Twice Baked Page 7

  “Nope, one of the backers loves this place, and he brought them all over and we ate here, closed the deal, and that was the beginning of Ma Maison. Now BCD is a good-luck place for me. I come here to celebrate.”

  I nodded. “What are we celebrating tonight?”

  The smile slipped from Meyer’s lips. I had to open my big mouth and ruin it. I could never just keep quiet and accept things for what they were. I should know better.

  “I….” He nodded. “You know, we are celebrating. Somehow the world conspired to bring you back in my life, and that is worth a celebration. I need to learn to be grateful for the good things that happen, rather than worrying about what might happen.”

  The server brought the bill, and Meyer pulled out his wallet to hand her the money for the check. Then we were off again, buzzing back down the freeway. I liked traveling at night. During the day, the freeways were majorly congested, but at night it was a different story. Traffic was lighter, and it moved, the city passing outside. We took the now-familiar exit and pulled up to the building where I was staying. By some miracle, there was parking right in front, and I let us into the building and the apartment. As soon as I closed the door, Meyer stepped close, cradled my cheeks in his heated hands, and kissed me.

  It took me by surprise, but my lips and body remembered just what Meyer did to me, and that touch was so familiar, yet new and hot. This was wrong, but I didn’t care in the least. I had missed him, my body and mind—hell, my spirit—had missed how Meyer could make me feel, and I needed it. I threw caution to the wind and let him guide me through the living room. I completely ignored the fact that we nearly tripped over the coffee table.

  Meyer chuckled even as his hand slipped under my shirt and tweaked my nipples. I gasped and pressed forward, wanting more. “Damn, you’re so responsive. How long has it been?”

  I ignored the question and pulled Meyer toward the bedroom.

  “Luke?” he pressed, but I kept going. I wanted to make him not remember that he even asked, kissing him, winding my arms around his neck. I had wiles too, and one of them was the ability to make Meyer forget his goddamned name. If kissing were in the Olympics, I’d win the gold medal, no doubt about it. I could make a guy forget his name, and anything else, just by kissing him the exact right way.

  We reached the bed, and I heard Rosco jump down, probably hurrying out of the room, not that I watched him at that very moment. I was way too busy with Meyer pushing me down onto the mattress.

  “Damn, you don’t smell the way you used to, better now,” Meyer whispered. “Though you do act like you did.” He paused, backing away. “No one ever did what you do to me.” He heaved for breath, and I smiled, knowing I could still do that to him.

  “Have there been a lot of people since you left?” I sat up, wrapping my arms around Meyer’s waist and running them up under his shirt, pulling it along with my hand, baring his skin so I could nuzzle him, get a taste of him again. I knew this was a terrible idea, but I wanted to know Meyer and to feel Meyer’s excitement, even if it was only once.

  “A few, but none in a while,” Meyer answered shakily.

  “Why?” I pursued, moving my hands up his back, taking the shirt up higher before slipping it over his head. I tossed the fabric to the floor, then ran my fingers over the sculpted muscles that rippled under his sun-kissed skin.

  Meyer hesitated, and at first I didn’t think he would answer. “None of them was you.”

  I stopped and pulled away so I could look into his eyes. “Then why didn’t you call?” I was shocked.

  “Because I didn’t think I had the right. I was the one who left, and things weren’t exactly perfect between us. You were going on with your life, and I should have been getting on with mine. And I did, in every way but… well… you know.”

  “I see. You were always afraid that if you got close to someone, they might find out who you were. The walls of your closet are still as strong as they have always been.” I didn’t want to talk about this any longer. I had Meyer in my bedroom, half naked, and taking a walk down memory lane wasn’t high on my list of priorities.

  “What about you?” Meyer pressed.

  “Let’s just say that you’re hard to replace.” I flashed a smile, and Meyer clutched me to him, the kiss intense enough that my attention returned to where it was supposed to be. The excitement that had waned between us grew once again, deepening and wiping away the shadows of the past, at least for now.

  I pulled Meyer down, kissing him with everything I had. His weight was solid and firm, surrounding me in heat. I wanted more and squirmed slightly in order to get my shirt off, sighing at the skin-to-skin contact. I held Meyer as tightly as I dared. He shook in my arms, and I groaned against his lips, letting him know that I was just as into this as he was.

  Meyer broke the kiss when it seemed I was seconds from passing out. If I could have suspended my need for breath, I would have just so I could continue kissing him without a break.

  “Get your clothes off,” I whispered.

  Meyer rolled alongside me. Then his shoes and socks dropped to the floor, followed by the rest of what he was wearing. I shucked my own clothes, watching him. Damn, Meyer was just as fine as he’d always been. Strong, lean, built wide and sturdy, pushing all of my buttons. Physically, Meyer had been it for me. He was my ideal, and I hated to admit it, but the model I compared every other guy to.

  “Come here.” I beckoned, and Meyer drew closer, stalking me until he climbed back onto the bed. I pulled him on top, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  Being with Meyer was like exploring a path walked some time ago and then forgotten, now rediscovered, only to be experienced once again. Joy remembered and joy experienced, both at the same time. That was what I wanted and received.

  “What could I have been thinking?” Meyer whispered as our gazes met, his filled with heat and passion, his eyes wet, shining down at me.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back. “Sometimes we do things because we think they’re best for us, I guess. Most of the time we’re wrong.”

  Meyer laughed, his gaze not moving an inch. “That is so very pessimistic.”

  “No. It’s true. We fumble in the dark so many times, thinking we understand the consequences of our decisions, and then we’re surprised when we’re disappointed with the results.” I paused. “Just for the record, I was never disappointed with you. Maybe in some of your decisions, but never with you.”

  Meyer kissed me, driving me higher as his fingers worked their magic. I squirmed and shivered under their light ministrations, each touch like adding kindling to a fire, and as he continued, the flames built and built until there was no stopping the conflagration. I wanted the flames—in fact, I’d lost track of the number of times I’d prayed for them. Here Meyer was, offering them again, and I took them. I held on with both hands as he used his tongue to delight me, worrying the secret spots that it seemed only he had ever taken the time to find. My head spun, and I closed my eyes—not because I didn’t want to see him, but because I could only take so much amazingness at once. My senses threatened to overload, and I struggled to keep them in check as Meyer slowly entered me, filling me in a way I hadn’t been in so long, touching me deeply enough that I worried my soul was never going to be the same. And yet I managed to hold on to it and keep it intact. I had to, because I had to keep my heart and soul in one piece. It was the only way I was going to survive.

  “Faster,” I begged into his mouth, my words swallowed by his breath. I was on the cusp, holding back but tiring, and as Meyer drove me higher, I gave up control of my body and pleasure to him, and instantly I sailed in the wind, soaring to incredible breathless heights, where Meyer held me until I slowly came back down to earth.

  I closed my eyes as our bodies separated, covered in sweat and happy, sated, and content. I had no idea how long Meyer planned to stay, and I didn’t want to rock the boat. Thankfully, I was able to close my eyes and doze for a few minutes. Meyer ran his ha
nds over my chest, holding me, and for a minute, I could believe that things were the way they had been… almost.

  Chapter 6

  THE TAPING of the first episode was well underway. The appetizer round had gone off without a hitch, and I actually had a good time. Rachel, Hank, and I all agreed on the winning dish, and Magnus, the winner, had been thrilled with his five-thousand-dollar prize.

  “The main course round is where the rubber hits the road,” Meyer was saying, and I had to keep my focus on the here and now as I stood in the kitchen with the other judges.

  “Yes.” Rachel took over seamlessly. “This is one of our Luke Walker challenges. We figured we’d start with a good one and see what you all could do. You are going to have to walk a fine line with this one. As most of you know, Luke’s hatred of bananas is legendary. You all need to make a savory dish that features bananas, and you will be serving it to the four of us, as well as a group of ten Central Valley fruit farmers who are in town for a water conservation symposium. You will have just ninety minutes to prep, cook, and serve in the Cooking Masters dining room. And remember, at least one of you will be going home.” She looked at each of us and then back at the group. “Your time starts… now.”

  Pandemonium broke out as the fourteen chefs raced to the pantry to get their ingredients. The cameras panned away from us, and we left the set. I headed out for a chance to rest a little. I had no idea how stressful it would be to be in front of the camera like that.

  “You did really well,” Rachel said from behind me, and I turned to her as I reached my trailer. “Don’t worry about the cameras and where they’re located. It isn’t our job to get the shot—it’s theirs. Honestly. This isn’t a movie where we’re trying to get something specific.”

  I sighed and opened the door. “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll get the feel for it by the time we wrap up the season.” I smiled, and she chuckled.

  “Honestly, you’ll be fine.” She continued to the next trailer and went inside.

  I went inside, got a water, and sat on the sofa, closing my eyes to let some of the tension ease. And it was working until my phone rang.

  “Hi, Clare,” I said after glancing at the display.

  “How is it going?” she asked.

  “It’s fine. How are you there?” I wasn’t even going to talk about the show. It was best to avoid the subject in case I spilled the beans on something. “Is everything going okay?”

  “Yes. I miss you and Rosco, though. I picked up your mail, and I’m sending the nonjunk in a box to your address in La La Land. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything urgent, but you can pay your bills and crap.” She seemed as energetic as ever. “You sound stressed.”

  “Doing one of these is harder than I expected. But I’m okay. Just resting before I have to go back.” I said goodbye, hung up, and probably should have grabbed my computer to work, but that wasn’t going to happen. Meyer thrived in front of the camera—he got energy from it—but it drained me of all that I had.

  A soft knock sounded and then the door opened. “They’re going to need you in five minutes to see what the chefs are doing.” The door closed again, and I heaved myself up off the sofa to head to the set.

  It was still a hive of activity, and I joined Meyer as he made his rounds. It was hard not to stop and just watch him. “What do you think? Anything so far that might change my mind about bananas?”

  “Try this,” Meyer offered, and I tasted from the pot, shivering. “I take it not.”

  “I thought cooked bananas might be different, but that’s… just banana-y.” I did my best to chuckle and suppress the urge to wipe my mouth out.

  “It will taste different once I’m done, I promise,” Jean Claude said in a French accent as he continued working.

  Meyer and I talked with a few more chefs before stepping away to let them cook. “We are going to need to change clothes for the judging,” Meyer told me, and we left for wardrobe.

  “How am I going to do this?” I asked him. “That room smelled awful, and I don’t want to taste anything.”

  Meyer paused as soon as we were outside. “Pretend it’s something else and don’t fixate on the banana. There are going to be spices, beef, chicken, and a number of other things into the mix. Concentrate on those as best you can.” He patted my shoulder, and as I headed for the wardrobe area, I could still feel it… and for the millionth time, I wondered about how things would be after Meyer’s visit last night.

  I had half expected him to be cold and distant, but he wasn’t. Meyer acted pretty much the same, except maybe a little nicer, and some of his impatience had definitely vanished. There hadn’t been any outward affection, not that I’d expected any. Still, I was going to keep a certain amount of distance. I needed that in order to ensure that I didn’t fall back into what happened with him before. This time things were going to be different. They had to be.

  Wardrobe had my clothes ready, and I carried them back to my trailer to change. Once dressed, I stopped in at makeup for a check that everything was still in place, then headed to the set.

  Time was running down, and we went into the dining area, where the other guests were gathering. There was an air of excitement in the room, and we all took our places as time ran out for the chefs and the cameras were activated.

  “Thank you all for coming, and I hope you enjoy the meal,” Rachel said once everyone had sat.

  The chefs brought in their dishes three at a time, explaining each one. The first round was placed before me, and I stared at my food nemesis. I had hoped that they might try to disguise the bananas as other food, but each dish smelled like, well, bananas. I tried to follow Meyer’s advice and tasted each component, concentrating on the nonbanana items.

  “What do you think?” Meyer asked.

  “Well….” I could feel everyone turn to me. “The beef is perfectly cooked, but the banana seems weird to me. Like it really doesn’t belong. The sweet is fighting with the rest of the dish.” I kept quiet about the fact that I wanted to spit out part of it. “The vegetables with banana is actually nice. The spice works, and it lets the banana be the sweet note while enhancing the flavor of each component.” I took a bite of the fish, nearly choked but swallowed it, then pushed the rest of the food around on my plate.

  “What do you think of the fish?” one of the guests asked.

  “I wouldn’t feed this to my cat, and if I did, Rosco wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”

  The others tittered but agreed it wasn’t good at all. Meyer nearly did a spit take.

  “You have a cat?” Hank asked as the dishes were removed and next set of chefs brought in their food. “Is he as picky as you?”

  “Worse, if that’s possible,” I answered.

  “It’s true,” Meyer added. “I’ve seen Luke mix fancy canned food and dry because his cat likes a variety of textures. He won’t eat either food alone. It has to be both, and only certain kinds.”

  Meyer turned to the chefs as their dishes were presented, and once they’d left, their dishes were tasted and discussed. I had to admit that they weren’t bad.

  “Have you and Meyer known each other long?” The conversation flowed between courses just like at a dinner party.

  Even though I was asked the question, I hesitated.

  “Luke and I were friends in Philadelphia before I moved here. We’ve known each other for a number of years, but lost touch after I left. I don’t think it was something that either of us intended to happen. It just did.” That sounded honest and was probably as close to the actual truth as Meyer was ever going to admit to anyone.

  “Yeah, and I started the blog and then was asked to be on the show. I didn’t know Meyer was going to be a judge too.” I could play the old-friend game if that was what Meyer wanted, but I was surprised at how it hurt.

  “What would your cat think of this round?” one of the farmers asked, and the conversation returned to Rosco. The camera operators seemed enthralled and narrowed in.

 
“I think he’d be well fed,” I answered. “And I’d be worried about him getting overweight. Rosco is a greedy eater, so I have to watch him like a hawk.” Talking about Rosco gave me something to occupy my mind for a few seconds.

  The conversation continued around the table and shifted back to food as the rest of the dishes were served. I only took a few bites and didn’t try to eat all of anything. I needed to ensure I didn’t get full and could keep each of the dishes straight.

  “Thank you for joining us for the evening,” Rachel said as the chefs all came out, and the group applauded. “And thank you, chefs, for the food.” Everyone at the table lifted their glasses in salute, and the chefs filed back out again. The diners broke up after that, and we four judges saw everyone out.

  I wasn’t sure if we would film the judging right away, but Justin motioned toward that part of the set, so I followed the others inside and took my place. Rachel controlled the discussion, which was orderly. We discussed each dish and reached a decision on the winner and the loser. We were told not to censor what we thought. They would edit it for maximum impact and so the outcome wasn’t too much of a giveaway. Personally, I thought “food I wouldn’t feed to my cat” was probably a pretty good clue, but we reached our decision, called in the chefs, and rendered our verdict, with the man who made the “not cat food” being sent home.

  “That’s a wrap,” Ethan said once they had all they needed. “Very good show, everyone. Tomorrow we’ll set up, and then we’ll tape the next episode. Luke, if you have a minute.”

  I nodded and followed Ethan off to the side.

  “How well did you and Meyer know each other?” Ethan asked.

  “As he said, we were friends. I didn’t know he was going to be on the show until he showed up. It’s been three years since we’ve last seen each other.” I repeated the line.

  “There are people watching everyone all the time. Secrets have a way of getting out for all of us.”

  I met his gaze, but my insides were turning to mush. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, but I had promised Meyer that I would keep his secret, and I meant it.