Hot to the Touch

Troy stepped into the kitchen, feeling an intense pang of missing Darcy from being on her beloved turf, and of guilt that last time he’d been here he’d failed to appreciate it or her.

“So?” Ace took up a chef’s knife, started rapid-fire chopping onions. “What’s up?”

“I was an ass the other night.”

“No argument here.” Ace gathered the minced onions onto the knife and deposited them smoothly into a bowl.

“I didn’t listen, thought she was overreacting. And you.”

“Yeah, I got that loud and clear. You hear what happened?”

“Yes.”

“I was right. I told you. Bad intent. I picked up on it like radar.”

Troy gritted his teeth, telling himself to be patient. “I want to help Darcy.”

Ace smirked, took another onion, whacked it in half with more force than necessary and started slicing. “How can you help her?”

Troy couldn’t hold back a noise of exasperation at his attitude. “You know anyone in Raoul’s kitchen?”

“Yeah.” The answer came out grudgingly.

“How well?”

Ace’s eyes narrowed. “How well do you need me to know them?”

Troy sighed, leaning forward, hands on the edge of the gleaming counter. “Well enough to let us in for a few hours when there’s no one else there. Soon. Like, tonight.”

Ace considered him for a long minute. “This sounds illegal.”

“Yeah, and you never break the law.” He put his fingers together at his lips, mimicking someone smoking a joint.

Ace shoveled more perfectly diced onion into the bowl. “I’m trying to quit.”

“Good for you.”

“I already have, actually. For the most part. I want to be a chef someday. Darcy talked to me, said I can’t do it stoned. She was right. She’s awesome.”

Troy hid a smile. Good. He had the kid talking. “She’s a smart lady.”

“She’s also really talented, and she works incredibly hard. She’s worked incredibly hard to get all this.” He waved his knife around the kitchen. “Nothing was handed to her. Not like some people.”

Someone besides Troy had a pretty big crush on Darcy Clark. “You mean Raoul.”

Ace made a scornful noise. “He’s not a chef. He’s a con man. Takes orders, but can’t cook for shit. Sean was like that, too. I hope they go down together.”

“I think we can make sure they do.”

“Yeah?” Ace’s suspicion melted into eagerness. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing much. I need access to his computer for a couple of hours when no one else is around. And I could use someone with me who has cooking smarts.”

Ace’s smile started out small, then grew into a full-blown grin that bubbled over into a chuckle. “Dude.”

“You with me?” Troy held up his hand.

Ace high-fived him enthusiastically. “I can get you exactly what you need.”

14

DARCY OPENED HER FRONT DOOR, reached down to collect her paper and stopped halfway. Wow! It was warm! It was gorgeous. It was as if the hellish spring they’d been suffering through, all the rain and clouds and cold, had finally been vanquished overnight, the result of some spectacular final battle with summer emerging victorious. Nine o’clock in the morning and it must be seventy already. Sunny. Dry. A cool breeze bringing scents of growing and green.

Oh, what a blissful rebirth, and just in time. Because if a whole lot more kept going wrong, Darcy was going to quit this world and start her own planet.

She picked up the paper, brought it inside and went through the house, throwing open windows, inhaling huge lungfuls of the wonderful, sweet air pouring in. Mid-June for crying out loud. This was more like it.

If only the rest of her world would come around so perfectly and completely. The last week or so had been an exercise in pain and frustration. Sean was gone, she’d bumped Ben up to sous chef and Ace, bless his heart, to Ben’s position as assistant cook. She could see that kid going places soon. Already, his skills were developing as well as his confidence, and all with a clear head. She’d found a new dishwasher fairly easily to replace him. Gladiolas would be okay.