And she hadn’t returned either call.


In her defense, she hadn’t known what to say and she didn’t want to lie. At the meeting, the show’s lawyers had requested that she sign a second confidentiality agreement. All of the competitors had had to sign one going in. Since the show was taped in advance, the document was to ensure they did not divulge the weekly eliminations and ultimate winner before the last episode aired.

This one, however, covered Sunday’s meeting as well as the possibility of her return. She was to tell no one, to discuss their offer with no one.

She waited until he walked over to the coffeepot in the corner of the greenroom to approach him.

“Want a cup?” he asked as he finished pouring some for himself.

“Please.” She nodded. He filled her cup and handed it to her. When he started to move away, she added meaningfully, “And thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he replied. His tone was surprisingly terse. “Five other people wanted to let you continue.”

“But you were the deciding vote,” she said quietly. “Are you having regrets?”

Finn met her gaze. His eyes were stormy gray and narrowed in irritation. “That’s not how I operate, Lara. I believe in being aboveboard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

But he ignored her and continued. “You’ll get your chance.”

“That’s all I could hope for.”

“Give it your best shot. I’m not going to have anyone claim that I won by default. And, frankly, I plan to beat you. I’m not going to hold back.”

“I expect nothing less,” she replied. She was starting to feel offended, indignant.

“Good.” He nodded. “Great. But I do have a question for you. When did all this go down? Before we...hooked up?”

Lara backed up a step, feeling almost as if Finn had slapped her.

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything.” His shoulders lifted. “Just wondering.”

Just wondering, my ass.

She knew he had trust issues, but still.

“You think I slept with you to get your vote? What, do you think I slept with Flo and the others, too?”

“You only needed six votes. There are more than six guys here,” he pointed out with maddening nonchalance.

Anger warred with the pain his words caused. She decided she’d rather be ticked off than vulnerable. She set down the hot coffee since she was tempted to toss it in Finn’s face. The words Go to hell were on the tip of her tongue. She opted for sarcasm instead.

“Ryder apparently forgot about our bargain.”

She heard Finn’s muffled curse as she walked away.

Block it out, she commanded. Forget about Finn, their amazing two weeks together and what she’d thought might be the start of something a little longer lived.

She was here to win, and her reasons for wanting to get to the final round hadn’t changed.