Читать книгу For Love Or Money - Tara Taylor Quinn - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

JANIE ALREADY FELT like she didn’t belong. The eight contestants had gathered in a green room—nothing elegant: four walls, used couches, a tray with water and tea, a side bar with snacks, a refrigerator, lockers and television monitors so they could see the stage—for a few moments before being called on stage.

The introductions and instructions were going to be done in front of the camera. On-air instructions and official rules, that was. They’d all been sent an entire packet full of information, instruction, on-air makeup and dress tips, dress code and what had seemed like a million forms to sign.

Throughout the five weeks, any of the footage filmed during this initial non-cooking session could be tapped for airing. A facial expression, a line someone said during separate interview sessions, could be dubbed into a particular show at any time. Not really sure how that worked, realistically speaking, Janie didn’t really care, either. Other than it meant she had to be “on” every single second she was there.

Had to stay focused.

Couldn’t be worrying about Dawson. Not that she had to worry today. He was with Cor and Joe. But what about next Saturday when the first show was being taped? And the competition was on?

She’d focus then, too. And pray there were no Dawson emergencies his therapist couldn’t handle on her own. Everyone at therapy and at preschool knew about Family Secrets—a video of the Thanksgiving show with Dawson had been sent around—and everyone was rooting for her.

Cor and Joe would have him the following week, as well. If there was a problem during his session, they’d handle it.

Her job was to focus.

To let go of Dawson a little bit. Trust him to the world in which he had to live...

Trust that his “gang” would have his back.

She didn’t feel like one of her current gang. Each of the other seven contestants had already cooked for the host of Family Secrets, Natasha Stevens—albeit not on air. They’d all had to audition live for their place on the show.

She’d never cooked for anyone other than family and friends.

Her mailed-in Thanksgiving recipe had won her a spot on the famous cooking show.

She had no idea if she could even pull this off.

At the end of the line, waiting to walk on stage and take a seat—eight bar stools were lined up for this first segment—she pulled her phone out of the waistband of her black skinny jeans. Checked to make sure there were no calls. Sent a quick text off to Cor, asking if Dawson’s ear was okay. Deleted same. Pushed and held the power button. Tucked the phone away and straightened the black silk jacket over her hip bones. All cells had to be turned off.

The line was moving.

It was time for her to go on.

* * *

FROM HIS STOOL at the beginning of the line on the stage, Burke took in the cameras—on rolling stands—that moved around them. He counted three but figured there might be more behind or above them. The guys and one woman working them were straight-faced. Moving, as if on cue, they stared at attached screens. The woman, in jeans and a T-shirt, seemed to be the one in charge. Both men, in black pants and shirts, looked to her more than at each other.

His stomach tightened a bit. So much was at stake. He was a bit...curious, too. He’d never been in a television studio before. And while, in some ways—the intense lighting, for one—it reminded him a bit of an operating room, it was also very...different. As the other contestants came in one by one, each taking a solo walk across the stage for the camera just as he had, he got a little caught up in their excitement, too.

Competition aside, winners or losers, they were all going to be on national television.

Directions rang out. Something clanged in the distance. A door closed someplace. This few minutes of filming was without sound. They were just after clips.

Glancing out toward the theater-style seating holding the hundred or so people that would be their “live” audience during the final round, he tried to find Kelsey. Stage lighting blinded him to anything beyond the edge of the platform.

Number seven was on his way across the twenty-five-foot expanse between the curtain and his stool. In jeans, a black leather jacket and biker boots, he strutted, turned toward the cameras, smiled and strutted some more. The guy was probably going to win. Viewers would eat him up. They’d tune in just to see him, which would boost ratings, and in television everything was always about the money in the end. Everyone knew that.

I’m going to lose. He was on a road that would end with him letting Kelsey down and he had no idea how to change his course. Without letting her down.

Adrenaline pumped through him anyway. Probably feeding off the other contestants. If any of them doubted their ability to win, they sure weren’t showing any signs of it.

He watched for contestant number eight to appear, impatient for their instructions to be given and the tour of the kitchens to take place so he could get home. He had a patient file to peruse a second time. A delicate surgery on Monday that could determine if an athlete ever played again. A surgery that could change the entire course of a young man’s life.

But it wasn’t going to. When it came to orthopedics, Burke had all of the confidence in the world. Confidence his patients depended on.

Eight was on stage. He’d have to lean forward to see her, though, as the other contestants were blocking his view. Conscious of the camera, he didn’t move. Didn’t want to appear as stupid as he felt when the show aired...

Burke leaned forward.

And froze. He knew her. Ripples ran through him.

She took another step. Moving more quickly than any of the rest of them had. He’d never met her before.

But he knew her in the most private way.

He’d been dreaming about her. Had thought she was just a figment of his imagination. And other than the fact he found it a bit odd that his partner-less brain was cooking up the same image night after night, he’d barely given her a conscious thought.

Men dreamed.

It was normal. He was normal.

Except for the part where he’d been dreaming about a real woman without knowing it. And now he knew why. He’d seen her on TV. She’d been the angel who’d infiltrated his thoughts on Thanksgiving—giving him a touch of good feeling in an otherwise dreadful day.

That was...unsettling.

She caught his eye as she neared her stool. Didn’t seem to know him from Adam. He smiled at her—to hide his supreme discomfort. Hoped he pulled it off. Looked away. And wished to God he was anywhere but on stage with a camera on him.

Was this it, then? The part where he lost his mind? How could he have been dreaming about a woman he’d seen on TV and not realized it? Was it because of Lil? Was she messing with him? Making him pay for the fact he’d ignored her last plea for help?

His hands resting lightly on his thighs, the look Kelsey had decided was good for him, Burke had to resist the urge to get up and leave. He had a couple of patients in the hospital, rounds he could do.

“Okay, great.” Natasha Stevens, the show’s host, and the only person Burke had expected to recognize, walked out on stage. “Welcome to Family Secrets, everyone!”

Secrets. He had a secret. Was she in on it, then? This host? Did she know how he’d failed his wife?

Get a grip, man.

He was acting like an idiot.

Because he was nervous. There. He’d admitted it. Being on television, even if only for panned camera shots with no sound, had him on edge.

He’d get used to it.

Television was the least of his worries. He had an at-risk thirteen-year-old counting on him. And a fellow contestant sitting at the other end of the line with whom he’d shared very passionate kisses, in his dreams...

The Stevens woman was giving them a rundown of things he already knew. Procedures and timelines that Kelsey had read to him from the packet sent to his address by show administrators.

Was his sweat visible through the T-shirt and shirt he’d put on this morning? Stage lights were hot. Maybe he should have forgone the more formal attire as he’d first thought.

Stevens was talking about ingredients. The contestants had submitted their recipes and would find all necessary ingredients in their kitchens each week.

“In a few minutes we’ll be taking a walk back to the kitchens so that you can familiarize yourselves with the area...” She caught his eye as she mentioned the kitchens and nodded. She knew he’d already seen the setup during his audition.

But he smiled at her. Trying to live up to expectation. She was a beautiful woman. With long auburn curls, a figure that could easily grace a fashion magazine, a confidence that reeked hard-earned, and success written all over her.

Why in the heck didn’t he dream about her? She’d been on television that day, too.

And why not develop some hots for her now, with her parading back and forth in front of them? She was the one he needed to please. The one who could ultimately determine whether or not he disappointed his daughter.

She had his fate in her hands. At least, one very important part of it.

“So, now, let’s get to the introductions. You’ll have some time to get to know each other over the next weeks. You’ll find that your kitchen quarters are compact, necessary so that we can get shots of all of you at once, and you’ll all do much better if you go into this with an attitude of healthy competition. In other words, get along with your neighbors, ladies and gentlemen.”

She’d already gone over the part where any contestant who purposely interfered with or in any way sabotaged a fellow competitor would be immediately disqualified from the show and fined an amount commensurate with all costs Family Secrets incurred on his or her behalf.

“This is a show about families, for families,” she said—not for the first time, either. “As such, my introduction of each one of you will include pieces of the family history you submitted in the packets you returned. For this next portion of today’s business, we are going to have sound as well as video. Quiet on the set, please!”

Burke’s stomach knotted at the sudden silence. It was like they’d been transported into a world all their own.

There was no big call of “roll ’em” or a board being clapped loudly in front of a camera. All eyes were on Natasha Stevens. She glanced at the female camera operator. Nodded. Paused while cameras moved, whirring like a spring breeze and...

“Burke Carter!” With the overabundance of instruction and buildup, there’d been absolutely no warning that he was going to be called upon. He was pretty sure he was smiling, though, when several cameras pointed at him. He hoped so. And figured out, too late, that Ms. Stevens had purposely called on him without warning. Getting reaction.

For ratings.

“Burke is a single father of thirteen-year-old Kelsey. He’s an orthopedic surgeon and is from right here in the Palm Desert/Palm Springs area! He learned to cook while in medical school. Cooking class was date night with his schoolteacher wife, who went on to become a master chef. Unfortunately, Dr. Carter’s wife passed away. He is going to be competing with her recipes.”

He kept smiling in spite of the fact that he sure as hades hadn’t put “date night” or “deceased” in his very brief, hastily written, responses to the show’s questionnaire.

He nodded at Natasha, thinking about the talk he was going to have with his daughter. It was one thing to do his best to win this competition, but he would not exploit his wife’s death to do so.

The woman next to him was from Las Vegas. When he was sure the cameras were off him and he could move, Burke noticed that television monitors had come on and he could see a close-up of Showgirl. Somehow she’d gone from showgirl to restaurant owner. Natasha didn’t explain that one. What was very clear was that she ran a very successful romantic diner in one of the upscale resorts on the strip. Reservations required. A sure win.

And...a showgirl. Taking his gaze from the monitor, Burke studied the beautiful though modestly dressed brunette seated next to him. Figuring he should feel some kind of attraction.

Nothing.

Next to Showgirl was a grandmotherly type, with two kids and six grandkids, whose husband was a retired farmer. Burke figured her for some fabulous family recipes. Another good possibility for the win.

The guy with slicked-back hair was single. He had an Italian restaurant in Manhattan, above which he lived. Listening to his cooking credits, Burke figured him for the win.

The short, pleasantly grinning woman was the mother of seven children. She was also a home-economics teacher. And an artist. Burke figured if she could manage to be accomplished in all three areas she was definitely their winner.

The woman with bountiful black hair had four children, and a slew of younger siblings, too. She was the head chef in a prominent Phoenix restaurant and was commuting the three and a half hours back and forth for every taping.

Then there was Biker Dude. A stay-at-home dad of three elementary-aged boys. His wife was mayor in their southern Kentucky town. He did all of the cooking for a church kitchen and a homeless shelter, in his home, while his boys were in school. Cooking under pressure was obviously not going to be a challenge for him. Burke knew karma was going to make sure he won.

“Janie Young.”

He stared at the monitor. Felt...too much.

“Janie is a single mother of a little guy most of you will remember from our Thanksgiving—”

Burke didn’t hear the rest due to the ringing in his ears. The wave of embarrassment that sloshed over him. He felt exposed, like everyone could read his mind...

Her recipe for turkey dressing had won the Thanksgiving Day competition. But as he sat there, the rest of it came back to him. She’d been in the audience for that special live show, one of several contestants whose recipes had been chosen for Natasha to prepare that day. The judges had voted on their favorite recipe. In the audience, her son had been bouncing around on her leg, gesturing and hollering out, having seen himself and his mother on the television monitor. What Burke remembered was the look on her face as she’d sat there, containing an overly excited little boy and still managing to have nothing but love in her eyes as she’d watched him.

Not the screen.

She hadn’t even known she’d won.

She’d clearly cared more that her son was having a good time.

His literal dream woman was going to win.

And he was the show’s biggest loser.