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It’s going to be a long day, and you want to keep up your strength.”
    “You’ve been on camera before?” she asked, then remembered. Of course she had—for the Miss America pageant.
    Jolene shrugged. “A few times.” She stood. “Tell you what. I make a great smoothie, with lots of fruit and protein. It shouldn’t be too hard on your stomach, and you’ll have energy to get you through the day.”
    Now Ashton really felt bad about the mean thoughts that had been running through her head. It wasn’t Jolene’s fault she’d been first in line the day beauty and personality had been passed out. “Thanks, Jolene.”
    Fifteen minutes later, Ashton joined the other chefs in the kitchen. “Here you go.” Jolene put a glass filled with something thick and orange in front of her.
    “Thanks,” murmured Ashton, picking up the glass. She wasn’t into breakfast foods, and smoothies weren’t really her thing, either. She took a hesitant sip. Bold, wonderful flavors burst in her mouth. She tasted mango, banana, and something fresh she couldn’t put her finger on. She looked up at Jolene. “Mint?”
    Jolene’s lip tilted slyly. “Secret recipe.”
    “Did everyone sleep well before the big show?” Duffy asked.
    “How about not sleeping at all?” Elena said quietly from the corner of the counter.
    “That explains the bags under your eyes,” Morgan said. “You may want to do something about that. After all, the competition is about more than experience. You have to look good on camera, too.”
    “You could sleep for a year and not lose those lines from scowling all the time,” Duffy shot back at Morgan.
    Her scowl seemed to grow fangs as she turned on Duffy. “Aren’t you late for filming your segment on QVC?”
    Duffy was wearing a lot of jewelry to spend the day cooking. He’d added a few more gold chains from the day before, plus large diamond earrings in both ears, but Ashton thought the look worked for him.
    She tensed, waiting for a fight to erupt. Duffy just smirked and showed off his gold tooth. “Jealous that I look so good?”
    Morgan threw down her fork, which clattered against the plate, and stalked out of the room.
    “Hey, we’re not your maid service,” Lance called after her.
    “And to think I was worried I’d be cast as the bitch,” Ashton muttered. When everyone looked at her, she flushed. “You haven’t seen the audition tape yet.”
    Just then, a knock sounded, and the front door swung open. The woman who’d cast Ashton on the show charged through the living room, followed by three men. “Hi, everyone,” she called. “Can you come in the living room, please?”
    She waited until the chefs gathered around her. “I’m Sally Germaine,” she said, “the producer slash director slash babysitter of The Next Celebrity Chef . These men are your film crew. Clint is your cameraman, Ed is lights, and Billy is sound. Get used to them. They’ll be following you around for as long as you’re here.”
    Ashton shuddered. Sure, she’d known she would be filmed, but knowing and seeing the camera in her face were two different things. The fact that the camera would come with lights and sound and a little woman with a very loud voice was something she hadn’t considered. If her stomach had been churning before, it was doing repetitive somersaults now.
    Sally sped through the morning’s schedule, as if she couldn’t waste even a second to breathe. “When we get to the set, we’ll be doing some on-camera interviews. After that, you’ll be meeting our judges.”
    Ashton’s head whipped up at Sally’s last statement. Ty would be on set today. Her pulse jumped a few beats and she immediately berated herself. Why should she care? His only importance was how he liked her food, and nothing else mattered. Certainly not the way he’d filled out those jeans the day before, or the way he lingered on her name with his Southern twang— Aash-ton.
    “A few things to remember before we leave,”