style="font-size:15px;"> Though she pretended to scold them, Ronnie felt deeply grateful for the predominantly female talent she’d been able to assemble for her first restaurant. It was a man’s world, and she’d taken a gamble scouring culinary schools for female chefs.
Fortunately, she’d hit the jackpot. Even though they’d been untried, she’d been able to train the eager staff to her satisfaction. Ronnie had confidence in them, even though this would be the longest she’d ever left them on their own.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” her restaurant manager,
Callie, assured her. The petite blonde was a business dynamo. “All you have to think about is bringing back that hundred-thousand-dollar check.”
“We’ve got it in the bag,” said La Quanique Collin-Silverberg, her top sous chef, who would be at her side throughout the competition.
Despite her unconventional name, La Quanique, or LQ as Ronnie liked to call her, was the only person Ronnie trusted in a high-pressure situation because she was genuinely invested in Ronnie’s success. Second-generation African and newly converted to Judaism for her husband, she had skin the color of dark espresso, was Amazon tall and wore her hair in a tightly braided updo that sprouted out of her crown like the spikes of a sea urchin.
Her staff took turns cheering the team on with words of encouragement, until one finally interrupted the love fest for an announcement. “We got you a little something for good luck.”
Ronnie felt her skin heating. “You didn’t have to do anything special for us,” she said, in a rare shy moment as Callie gave her and LQ gold lapel pins embossed with Crave’s art deco logo.
Ronnie thanked her staff profusely. “These will come in handy. With the competition we’ll be facing, we’re going to need all the luck we can get.”
LQ shook her head, pushing up her square black frame glasses. “We don’t need luck. We have everything we need right here,” she said, tapping Ronnie’s temple.
Ronnie felt her eyes welling up as she took in the confident smiles of her staff. She just hoped she’d be able to live up to their expectations.
On the day of her flight, Ronnie arrived at the airport early. Check, she thought, ticking off an item on her mentallist. She’d eased one fear in the barrage that made up her flight anxiety—would she miss her plane? Would her baggage arrive on time? Would the plane land safely?
Even though she hated to fly, it was a necessary evil, and she refused to let it get the best of her. But it was a process, and she was still working through it. After clearing security without getting stripped naked or carried off in handcuffs, Ronnie crossed another worry off her list. Now her stomach was making an audible plea for breakfast.
Heading to a coffee shop, she was immediately assaulted by the smell of her favorite treat, a tall whipped-cream-laden mocha latte. The barista put it in the waiting hand of yet another temptation, a tall chocolate-skinned man in an expensive suit.
He saw her looking and nodded. “You should try one. It’s delicious.”
In a moment of whimsy, she imagined asking the barista for a dark sexy gentleman with a good job and no emotional baggage.
In the real world, Ronnie smiled and shook her head no. In the past she would have ordered that mocha latte, filled it with extra sugar and then drank it alongside a warm, buttery Danish. Today she told the barista, “I’ll just have a small black coffee and the fruit cup.”
After she received her breakfast, Ronnie perched herself on a stool at a long counter that faced the airport traffic. Seconds later, the sexy guy in the suit parked himself next to her with his latte and Danish.
“Where’s your flight headed?” he asked, flashing a flirtatious smile.
Ronnie had to resist the urge to give her answering smile its full wattage. “Las Vegas,” she said in a neutral tone.
“What a coincidence. I’m going to Las Vegas for business, too.”
Ronnie wanted to bat her eyelashes and sweet-talk him. Handsome and well dressed was just her type. But sweets weren’t the only things restricted from her diet these days.
So she just nodded politely, not encouraging further conversation.
“Since we’re both going to be in town, maybe we could—”
Ronnie was already shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m going strictly for business, and there just won’t be any time to socialize.”
Picking up her coffee and fruit cup, she slid off her stool with her heart hammering in her chest. She felt awful, but she had to believe she was doing the right thing. No sweets because they were bad for her health. No men because they were bad for her heart.
Once in a while, she allowed herself to eat something sinful, but Ronnie didn’t know when she could trust herself with a man again. Like food, she loved men, and when left to her own devices, she always picked the ones that were bad for her.
Ronnie stumbled off the plane in Las Vegas, feeling rumpled and irritable. It had been a miserable flight, and now all she wanted to do was get her luggage and go.
She made her way to baggage claim, then watched the carousel circle, trying to stay back from the fray of elbowing passengers hauling their bags away.
After several minutes, she spotted her navy-blue bag. Timing her approach carefully, she made a grab for it. But, at that same time, a large man who’d been talking on his cell phone with his back to the carousel spotted the bag and went for it.
The bag slipped from her fingers as he pulled it out of her grasp.
Temper spiking, Ronnie said, “Watch it, man! That’s mine. See, I wrote my name on the label in neon-green ink.”
“Oh, sorry, ma’am,” he said, immediately setting the bag down in front of her.
Ronnie shot a glaring look upward and froze in place. She was staring at none other than The Sexy Chef himself.
Pressing her fingers to her lips in surprise, she said, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. Ace Brown.”
He flashed his perfect white teeth. “Well, yes. It’s always a pleasure to be recognized by a fan.”
The smile died from Ronnie’s lips. She searched his face to see if this was some sort of joke. Instead she saw a friendly distance in his eyes.
Ronnie had been looking forward to seeing Ace’s reaction to her new, slimmer figure, but she doubted she looked that different from her former self.
Instead of being flattered, Ronnie found herself getting ticked off. She’d finally come face-to-face with her old friend Ace Brown, and he didn’t have a clue who she was.
Chapter 3
Preoccupied, Ace had given the woman before him only a cursory glance. He’d been trying to reach Garett because he couldn’t remember if GTV was sending a car, or if he was supposed to take a cab.
Even in that brief look, he’d noted
