If you like this online read you'll enjoy Cara Summers's books!

Twin Temptation
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Christmas Male
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Led into Temptation / Taken Beyond Temptation
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 £4.50

Torrie entered the kitchen of the Monahan House San Francisco fifteen minutes before her cook-off with Avery was scheduled to begin. The scents made her mouth water. The sounds nearly deafened her. Waiters rushed past, shouting orders, and amidst the confusion, a young chef to her right teased a perfect omelet onto a plate.

She was home. For the first time since she'd accidentally discovered the name tag on Jake's briefcase, she was able to shove aside the questions and fears flooding through her. She'd come to San Francisco to become the executive chef at this hotel, and learning Jake Monahan's true identity was not going to deflect her from her goal.

That's what she'd told herself in the room when she'd dressed in slacks and her white chef's jacket. She'd left the skirt behind along with the fantasy that Jake Monahan was her true love. Ignoring the little band of pain that tightened around her heart, she let her gaze sweep the room. It was time to get back to reality and to what had always been important to her. When she spotted a man pointing a TV camera at Avery, she started toward him.

The tall blond woman who'd been with him in the bar yesterday stepped forward. "I'm Marjorie Lyndon, the manager of Monahan House San Francisco. A local TV station will be taping the entire event. I believe you and your opponent have met."

"Torrie."

"Avery." She was very much aware that the TV camera was running as Avery took her hand, drew her toward him and kissed her on both cheeks. When he reached the side away from the camera, he whispered, "History has a way of repeating itself."

Torrie felt a familiar twist of panic in her stomach. Pushing it down, she turned and moved toward her workstation. A man clipped a small microphone to her jacket.

Marjorie Lyndon began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen…"

Out of the corner of her eye, Torrie caught sight of her reflection in the stainless steel refrigerators that lined the wall. For just a second, she thought she saw Jake there, too, with his arms around her. Pushing the fantasy away, she focused her attention on the group that had gathered in front of her workstation, and she saw him again.

Jake was here and he was real. For the first time since she'd left him in the room, Torrie let herself want more than the job. As impossible as it was, she wanted Jake, too.

"On the counter in front of each of our chefs is a set of ingredients that they must use in whatever they create," Marjorie explained. "And the results will be tasted by none other than Mr. Jake Monahan, who I see has arrived."

When Marjorie introduced Jake to the audience, Avery shot her a look of pure hatred. But there was no fear. The man's confidence was definitely back.

The moment the white cloth in front of her was whisked away, Torrie realized why. The ingredients on the counter were the ones she used for her signature dish at the Turtle Bay Inn — Linguine with Clams à la Lassiter. The last time she'd prepared it, everyone who'd ordered it had become ill.

Avery's words came back to her. History has a way of repeating itself.

* * *

Jake stood at the back of the small crowd and debated what to do. The quick surge of relief he'd felt when he'd first seen Torrie had faded the moment he'd seen the ingredients that lay on the table before her. Was this La Rue's way of throwing her off stride and getting the upper hand? And what part was Marjorie Lyndon playing in it?

He could put a stop to the cook-off right now. It wasn't the fact that a TV camera was rolling that stopped him. It was Torrie.

He'd been thinking only of himself last night. Right now, the least he could do was to allow her to do what she'd come to San Francisco for.

The look on her face told him that she had become totally focused on what she was doing. The energy, the enthusiasm for cooking that had fascinated him on that night when he'd first seen her on TV began to fill the room as she spoke directly into the camera.

Jake leaned back and began to enjoy the show.

* * *

In one quick motion, Torrie scooped up the parsley she'd just minced and sprinkled it over the finished platter of Linguine with Clams à la Lassiter. The rush of adrenaline she'd felt when she'd started the dish was fading. Avery's threat chanted its way back into her mind.

Relax, she told herself. The clams had been perfectly fresh. And she'd sampled the sauce three times. It was as good as any she'd ever made.

As the heady aroma of garlic and spices wafted up from the platter, Torrie felt the first wave of nausea sweep over her.

She saw Marjorie motioning Jake forward.

"No. You can't," Torrie began, then swallowed quickly as another wave of nausea hit her.

"Nonsense." Marjorie was quick to interrupt her, moving toward the platter and picking up a fork.

Something was definitely wrong with the linguine. Torrie fought against dizziness as Marjorie deftly twirled strands of pasta around a fork and offered it to Jake.

Lunging forward, she grabbed Marjorie's hand and heard the fork clatter to the floor just before the darkness closed in around her.

* * *

"Ipecac? That's what Avery slipped into my linguine?" Torrie asked.

"Both times, I imagine," Jake said, sitting down on the edge of the bed to prevent her from springing up. "They found traces of it in the olive oil." In spite of the assurances of the doctors in the ER and the lab report he'd just received, Jake still hadn't fully recovered from seeing her sink bonelessly to the floor. He hadn't let her out of his sight since then.

"The doctor at the ER said Ipecac's the standard first line of treatment when little kids swallow something they're not supposed to. It causes them to toss their cookies in a very short amount of time. Marjorie wanted everyone on the six o'clock news to see me getting sick on food from my own hotel. She met Avery when he flew out to personally apply for the job. Once she learned the history between the two of you, she enlisted Avery's help, believing that when I investigated things, he'd take the fall and she'd remain in the clear. In the meantime, she'd have succeeded in garnering some very bad publicity for the grand opening and she'd also be able to continue causing me problems."

"Did she tell you why?"

"No. But I've had my assistant, Arthur, checking into her phone records, and she's been in frequent contact with the corporation I outbid for the hotel. The man who heads it is an old business rival of mine. I imagine her motive was simple greed. And they may have believed that I'd be willing to sell if the Monahan House San Francisco ran into a spell of bad luck."

"Would you have?" Torrie asked.

"No." He met her eyes squarely. "I don't give up that easily. And I'm not going to give up on you."

* * *

Torrie felt the bubble of panic in her stomach expand until it threatened to burst. More than anything she wanted to get up and pace, but Jake sat next to her on the edge of the bed, blocking her way.

She glanced down at where their hands were joined on her lap. She was still wearing the ring he'd placed on her finger. Closing her eyes, she summoned up the image in her mind that had gotten her through the cook-off — Jake standing with his arms around her.

He cleared his throat. "I wasn't…I haven't been honest with you, Torrie. There's no excuse for that. But I want you…I need you to believe me now. Look at me."

Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his.

"I love you."

When she opened her mouth, he raised a hand to stop her. "I think I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you on TV in Chicago. There was something about you even then."

Her eyes widened. She'd been wearing the skirt. She'd worn it every time she taped a show. Was he only in love with her because of the skirt?

"I tried to analyze what it was — your obvious talent and expertise, your love for your work. Now I know that it was just you. It took me a year to come up with the idea of offering you a job. I thought once you were here working for me I could prove to myself that what I'd felt was a passing fancy. Then within two hours of seeing you, I found myself putting a ring on your finger. When I woke up this morning and found you gone, all I could think of was finding you. And when I saw you standing in the kitchen of my hotel, ready to face Avery La Rue, I suddenly realized that I want that ring to stay where it is. I want you to be a permanent part of my life."

She hadn't been wearing the skirt during the cook-off. She wasn't wearing it now. Still… "Are you sure? Maybe it's the skirt."

"What skirt?"

The look of utter bafflement on his face had her hurrying on. "Don't tell me you never noticed it. I'm always wearing it — except for today."

Jake gripped her hands. "When I look at you, Torrie, all I can see is the woman I love. If you'd like, I'll buy you a new skirt as soon as you tell me that you'll marry me. Will you?"

"Yes. Oh, yes," Torrie said as she threw her arms around him. "There's just one more thing."

"What?" Jake asked.

"I love you, too," Torrie said.

And then Jake was kissing her.

She'd tell him all about the skirt later, Torrie decided as her thoughts began to slip away. When they were very old she would tell him about what the island woman had said. It would be the kind of story they could both tell to their grandchildren.

The End.



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