Heat 1 (Heat: Master Chefs #1)

Read Heat 1 (Heat: Master Chefs #1) for Free Online

Book: Read Heat 1 (Heat: Master Chefs #1) for Free Online
Authors: Kailin Gow
Cooke.”
    Eager
to get to the meet and greet, I reluctantly turned to the voice that called my
name.  “ Oui ,” I said.
    It
was Marie France, an older student who’d decided to go back to school after a
failed marriage and the death of her elder parents.  Within seconds, I was
trapped in a circular conversation that seemed to have no end.  She slammed her
ex-husband and blamed him for everything, complained about the treatment her
parents had each received in a retirement home and told me of her plans to get
her degree and open up a gourmet restaurant if her lazy-assed ex-husband could
come through and pay the alimony he owed her.  And then she started all over
again.  Marie France had a lot to get off her chest and she’d quickly found an
attentive ear in me. 
    By
the time I finally managed to free myself twenty minutes later, the large meeting
hall in which the meet and greet was held was teeming with activity and buzzing
with conversations about food, recipes, new methods and new trends.  I looked
around for a familiar face.
    No,
not just any familiar face.  I was looking for Bobby’s face.  He’d left the
class so quickly, I hadn’t even had a chance to explain my firm rejection of
him.  Then again, what had he expected?  Who talks about doing the nasty with a
girl prior to their first date?
    Bobby
Cummings, that’s who. A boy too confident for his own pants.
    But
instead of finding him, it was his sister and brother-in-law who caught my eye. 
As far as the institute was concerned, they were the royal couple; two talented
and beautiful people brought together in the most seductive, harmonious and
loving way.  They were an enviable couple.
    Coming
up behind them, I finally saw Bobby.  He handed a glass of wine to Taryn and a
cup of coffee to Errol.  How sweet.  I took a good long look at him. He cleaned
up good, very good, in fact.  Wearing a dark gray suit with a silver gray shirt
and a deep mauve tie, he was beyond debonair and way beyond handsome.  I
couldn’t take my eyes off him, but then I had to remind myself of the type of
man he was.  The sharp suit and clean shaven cheeks didn’t change the fact that
he was a real python, a man on the prowl, eager to capture his next feast.  I
was sure he saw women as disposable… take one, have his way with her and toss
her aside only to start up with another.
    No
one goes drinking alone in the 19 th arrondissement just looking to
dance and play.  He was looking to hook up, or maybe he’d already had by the
time I found him.  Oh, gross.  The thought brought a grimace to my lips.  Had I
really picked up and brought home a man who’d just expended himself with a
cheap harlot?  Well, whether he had or not, the fact remained; he was the type
of man who played with women’s heartstrings, who flirted with ease and who
jumped from one bed to the next without a second thought.
    Well,
he wouldn’t get into my bed.  There was no way I would get involved with him.  He
was wrong for me in every way… every single way.  I had every reason not to get
involved with him.
    Then
why was I trying to convince myself?
    Probably,
because just looking at him, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like
to be with him, what it would feel like to touch him, what he would taste like
if I kissed him.
    Stop
it.  He isn’t part of your life’s path.
    But
still, the thought of his kiss, his touch… It was enough to make me weak in the
knees.  What nonsense.  I was being silly.
    He
looked up suddenly and spotted me.  I’d never had anyone look at me with such
intensity.  I was frozen in place as he walked to me, but my brain was running
a mile a minute trying to find something adequate to say.  Should I apologize?  Wait
for him to apologize?
    “Hi,”
he said, his hand outstretched to me.  “I’m Bobby Cummings.  I’m in my first
year in fine cuisine technique.”
    I
smiled and shook his hand.  “Lilly Cooke, lab technician and substitute

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