Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen)

chapter Thirteen


It’s me-ee.” Through the intercom, Cara sounded more shrill than usual, or maybe it was just the indecent hour that made her voice resemble a velociraptor giving birth. She breezed in. Eyes bright and perfectly lined. Check. Killer gams tapering to four-inch Manolos. Check. Blond chignon à la Grace Kelly. Check.

Chilled, chocolaty, caffeinated beverage, which she handed off to a grateful Lili. Check.

After making a five-course meal out of surveying Lili’s apartment, with its mismatched thrift-shop furniture and cluttered art arrangements, she delivered a love-what-you’ve-done-with-the-place simper. They settled in at the kitchen table, last night’s scene of the crime. Lili suppressed a yawn. Her sleep had been restless, her dreams steamy and all Jack.

“So, how famous are you today?” Cara asked.

Lili was beginning to think she had some sort of self-obsession disorder. Wake up. Shower. Google herself. How did famous people ever get anything done when there was so much being said about them online?

“Shona Love, the entertainment reporter for Channel Five, wants to interview me.”

Cara frowned. “Probably not a good idea. If she calls again, direct her to me. Let’s keep this about the show. Anything else?”

Lili sighed heavily. “My Twitter stand-in, FatChicksAss, says it hears beeping every time it backs up. But on the plus side, I’m getting plenty of offers on the Facebook fan page Gina created.”

Cara’s lovely pout stretched to a grimace. “Do I want to know?”

“Apparently I have a great future in carnie-themed pornos. Fat ladies and Siamese twins.”

“Is that even a thing?”

Lili sighed. “Jack says I shouldn’t read it.”

“Well, he’s right.” Cara giggled, all sugary wickedness, and leaned in, ready for confidences. “Now spill. I want to hear every smutty detail. Is he as good as he looks?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Cara’s mouth dropped open in a most unbecoming way, which pleased Lili much more than it should have. Ah, the little things.

“Shut. Up. What about all that malarkey in the hotel?”

“He was just kidding around. We never did anything.”

Her sister pursed her lips like a prim schoolteacher, contemplating this revelation. “Did you try to be funny? Guys don’t like girls who are too funny.”

“Oh, he found my seduction attempts to be the height of hilarity.”

Cara had a multitude of rules for dating—don’t make stupid jokes, never pay for a meal or finish said meal, and don’t put out for anyone who makes less than $500K a year—which probably accounted for the fact that her love life was about as successful as Lili’s.

Her sister huffed out a disapproving gust of air and eyed Lili’s hair as if it were the culprit. “The girls are going to the salon to get all gussied up before the show. Maybe you should go. Gina wants to get vajazzled.”

A mouthful of coffee trickled into Lili’s lungs, and she spluttered to recover. “You’d better not let her. She’ll need to show everybody, and your cameraman will have to gouge his poor eyes out.”

“Oh, nothing throws Jerry. But I won’t have time to babysit them with all the prep I have to do. The production crew is already downstairs, I’ve got the menus to finish, and I have a million other things to sort out.”

“I can take care of the girls. Just tell me what else you need.” Lili’s stomach growled and her mind replied, Leftovers. Veal parm for breakfast might not be acceptable in other cultures, but it was more than acceptable in the DeLucas’. “Is Jack at the restaurant yet?” she asked oh-so-casually.

“He went to the meat supplier with Dad. Speaking of Il Duce…”

“What about him?”

Lili could see Cara picking her words carefully. “He seems even more dictatorial than usual, if that’s possible. I don’t know why you put up with it.”

So you don’t have to. “He’s worried about the restaurant.”

“Is it really so bad?”

“It’s not good. I mean, the show should help and all the current drama is good for reservations, but that can’t last.”

“Could we borrow money?”

Lili smiled at the cozy use of we. Nice to know Cara wanted to include herself in the family’s crisis. At least this one.

“No go. We remortgaged the house three years ago, but we’re still losing hand over fist. That’s not the solution, anyway. We need to make changes, redesign the menu, appeal to a more diverse customer base.” Lili stood and wrenched open the fridge door. A solitary fat-free yogurt cut a lonely figure on the bottom shelf. “Dad’s clinging to a way of doing business that died out with Betamax. Cooking for the same few customers who show up like clockwork once a month. He thinks if we change anything, we’ll lose them.”

“Well, business was never his forte, Lili. Food’s his religion. When we were growing up, it sometimes felt like he was chef first, father second.”

Startled, Lili turned back to her sister. That was a curious way to put it together. “Food’s important to him. Like any chef.”

Cara shrugged. “Remember when Dad was worried about something, we would wake up to find the kitchen full of meals he’d worked on all night? Lasagna and chicken cacciatore as far as the eye could see. You know how he is—cooking is his touchstone; the kitchen is his cathedral…Hey, I need to write that shit down. That’s going to sound great in publicity for Jack’s new show.” She extracted her phone from a slouchy red hobo and started tapping.

Lili had completely forgotten about Tony’s all-nighters when he was upset. That cooking allowed him some measure of power over a life that had spun out of control when Mom became ill made a strange kind of sense. She’d always thought she could read him, but Cara’s keen insight surprised her. Didn’t sit so well, either.

“And he’s worried about Mom,” Lili continued, getting back to familiar territory. “Her checkup is next week.” Three months cancer free if everything went well. Cara probably had a gift basket ready for distribution.

“About Mom.” Cara’s voice wavered as she placed her phone down on the table. “I know I suck.”

Oh hell. Lili squeezed her sister’s shoulder, immediately feeling guilty about the snide thoughts twisting her brain. She never used to be this bitter. Envious that Cara had got away, but not bitter. “Cara, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. When Mom first got sick, it was tough, but when she started the treatments, it near killed me. I know I haven’t been there for you, but I just can’t handle seeing her like that. All skin and bone. No hair. It’s incredibly selfish, but…I don’t know how to explain it.” Cara’s voice hitched high in her throat.

Hearing Cara describing her reaction slammed Lili’s heart to the back of her rib cage. It also felt like she wasn’t getting the whole story. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“I don’t know. Every time we spoke on the phone, I could feel this judgment coming off you in waves. Or maybe it was my terrible phone service. Freaking AT&T.” She laughed, but it got snagged on a sniffle. “And I didn’t know what to say when you were doing all the work.”

Recognition welled up in her throat as Cara’s words fisted Lili’s heart. Maybe she’d been enjoying the view from up on her high horse a little too much. And not just with her sister.

Cara’s eyes met Lili’s, so blue and stunning. “Sis, you’ve always been the strong one. When we were little, nothing fazed you. Remember when you broke your leg after you climbed into that tree because Tad dared you?”

“I couldn’t do anything for weeks. Worst summer ever.” Lili sat again, her hollow stomach forgotten. “And you fainted.” Cara had earned as much attention for hitting the deck in a swoon as Lili had for breaking her leg in two places.

“You didn’t even cry. You just lay there quietly waiting for Dad to take you to the ER.” Cara wagged her finger. “And I fainted because your bone was poking out and it looked like something out of Alien.” Even now, her sister’s face turned chalky at the gruesome memory.

Lili gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “We’re just different.”

“I know you think I’m a princess.”

“Well, you are.”

“All right, I am,” Cara said, stubborn chin up. “But I still think you’re the most beautiful, kick-ass person I know.”

Guilt and regret fought for space in Lili’s chest as she was reminded of how they used to be friends. She longed for that closeness once more, and making a joke seemed as good a way as any of finding the way back there.

“So, throwing me at your boss was your version of penance?”

“Seemed like a good idea but…” She gave Lili a half-smile, Cara style. “Forget about Jack.”

Say what, now? Lili’s mouth went slack-jawed, shaken by the brusque declaration.

“I’m beginning to think it’s for the best nothing happened. I should never have encouraged it.”

“I know he’s out of my league.”

“That’s not it.”

Lili readied for the worst. He frequents swinger clubs or his tastes stretch to weird, New York–style kink. Or any style kink. The tabloids had been long on innuendo and short on cold, hard facts.

Cara raised both perfectly plucked eyebrows. “You’re not out of his league. He’s out of yours.”

Oh…say double what, now? “Why would you think that?”

Cara shot Lili through with that know-it-all look she brandished like a weapon, and Lili braced for one of her “here’s how it works in the real world” speeches. “Jack’s hotter than a jalapeño and he’s got charm up the yin yang, but there’s no depth there. All he cares about is cooking and f*cking. He’s good enough for a one-night stand, but don’t rely on him for anything long-term. He’ll break your heart.”

All that time working with Jack, and Cara hadn’t learned a single thing. She had bought into his media image just like everyone else. Just like Lili had at first. Within minutes of meeting him, she had smirked her disapproval and called him awful names because she’d thought herself so above him and his trivial existence. She had always considered herself a giving person. An unselfish person. But last night, Jack had given and she had taken, proving herself no different than the vultures who wanted a piece of him.

She liked him better when she thought he was a man whore. She liked herself better. Now she wanted to know more about the man lurking behind that PR-crafted façade. The man who didn’t seem all that at ease with his fame.

“After everything you went through in high school, I don’t want to see you getting hurt. By Jack or the haters. Just be careful, ’kay?” Cara smiled, putting the unpleasantness behind her.

That’s exactly what she would be. Careful. With her heart, and with Jack.

“Now to the important stuff,” her sister said, and Lili was ninety-nine percent positive she wasn’t talking about food. “What are you wearing for the taping?”

* * *

DeLuca’s was bustling, with the production crew going through their paces, setting up what Lili could only assume were harsh, unforgiving lights and boom microphones that picked up every traitorous whisper against the Dark Lord. Off in the direction of the kitchen, Cara’s strident voice barked unrecognizable orders. Not quite ready for that level of participation, Lili headed underground before the festivities really got going.

She wasn’t avoiding Jack. No, not at all.

DeLuca’s wine cellar was more of a basement than a proper cellar, but in the last couple of years, Tad had spent time building it up into something any top-notch dining establishment could be proud of. As Lili descended into the cool cavern, she took in the wall-to-wall racks, the temperature panel that looked like it could program a spaceship, and her cousin, now hunched over as he examined a bottle on the bottom shelf.

“Any chance we have something hidden in here that’s worth a fortune?” she asked, not entirely joking.

Tad looked up and gave that lopsided grin he used to great effect on the opposite sex. “If there was a bottle of 1787 Château Lafite knocking around here, I’d be lying on a beach with one of Kilroy’s lingerie models instead of trying to decide what wine recs we should have for the taping.”

Too much to hope for. She drew a heart inset with a J in the dusty film of the nearest bottle, then quickly swiped it clean.

“The show’s not going to help much, is it?”

Tad straightened to his full six feet two and rolled his shoulders until his spine cracked. “It won’t hurt, but we need a more long-term strategy. Tony cutting the menu would be a start.”

Having had this argument with her father over the size of the menu and how stock mountains inevitably led to waste, she knew it was a losing proposition. Dad’s kitchen was off-limits and he refused to listen to any suggestions that would interfere with his royal vision.

Tad shrugged in response to her silence. He knew it was a dead end. “But why are we focusing on imminent financial ruin when there’s scuttlebutt to be discussed? Saw something molto interessante when I was leaving work last night.”

Lili felt like a bird was trapped in her chest and she fought to keep her reaction light. “Oh?”

“Do I owe you a solo spin on the Harley?”

“I just took his photograph.”

“The old ‘come up to my studio to see my negatives’ trick? I haven’t tried that one since freshman year in college.” He laughed. “Even I could see that Cheshire grin of his from forty feet out. He is so warm for your form.”

That Jack was still smiling when he hit the street gave her an unreasonable burst of hope. Lili studied the racks taking up the entire west wall of the basement, then looked at her cousin squarely. “I know.”

“Why so sad? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“He wants to date me.” Or he wanted to date her, past tense. “No nookie until I agree.”

“Weird strategy to bag chicks, but okay. And that’s a problem because…?”

“Have you not been paying attention to what’s gone down in the last twenty-four hours? I told him it wasn’t happening and he backed off.”

Tad snorted his disbelief. “So, you trot out a bunch of excuses and now you’re annoyed that he’s not down on bended knee still begging for the chance to be your arm candy?”

“No,” she said uneasily. Was she annoyed? When had she become that person?

“Women. You have no freaking clue what you want. Kilroy does, though.” Tad’s lips turned up in a shade of a smile. “I bet I could learn a thing or two from him.”

“So I should date him so you can have a bro-mentor?”

“You should date him because he likes you and you like him. Quit overthinking it.”

Quit overthinking it. A hot prickle crept up her neck at the thought of how much Jack desired her, and how, unlike Marco, he had no problem showing it. His probing gaze touching every part of her. His dirty (she hoped) French talk. His large, manual labor hands on her, inside her, setting off fires in places that hadn’t seen that kind of heat since the Bronze Age.

Tad regarded her curiously. “I don’t even want to know why you’ve turned that very bright shade of red.”

Flustered, she forced her body to calm. She had very good excuses—reasons, dammit!—for not dating Jack Kilroy. If people were already wielding the bitch forks after one hot smooch, a relationship would whip up some sort of fan club bitchery frenzy. Setting herself up for online target practice in the cruel, unwinnable court of public opinion sounded like social suicide. She refused to become that girl again.

“It’s not as simple as liking someone. You’ve heard what people are saying. He’s the worst possible person for someone like me.”

Tad looked affectionately bored. “Remember when you used to come crying to me because Diana Matteo said your body was sixty percent pasta instead of water?”

She shut her eyes as images of Diana and her cronies squirting packets of ketchup in Lili’s hair streamed on the backs of her eyelids. Three years older than her, Tad was closer than a brother and had always been around to pick up the pieces. He knew it hurt then and that it still did.

“What did I tell you to do?”

“Ignore them. And stop taking third helpings of Mom’s lasagna.”

“Well, perhaps that wasn’t the best advice.”

“I know, I love lasagna.”

“I mean about ignoring them, wiseass.” He pulled out his phone. “Look at this.”

It was the “Jack’s Fat Chick Rules” Facebook page, and though the name made her cringe, secretly she was thrilled at how her family had rallied around to defend her.

“What about it?”

“It’s more popular than the ‘I hate’ one.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, trying to rotate her brain to apprehension.

“People are identifying with you, Lili. This page Gina created has almost nineteen thousand fans and it’s gaining every hour. Don’t shy away from this. You should be embracing how freaking gorgeous you are.” He turned on the DeLuca smile that looked ten times better on the males in the family. “Just sayin’. And anyone’s better than Marco Rossi.”

“You don’t like Marco because he’s fond of helping himself to your precious…” She waved around the space her ex considered his personal wine supply, much to Tad’s chagrin.

“I don’t like him because he never treated you the way you deserved. All that crap about how cuddly you were and how he loved having something to hold on to. A*shole.” Tad’s mouth was set in a grim slash. Always indefatigably good-humored, it was a shock to see him as anything else. Marco’s careless “compliments” had wounded, but Lili had always considered them the necessary trade-off in dating a hottie. Now she wondered if she’d been selling herself short all these years.

“He lives thousands of miles away,” she said, getting back to Jack.

“Two-hour flight. Phone sex.”

She’d be lying if she said it hadn’t occurred to her. Dirty weekends in the Big Apple. Delicious phone sex. And then a scandal when their spicy sexts got hacked—because knowing her luck, that was the most likely outcome.

“He’s kind of intense. It’s hot and all, but I don’t know if I can be what he wants.” Jack’s need couched as a command still haunted her. Really be with me. How could she keep a man that passionate satisfied and, above all, interested? He wanted a woman who could match his appetite and drive, not a sharp-talking mouse.

Tad heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I know what the real problem is.”

“Of course you do.”

He brushed her forehead with a kiss, and when she wiped it off dramatically, he grinned. It was a thing they did. “Listen to your favorite cousin. I’ve never steered you wrong. You’re afraid.”

“Stunning deduction. Absolutely stunning.”

“No, listen, not just about this online shit. You have it pretty cozy here. Sure, the business is headed to the crapper and Tony could give Genghis Khan a run for his rubles, but you’ve got a niche. You took over as mother hen when Frankie became ill. You’re the person everyone relies on, and that can be comforting as hell, but it can also be confining. Time to bust out of those chains, babe. Learn to fly.”

He flapped his hands like wings, and she slapped them away. Learn to fly, her ass.

First Cara, now Tad. Everyone was an armchair psychologist. “What do you think I was doing in O’Casey’s with Jack? I tried to bust out of my comfort zone and take a chance. He made promises”—she flapped her own hands now—“with his eyes! He promised me a one-night stand with all that hot-’n’-heavy smoldering and then he changed the rules. And I’m the one who ends up trending on Twitter.” With her comfort zone shattered and no longer showing up on any known maps.

Tad blinked at her outburst. “Jesus, you really need to get laid. So Jack challenges you. Very positive start.” He returned to dusting off a couple of bottles of a nice Super Tuscan she was rather partial to and set them on the bottom step.

“You’re such an ass,” she said, not unkindly. Jack Kilroy liked her and she liked him. It was silly to feel such hope, but strangely easy in this cool, darkened room insulated from the world above her head. But more than hope, she felt one step closer to the person she had dreamed of becoming back in those harrowing days. Cool, poised, forward-thinking Lili. Her blood surged like the first time she picked up a camera and realized there were myriad possibilities.

“Go make him an offer he can’t refuse,” Tad said with a straight face.

She groaned. “How long have you been waiting to use that one?”

“All my life, babe.”