Misha chuckled. “Too much forced camaraderie does wear thin after a while.”
“See?” Cameron held the elevator door back for her before getting in. “You understand. What floor?”
“Twelfth, and I do understand. I like my space too. I love this hotel and I have a fantastic view of downtown Seattle from my room.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it? I’m in room twenty ten. You should see the view from there.”
It was an innocent statement, but the instant he’d mentioned Misha seeing the view from his room, her eyes briefly widened and all sorts of erotic possibilities popped into his mind. He wondered if she’d pictured something equally hot, but the moment passed.
“So, did you enjoy yourself at the dinner?”
Cameron grinned. “Whenever you put more than one cook together over a meal, the discussion inevitably centres on the food. Each chef giving their opinion on how to make a dish better is entertaining, but I’d rather just enjoy what I’m tasting.”
Damn.
He was going to have to choose his words carefully around Misha. All thoughts about his dinner with the other judges faded with one word—‘tasting’. It was her skin—so smooth, reminding him of the purest, richest cacao—and those juicy lips. He wanted to run his tongue along the full curve of her bottom lip and that was just for starters.
Sooty lashes lowered as Misha averted her gaze to fiddle with the tie on his umbrella.
Fuck.
He’d been staring and she’d noticed.
Good.
“You can’t truly savour something if you talk through it, wouldn’t you agree, Misha?”
“That depends.” Misha lifted her face to his and something in her voice made him think she’d wanted to say more but had then thought better of it. “I can take those bags.” She turned from him to glance at the panel illuminating the eleventh floor marker. “My floor is coming next.”
Cameron shook his head. “Nonsense. I always see a lady to her door.”
The elevator doors opened and he waited for Misha to step out first, moving behind her in the hallway. She walked a few paces ahead of him, giving him a chance to admire her shapely legs, shown off to perfection in the tight black leggings. A wide belt cinched around the tunic top she wore highlighted her small waist and the generous curve of her ass.
“Okay, Chef Banner”—Misha stopped outside a hotel door—“this is my room. Let’s trade.”
“Unlock your door first. It’ll be harder to do with these bags.”
Misha followed his instruction, holding the door open with her foot. Cameron gently placed the bags in her arms and took his umbrella from her hand.
“Thank you.” Misha gave him a warm smile. “I appreciate your help. You saved an apple today.”
Cameron chuckled. “My pleasure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Misha opened her door wider. “Goodnight.”
“’Night.” Cameron pivoted to walk away then turned back around. “Wait, so what does it depend on?” He fully expected her to ask him to repeat the context of his question from earlier.
“Mmm… Well, I think it depends on what you’re savouring. Goodbye, Chef Banner.”
She closed the door with a sassy smile and Cameron grinned as he headed back to the elevator. He’d been questioning his decision to be on
Celeb Chef
, but now he was glad he’d accepted the opportunity and it wasn’t because of the additional exposure it would give him and his restaurants. Great press was a definite perk, but the chance to get to know a divinely gorgeous woman like Misha?
Too delicious not to enjoy.
He got into the lift, pushed the button for the nineteenth floor and wondered what tomorrow’s competition would have in store. One thing was certain—Misha intrigued him and it felt good to truly be interested in a woman again. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d tested her savouring hypothesis…with her.
One lick at a time.
Cameron exited the elevator and reached for his cell vibrating in his pocket. He saw his brother Oliver’s picture and opened his own hotel door as he answered the call. “Hello, Olie.”
“Well, if it isn’t Mr Showbiz deciding to finally answer his damn phone.”
“It’s been nuts since I left New York”—Cameron loosened his tie—“and have you ever heard of jet lag?”
Oliver scoffed. “You looked pretty comfortable on television. I can’t wait to tune in tomorrow. Not for you, for that long-legged host. She’s fucking hot.”
“Shannon seems like a sweetheart too.”
“Oh, yeah? Are you interested in her?”
“No.”
“Get her number for me then.”
Cameron chuckled. “I haven’t had to help you snag a chick since grade school.”
“You got that twisted. I helped you.”
“Whatever. Did you watch the whole show?”
“Sure did. Next time, I may even get Dad to come over and join me. Mom said she almost got him to sit down and watch it with her.”
Cameron shrugged out of his suit jacket. “God bless Mom for trying. She must know it’s pointless. He’s had absolutely no interest in what I do since I turned my back on the family business.”
“He’s stubborn, but I know he respects what you do, Cam.”
“Oliver, he’s never stepped foot inside one of my restaurants.”
His brother sighed, but knew better than to comment any further on the standing rift between Cameron and their father.
“Well, at least one of the Banner boys didn’t let him down. When’s the hotel in Vegas opening?”
“Supposedly by Christmas and it’d better happen on time, otherwise he might question his decision to put me in charge of this project.”
“He knows you’re the best man for the job. What’s so funny?” Cameron asked when his brother started to chuckle.
“You made me think about all the trouble we used to get into in high school. Remember how all the girls used to refer to us as the ‘Banner boys’?”
“Of course.” Cameron sat down in the leather chair by the balcony and untied his dress shoes. “Good times… Good times.”
“So, are you having a good time?”
“I haven’t even been here forty-eight hours, man. I’ve barely had a chance to enjoy this huge suite.”
“I feel sorry for you. It’s gotta be tough sampling all that food, living out of your suitcase in a five star hotel.”
“Hey, you should be thankful you don’t have to eat the dishes that turn out awful. Sometimes it’s hard trying to keep a straight face.”
“Oh, I can tell which dishes you’re holding back expletives on. Like those shrimp muffins that one chef made?”
“Epic fail.” Cameron grimaced. “Just thinking about those gives me indigestion.”
His brother laughed. “Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about you getting into any trouble other than stomach aches in the Emerald City.”
“Ha ha.” Cameron got up from the chair and walked to the mini bar. “You always were the funny one.”
“I don’t know. You’ve had some pretty good one-liners on the show.”
“Ha ha. Hey, the audience gets my humour.”
Oliver chuckled. “I’d say I’ve always been the sensible one. I gotta jet. Please tell Shannon I said hello.”
“Will
not
do.” Cameron grinned when his brother cursed in mock anger. “Tell Mom I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“Sure. Bon appétit!”
Cameron ended the call then rummaged through the collection of overpriced liquor in the small fridge. He closed the door without having made a selection, deciding that a drink at the bar downstairs in the hotel lounge would be more appealing. His thoughts drifted back to Misha and that sassy smile he’d wanted to kiss over and over again as he changed clothes. He wondered if there were any rules pertaining to
Celeb Chef
judges going out with
Celeb Chef
contenders. Logically, it would seem that tasting Misha was out of the question for the length of time she was a contestant on the show, and as talented as she was, Cameron was certain she’d be one of chefs left standing to win.
“Look, but don’t touch,” Cameron muttered under his breath while pulling on his jeans. Images of Misha’s delectable body popped into his mind and he swore. It would be difficult to follow his own advice when everything about the curvy chef tempted him. Cameron grabbed his wallet and headed out of his room. There was a damn good chance his brother had spoken too soon about him staying out of trouble in the Emerald City.
* * * *
“Did I hear you talking out in the hall?”
Misha looked up at Serene coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and shook her head. “You won’t believe who I just ran into.” She picked up the plastic bowl and stirred the avocado spread she’d just made as her sister put on a robe. “Wait until you taste this.”
Serene padded over to her, taking the cracker she offered. “Who did you run into?” She popped the cracker into her mouth and moaned appreciatively. “Oh, yeah, that’s damn good. How many calories?”
Misha rolled her eyes. “Don’t start that calorie shit with me.”
Serene giggled. “I said that just to get you going. Now, for the third damn time… Who did you run into?”
“Chef Banner.”
Her sister’s eyes widened. “Gorgeous, blond-haired, green-eyed, judging you tomorrow Chef Banner?”
“Is there any other one?” Misha asked, crunching a cracker with a giggle of her own.
“You saw him at the store?”
“When I was coming back. He’s staying in this hotel.”
Serene grabbed another cracker. “Was he as warm and personable off camera as he is on?”
Misha thought about the heat he’d stirred up within her with his last question. “He’s very personable… Even helped me carry up these grocery items.”
“Does he look as good up close as he does far away?”
Better.
“He’s sexy. Married, I bet.” Misha hadn’t recalled seeing a wedding ring on his finger, but then again many chefs didn’t wear one because of the nature of the job.
Serene shook her head. “Divorced.”
“How do you know that?”
“I Googled him during the taping of the last competition. He and his wife split up almost two years ago.”
“Details?” Misha wished she wasn’t so curious.
Serene shrugged. “Not many. They were childhood sweethearts that grew apart after he hit the big time with his restaurants. I wonder…” Her sister stared off into space, chewing thoughtfully.
“Wonder what?”
“I wonder how hard it was for Cameron to go his own way when his father made it clear in the public eye he wanted him by his side in the family business. Cameron uprooted from Chicago, moved to New York and opened his first restaurant there.”
Misha finished the black olive she’d popped into her mouth. “I haven’t known him for very long, but I still can’t imagine him taking all of his charisma and personality and tapering it to work in the corporate side of the hospitality world.”
Serene smiled. “You gathered all of this from just a short conversation with him in the elevator?”
Misha hesitated, feeling a little bit foolish. “Just a hunch.” She ignored her sister’s inquisitive stare, grabbed another cracker and smoothed on some of her spread.
“I thought you said you were going to pick up some wine to go with this.” Serene peered back into the paper bag on the floor. She pulled out two wine glasses in tissue and carefully unwrapped them. “Cute.” She held up the glasses embossed with the Space Needle on the side. “You remembered glasses, but not the wine?”
“Of course not. The merlot is on the nightstand behind me.” Misha went over to their mini bar. She yanked the fridge door and triumphantly took out a bottle of Chardonnay. “See? Red and white as promised.”
“Nice.” Serene giggled. “I should’ve know you wouldn’t forget our wine.”
Misha frowned. “But I did forget a wine bottle opener.”
“Maybe we could get one from room service.”
“Probably, but it would be much quicker to just go down to the bar with the Chardonnay and have them open it.”
Serene huffed. “Let’s just order it. I don’t feel like going down there and I really should be the one to do it, since you went to the store.”
“I’m already dressed. It’ll take me less than five minutes.” Misha stood up. “Just promise there will be some dip left when I get back.” She grabbed her cell as her sister laughed.
“I promise.”
Misha went to the door and glanced back at her sister. “You were supposed to have that chick flick all queued up and ready to go too, remember?”
“I will. Don’t you worry, sis. I won’t let you down.”
Misha winked at Serene before exiting their room with the bottle of wine in hand. She took the elevator down to the lobby in good spirits, ready to pour a glass of the white wine and finally relax with her sister. A sappy chick flick was just what she needed to take her mind off tomorrow’s competition.
The hotel lobby wasn’t as crowded, but there were still a fair amount of people lounging and listening to the pianist playing a familiar jazz standard. Misha made her way to the bar and the bartender came over with a friendly smile the moment he spotted her.
“What can I get you?”
Misha held up the bottle. “One bottle of wine opened?”
The bartender grinned. “Sure, no problem.”
“Thank you.” Misha gave him the bottle and checked her vibrating cell, alerting her to a new text message. She unlocked the device to see a text from Darius wishing her the best of luck for tomorrow’s competition. Misha sighed as she read the last part of his message. She turned off the phone, sat it upon the bar counter, annoyed that she could still see Darius’ words in her mind.
Miss you… The possibilities for the two of us together are endless.
She just didn’t see it, didn’t feel it with Darius. As far as she was concerned, there was no real spark… No magic between them. She needed to be with someone she felt passionate about and that wasn’t Darius. She wanted to feel butterflies.
Darius was a good man, headstrong and determined. She admired those qualities and they had made him the successful restaurant owner he was, but, increasingly, Misha wondered if her current feelings about them becoming a couple again would affect their professional relationship.
“I think there’s an unspoken rule about running into someone twice in one day.”