“Uh-oh,” Ronnie said, giggling.

Ace wiped his lips with his napkin. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t usually drink much because wine … um, it puts me in the mood.”

Ace smirked and laughed along with her. “If I’d known that’s all I had to do, we could have just stayed in the hotel room with a bottle of wine.”

“How long will it take us to get back there?” she asked, circling the rim of her glass with her finger.

“Too long,” he said. “Besides, we don’t have to go back right away. We’ve got this room all to ourselves. No one will interrupt us.”

“Are you sure? What about Phillipe?”

“He’s not coming back. Come here.”

Ronnie got out of her seat and slowly walked over to straddle Ace. “Phillipe forgot to tell you what goes best with Château Margaux,” she whispered.

“Oh, yeah. And just what is that?” he asked, slipping his hands around her waist and cupping her backside.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she suckled on his earlobe, then whispered in his ear. “Me.”–

About the Author

ROBYN AMOS

worked a multitude of day jobs while pursuing a career in writing after graduating from college with a degree in psychology. Then she married her real-life romantic hero, a genuine rocket scientist, and she was finally able to live her dream of writing full-time. Since her first book was published in 1997, Robyn has written tales of romantic comedy and suspense for several publishers, including Kensington, Harlequin Books, and HarperCollins. A native to the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area, Robyn currently resides in Odenton, Maryland.

Romancing the Chef

ROBYN AMOS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Chapter 1

Veronica Howard stretched her aching muscles. Her step aerobics class had been especially rigorous today, and she knew she’d pay the price tomorrow.

Ronnie was thirty years old and a former couch potato. So when it came to exercise, her body was in a constant state of rebellion.

“After you’ve done it for a while, you’ll start to love it,” her best friend, Cara Gray, a former fitness instructor at the trendy Tower Vista health club, had often told her. But Ronnie had been working out seriously for over a year … and she still hated it.

Ronnie headed from the locker room to the club’s juice bar, The Big Squeeze, where she and Cara hung out after their workouts. The state-of-the-art gym in Bethesda, Maryland, was a bit of a drive from her new town house in Washington, D.C., but it was worth it to keep up their tradition. Without Cara’s constant pep talks, Ronnie would have quit a dozen different times already.

Even though Cara was now helping her husband, A.J., run their computer consulting business, the women still met at the gym three times a week. But her best friend didn’t need the workouts. Cara’s years of physical fitness had apparently made her body fat resistant even after three kids. But Ronnie, who worked with food for a living, needed to exert herself to stay fit.

As Ronnie entered the juice-bar area, she saw that Cara was already waiting for her. Cara had placed a shot glass filled with a ruby-red juice at her seat. It looked like blended berries, so Ronnie picked up the glass and filled her mouth. As soon as the thick liquid touched her tongue, she nearly gagged.

“Ugh. What the heck is this?” she sputtered. “It tastes like … beets.”

Cara laughed at Ronnie’s yuck-face. “And hello to you, too.” She nodded to Ronnie’s half-empty glass. “It’s a special blend of carrots, beetroot and grapefruit juice, so good call on the beets.”

Ronnie wiped her tongue on her napkin. “And you thought I would like this why?”

“Because it’s good for you,” Cara said with a mischievous grin. “I figured you were ready to kick things up a notch.”

Ronnie shoved the glass across the table. “Well, I guess I’m not, because I’m not drinking any more of this.”

“Ron-nie! You’re a chef. Your highly trained palate should be able to handle a little beetroot.”

“Honey, I may have a newly skinny body, but that doesn’t mean I have skinny taste buds.” She swiveled her neck, feeling her curly ponytail swinging at her nape. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last few months, it’s everything in moderation.”

She eyed the offending glass. “And some things in nada-ration.”

Cara rolled her eyes, having finally learned to ignore Ronnie’s affinity for making up words.

Ronnie caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored panels behind the bar. It still shocked her to see that her round frame had been replaced with an hourglass. As a chef, she’d worn her extra weight as a badge of honor—a testimony to the quality of her food. For years she’d told all who would listen, “If I lost weight, people would think my food wasn’t any good.”

She’d been a member of Tower Vista for as long as her friend had worked there, but it was only recently that she’d gotten serious about working out. The good old days had been all about massages, dips in the hot tub and fruity juice-bar drinks—all the perks of belonging to an upscale gym without the perspiration or sore muscles. But after coping with some harsh realities in recent years, Ronnie had realized it was time for a few drastic changes.

Her dream of opening her own restaurant had finally come to fruition, and she’d lost nearly eighty pounds. But the most significant weight she’d lost was the one-hundred-eighty-pound no-good ex-boyfriend she’d finally cut loose.

Now she was happily single, and the only male she needed was her German shepherd, Baxter. Baxter provided affection, security and above all … loyalty—the one thing she’d never been able to get from a man.

“Fine. You’re off the hook for today.” Cara took back the red shot and downed it in one gulp. “But I’m not giving up the battle. I’m going to turn you into a health nut sooner rather than later.”

It’s never going to happen, Ronnie thought, but she kept that fact to herself. When she’d decided to get in shape, Cara had been beside herself with glee. Even though she no longer trained professionally, she’d taken Ronnie’s weight loss on like a job, mapping out a strict regimen of diet and exercise. Now, even though Ronnie was happy with her current figure, Cara was still trying to push her further and further into the realm of fitness fanaticism.

“Yeah, good luck with that. In the meantime, I’ve got some news.”

Her friend’s eyes lit up. “What kind of news? Are you ready to start dating again?”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. Sure, three years was a long dry spell without a man, but she still hadn’t reacquired her thirst. And the time on her own had done her a lot of good.

“Believe me, this has nothing to do with any man. I’ve been invited to participate in another Gourmet TV Food Fight.”

Cara blinked. “That’s great, Ronnie, but you do those all the time.”

Ronnie smiled. “Yes, but this one is special. It’s the first ever All-Star Food Fight. They’re taking the top winners from the last two years and pitting us against each other in a three-part challenge. The prize is one hundred thousand dollars!”

Cara’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re kidding me. That’s ten times what you usually win.”

“I know, and that’s not all. Each round takes place in a fabulous place—Las Vegas, Hawaii and Paris.”

Cara clutched a hand to her heart, her almond eyes taking on a dreamy expression. “You lucky girl. I’ve always wanted to visit Paris.”

Ronnie’s posture collapsed. “Well, there’s no guarantee that I’ll make it to Paris. The challenge starts out with fivecontestants. With eliminations after the first two rounds, only the top three will get to go to Paris.”

Her friend, loyal to the end, waved off her concerns. “Oh, don’t worry. I know you’ll make it to the final three. One, because none of those chefs have the creativity and flair you have. And two, because I’m so going to visit you in Paris for the finale.”

Ronnie released a tense breath, and Cara reached across the table to give her hand a reassuring pat. “Crave has been open for almost two years, and it’s already received four-stars. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but there’s going to be some pretty stiff competition. In fact, against most of these celebrity chefs, I definitely qualify as an underdog.”

“Really? Who are the other chefs?”

“First, there’s the queen bee herself, Etta Foster.”

Etta Foster, a cross between Martha Stewart and Sarah Lee, was a household name. She had the most extensive line of cookware and frozen foods of any chef in the business. That was aside from her franchise of cooking shows on Gourmet TV. Yet despite her vast culinary empire, she still evoked the down-home image of a Southern grandma baking in her country kitchen.

Cara shrugged. “Etta Foster is a powerhouse, but she’s old-fashioned. Your modern approach will blow her out of the water.”

“Okay, but I’ll still have to face off with Ann Le Marche and Stewart Compton.”

Her friend, who only watched GTV when Ronnie was on it, was unimpressed. “I’ve never even heard of them.”

“Well, I’m certain you’ve heard of my biggest competition, Ace Brown.”

Cara gasped. “Ace Brown? The Sexy Chef himself?

Now you’re talking. Finally a chance to prove yourself against your old culinary-school rival. Wiping the floor with him will put the icing on your victory.”

Ronnie laughed. She and Ace had always been friends, but there had been an air of unspoken competition between them. They’d gone head-to-head many times in school, but unfortunately he had more points in the win column than she did. Since graduation, his career had grown to overshadow hers entirely.

Ace had been on the fast track, landing himself a show on Gourmet TV called The Sexy Chef soon after building his reputation on the Manhattan restaurant scene. His show had focused on romantic meals prepared from ingredients considered to be aphrodisiacs. Despite the show’s popularity, when his contract was up, he’d decided to leave television to travel the world.

Ronnie hadn’t seen Ace in nearly two years, and she couldn’t help but feel a tad excited to show off her recent successes.

Every woman in culinary school had had a crush on Ace, herself included. But since she’d had a boyfriend at the time, Ronnie had been able to pretend she was the lone female on earth immune to his charms. As a result, they’d become good friends.

Ace’s face flashed in her mind. Back then he’d had a full head of curly hair, a clean-shaven baby face and a leanly muscled body. When Ronnie had started catching The Sexy Chef on GTV, she’d noticed that Ace had become so buff he’d needed to cut the sleeves off his chef’s jacket to free his massive guns. He’d also shaved his head and grown a neat mustache and goatee.

Combine his smoking hot physique and his natural charm in front of the camera, and you had the recipe for sexy. His show had been aptly named, and Ronniesuspected that when it had been on the air, his female viewers tuned in more for the tasty sight of Ace than for his romance-inspired haute cuisine.

Ronnie had never really been immune to his charms, but a guy like Ace had his pick of women. So why would he have gone for the pretty but pleasantly plump version of her? There were plenty of men who’d appreciated her voluptuous curves. But judging by the swarm of skinny women that had surrounded Ace, she didn’t have any reason to believe he was one of them.

Therefore, it had been easier for her to pretend that she wasn’t interested. To sell the lie she’d joked that she was more woman than he could handle.

“Wow—” Cara said, snapping her fingers in front of Ronnie’s face “—the mere mention of Ace Brown sends you into a dream state.”

“I wasn’t daydreaming. It’s been a while since I last saw him. I’m hoping he’ll be thrown off his game when he gets a load of all this,” she said, presenting her body with a flourish worthy of Vanna White.

Cara laughed. “I’m certain he’ll be so intimidated by your hot body and restaurant success that he’ll lose all ability to function. Then you can whisk the floor with him.”

“How can I expect him to be impressed with my one little restaurant opening? He has two bistros in New York, a television show in syndication and a new cookbook coming out. The only way I’m going to earn his respect is by kicking his butt in the Food Fight.”

Ace Brown stacked his canapés, delicately balancing Serrano ham, roasted tomatoes and shaved Parmesan cheese on thinly sliced crostini. He garnished each layerwith a leaf of cilantro and carried the platter out to his guests waiting in the living room of his Manhattan loft.

He’d spent the majority of his career creating dishes for two, but tonight his apartment was filled with six of his closest friends—all of them foodies and one of them his sous chef for the upcoming competition.

“I can’t believe you’ve just returned to the country, and you’re already running off again,” Devon said as Ace held the tray out to her. A polished hotshot lawyer, she wore her short hair slicked to her scalp, light makeup and a casual pantsuit.

“That’s right,” her husband, Ace’s oldest friend, Spence, said. “We’ve gone almost six months without a decent meal. Now you’re asking us to hold on for another three weeks?” A light-skinned pretty boy, Spence had done his friend a favor when he’d married Devon. Ace did a lot better with women without the added competition.

Ace offered the tray to the remaining couples in the room, his sous chef Marcel and his wife, Simone, and Garett, his publicist, and Garett’s date du jour.

“Relax. Tonight I’ve planned a feast that should tide all of you over until Marcel and I return home from battle.”

Garett squirmed in his seat. “I still think we should have accepted the television deal. Gourmet TV offered you a minimum of six episodes to cook your signature dishes in front of a live audience. You’re getting too big for these little competition shows.” Garett slapped the knee of the girl he’d brought. “Talk some sense into him, sweetheart.”

Ace exchanged smirks with Marcel and Spence because he knew they were all thinking the same thing. One, Garett had called his date sweetheart because he probably didn’t remember her name. And two, he’d chosen a perfect stranger to reason with Ace over a roomful of friends he’d known for years.

The beautiful Asian woman smiled at him tentatively.

“I’m sorry, Garett—” Ace said, letting her off the hook, “—I’m just not ready to commit to another TV show. I want to promote my upcoming cookbook, and then see what happens after that. I’ve been driving in the fast lane for so long. It would be nice to take some time to regroup.”

“I thought that’s what you were doing on your extended vacation,” Garett said, raking his fingers through the dark locks that hung just below his ears.

“That was work. In addition to researching my book, you had me doing press everywhere I stopped.” Garett always wanted more, and he always wanted it now.

The two men had become friends years ago when they were both starting out their careers. Back then they’d had two things in common—skirt chasing and a driving hunger for success.

Since Ace had returned from his travels, he’d changed considerably. He’d visited some of the most romantic cities in the world, and even though he’d experienced good times, his share of romance and a lifetime of culinary inspiration, he’d never been more lonely. For the first time, he wished he could have shared those things with someone special.

That fact had never been as clear as it was tonight. He’d invited his closest friends over, and it wasn’t until they’d walked through his door that he’d realized it—they were all couples … and he was single.

Although Garett didn’t count. He was part a couple, but with a different woman for each occasion.

After returning to his empty apartment, Ace had to face that he was tired of avoiding long-term relationships. But thanks to the memories of his parents’ rocky marriage, he still wasn’t sure he could make one work.

“At least we’ll be able to watch you two on television,” Marcel’s wife, Simone, said, helping herself to another horsd’oeuvre. She and Marcel were both French Creole from Louisiana. Marcel had joined Ace’s staff when the couple had moved to New York after Hurricane Katrina.

“We’re going to record every episode on our DVR,” Spence said, “so we can watch you win as many times as we want. Who are the other chefs in the competition?”

Putting down his serving tray, Ace sat on the arm on the sofa and looked toward Garett. “I’m not sure.”

“Didn’t you read the information packet I sent you? Everything you need to know is there.”

Ace got up and pulled the thick packet of Gourmet TV paperwork from his desk drawer. He started flipping pages until he saw the list of names of the other competitors. He read them aloud, pausing for a second when he got to the last name. “Veronica Howard.”

“Ronnie Howard? Didn’t you two go to culinary school together?” Marcel asked.

Ace nodded. During those four years, they’d had a lot of fun together—despite doing their best to one-up each other. He frowned, realizing it had been almost two years since he’d last seen her.

“The good news is,” Spence said, “there isn’t anyone on that list that you can’t take.”

“You think so?” he asked, hiding a cocky grin. “What about Etta Foster? She’s an icon. In fact, for this show all of my competitors have multiple wins under their belts. It’s not going to be a piece of cake.”

While his friends debated the strengths and weaknesses of each competitor, Ace went back into the kitchen to check on his braised beef. As he stirred the hearts-of-palm risotto, his mind wandered back to Ronnie.

He wondered what she’d been up to. They’d been close in school, but hadn’t spent much time together in the years since then. His career had taken off quickly, sending themin opposite directions. But now Ronnie’s career was starting to pick up momentum, setting them back on converging paths.

It would be really good to see her again, he thought, turning off the heat beneath his copper saucepan. Her sassy wit always made him laugh. Hanging out with Ronnie in a great city like Las Vegas or Paris was a good time just waiting to happen.

She was the only woman he’d gotten close to without being romantically involved. Of course, if he’d had his way, they would have hooked up long ago. But Ronnie wasn’t having it. She’d always blown off his flirtations with the taunt that she was too much woman for him.

Even though she was full figured, he’d never taken her words literally. Tall, short, thick or thin—he valued variety in women the way he valued variety in fine wine. And Ronnie had voluptuous curves and a pretty face that had always reeled him in.

But she’d also had a jerky boyfriend back then who’d made his skin crawl. In fact, for as long as he’d known her, she’d been in one relationship or another. Last time they’d spoken, she was dating a food critic whom Ace had always despised.

Taking out seven square serving dishes, he began plating his beef and risotto. For all he knew, Ronnie could be married by now, he thought with a grimace.

But, he thought, carrying the first two plates to the dining table, there was always the chance that she was free. If that was the case, anything could happen.

With that flicker of hope, Ace realized he was looking forward to this competition more than ever.

Chapter 2

After a busy night’s service at Crave in trendy Georgetown, Ronnie looked over her staff, who’d gathered to see her off.

“Now, you all know the rules. Even though I won’t be here in person for a while, you’d better maintain my standards. My spies are everywhere.”

Though she pretended to scold them, Ronnie felt deeply grateful for the predominantly female talent she’d been able to assemble for her first restaurant. It was a man’s world, and she’d taken a gamble scouring culinary schools for female chefs.

Fortunately, she’d hit the jackpot. Even though they’d been untried, she’d been able to train the eager staff to her satisfaction. Ronnie had confidence in them, even though this would be the longest she’d ever left them on their own.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” her restaurant manager,

Callie, assured her. The petite blonde was a business dynamo. “All you have to think about is bringing back that hundred-thousand-dollar check.”

“We’ve got it in the bag,” said La Quanique Collin-Silverberg, her top sous chef, who would be at her side throughout the competition.

Despite her unconventional name, La Quanique, or LQ as Ronnie liked to call her, was the only person Ronnie trusted in a high-pressure situation because she was genuinely invested in Ronnie’s success. Second-generation African and newly converted to Judaism for her husband, she had skin the color of dark espresso, was Amazon tall and wore her hair in a tightly braided updo that sprouted out of her crown like the spikes of a sea urchin.

Her staff took turns cheering the team on with words of encouragement, until one finally interrupted the love fest for an announcement. “We got you a little something for good luck.”

Ronnie felt her skin heating. “You didn’t have to do anything special for us,” she said, in a rare shy moment as Callie gave her and LQ gold lapel pins embossed with Crave’s art deco logo.

Ronnie thanked her staff profusely. “These will come in handy. With the competition we’ll be facing, we’re going to need all the luck we can get.”

LQ shook her head, pushing up her square black frame glasses. “We don’t need luck. We have everything we need right here,” she said, tapping Ronnie’s temple.

Ronnie felt her eyes welling up as she took in the confident smiles of her staff. She just hoped she’d be able to live up to their expectations.

On the day of her flight, Ronnie arrived at the airport early. Check, she thought, ticking off an item on her mentallist. She’d eased one fear in the barrage that made up her flight anxiety—would she miss her plane? Would her baggage arrive on time? Would the plane land safely?

Even though she hated to fly, it was a necessary evil, and she refused to let it get the best of her. But it was a process, and she was still working through it. After clearing security without getting stripped naked or carried off in handcuffs, Ronnie crossed another worry off her list. Now her stomach was making an audible plea for breakfast.

Heading to a coffee shop, she was immediately assaulted by the smell of her favorite treat, a tall whipped-cream-laden mocha latte. The barista put it in the waiting hand of yet another temptation, a tall chocolate-skinned man in an expensive suit.

He saw her looking and nodded. “You should try one. It’s delicious.”

In a moment of whimsy, she imagined asking the barista for a dark sexy gentleman with a good job and no emotional baggage.

In the real world, Ronnie smiled and shook her head no. In the past she would have ordered that mocha latte, filled it with extra sugar and then drank it alongside a warm, buttery Danish. Today she told the barista, “I’ll just have a small black coffee and the fruit cup.”

After she received her breakfast, Ronnie perched herself on a stool at a long counter that faced the airport traffic. Seconds later, the sexy guy in the suit parked himself next to her with his latte and Danish.

“Where’s your flight headed?” he asked, flashing a flirtatious smile.

Ronnie had to resist the urge to give her answering smile its full wattage. “Las Vegas,” she said in a neutral tone.

“What a coincidence. I’m going to Las Vegas for business, too.”

Ronnie wanted to bat her eyelashes and sweet-talk him. Handsome and well dressed was just her type. But sweets weren’t the only things restricted from her diet these days.

So she just nodded politely, not encouraging further conversation.

“Since we’re both going to be in town, maybe we could—”

Ronnie was already shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m going strictly for business, and there just won’t be any time to socialize.”

Picking up her coffee and fruit cup, she slid off her stool with her heart hammering in her chest. She felt awful, but she had to believe she was doing the right thing. No sweets because they were bad for her health. No men because they were bad for her heart.

Once in a while, she allowed herself to eat something sinful, but Ronnie didn’t know when she could trust herself with a man again. Like food, she loved men, and when left to her own devices, she always picked the ones that were bad for her.

Ronnie stumbled off the plane in Las Vegas, feeling rumpled and irritable. It had been a miserable flight, and now all she wanted to do was get her luggage and go.

She made her way to baggage claim, then watched the carousel circle, trying to stay back from the fray of elbowing passengers hauling their bags away.

After several minutes, she spotted her navy-blue bag. Timing her approach carefully, she made a grab for it. But, at that same time, a large man who’d been talking on his cell phone with his back to the carousel spotted the bag and went for it.

The bag slipped from her fingers as he pulled it out of her grasp.

Temper spiking, Ronnie said, “Watch it, man! That’s mine. See, I wrote my name on the label in neon-green ink.”

“Oh, sorry, ma’am,” he said, immediately setting the bag down in front of her.

Ronnie shot a glaring look upward and froze in place. She was staring at none other than The Sexy Chef himself.

Pressing her fingers to her lips in surprise, she said, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. Ace Brown.”

He flashed his perfect white teeth. “Well, yes. It’s always a pleasure to be recognized by a fan.”

The smile died from Ronnie’s lips. She searched his face to see if this was some sort of joke. Instead she saw a friendly distance in his eyes.

Ronnie had been looking forward to seeing Ace’s reaction to her new, slimmer figure, but she doubted she looked that different from her former self.

Instead of being flattered, Ronnie found herself getting ticked off. She’d finally come face-to-face with her old friend Ace Brown, and he didn’t have a clue who she was.

Chapter 3

Preoccupied, Ace had given the woman before him only a cursory glance. He’d been trying to reach Garett because he couldn’t remember if GTV was sending a car, or if he was supposed to take a cab.

Even in that brief look, he’d noted that the woman was attractive, and he was always happy to meet a fan of his show.

Not having any luck reaching his publicist, he tucked his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Ace looked up in time to see the woman’s face go from pleasantly surprised to angry.

His brows knit. Why on earth would a perfect stranger be mad—

Then it hit him. She wasn’t a perfect stranger. He might not have recognized her right away, but after really looking at her face for a few seconds, he began to see those familiar espresso-colored eyes, her juicy plum lips and her pert little nose.

“Oh my God. Ronnie? Is that you?”

Her features were just about the only things that hadn’t changed. Somehow his friend had gone from cuddly cutie to buxom bombshell. Her round face was more narrow and her waist more slim, but, thankfully, she still had those voluptuous curves where it counted.

She’d always been attractive, but facts were facts. Now she was hot. He had to force himself to look away before his ogling became cartoonish.

Her lips twitched, but not into the smile he was hoping for. “Oh, so now you recognize me.”

He sighed sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I was distracted. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, and I wasn’t expecting to run into you just now. But, you look fantastic and … I’m rambling, aren’t I,” he said, when her expression remained impassive.

She simply nodded.

Her rumpled clothing and slightly mussed topknot suggested that she’d had a rough flight. But Ace still couldn’t stop staring at her. The new Ronnie was a slice of perfection.

Dressed in hip-hugging caramel slacks, a scooped cherry-red tank and a butter-soft leather blazer the color of roasted peanuts, she looked good enough to top a hot fudge sundae. Her form-fitting clothes showed off her feminine curves.

She cleared her throat, and Ace pulled himself together. “I guess we were on the same flight. I should have realized when I made my connection at Dulles, but I didn’t see you on the plane.”

Ronnie rolled her eyes. “That’s because I was in coach.”

He frowned, confused. “Didn’t the show fly you—”

“Yes, but it’s a long story.” She picked up the handle onher rolling luggage and searched for the exit. “I guess I’ll see you at the hotel.”

Surprised by her dismal mood, Ace stared after her. Was she so upset just because he hadn’t recognized her right away? No, it had to be something else. Even though they’d been out of touch for a while, they’d been too close for something so petty to come between them.

Grabbing his luggage off the carousel, Ace headed toward the exit. To his relief, there was a driver outside holding a sign with his name on it. The man led him to a black sedan waiting at the curb and opened the door for him.

He slid across the seat and found a pleasant surprise. Ronnie was already in the car. “And we meet again.”

She nodded without her usual enthusiasm, and Ace knew he had to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

“It’s a short drive to the hotel. So you’d better talk fast.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Your long story. What happened on the plane? I can tell it’s put you in a bad mood. And Vegas is a party town. I can’t let you show up with the wrong attitude.”

With a heavy sigh, Ronnie said, “I’ve always been a nervous flyer, but I was actually looking forward to this trip. But when I boarded the plane and tried to claim my seat in first class, some guy was already sitting there. We called the flight attendant to sort it out. Apparently the flight was overbooked, and we were both given the same seat assignment.”

Ace shook his head. “So why didn’t the guy move?”

“Because of the age-old rule that applies in these situations.”

“What’s that?”

“Finders, keepers.” From there she described an uncomfortable ride in coach, wedged between a snoring businessman and a mother cradling a cranky newborn. “It might not have been so bad if the guy next to me hadn’t passed gas in his sleep during the entire fight.”

Ace reached for the complimentary bottle of champagne in the minibar in front of them. “Sounds like we need to put this trip back on the right track, starting with a glass of bubbly.”

He popped the cork, filled two flutes halfway and clinked glasses with her. “Here’s to a fantastic journey. And to winning.”

Ronnie clinked his glass, flashing her eyes at him mischievously. “It’s so kind of you to drink to my victory.”

Ace grinned, happy to see the sassy girl he knew returning. “Oh? You think you can beat me?”

“I know I can. I’ve changed a lot more than my dress size since I saw you last.”

Not sure if he should broach the subject, Ace couldn’t resist asking, “So what did make you decide to … get so fit? You always used to say that if you lost weight people would think your food wasn’t any good.”

“That’s another long story. One we don’t have time for now. Suffice it to say it was time. Besides, I’ve finally gotten to the point where my food speaks for itself.”

Ace saluted her with his glass. “I heard you opened a restaurant in Georgetown.”

“Crave. You should come by next time you’re in D.C. I might even give you a professional discount.”

“You don’t need to give me a discount,” he said, teasing. “I’ll just pay for my meal out of the prize money when I win.”

She cut her eyes to him. “Honey, I don’t know if you’re aware … but, there is no prize for second place.”

Ace threw his head back and laughed. He’d forgotten just how fiercely competitive they’d been in culinary school. Hearing her talk smack the way she used to was arousing his drive to win, among other things.

Winning hadn’t been his strongest motivation when he’d agreed to do the competition. He’d been more interested in trying out the new techniques he’d picked up on his European travels. But after five minutes in Ronnie’s presence, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to win just for the bragging rights.

“You’re so confident now,” he taunted, “but you may have gotten in over your head. It’s not just me you have to beat. You have the culinary queen, Etta Foster, to compete with. Not to mention Ann Le Marche and Stewart Compton. Are a fledgling restaurant and a couple of Food Fight wins enough to back up all your big talk?”

Ronnie drained her champagne glass. “Don’t you worry about me, Ace. My biggest advantage is that I’m the underdog. Underestimating me will be your downfall.”

Ace knew first hand not to underestimate Veronica Howard. She’d always been tenacious and eager to learn. He had no doubt that she would be good competition. But his reputation spoke for itself.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t forgotten just how things went down in culinary school. Soufflés, marinades, knife skill—I got better grades in all those areas. Plus, I’ve been honing my craft with some of the masters around Europe.” He popped the collar on his polo shirt. “You don’t want none of this.”

“And? I got better grades in pastry and desserts,” Ronnie said, waving him off. “Plus, I’ve got a lot of new tricks up my sleeves. And your chef’s jacket doesn’t even have sleeves.”

Caught off guard, Ace laughed. When he’d started doinghis show, The Sexy Chef, it had been Garett’s idea to take the sleeves off his jacket.

“Europe or no Europe,” Ronnie continued. “I’ve seen what you do, and I’m ready to take you and the others on. We’ll prove ourselves in the kitchen soon enough. But for now I just want to salvage what’s left of this day and enjoy being in Las Vegas.”

With their obligatory trash talk out of the way, Ace swiveled in his seat, letting his knee touch hers. Damn she looked good, he thought, resisting the urge to say it out loud.

Was she single? No ring on her finger. He hoped she wasn’t still dating that jerky food critic.

Unable to ask what he really wanted to know, he asked instead, “Is this your first time in Las Vegas?”

“Yes, I was supposed to come for a bachelorette party once, but I got the flu and had to stay home. The girls told me all about the fun I’d missed. Gambling, Chippendale dancers, staying up all night—”

“So much for What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m still mad that I couldn’t go.”

“Then you’ll just have to make up for it this time. I don’t know how much you’ll be able to squeeze in, but there’s the rest of today and part of tomorrow.”

“There are three things I want to accomplish before I leave Vegas. First, I want to gamble in the casino—not just slot machines like I’ve played in Atlantic City—but some real table gambling. Then I want to see a show. I love Cirque du Soleil.”

“And the last thing?”

“I just want to perform well enough to make it to round two,” she said, showing vulnerability for the first time as she rested her forehead in her palm. “Ugh, I don’t want to be the first to go home.”

“That doesn’t seem like too much to ask for.”

Ace smiled, both happy to be with his old friend again and excited by the crackling tension he felt between them. Was it mutual this time?

It could be. Her eyes had taken on a coy slant as she lowered her lashes to hide her normally direct gaze. When she raised them again, he saw her eyes trace his body from where their knees touched slowly up his frame.

Time to make his move. “Ronnie, are you—”

Before he could ask if she was seeing anyone, the car stopped. They had arrived at The Venetian hotel, where the first leg of the All-Star Food Fight would take place. The chauffeur pulled open their door just as things were getting interesting.

Bellhops instantly appeared, and the two of them were ushered off to check in. Unfortunately, Ace didn’t get the opportunity to finish his question.

On the elevator ride to his room, he made a silent vow.

If they were both as good as they thought they were in the kitchen, they would have up to three weeks together on the road. Ace decided it was finally time for him to take a shot at romancing the chef.

Chapter 4

The bellhop let Ronnie into her luxury concierge suite. As soon as she saw the giant, king-size bed, a huge smile spread across her face.

Thankfully Ace had helped her dispel the gloomy mood that had developed during the flight. Now her arrival at the hotel pushed her back into full elation.

After quickly unpacking her clothes, she walked over to the window to discover she had a fantastic view of the gigantic pool. Instantly, Ronnie craved a swim in the cool water.

Even though she had to run down to the event gallery to make sure the boxes she’d shipped had arrived, there were two motivating factors calling her to the pool. One was the hot Las Vegas sun, and two was the promise she’d made to Cara that she’d work out regularly while she was away.

After confirming that her shipment had arrived safely,

Ronnie changed into her bathing suit and headed out to the pool. But old habits died hard, and she covered her suit with a T-shirt and shorts as well as a long terrycloth robe.

Grabbing some towels, Ronnie set herself up in a lounge chair. The water was calling to her, but on such a hot afternoon, the pool was packed. Even though she’d lost a lot of weight since the last time she’d been swimming in a public pool, she still couldn’t bring herself to undress.

“Wow. I’m getting hot just looking at you.”

Ronnie looked up and found Ace standing over her. She silently caught her breath. A towel was slung around his neck and his chest was bare, showing every bulging muscle, from his abs to his pecs and biceps. His red swim trunks were wet and clung to his large, muscular thighs. Ronnie had to school her eyes to stay away from his lower body.

But there was no safe place for her eyes to rest when there were big muscles and sleek brown skin everywhere she tried to look.

“Ace. I guess we had the same idea about how to spend the rest of our afternoon.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about you, but I was actually swimming in the pool. Did you forget you’re in the desert? Because you’re better dressed for the Alaskan tundra.”

Feeling embarrassed, Ronnie shook her head. “No, I just got here. I’m planning to get in.” A bead of perspiration slid down between her breasts under all her layers of clothing.

“Well, come on. Take off your snow suit and get in with me.”

Ronnie’s skin became even hotter under Ace’s watchful gaze. It was one thing to show off her new figure under a carefully chosen outfit that complimented her shape. If she undressed now, there would be nothing left to the imagination.

“You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He shook his head. “What are you waiting for? Come on in. The water is perfect. I know you’re roasting under that robe.”

Ronnie realized that if she protested any further she’d sound foolish, so she bit her lip and stood up. Untying her robe, she slipped it off and took her time folding it on her lounge chair.

Ace immediately snickered. “I can’t believe you have even more clothes on under that robe.”

Swallowing hard, Ronnie took off her shorts first, letting the length of her T-shirt cover her suit. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with nerves. Even though her mirror showed her a thin person when she looked in it, she still felt like an overweight person on the inside. She’d always made a big show of confidence and bravado when it had come to her body in the past.

But now that Ace was standing there waiting for her to disrobe, all that confidence eluded her. All she could imagine was the disappointment in his face when he saw her in her modest black tank suit.

Trying to come up with some witty distraction to hide her insecurities, Ronnie whipped her T-shirt over her head like a child ripping off a bandage.

But her witty remark died on her lips as her gaze raised to Ace’s. Before she could utter a sound, he said, “Very sexy.”

Then she was scooped up in his arms and summarily dumped into the swimming pool.

When she came up sputtering water, the tension of the moment had been broken. Ace was suddenly next to her splashing water in her direction.

“You were moving too slow. I didn’t have the patience to watch you dip one toe, then the other before you declaredthe water too cold. So I thought I’d help you along. You’re welcome.”

“You—” Without thinking, Ronnie jumped on his back and pushed his head under the water.

Ace burst to the surface, laughing. He quickly grabbed her around the waist and held her so she couldn’t get at him again.

As her own laughter began to subside, she began to realize that only a thin, wet layer of bathing suit separated her bare skin from his. Feeling her self-consciousness returning, Ronnie began to kick her feet and flail her arms, sending wave after wave of water at Ace until he dumped her back into the water.

She felt safer, hidden under the surface of the water. “I’m free,” she said, goading him to chase her.

They played a cat-and-mouse game around the pool, carefully dodging the other occupants. Ronnie was able to evade Ace’s grasp for quite some time, until she made the mistake of feinting left when she should have feinted right.

“I’ve got you now,” he shouted, as she found herself locked in his arms.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “And just what are you going to do with me now that you’ve got me?”

“Whatever I want, of course.” His tone was light and playful, but she could see heat rising in his eyes.

Suddenly it was more than Ronnie was prepared to handle. She didn’t come to Las Vegas to have an affair. Especially not with the ridiculously hot Sexy Chef.

Immediately Ronnie began squirming in his arms. But that only made the situation worse. Ronnie applied a little pressure against his muscular embrace and quickly realized there was no escape. Ace’s arms were like bands of steel holding her against him. And her struggles causedan exciting friction between their bodies. Suddenly the heat in his eyes wasn’t the only thing rising.

Clearly a bit startled himself, his grip on her loosened and Ronnie wriggled free. In a full panic now, she dove under the surface and swam to the nearest ladder. She didn’t care that she had to now walk halfway around the pool to get back to her things.

Barely taking the time to fully cover herself, she gathered up her clothes and started heading for the hotel entrance.

“Ronnie!” Ace called out from somewhere behind her.

Darting a quick look over her shoulder, she waved in his general direction. “I’m going to go back inside,” she called to him. “I’ll see you later.”

Ace stood on the pool deck, watching Ronnie literally run away from him. Granted, things had progressed faster than he’d intended, but he hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from her.

Ronnie had always been sassy and confident. Ace couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, but it seemed that since Ronnie had lost weight, she had become self-conscious.

It was obvious in the way that she’d dressed for the pool in layer after layer of clothing. It had seemed as though she was avoiding disrobing in front of him. From the way she’d been acting, he’d half expected to see gruesome burn scars or massive stretch marks, but her body had been tight and toned. The only thing wrong with her shape had been that matronly tank suit that covered up too much of it.

He’d wanted to stare, openly admiring her new figure, but, on impulse, he’d decided to drop her into the pool. He’d gotten the desired reaction. She’d been too angry to focus on her hang-ups … at least at first.

If only he’d been able to keep his hands off her, she might not have run from him. But that only made him more determined than ever to let her know how he’d been feeling about her.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over this place for you,” Ace heard Garett say, walking toward him, looking like a fifties throwback in his straw fedora, white cabana shirt and pale plaid pants.

“Get a load of you, Frank Sinatra,” Ace said, looking his publicist up and down.

“Hey, if you think I’m not going to make the most of my time in Vegas, you’re crazy.”

“And here I thought you traveled all this way to give me moral support.”

“Why don’t you dry off and come inside, Ace. We have work to do. The press junket is tomorrow, and I want to do a little prep.”

Ace started across the pool deck to the lounge chair where he’d left his things. “I do press all the time. I really don’t think I need to prep.”

What he really wanted to do was go after Ronnie. He had a feeling that the more time he gave her, the more she’d be able to convince herself that nothing had happened between them.

“Of course we have to prep,” Garett said, coming up behind him. “We need an angle. Something that will make you stand out from the other contestants.”

Ace shrugged, drying himself off with his towel. “I’ll stand out from the others when I win.”

“We can’t wait until then. We need to find an angle now. Something that will make them follow you for the entire competition.”

Ace pulled his on T-shirt over his head. He should have been used to Garett’s push for publicity stunts by now.

Instead, he chose to ignore him most of the time. And it wasn’t lost on his friend that Ace was distracted at the moment.

“You’re not focused. Does this have anything to do with the girl I saw hurrying away from you just now?”

“She’s not just some girl. That’s Ronnie.” At his friend’s blank expression, Ace continued. “You know, Veronica Howard. She’s in the competition.”

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t even recognize her.” Garett rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how I feel about you mingling with your competitors. Unless, of course, you were trying to get in her head. Psych her out a bit?”

Ace waved him off. “We have a healthy rivalry going, but I’m not trying to get in her head. Ronnie and I are friends.”

Garett studied him for a minute, nodding his head. “I get it. Not in her head, just in her pants.”

Ace was so taken aback, he didn’t deny it. He just gaped at Garett.

He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s perfect. We’ve found our angle.”

“What are you talking about?” Ace asked, stepping into his flip-flops.

“I’m talking about the ‘showmance,’ my friend. The classic reality-TV romance. We let it leak that there may be a little more than competition heating up between you and your competitor, Ms. Veronica Howard. The press will eat it up. They’ll be jumping out of trash cans to catch you two sneaking around together.”

“Hold on, Garett, that’s the last thing I want. You’d better go back to the drawing board, because that angle’s not going to work.”

Garett slung an arm around Ace’s shoulder as theyheaded inside the hotel. “So you’re denying that you’re interested in her?”

“No,” Ace said, twisting out from under his friend’s arm. “But my interest in her has nothing to do with manufacturing a ‘showmance’ for the sake of the press.”

“Look, if you’re going to pursue her anyway, why not kill two birds with one stone? Let your little fling work to our advantage?”

“It’s not going to happen, Garett. That’s final.”

Once Ronnie was safe in her hotel room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Had she and Ace really been flirting with each other?

Never in a million years had she imagined that he could actually see her that way. Of course, circumstances were different now. She’d lost a lot of weight. Now she was finally in the ballpark of being his type.

She didn’t know why, but that thought bothered her quite a bit. It was understandable that wearing a smaller size would make her more attractive to a wider pool of men. But she secretly wished she’d been his type before she’d lost the weight.

Ronnie hopped into the shower and washed and dried her hair. When she came out of the bathroom, her mind was still whirling with the memory of what had happened at the pool.

What she needed now was a bit of perspective. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed Cara.

“Hello?”

“Greetings from Vegas, baby!”

“Ronnie. You made it.” Her friend’s voice sounded far away. “If you’re calling to check up on Baxter, relax. He’s having the time of his life playing with the kids.”

“I’m so glad. But I miss my little puppy.” At eightypounds, her German shepherd was well into adulthood, but Baxter would always be a puppy to Ronnie.

“He misses you, too,” Cara said and Ronnie heard an echo in the background.

“Do you have me on speakerphone?”

“Yes, I’m in the car. I’m on my way to pick up the kids from day care. A.J.’s working late today.”

“Then I won’t keep you. You can call me back later.”

“Wait a minute. I know you didn’t call just to say hello and good-bye. What’s on your mind?”

“I think I’m in trouble,” Ronnie said, sinking down on the edge of her bed.

“Oh, no. What kind of trouble?”

“The usual. Man trouble.”

“You haven’t been in Las Vegas for even twenty-four hours and you already have man trouble. Good for you!”

“I’m glad you think this is funny.”

“It’s not funny. It’s great. Who’s the guy?”

“Ace Brown.” Ronnie flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. She felt like a high school girl with a crush. It was embarrassing.

“I should have known. He caught sight of your new hot bod and couldn’t resist you.”

Ronnie sighed. “Something like that.”

“Then what’s the problem? You two have been friends for years. He’s a good guy. You like him. He’s gorgeous. Sounds like a win/win to me.”

“Yeah, but he’s always been a player. And he never showed any interest in me when I was … pleasantly plump.”

“Ahh, I see. I guess I can understand why that would bother you. But, you’ve got to get over it. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well, I ran into him at the airport, and he didn’t even recognize me. I mean I know I’ve lost weight, but do I really look that different?”

“No, but you have to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was probably a context thing. You probably caught him off guard. He didn’t know how much you’ve changed. What happened after that?”

Ronnie told her friend about the ride to the hotel and running into Ace at the pool.

“Ooh, steamy. Well, he’s clearly into you. You might have actually gotten somewhere with him if you hadn’t run away.”

“You’re not helping me at all here, Cara.”

“What? Because I’m not encouraging you to continue your forced celibacy? No one was happier than me when you finally got Andre out of your life. But you can’t keep punishing yourself for that mistake.”

Sure, if her on-and-off relationship with Andre Roberts had been her only mistake, maybe she could get past it. But every guy she’d dated since high school had treated her poorly. For the longest time she thought that was just how relationships were. And then her best friend found her own soulmate in A. J. Gray, and Ronnie began to realize she deserved more.

“He wasn’t the first. I have a pattern of picking guys like Andre. How am I ever supposed to trust my own judgment again?”

“Now that your eyes are wide-open, you’ll never let a man take advantage of you like that again. Ronnie, believe me, it’s time to get back in the game.”

She shook her head at the phone. “No, this isn’t the right time. Maybe after the competition is over—”

“There’s no time like the present. If you wait until after the competition … well, for one thing, Ace might not bearound. And you’ll just find another excuse to put this off.”

“But I need to stay focused.”

“Listen. You’re going to win the competition. But that doesn’t mean you can’t reacquaint yourself with an old friend at the same time. Just go out with him. Have fun. It doesn’t have to be a lifetime commitment.”

Finally, Ronnie sighed, giving up. “You’ve got a one-track mind, and that track leads to Ace.”

“Why did you call if you didn’t want my opinion?”

“Fine. You win. If he asks me out, and that’s a big if, I won’t say no.”

“That’s all I can ask for. Okay, I just pulled up to the school. Gotta go. But keep me updated, okay?”

“You’ve got it. But if this turns out to be a big mistake, I’m not going to miss my chance to say I told you so.”

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