Some Like It Hot Read online

  Red-hot raves for the novels of Louisa Edwards

  TOO HOT TO TOUCH

  “Too Hot to Touch is a satisfying, emotional and touching read.”

  —Read, React, Review

  “I can see that this series is going to be another keeper on my shelves. A great start to this new foodie series, it makes me want to learn to cook … almost.”

  —Smitten with Reading

  “Edwards always amazes me with her descriptions in the kitchen and food. Be sure to read this book on a full stomach, or else the hunger pains might get ya!”

  —The Book Pushers

  “Jules and Max scorch the pages … very well-written characters with flaws, issues and depth.”

  —Badass Book Reviews

  “I loved this book. It was funny, sexy, the love story was touching, and the characters were likeable. As a fan of contemporary romance, this is exactly what I’m looking for when I buy a book. I can’t wait to read the next installment. This one is a keeper so don’t waste more time and go get it!”

  —Romance Around the Corner

  “If you like food, televised food shows (especially the popular Bravo series Top Chef) and books with happy endings, you’re in for a treat.”

  —San Angelo Standard Times

  “Scorching romance and delicious passions ignite behind the scenes of a high-stakes culinary competition. Today’s hottest chefs vie for fame, fortune … and each other’s hearts.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Yowza! There’s nothing like romance in the kitchen to get juices pumping and hearts pounding, especially when the writing sizzles like it does in Edwards’ latest.”

  —All About Romance

  “Every woman who’s made the painful discovery that great sex is not enough to make a man realize he’s in love will sympathize. Too Hot to Touch flips the power balance.”

  —BN.com Romance Reviews

  “I enjoyed the banter between all the characters. We get a little hint as to whom Danny’s heroine will be as his book will pick up where this one leads off. It’s overall an enjoyable read, and I’ll be picking up Danny’s book when it comes out.”

  —Happily Ever After Reads

  JUST ONE TASTE

  “The third addition to Edwards’ contemporary, culinary-based love stories is a rare treat that is certain to satisfy readers with its delectable combination of lusciously sensuous romance and irresistibly clever writing.”

  —Booklist

  “Laugh-out-loud funny, Just One Taste [is] a surprisingly tasty story of two unlikely people meeting and falling in love … A fun, light read with plenty of humor and passion, Just One Taste makes it to my keeper shelf and has me searching for the book preceding [it].”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “Awesome characters, delicious food and even more fabulous sex makes for a super-sexy and fun read! Edwards does it again. Her stories are fun but so meaningful, and I will definitely be reading her next book!”

  —The Book Lush

  “This is a wonderfully tasty series. Once you take the first bite of this story you’ll be hooked to the very last bite.”

  —Once Upon A Romance (5 Stars)

  “There are a lot of elements in Just One Taste, and Edwards juggles them like a pro. The addition of mouth-watering recipes at the end of the book enhances the excellent reading experience, and draws you into the world of cooks and cooking. A very enjoyable contemporary romance with plenty of bite and heart.”

  —Sacramento Book Review

  “I absolutely love Top Chef and Iron Chef America, but have never really picked up a food/chef-related novel before. I’m happy to report that Just One Taste was fun, sweet, and deliciously romantic.”

  —PS I Love Books

  “This is my first ‘taste’ of a Louisa Edwards book, and I’ll be going out for the others in this series. If you want a story with sweet romance, definite sensuality and enough laughs to make your day, then you need to read Just One Taste.”

  —Long and Short Reviews

  “Rosemary is probably one of the most intricately sketched heroines I’ve ever seen in a book, and the romance is, in a word … intense, and the blending of the story was richly presented. Make it a point to read this Perfect 10 today!”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  For Deidre Knight, the savviest agent, sweetest friend,

  and best honorary big sister a girl could wish for.

  I’d be lost without you!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Some Like It Hot Recipes

  Hot Under Pressure

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  So this is what it’s like to leave home, Danny mused, narrowly avoiding a collision with a woman who seemed to have forgotten she was pulling a wheeled carry-on case behind her.

  LaGuardia was packed. Every bank of waiting room benches sported at least a couple of people sleeping out the wait for their delayed planes, while the terminal seethed with chaos and confusion as flights were called, boarding was announced, and everyone rushed to find the right gate.

  Danny Lunden, who’d never been out of New York, took it all in and tried to ignore the chills of excitement down his back.

  They were on their way.

  A panicking voice rose above the din of bustling passengers and PA announcements about not leaving bags unattended.

  “Where’s my ticket? Please tell me one of you—oh, there it is. Okay. Thanks, Danny.”

  Patting his jittering friend’s shoulder was a little like grabbing hold of the business end of a hand mixer. “Winslow, cool it. We’re all good. We’re at the gate in plenty of time.”

  Which had to be some sort of miracle after the adventure of wrestling luggage and carry-ons through the New York City public transit system and pushing through airport throngs walking slower than the tourists in Times Square. Danny did a quick head count to make sure he hadn’t lost anyone in the subway tunnels or security lane.

  Beck, their resident master of fish cookery, was always easy to spot in a crowd, since he topped the mere mortals around him by about four inches. The big guy caught Danny’s eye and gave him a silent nod of acknowledgment. Beck was solid, as always, standing like an oak planted in the middle of a rushing river, carrying everything he’d packed for this adventure in a single duffel bag.

  Next to him was Danny’s oldest friend in the world, Jules Cavanaugh. Her dark blond hair was caught up in a messy ponytail, and her eyes glittered with the thrill of finally embarking on this trip they’d been anticipating ever since they won the chance to take on the Rising Star Chef competition.

  She glowed with happiness, spilling her warm light all over the guy beside her, who was busily soaking it up like a sponge cake doused in amaretto.

  Max Lunden, Danny’s brother. His older brother, in fact—a
nd Danny had teased Jules about him for years before her unrequited crush turned into completely requited forever-hearts-and-flowers love.

  And wasn’t that a rolling pin upside the head, because Danny never thought he’d see the day when his wandering prodigal brother would settle down and commit to anything—much less to winning the RSC, his family, and a woman all in one fell swoop.

  But Max had.

  Danny watched the way they leaned into each other, their wheeled bags bumping and threatening to trip them when they got too close, and tried to be glad the team had two such passionate, inventive chefs in charge, and ignore the unidentified tightness in his gut.

  It wasn’t jealousy—knowing about her long-standing crush on his clueless brother, Danny had never been able to see Jules as more than a friend. Hell, Jules had been the next best thing to a sister for years, long before Max swooped back into town. The fact that Max would eventually be the one to make it official didn’t bug Danny.

  He wasn’t sure what was bugging him, really, so he shoved it aside and turned to the guy next to him: Winslow Jones, the fastest knife on the team—and the one who’d nearly been grounded by security for pleading to be allowed to carry his knife roll on the plane with him—was still vibrating under Danny’s palm.

  And Danny was the pastry chef. So that was everyone. He relaxed minutely, a fragment of tension going out of his shoulders.

  The gang’s all here.

  A nasal voice over the loudspeaker broke into Danny’s thoughts.

  “We are now boarding flight number fourteen twenty-two to Chicago O’Hare International. First-class passengers only, please.”

  “Well, that ain’t us,” Beck said, settling onto his heels with the look of a man accustomed to waiting.

  “Have you ever flown first-class?” Jules asked, staring up into Max’s eyes.

  He laughed. “Hell no. An airplane with toilets on it is a luxury to me. I did most of my traveling through Asia on crowded buses or in the back of a truck transporting live goats or something.”

  “Sounds smelly.” Winslow wrinkled his nose, making the darker freckles stand out on his light brown skin.

  “You have no idea,” Max told him. “But this.” He gazed around the busy airport. “It’s something else.”

  Danny looked around, too, at the walls of glass and metal, at the reasonably clean floor and the people chatting as they rode the moving walkways, and figured he knew what Max meant.

  This was something outside all their experiences. Because they weren’t just embarking on some little pleasure jaunt to see the sights in the Windy City.

  They were headed to meet the teams they’d be up against in the Rising Star Chef competition, the other chefs who’d be cooking their hearts out and giving it their all in the hopes of coming out on top.

  The significant cash prize didn’t hurt anything, either.

  The newly minted East Coast Team stood in a loose huddle staring at one another nervously. Someone ought to say something, Danny realized, with a visceral pang of yearning for his dad’s gift of effortless inspiration, or his mom’s serene calm in the face of any crisis.

  “Gus and Nina should be here,” Jules said, in one of those weird moments of reading Danny’s brain like an open cookbook. She’d been doing it since they were in elementary school together, and it still freaked him out.

  Shaking off the emotion as if he were flicking whipped cream off the end of a whisk, Danny did what he did best.

  “Mom and Dad wish they could be with us,” he soothed. “But somebody’s got to stay home and run Lunden’s while we’re off winning the Rising Star Chef and bringing glory to their restaurant. I know this is kind of a crazy situation, and we’re all a little worked up, but we just have to stay focused on bringing home the prize. For Lunden’s. For my parents. For all of us.”

  As Danny glanced around the team, making sure to lock eyes with each person in turn, he could see them shedding their nerves and standing up a little taller. And a bit more of the tension rolled off his back, because if he could keep everyone together and zeroed in on the goal, they were going to be okay.

  Danny knew he’d have to work hard to take his own advice.

  Stay focused. This is for the family, for the restaurant, for the future.

  To Danny, they were interchangeable.

  When it was their turn to board, he herded his group over to the flight attendant, produced all five tickets, and got the team and their assorted carry-ons down the jet bridge and onto the plane.

  After some confusion over the seating arrangements—Max and Jules weren’t technically seated together, but were still in that phase of the relationship when they couldn’t bear to be parted for the hour and a half it would take them to fly from their home base of New York City to the unknown wilds of Chicago—Danny had everyone situated.

  Max, Jules, and Winslow were clustered on one side of the plane while Beck and Danny were in the slightly more spacious pair of seats on the other side of the aisle.

  Beck asked to sit by the window, and Danny readily agreed. He buckled himself in, stowed his satchel holding the precious tools of his trade under the seat in front of him, and was ready to go by the time the rest of the passengers finished boarding.

  But they didn’t go anywhere. The plane just sat there. And sat there. And sat there.

  Danny craned his neck out into the aisle to get a better view of the front of the plane. What was the problem? Were there electrical issues?

  Finally one of the flight attendants, a skinny young dude with unlikely yellow hair and an earring, grabbed the handheld microphone and stood in the aisle to make an announcement.

  “Sorry for the delay, ladies and gentlemen,” he said smoothly, “we’re just waiting on one passenger, then we can get under way.”

  Blithely ignoring the ripple of exasperated sighs and groans, the flight attendant hung up the mike and went back to passing out blankets and pillows.

  “Well, this sucks,” Danny said, impatience simmering under his skin. “Let’s get the hell off the ground, already.”

  “If they’re lying about waiting for a passenger because there’s actually some kind of systems failure, I’d personally rather they figure that shit out while we’re still on the ground.”

  Blinking, Danny turned to study his seat partner, taking in Beck’s rigid posture, the cold sweat dotting his hairline.

  How did I miss this?

  “You’re afraid of flying,” Danny said, disbelief sharpening his tone.

  Beck stiffened even further. Danny worried for a second that the big guy might Hulk out and break the arm right off the seat between them.

  “I’m not afraid of flying,” Beck grated out. “I’m not even afraid of falling—that would at least be a quick and relatively painless way to go.”

  Danny went into caretaker mode. “Okay, you’re a tough guy, everyone knows that. I didn’t mean anything by saying you were afraid.”

  Beck shook his head, the loose waves of his longish dark hair hiding his face for a second. “It’s not that I don’t—look. Everyone’s afraid, sometimes. I’m no exception. Fear is a survival response; it’s healthy. It can keep you alive. I just meant, it’s not the flying that wigs me out so much as it’s…” He swallowed audibly, his Adam’s apple moving in the thick column of his throat. “It’s kind of cramped in here. Not a lot of air movement. I don’t like that.”

  Danny processed that quickly. There was a lot they didn’t know about Beck, the taciturn chef who’d joined the Lunden’s kitchen crew only a few months before Max came home. There had been rumors—mostly started by Winslow and his overactive imagination—that ranged from ex-con just out of prison to foreign prince in exile. Danny had never paid much attention to them. So long as Beck did his job, banged out the straightforward, excellent fish dishes on the Lunden’s menu, and got along with the rest of the crew, Danny didn’t much care where he came from.

  The claustrophobia, though, was a new piece of the Beck
puzzle.

  Setting that aside for the moment, Danny said, “Would it be better if you were on the aisle? Might give you a little more room to stretch out.”

  Gratitude flashed in Beck’s hooded eyes, but it must’ve been for the lack of further interrogation on his issues, because he said, “Nah, that just puts me in the middle of the big metal tube with no escape hatch. At least here, I can look out and see the open air, even if I can’t touch it. I’ll be fine, man. As soon as we take off and get on our way, I can start counting down the minutes until we’re in Chicago.”

  Danny returned the tense smile with the most reassuring expression he could manage—and when it came to reassurance, Danny was the ninja master. Usually he’d start with a pep talk, but from the way Beck was white-knuckling it, the guy needed action more than words.

  Unbuckling his seat belt, Danny stood up, the familiar comfort of a sense of purpose filling him with determination.

  “Where are you going?” Beck asked.

  Danny straightened and stepped into the aisle. “To get some answers.”

  The blond flight attendant with the earring was fooling around with the coffeemaker when Danny marched up the aisle to the front of the plane, but when he saw one of his passengers bearing down on him, his eyes widened.

  “Sir, you need to sit down.”

  Danny had a couple of inches on the kid, but he did his best not to loom in the cramped confines of the airplane’s prep area. “Listen. My friend’s not a great flier and he’s starting to get anxious. Is there anything I can tell him about when we might be taking off?”

  “We’re nearly finished with the boarding process, and we can’t push back from the gate until all passengers are seated, with their seat belts securely fastened,” the attendant parroted.