Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Misty looks away, her expression flustered. “I just meant that—”
“You just meant that you don’t find Heather a threat to your claim to River. Am I right?”
She says nothing, but her cheeks redden…and not from the burner on the stove.
“Answer me, Misty.”
“Come on,” she says. “This whole thing is a game, anyway. You and I are an alliance right now. We’re working together. Think of it like a reality TV show. Part of the fun is throwing the others off their game. It’s like that Alton Brown show, Cutthroat Kitchen. Sabotage is part of the fun.”
“I disagree.”
“How can you? At the end of the show, professional chefs choose the winner and they don’t take any sabotage into consideration, and—”
“Misty, seriously, this is not Cutthroat Kitchen. You need to stop.”
“I will win,” she says, turning back to her aromatics, “with or without your help.”
Dear God. If I leave this to her, we’re all likely to be upchucking Ipecac-laced food after dinner.
I could end it all now. I could grab Evangeline and warn her what Misty is up to, but Evangeline already looks stressed out, and the others seem to be having a wonderful time.
Which irks me. I’m stuck with Misty and having a decidedly not wonderful time.
Or…I could go along. Attempt to sabotage the others. Except I won’t do anything that could truly hurt anyone. Maybe just play a bit, enough to keep Misty satisfied so she doesn’t ruin the event.
“All right,” I say to her. “Fine. I’ll help you.”
“Oh, thank God,” she says, turning back to me. “It has to be you, anyway. As you’ve pointed out, no one here trusts me. If I move an inch, I’ll arouse suspicions. Besides, what’s the point of competing if you don’t play to win? So what are you going to do, Emily, to make sure we win?”
EPISODE 96
STRAWBERRIES AND SNAKES
Sebastian
So far, working with Ariel has been a hoot. She’s such a sweet little innocent—except she’s not.
Not after our little tryst this morning. I was surprised she and I were paired together for this thing, and it makes me wonder if Evie knows something about our antics in my suite. Not that I care. That’s what I’m here for—to get to know all the women.
River is paired up with June. How will he feel about that vajazzled pussy? Hell, for all I know, he’s already seen it.
But thinking of Riv makes me think about what I have to tell him later about the break-in at his parents’ house. Has Monica tried to call him here? If so, I can’t see it in his face. Then again, River never really looks on top of the world. He’s got that brooding darkness around him all the time, even when he’s having a great time.
Damn.
Why can’t Shelley just tell him?
Ariel stands next to Marc and whisks the ingredients for the coleslaw dressing. Her pert little tush moves back and forth as she stirs. I can’t help ogling her for a few seconds, until—
“Alex!” Heather squeals.
I dart my gaze toward the duo. They’re working with Chef, making dessert, which is… I have no idea, but they’re peeling sweet potatoes over a basin and Alex just gave Heather’s ass a smack.
Yeah, not liking that.
Heather has pulled her hair up into a loose bun, which is sexy as hell, though I can’t figure out why. Her hair is the shortest of all the women, so the blue tips are falling out of the bun, framing her face as she wipes sweat off her forehead.
Damn.
I almost forgot.
Alex and Heather hooked up on the catamaran for the “orgasm without touch” game. By the way she’s gazing at him adoringly, I’m thinking it must have been good for both of them.
They’re teasing each other and laughing together, and despite myself, the heat of jealousy creeps into my gut.
“Oh!” Heather cries as she splashes something—I’m not sure what—onto her skin-tight blue tank.
Alex murmurs something to her before he helps her pull an apron over her head and then ties it behind her back, pausing to slide his hand over her bare thigh.
Damn him, anyway.
Back to the garlic. I’m not a huge cook, but when I do prepare dinner for myself—which is rare, these days, as I have a dedicated staff—I never skimp on the garlic. No such thing as too much. I press the flat of the knife blade over a clove of garlic, but I push too hard. The clove is completely mashed. I pick the papery skin off it and shove it to the side.
Still, I can’t help glancing toward Heather. They’ve finished peeling the sweet potatoes, and now they’re grating them by hand. Has Chef never heard of a food processor?
But damn… As she grates, I can’t help gawking at the defined lines of her well-toned arms. She and Alex are laughing together, and I have no idea what they’re saying, but they seem to be having a hell of a good time.