didn’t think she was ignoring him. The contestants had been kept extremely busy the past couple of days. And some of the taping they’d done had taken them away from the studio for several hours with their own camera crews.
Besides, after that bit of awkwardness at the coffee shop two days before, they’d left things on a friendly, flirty note.
He still wanted to give his forehead a thump over the question he’d asked her. Of all the things he could have had her clarify for him, her single status had topped the list?
Way to be subtle and smooth, Westbrook.
He wouldn’t claim to be recovered from his divorce, even if he had moved on personally and was trying to do the same professionally. He doubted a person got over a betrayal like the one Sheryl and Cole had dealt him, first with their affair and later by cheating him out of his business.
But Finn felt good, relieved even, knowing he could feel again. Even so, he remained a little off-kilter over his attraction for Lara.
She was wearing her hair back today, pulled into a neat ponytail at the base of her neck. The look could have made her appear no-nonsense or girlish even. But sexy? It was just Finn’s bad luck that was how she struck him. He’d had a hard time concentrating whenever he’d caught a glimpse of her in the studio.
He’d always been a butt man, with legs coming a close second in terms of the body parts that drew his eye on a woman. In Lara’s case, he liked everything, even her neck, which was long, slender, graceful and, thanks to the hairdo, accessible, as well.
“Finn?”
He realized he was staring. “Um, dinner. It went well. She had me prepare lamb chops for her guests.”
“How many were there this time?”
“Seventeen. It was an intimate gathering for a change,” he added wryly.
“Perhaps you should have gone into catering.”
“Watch it, Scissors.”
“I was a rock last time,” she reminded him.
Finn shrugged. “Either way, you’re getting nasty now.”
But they both were smiling. Their gazes lingered as the silence turned conspicuous. She broke eye contact first.
“So, what are your plans for the weekend? And just so you know, I’m asking out of idle curiosity only. If I were standing next to Angel or Flo right now, I’d hit them with the same question.”
“And if you were standing next to Ryder? What would you hit him with?”
“Funny. So?”
“Nothing too exciting. I’ll probably just hang out in my apartment, watch a few movies, maybe catch up on episodes of my favorite sitcom on my DVR.” She paused and cast Finn a sideways smile. “Oh, and cook amazing dishes under ridiculously tight timelines to get prepared for Monday. You?”
That streak of sass would be his undoing.
“The same. Except for the entertainment. Sitcoms are too fluffy for my taste. I’m more of a crime-drama guy. As for cooking, I have a job Saturday night.”
“Oh? Is your client having another dinner party?”
“Actually, this is for someone else.”
“Moonlighting, hmm?” Her brows lifted, disappearing into her bangs. Finn was sorely tempted to brush the hair aside. Her face was so pretty, he wanted to see all of it.
“I’m allowed.”
“Yeah?” She made a humming sound. “That’s interesting.”
“How so?”
“I would have thought the setup with your Sugar Mommy was monogamous.” Her lips twitched.
He chuckled, enjoying himself. “It’s an open relationship. We’re free to see other people.”
The silence was back. This time it was more potent than moonshine.
“Chefs!” Tristan called as he came onto the soundstage where they’d been taping their interviews.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
The sound of his palms slapping together shattered the mood as effectively as fingernails down a chalkboard.
“How many times has he done that today?” Finn asked quietly.
“I think that makes six.”
“Feels more like sixty.”
“And every time he does it, he makes me feel like I’m about eight,” she murmured.
“Before you leave today, don’t forget to turn in your chef coats,” Tristan reminded them. “They will be here, pressed and waiting for you, first thing Monday morning.”
All of the contestants had received identical crisp white jackets with their names embroidered in black thread on the left side of the chest. Finn noticed that Lara kept running her fingers over the stitching. In fact, she was doing it now. The gesture seemed born of nerves, which made sense. But there was something else going on, an undercurrent that he couldn’t quite figure out.
“Well, I guess this is it.”
“The last bit of peace before a full-fledged war breaks out?”
He meant it to be teasing, but she didn’t smile. “Finn, no matter what happens, I—”
He stepped closer and stopped her words by laying a finger over her lips.
“See you next week. Bring your A game. You’re going to need it.”
* * *
The contestants who arrived at Sylvan Studios early Monday morning seemed different from the ones Finn had said goodbye to the previous Friday. As they huddled in the greenroom they were quieter, more introspective. Even Ryder was keeping his head down and his caustic comments to himself.
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