A Taste of Temptation. Cat Schield

to the land of his birth. The exact opposite was true, but since he’d created an elaborate backstory that had nothing to do with his true history, he couldn’t provide an excuse strong enough to dissuade them.

      “They rejected England immediately. Apparently your best ratings come when you are off the beaten track. The Indonesian stuff has been a huge hit with everyone who’s seen it.”

      “What about South America? I could get six or seven episodes out of Brazil alone.”

      “They said they’d consider it for next year.” Vince rolled a pen between his palms. “I think if you want to keep doing the show, it’s going to have to be Africa. Of course, that’s dependent on whether Lifestyle Network gives up on getting an exclusive on you.”

      Frustration with the producers of The Culinary Wanderer had led him to talk to Lifestyle Network. He wanted to grow his career in a big way and the new show could do that. Becoming a household name would open a lot of doors. But it wasn’t where his heart lay. He’d never stop craving new adventures in exotic locations. It’s why he intended to find a way to do both. Being forced to choose between his passion and his ambition wasn’t an option.

      “I really don’t want to go to Africa.”

      “Come on. How bad can it be? You still have family there, don’t you?”

      “Sure.” In fact, he had no idea if his parents were still alive. He hadn’t spoken to them since he left home at fifteen. A lot of bad things could happen in twenty years, especially in the sort of places his parents took their missionary work.

      He heard the door open behind him and noticed the change in Vince’s demeanor. His manager sat forward in his desk chair and ran his fingers through his short sandy-blond hair. Glancing over his shoulder, Ashton noticed Harper had entered the room. She didn’t look happy.

      “Gotta go, Vince. Keep in touch.” He ended the network connection and the monitor in the room went blank. “Thanks for letting me borrow your equipment. This is some nice stuff.”

      “Chef Cole tells me he’s not going to be our head chef.”

      “I offered him the job just like you wanted.”

      “I wanted you to hire him.”

      “He turned me down.” Ashton pushed his chair back from the conference table and stood up.

      “So, now what?”

      “You have me.”

      “I need someone permanent. How long before you take off again?”

      Next week, but in her current state of displeasure, he wasn’t going to mention that.

      “Not to worry. I have someone I trust who I’ve been training. He arrives tomorrow.”

      “Who is it?”

      “I met Dae Tan a few months ago. Helped him out of a jam.”

      “What sort of a jam?” Her skepticism came through loud and clear.

      “He was arrested for something he didn’t do.”

      “You’re sure he was innocent.”

      “Absolutely. After that, things got a little hot for him. He’s been traveling with me and I’ve been training him.”

      “Why didn’t he come with you today?”

      “He wanted to see L.A. He has this thing about movie stars.”

      Harper regarded him with suspicion. “Where has he worked? Is he capable of handling the pressure of a restaurant like Batouri?”

      “It’ll be fine. The kid’s got talent.”

      “Kid?” She echoed his description and her irritation grew. “How old is he?”

      “Twenty-five. Twenty-six.”

      “You can’t be serious.” Harper advanced on him. “You’ve passed on chefs with twenty-five years of experience and now you’re telling me you want to hire someone who’s been in the field a couple years.”

      “Months,” Ashton corrected. “He only had the most rudimentary skills when I met him.”

      Harper’s eyes closed while she sucked in a deep breath and let it out. When she opened them again, she looked no calmer. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll go for this.”

      “You really don’t have a choice.”

      “We’ll see about that.” Harper folded her arms across her chest. “You forget we have a contract.” Her tone indicated he’d stretched her goodwill as far as it would go.

      “I have a great deal riding on this restaurant, as well,” he reminded her.

      “Then act like it.”

      The trouble was, he had a great deal riding on every iron he had in the fire. He was determined to leave his mark on the world and that meant going big. Would it have been smarter to not stick his neck out? Sure. He could have played it safe, kept going with the same shows he’d had success with these past eight years, but Ashton liked the rush of conquering new territory, seeing what lay beyond the horizon.

      Harper continued, “Go convince Cole to take the job at Batouri.”

      “I thought you said he’d gone to the airport.”

      “I caught him before he left the hotel and convinced him to fly to Chicago tomorrow. You have reservations next door at Fontaine Chic’s award-winning steakhouse at seven. You might as well sample the competition. Perhaps you will both dislike the food and find some common ground to build a relationship on.”

      “And our evening together?”

      She shot him a cool smile. “When Cole takes the job, I’ll block out two hours for you.”

      “Make it three and you have a deal.”

      Three

      With the Chef Cole problem handled for the time being and her mother safely ensconced in the day spa, Harper was able to steal a few minutes to herself to take stock of the day. Thank heavens they weren’t all like this.

      Unable to imagine what her mother had done to open herself up to blackmail, Harper paced her hotel, trying to find comfort in achievement. The ceilings throughout had been painted to represent different aspects of the sky her hotel was named for. In the lobby, it was a pale midday blue dotted with clouds. Lighting changed from dawn to dusk to match what was happening outside. The casino ceiling was a midnight indigo sparkling with thousands of pinpoint lights configured like the star patterns above Las Vegas.

      It was a simple concept, beautifully rendered. She was proud of all she’d accomplished. But today, there was no joy to be found in surveying her domain. Harper glanced at her watch. Two hours to kill. With her ability to concentrate shot and no meetings or crisis pending, she considered returning to her suite and running on her treadmill. Or she could go talk to Scarlett.

      Five years ago when her grandfather had come to her with news that she had two half sisters, she’d been angry, miserable and excited. She’d been eleven when she’d first learned her father regularly cheated on his wife, but until five years ago, she’d had no idea his extramarital wandering had messed up more lives than just hers and her mother’s.

      A quick walk through the skyways that connected the three Fontaine hotels brought Harper to Fontaine Richesse, Scarlett’s hotel. She sought out her sister in the casino. Spotting Scarlett was easy. She radiated sex appeal and charisma in her emerald-green flapper costume, her long brown hair tucked beneath a twenties-style, shingle bob wig with bangs.

      The rest of the casino staff was dressed like something out of a movie from the forties and fifties: men in elegant tuxedos and suits or military uniforms from the Second World War, women in evening gowns or stylish dresses.

      Harper