Taste It (6 page)

Chapter Eight

IT WAS THREE IN the morning. At first she had no clue where she was. Jill rolled to find him behind her, almost spooning her but not quite, and the thrill of feeling him there was too big to even contemplate. So she didn’t.

Jill sat up and eyed the room. The TV had been clicked off and the lights were off too. He’d left the bathroom light on and the door cracked, most likely for her, so she’d be able to get her bearings. 

Cole reached for her, despite clearly being deep in sleep, and when he found her thigh under the covers, he rested his hand there. Jill smiled at him. 

He really was a good man. He’d lost so much. He was doing this to prove something to himself about himself. She was simply doing this as a big grandiose effort to lick her wounds and save face. 

Tom had done the dirty job of ripping her off. He had made them and her restaurant look bad. And it occurred to her that she was continually punishing herself for her sous chef’s bad deeds. Her regulars had returned to her immediately after the news story broke regarding the crime that had been done to her – for if you got down to nuts and bolts, that was what it was. He’d ripped her off. So what the hell was she trying to prove?

But Cole … lost a marriage, lost a restaurant … lost himself in alcohol. And he’d made it all right. Pulled himself out of it and now, it was just the two of them left in Best Chef. And if anyone deserved it, he did. So why was she battling him for real? It should be him and they both knew it.

You could just … throw it.

She could. She could just not try very hard. Or mess up intentionally. Then he’d be the winner and it would all be OK. A good man would re-prove his goodness to himself. And that was the biggest victory she could imagine.

Jill reached over and touched his face. He smiled a little in his sleep, looking very much like a little boy without his retro glasses on. 

She kissed him on the forehead and went in to take a shower. They had to be up at five and report by six. She knew she’d never go back to sleep anyway. 

After a lingering kiss which Cole was reluctant to break, Jill slipped out to her room so when the cameras arrived they could film her leaving her room and not Cole’s. But Don, who she didn’t think was such a bad guy now, was down the hall leaning against the wall. He knew – she was aware – but that was fine.

It was a nerve wracking hour where she did her hair and paced her room and gave herself brief moments to relive the night they’d spent together. It hadn’t just been the sex, it was the closeness that kept popping into her head with the most force. It was the intimacy of waking up for brief moments to feel him there next to her and the swell of gratitude she felt for it. 

Jill had liked feeling him next to her in the dark. She tried to remember ever feeling that way before. 

‘I can’t,’ she said to her own reflection, her cheeks bright splotches of pink from remembering him moving inside of her. ‘I cannot remember ever feeling that way.’

When the knock sounded on her front door she jumped. ‘Coming!’

They filmed the two final contestants leaving their suites with their knives rolled in portable cases. And it was all Jill could manage not to turn – despite the filming – and kiss Cole good morning. He looked a bit tired and tousled but sexy as hell. Completely doable, she realised, and blushed again. She was pretty certain all the women who ended up watching this season of Best Chef would agree.

It was going to be an interesting morning.

Down in the kitchen when everything was prepped and lit, Kat Stephens walked forward and said, ‘Good morning, Chefs. You are our final two competitors. It is down to the best of the best for Best Chef. Are you ready for you mystery ingredient?’

Cole and Jill glanced at each other once, smiled and then in unison: ‘Yes, Kat.’

‘Go on and open your bags, then.’

Next to the host stood a guest judge who looked like a farmer mixed with a fisherman mixed with a woodsman. He was an interesting character for sure.

Jill opened her bag and watched Cole do the same. The moment she saw the bag’s contents she smiled. 

‘What you have, Chefs, is alligator. Fresh ’gator meat hunted by Mr Pritchard here.’

‘I’m a hunter,’ he said just a tad stiffly. Someone unused to being filmed. ‘And I’m dying to see what you can do with this here meat.’

Jill had an image of her dish. Creamy but spiced, delicate but hearty to eat. And then she glanced at Cole and remembered her plan.

Alligator stew it was. Not the dish that sprang to mind, something tasty but by no means a winner. 

She hurried to the pantry – grabbed some canned tomatoes, some okra, some corn. She found some new red potatoes and some Cajun seasoning. Good but predictable. Cole passed her on his way to a different shelf and eyed her armful.

‘What is that?’

‘My ingredients,’ she said.

They passed each other again and she felt the zing-sizzle of his energy so close to hers. It made her shiver and needful and it also made her excited to see him win.

They passed each other once more by the sink and he made a surprise dodge into her, forcibly – but without hurting her – pushing her to the sink. It looked like they were both getting ready to rinse something at the faucet. Instead, he turned the water on with one hand and then pressed his mouth to her ear.

‘Do not give anything less than 100 per cent,’ he said.

‘I –’

‘You are,’ he growled. ‘I don’t want to win because you threw it. Or because you let me. And the person you are, the chef you are, the woman you are is why I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you,’ he said.

That shut her up. She tried to swallow or respond or any of that stuff but all that came out was a puff of air.

The camera men were closing in. She could feel them. They could smell blood in the water, so to speak and wanted to know what was going on.

‘Don’t give this to me. Fight for it. I want you to. I’ll be crushed if you don’t.’ Then he patted her rear once with affectionate familiarity and rushed off.

She dropped everything she held in the huge stainless steel sink and started to race around the kitchen to grab the ingredients she really wanted. For the dish she truly wanted to make. 

She sautéed some shrimp and alligator in butter, folding in some cream cheese and sweet corn and Cajun spice just before the alligator and shrimp were cooked through. She left the creamy concoction to marry as she made some quick tortilla and pressed them out expertly. Then she cooked them through and rolled the decadent filling in her homemade tortillas.

‘Three minutes, Chefs!’ Kat yelled.

Plating. She had to do it fast. Despite shaking hands and worrying for Cole, who on every glance she stole of him appeared calm and present and pretty much Zen, she managed to garnish and plate perfectly. A sprinkling of spice and some shredded red cabbage for texture should they want it and she raised her hands and stepped back just as time was called.

Cole also had his under-arrest-hand-position in place and he looked over at her, grinning, flushed and very happy.

It made her heart leap to see him that way. No matter what the outcome Jill would be happy. If she won, she’d be thrilled. If she lost it meant he won, and she’d still be thrilled. This was truly a win-win situation or her.

The realisation that she’d be just as happy, if not more, if he won was a tiny bit scary to her. But she let the fear travel through her and just keep going. It would be fine. She just had to make it through the end of this show. And then she’d be OK.

She barely heard:

‘Chef Roberts, we love that you went old school. Breaded and fried ’gator with fried green tomatoes and Southern greens. Your seasoning was spot on and the plate over all made the mystery ingredient shine. The sides were impeccably done but in no way overshadowed the alligator meat. Good job.’

‘Chef Calvert, we thought your different take on what to do with ’gator meat was brilliant. You took a delicate, often difficult meat and elevated it to something sublime. The shrimp managed to play perfectly off the main ingredient, enhancing it without taking the star position. Overall, a perfect fancy dish done with a down-home ingredient. Good job.’

And then they were shooed into the pantry to wait. 

Since there were only two, only Don the camera man was sent to tape. She watched Cole slip him something and say, ‘Half hour, technical difficulties.’

‘No problem, man. I’ll grab a beer.’

She really did owe Don a thanks. Some day.

Cole grabbed her arm and hurriedly tugged her down the hallway to the restroom. Thank God they kept it spotless because she felt guilty that they kept messing it up.

He pushed her to the counter right away this time and made quick work of their buttons. Her tee was shoved up under her chin and his mouth was on her nipple, her collar bone, her throat in an instant. He kissed her everywhere murmuring, ‘Good job, good job, good job …’

‘No, you good job, Chef,’ she said pushing her hand down into his pants and wrapping her fingers around his hard length.

He sighed into her mouth and she kissed him harder. This was the best part of the finale. It was over and they were here.

He got her bare and tugged her jeans down, putting his mouth to her pussy for just a minute or two, licking and probing with his hot tongue so she begged him with a million words – and none of them seemed to make sense beyond please.

His fingers tested her, thrust deep and curled to that most sensitive place she needed it most and then she pushed him away. Back from her. Stood on tiptoe to kiss him once, hotly. And then Jill turned her back to him and spread her legs. Looking over her shoulder she said, ‘You know how I like it, Cole. Please …’

And he was happy to oblige. 

They locked eyes in the mirror’s reflection over the marbled counter. Cole teased her as he ran the head of his cock along her split. She pushed back to force his hand a little since they were on borrowed time. The head of his cock pushed past the wet ring of her entrance and he groaned, his eyes slamming shut for an instant.

She watched his hands on her hips, his fingers digging in to her flesh. The thrust of his hips as he fucked her. The look in his eyes when he said, ‘I so meant what I said to you.’

Jill couldn’t find her voice; she nodded and slid a hand beneath herself to work her clit with slippery fingers. Her hands trembled so much she laughed at herself. 

‘I’m a goner soon, beautiful,’ Cole said.

She felt her pussy grip up around him, a rush of pleasure at just his words and the tone he uttered them in. But then he reached around her and pushed her hand away and pressed his hard fingertip to her swollen clitoris and started to work her in time with his desperate thrusts. 

They came at once, together, their gazes in the mirror locked. Both of them flushed and smiling. She said to his reflection, ‘I guess this is the part where I say I love you too.’

He looked concerned and she flexed her cunt muscles around him so his eyes rolled a little. Jill laughed. ‘I love you too.’

He opened his eyes. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘For real?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I’ve already won,’ he said and leaned over her to kiss her back, her shoulder.

Someone knocked and Don said, ‘I need to shoot now, man or it’s my hide.’

‘We’ll be right out.’

‘Ready to hurry up and wait?’ Jill asked, making herself semi-presentable.

‘Yep.’ 

‘I hope you win,’ she said softly. Then she grabbed his face and pulled him down to her level and kissed him a bit too rough. But pretty much perfect given the moment and the emotion.

He returned her kiss and her emotion. Tugging her one thick braid he whispered, ‘Then I win again, don’t I?’

Don knocked again. ‘Dude!’

‘Coming!’ they said together and then laughed.

‘I’ll be happy either way,’ Cole said. ‘But happy most of all that you thought enough of me to actually try. Your best. And not hand me a win.’

She nodded and when poor Don knocked yet again, she followed Cole out.

Chefs,’ Kat Stephens said, nodding. 

Jill felt like she had a mouthful of sawdust and a gut full of fire. She didn’t think she’d be so nervous, but she was.