The Secret Ingredient (16 page)

Something glittered on her cheek, a smudge that sparkled—he
thought for a moment about pointing it out. But it kind of went with the whole
chaotic look.

And curves, yes. Very interesting, framed by a bright
loose-fitting top in dazzling browns and blues and oranges, the kind of thing an
old-fashioned gypsy might wear, secured by a thick dark brown belt. Below that,
a layered frilly white skirt ended just above her knees. On her feet she wore
flat leather laced tan sandals. All Greek goddess meets hippy. A crazy artsy
type with her head in the stars. So not his type. A pretty head, though,
porcelain skin. And that hair...

As wild and crazy as she was.

This whole escapade was already shifting him way too far out of
his comfort zone; he didn’t need a too-hot boho airhead added to the mix.
Regardless of the curves and the hair...and the curves...

He shook his head. ‘Well, I’m sorry. You’ve had your chance;
I’m leaving.’

‘Oh. But we haven’t even—’ Her mouth turned downwards, her hand
on his arm. ‘Please don’t. I did try to call...’

‘I don’t have time to be wasted. Nate said you were reliable.
And keen.’ Frazzled more like, as if she was juggling a zillion things in the
air and they were all dropping around her. But she was still smiling and he was
drawn to that, in some kind of weird masochistic way.

So she was pretty. Didn’t mean a thing. Certainly didn’t mean
the woman could cook.

Nate had also mentioned she’d been babied during a difficult
upbringing, that she’d had little direction in her life apart from partying and
that she was trying to prove herself with this catering venture. She’d already
dabbled at other things like...nannying, was it? Dog-walking? And lost not only
cash but interest far too quickly.

Nate hadn’t mentioned anything about an ex-business partner,
though, or the need for a paring knife. So Jack guessed Cassie kept her family
in the dark about some things.

Which suddenly made her a whole lot more interesting. In a
purely professional way. Teasing dark secrets from people had made him a stack
of money and cemented his reputation as the best gritty documentary maker in the
UK.

‘So Nate told you about me?’ Two pink patches on her cheeks
darkened to red. ‘Nate Munro? I wondered...usually people use a search engine or
a business card rather than a world famous rock star to find a caterer.’

‘Yes, he recommended you. Although why I bothered I don’t
know—’ But his new mate had done him a huge honour by allowing him to film his
more intimate home life for a documentary which could well be award-winning—if
only for the usually very private subject. Which meant Jack owed him precisely
five more minutes to hear Cassie out before he took his leave and found a more
organised, punctual and less disturbingly off-the-scale attractive caterer.

The flush turned from embarrassment to irritation. She wore her
emotions very obviously on her face—as if there was no caution button. No
keeping things in check. How could people live like that? Spilling their
feelings out at any given moment? Did they have no control? It was his endless
fascination and what made his films so damned compelling to watch.

‘Nate’s almost as bad at interfering in my life as his wife.
That’s my sister, Sasha. I keep telling them to butt out and I know they mean
well, but...’ She inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. ‘But, well, you’ve
already said you don’t want my life story.’

‘I already know Nate’s, and a little of your sister’s...and
therefore some of yours.’

‘Not the best bits.’ She winked, but he refused to laugh. He
did not want to know about the best bits of her life. Or the worst. Or anything
more about her. Five minutes. Her hands moved as she talked. Was there not a
serene molecule in that far too interesting body? ‘So you’re the rock-umentary
producer man—my sister did mention you. And Nate’s right; I am reliable. I’ve
just been having a trying time recently.’

‘Yes.’ He tried to keep up. ‘Something about a paring
knife?’

‘I left it at home. Which is probably a good thing, seeing as
you look like you might want to use it.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘Okay. Can we
begin again? I’m Cassie Sweet. Caterer extraordinaire. And just a little bit out
of control right now. But normal service is being resumed. And my cooking is
brilliant.’ She smiled.

‘Jack Brennan.’
Always in control
.
He shook her hand. It was warm and soft. And why the hell he’d even noticed he
didn’t know.

She took a step back and looked around at the crowd, then
raised her voice above the chattering. ‘I’ve booked a room. Hang on a sec.’ She
turned to speak to a passing waitress, who shook her head and shrugged.

‘Shoot.’ Cassie sighed loudly and her fist curled tight around
the satchel strap. Was that a curse under her breath? ‘They gave the room to
someone else because I was late.’

Typical. This escapade was turning into a disorganised farce.
He needed to leave and take his chances on someone more professional. ‘Look.
Forget it. I’ll find someone else. Some time else.’

‘No. Please. Please. Tell me this isn’t happening.’

‘It is. In full glorious Technicolor.’
Your problem, my nightmare.

‘I’ll have a word with Frankie, the manager. He’s just over
there.’ Shoving her bag at Jack, she disappeared into the crowd. ‘Frankie! Hey,
Frankie!’

Did she have another speed? Like just plain old fast instead of
whirlwind? And now he couldn’t leave unless he took the bag with him or left it
here. Unattended, in a crowded bar. It could end up in anyone’s hands. And not
that she didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t need that on his conscience. It was
full enough already.

In a few moments she was back, breathless but grinning. ‘Good
old Frankie. There are a couple of free tables outside. Saves those for his best
clients. Talking about food always makes me hungry so I’ve ordered some nibbles.
They do the best soft shell tacos here with pork belly crackling. You must not
leave without trying those. And he gave us a bottle of red on the house for the
mix-up. Result!’

She brushed past him and Jack caught a scent of vanilla sugar
and something distinctly soft and pretty, which he dutifully followed, trying
not to watch the sway of her hips as she walked. Her backside looked just about
the perfect size for his hands—jeez, he swallowed. Hard. What the hell was wrong
with him?

With her? No caution or stop button. She was at warp speed. And
now he was caught up in her chaos too.

So much for the five-minute plan. He blinked as he entered a
small courtyard. Ivy, intertwined with scarlet flowers, curled over the walls,
white gravel covered the ground. Small iron tables dressed with lit tea light
candles dotted the space. It was like a secret garden from a movie he’d seen as
a kid. Back when he’d believed in fairy tales like family and happy ever after.
‘This is impressive.’

‘Glad you like it. I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was
too...
out there
.’ She raised her fingers and did
quotation marks with them to emphasise her words, and he caught a teasing
twinkle in her smile.

Then her eyes met his—darkest blue and wide and honest—and she
seemed, for a moment, a little startled, but she didn’t turn away. His heart
thumped in his chest as he was drawn into that gaze, sucked deep and then
deeper, and deeper still, as if he was tumbling somehow, like Alice down the
rabbit hole.

A blush hit her cheeks again and she shook her head, breaking a
tentative connection that left him feeling a little unnerved.

Opening her satchel, she pulled out a thick creamy notepad and
folder of papers. ‘Okay. Right. Let’s get started. We have a lot to get
through.’ As she opened the folder a gust of wind caught the top sheets and sent
them spiralling into the air. ‘Oh, wait... Sorry. Oh, no, I can’t believe this
is happening. I’m sorry.’

Next, she was on her feet chasing the papers, stamping on a few
to stop them floating away like confetti on the gentle breeze, more tendrils of
her hair falling from the chopsticks.

He watched for a moment until it became clear he either helped
or he’d be sitting here all night waiting for her to switch to simmer.

‘Here you go.’ He handed her the papers and she placed them
back on the table and weighted them down with a large bowl of delicious-looking
silky stuffed olives.

Popping one in her mouth, she bit down and smiled. ‘Not just
delicious, but useful too. Thanks. So not my day.’ Finally she sat, took a long
deep breath and slowed to a mode Jack could follow. She smiled again. She had a
lot of them—endless smiles. Polite smiles. Embarrassed but intriguing smiles.
Smiles that didn’t quite hit her eyes. He got the impression she was trying very
hard to be professional and thought that smiling would be the way to go.

But endless cheerfulness wouldn’t convince him she’d be any
good at helping him—and he needed help right now. Reliable. Organised.
Straightforward help. ‘Er...the wedding? Are we going to cover that
tonight?’

‘The wedding. Okay. Yes.’ She leaned forward and there was the
scent of vanilla sugar again. Sweet and soft. ‘So, talk me through the day,
Jack. Can I call you Jack? What’s planned? What do you need?’

Hell if he knew. Now she’d actually focused, he suddenly felt
way out of his depth. This was a stupid idea. He should have asked first instead
of
interfering...
as Cassie had so succinctly
described honest and well-meaning sibling interest.

He spoke slowly to give himself time to think and to engage her
full attention. ‘As I said, it’s in three weeks’ time. I’m not a hundred per
cent sure of exact timings so I’ll get back to you on that. The wedding ceremony
is going to be in a community art space off Portobello Road. It’s a small
gathering of friends; there’s an Irish band booked in the evening. The details
are being finalised.’

She tucked one of the errant curls behind her ear. ‘It’s very
short notice but, luckily, I do have space in my calendar. Tell me, though,
you’ve waited until now to sort out the food because...?’

‘I’ve just got back from filming; my schedule got changed a
little.’ And he’d been too damned busy to pay much attention to Lizzie’s emails.
Plus the word
help
had never been in her vocabulary.
Even when she’d needed it the most. And he was, apparently, the world’s worst at
working out what women wanted. Why they didn’t just straight out tell him, he
didn’t know. But he wanted to make this work, wanted to make her happy. After
everything they’d been through, Lizzie deserved a slice of that.

Another smile. ‘Okay, well, I guess we can work out some of the
finer points later, but it would be useful if we could make a start on menu
choices, just a jumping off point. I like to get a feel for the couple, their
likes and tastes and dreams. Do you have a memorable meal you’d like to
recreate? A theme?’

‘Why all the deep and meaningful stuff? It’s just food, right?’
Clearly, there was a whole lot more to weddings than he’d ever given thought to.
Actually, he’d never given thought to weddings at all—only that he’d never be
having one. ‘I...er...’

‘Okay, no worries. Let’s try a different angle.’ Her eyes
twinkled through a confused frown. ‘Tell me more about the iguana—was it love at
first sight?’

It was the first time in a long time a woman had left him
speechless.

Copyright © 2014 by Louisa George

ISBN-13: 9781460329023

THE SECRET INGREDIENT

Copyright © 2014 by Nina Harrington

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