Waterfall Kisses (The Kisses 9)

“I'm okay, the staff is okay,” she sniffled, not meeting my eyes. I could smell the scent of burnt hair lingering around her, and upon closer inspection noticed her eyebrows were singed. A single tear rolled down her flushed cheeks. “But the dinner isn't.”

I took a closer look at the charcoal mess of meat beneath the smoke hood. It looked more like lava than chicken, and there was no way it was even close to edible. I had no idea that chicken was that flammable.

“It's not the end of the world,” I said, following the line of singed paint up the wall to the slightly melted ceiling. Bastian was going to be pissed that his beloved kitchen looked like this. It was a good thing we were selling this mansion and that Ava was here to mellow him out. I sighed. “Do we have more somewhere?”

The caterer shook her head no, her chin quivering as she dry-washed her hands.

“Okay.” I thought for a moment. This was my job. I solved problems before they ever got to Bastian, and burnt chicken was possibly one of the easier ones I'd ever faced. I turned to the party coordinator. “Inform everyone that the chicken dish has changed and there will be a slight delay.”

The party coordinator nodded. “Luckily, nothing but appetizers have been served so far, so at least no one is waiting for food.”

I nodded and pulled out my phone, hitting my favorite speed dial while on the island. “Hello? Adele's Restaurant? I need to place an order of Maria's Special Chicken.”

Luckily, I was on very good terms with the owner and chef of the cute little local restaurant. If anyone would have enough food fit for a party, it would be Adele's.

The voice on the other line told me I was in luck. Since we were the main event on the island tonight, business was slow and they happened to have a batch of chicken already prepared. They could be here in twenty minutes.

Thanking my lucky stars, I gave them a few more details and told them to put it on my tab. I let out a little sigh of relief as I hung up the phone and slipped it back into my pocket. Crisis averted.

“The chicken replacement will be here in twenty. Is there anything else that needs to be cooked?” I asked the caterer.

“Really, the flambé was the last step and I've never seen flambé do that before,” she answered, her voice slowly gaining strength. For the last ten minutes she had most likely been terrified for her business. A mistake of this size, no matter how accidental, would have ruined her. “All the other main dishes are either on the grill or already cooked... except dessert.”

“What's dessert?” I racked my brain, but I had finalized the menu months ago and couldn't remember what Bastian and I had settled on. I just remembered that it had been delicious and the reason we had picked her to cater the meal.

“Baked Alaska and crème brulee.”

Of course. Two dishes that required fire.

“Are you up for it?” I asked, taking in her scorched appearance. She seemed to be calming down and getting herself back together, but I could imagine that she would want to be a little leery of fire after the chicken incident.

“I think so.” She swallowed hard and her hand unconsciously went to her scorched hair. “It's all table-side, so as long as I don't light the guests on fire, it'll be fine.”

“Okay then,” I replied, smiling at her attempt at humor. “Then everything is fine.”

“I'll pay for the chicken, Ms. Page,” the caterer said. Her eyes were bright. “No matter what happened, the food is my responsibility.”

“That sounds fair,” I replied.

“Thank you,” the caterer said breathlessly. “This event is the opportunity of a lifetime. Thank you for understanding.”

“Accidents happen,” I said with a shrug. “Lord knows I've done worse things to chicken.”

There was a very good reason Bastian cooked and not me. I could burn water.

The party coordinator came back into the kitchen. I turned to her. “The chicken will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Excellent.” The coordinator let out a sigh of relief. “I can handle the rest of the meal as planned then.”

“Good.” I smiled at the other two women, glad this had been a relatively easy fix. “Please inform me of any other problems. I'm going back to the party to mingle with Mr. Belrose's guests.”

And Leo, I told myself silently. And Leo.

Chapter Eight

Everyone was seated in the party tents to the back of the mansion. Despite the massive size of the mansion, there just wasn't a good place to seat one-hundred and fifty for a formal setting. Especially not with the unparalleled view of the ocean that the tents offered. Tomorrow, these tents would be used for some of the smaller, more durable pieces being auctioned off.

White linen and stringed lights gave the dinner a very Caribbean flavor that managed to look both comfortable and elegant at the same time, especially with the perfect ocean view. The tent doors were open to allow in the breeze, but the steady hum of the air conditioners kept the room comfortable. Camera flashes went off at regular intervals as the rich and powerful mingled over cocktails and appetizers.