For the Love of Cake Read Free

features smooth and graceful. But in this picture, her eyes flashed, her nose wrinkled, and her mouth curled slightly as if the photographer had caught the beginning of an aggressive growl. Piercings and tattoos—she’d never imagined that at forty-two years old she would find herself so attracted to a much-younger woman who looked more like a rock star than a chef. Was this some type of mid-life crisis?
    “So, seriously, you’re both that impressed by this chick?” Sawyer asked, glancing between them.
    “She’s a rock star, professionally, of course,” Shannon said, stumbling to cover up the direction her thoughts had just taken. Her stomach had been knotted ever since Sawyer had brought that envelope. Now, worry that she’d be insanely outmatched and get sent home the first day would keep her up at night for the next two weeks. She didn’t need to deal with nerves about meeting a chef of Maya Vaughn’s caliber as well. She just hoped she could stick around long enough to exchange more than a few words with her.
    “Well, you’ll get to find out soon enough. She’s the newest mentor on the show,” Jori said.
    Shannon nodded. “I know.”
    “So how does this thing work, anyway?” Sawyer asked.
    “The contestants are split into three groups, and each group works with a mentor. Every show, someone gets put up for elimination.”
    “So there’s like a thirty-three percent chance you could be working pretty closely with her for the next several weeks?”
    Shannon nodded.
    “Oh, man, I can’t wait to watch this show.”
    *
    “Hey, turn on channel five. It’s about to start,” Maya called from the kitchen. She stacked a few brownies onto a plate, picked up two glasses of skim milk, and headed for the living room. Her assistant and often taste-tester, Wendy, sat on one end of the sofa, legs folded beneath her, bare feet peeking out of the flared legs of designer sweatpants. Maya handed her the plate. “Try these.”
    Wendy took a bite and chewed slowly. “Nice. Peanut butter?”
    Maya nodded.
    “Very good. But the ratio is off a little. It’s almost too much peanut butter.”
    Maya tasted one and agreed. Next time, she’d cut back a bit on the peanut butter and the sugar as well. “Too sweet” didn’t belong in Wendy’s vocabulary, but Maya wanted a bit more of the nuttiness to come through.
    She shifted her attention to the television as her face flashed on-screen, followed by Charlie’s. With his strong jaw, the cleft in his chin, and a sexy, perpetual five-o’clock shadow, she could easily imagine how he was able to charm the truth out of so many interview subjects. Seriously, the man didn’t have a line on his mocha skin, not even around his striking green eyes.
    “Why do you watch these interviews?” Wendy gestured at the screen with a brownie and grinned when a piece flew onto the coffee table in front of her. “Sorry.”
    Maya faked a stern look, grabbed a napkin, and picked up the crumbs. She hated messiness. At home or in the kitchen, she liked her surroundings clean and organized. Wendy, however, was only so fastidious when it came to her appearance. She liked every perfectly arranged ebony hair in place to accentuate her angular features, and she shadowed the lids of her almond-shaped eyes just so. But when it came to her surroundings, she could thrive in chaos just as well.
    “It’s amusing to see how far off my story gets once they chop it up in editing.”
    “I don’t think I could stomach it.” Wendy winced as Charlie brought up Maya’s troubles from the previous year. “You know you could clear all of that up.”
    “Full disclosure? Why should I?”
    “Look. I know they haven’t earned it—”
    “I don’t owe anyone an explanation about the decisions I make.”
    “I would hardly call it—”
    “Since when are you so big on coming clean? Are you going to come out to your grandmother?”
    “One does not just come out to one’s very traditional Chinese