Meryl Sawyer

More Than Words

Worth the Risk

More Than Words Bestselling authors & Real-life heroines

Each and every one of us has the ability to effect change—to make our world a better place. The key is to begin in our own backyards, look at needs within our communities and then decide to do something about them. The dedicated women selected as this year’s recipients of Harlequin’s More Than Words award have changed lives, one good deed at a time. To celebrate their accomplishments, bestselling authors have written stories inspired by these real-life heroines.

In this book, Meryl Sawyer honors the work of Gracie Cavnar, founder of the Recipe for Success Foundation.

We hope More Than Words inspires you to get in touch with the real-life heroine living inside of you.

Thank you for your interest in the Harlequin More Than Words program

Dear Reader,

For many years Harlequin Books has been a leader in supporting and promoting causes that are of concern to women and celebrating ordinary women who make extraordinary differences in the lives of others. Through Harlequin More Than Words, we annually honor women for their compassionate dedication to those that need it most, and donate $10,000 to their chosen causes.

We are proud to highlight our current Harlequin More Than Words award recipients by telling you about them and, with the help of some of the biggest names in women’s fiction, creating wonderfully entertaining and moving fictional short stories based on these women and their causes. Within the following pages you will find a heartwarming story written by Meryl Sawyer, one of our two free e-books available at www.HarlequinMoreThanWords.com. Be sure to look for Pamela Morsi’s Daffodils in Spring, our second story also available free on-line. Three additional stories written by Carly Phillips, Donna Hill and Jill Shalvis can be found on the bookshelf of your favorite bookstore in More Than Words, Volume 7. All five of these stories are beautiful tributes to the Harlequin More Than Words award recipients who inspired them, and we hope they will touch your heart and inspire the real-life heroine in you.

Thank you for your support; all proceeds from the sale of More Than Words, Volume 7 will be returned to the Harlequin More Than Words program so we can assist more causes of concern to women. And you can help even more by learning about and getting involved with the charities highlighted by Harlequin More Than Words. Together we can make a difference!

Sincerely,
Donna Hayes
Publisher and CEO
Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.

Recipe for Success Foundation Gracie Cavnar

Ever tried to feed a child quinoa with grilled chicken, roasted root vegetable soup, whole wheat muffins and a green salad? Gracie Cavnar has, and not only did the kids try it, many cleaned their plates.

Gracie is the energetic and passionate founder of the Recipe for Success Foundation, a Houston-based charitable organization with the singular goal of combating childhood obesity by changing the way children eat and think about the food on their fork. More than 3,000 children spend several hours each month planting gardens at school, tending to their plants and cooking up a batch of healthy, delicious food they eat together come harvest time.

This Seed-to-Plate Nutrition Education™ program Cavnar designed has transformed the lives of more than 12,000 of Houston’s most needy kids one carrot at a time.

In an era when nearly 32% of American children are overweight or obese, Gracie is certain she couldn’t have chosen a better time to take action.

“I’m all about food. Love, love, love it,” she says. “But we’re getting away from food—real food. Instead, we’re left with Frankenstein food.”

This highly processed food, filled with additives, chemicals and little nutritional value, is the first thing she wants to see kicked out of children’s diets. And she’s convinced—through her personal experience and by watching students change their eating habits since launching the Recipe for Success Foundation in 2005—that all children have the capacity to eat well. Eating patterns and lifestyle habits can be changed, especially if children are reached before the sixth grade.

“I’ve lived my whole life this way so I know you can get kids to eat good food,” she says. “They don’t just automatically turn it down. It’s all about presentation and making it fun.”

Vending machines out, good food in

Gracie’s life before Recipe for Success can be described as a mixture of high fashion, entrepreneurship and “California hippy mom.” Born and raised in San Antonio, Texas, she has worked as a fashion model, been a residential and commercial architect and owned a hospitality marketing and public relations company. She is also a mom to three kids who ate baby food she made herself and never knew a can of soda until they turned eight and started visiting friends’ houses.

But Gracie doesn’t come across as a health-food zealot; instead, she acts more like a cheerleader of good living and even better eating. She has recruited many dozens of high-profile chefs to create the centerpiece of her program—Chefs in Schools™. And she is delighted to count the president and First Lady as fellow advocates who share her sensibilities about nutrition. In fact, Cavnar now serves on the First Lady’s national task force focused on childhood obesity.

It was when she started toying with retirement and deciding what to do next that she stumbled across a newspaper article that would change not only her life, but thousands of Texans’ lives, too.

The article described the many elementary schools that had installed soft-drink vending machines. Granted, they used the proceeds to pay for programs such as soccer and the arts, but still, Gracie was shocked.

“It wouldn’t matter how you raised your kids,” she says now. “If little Johnny is in kindergarten and has seventy-five cents in his pocket, all of a sudden he’s drinking a sugar-filled soda.”

When Gracie started to make the connection between unhealthy food choices and depressing studies claiming that an epidemic of overweight and obese children was on the way, she finally decided to take action. It was the mid-nineties and people were only beginning to see what a problem childhood obesity might become.

“The more I found out, the more I became incensed. By then the fire was lit and I couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle.”

For ten years Gracie talked to experts and met with officials, teachers, principals and chefs. She envisioned her role would be as a yenta, a matchmaker who would connect volunteers and health and nutrition organizations to turn the epidemic around. Eventually, it became apparent she needed to do more.

“I realized that if I really wanted to make something happen, we had to be the ones spearheading and managing it,” she admits. “So here we are.”

Good food for all

Today the foundation has eighteen employees and several hundred volunteers, including more than sixty top chefs who donate their time to the Chef’s Advisory Board and work with the children through the Chefs in Schools™ program. Classes have also expanded to include after-school and summer camps.

“I never thought that one hour a month would have such an effect on children, but after one year I could see a change in how they spoke about food,” says Randy Evans, an area chef. “It wasn’t just something that came from a box, but it was produce that came from the earth and needed respect.”

At least eighty-five percent of the children in five original Recipe for Success participating schools are part of the federal free or reduced lunch program and often their only meals come from school. Now the program is available in a broader range of communities, but Gracie remains particularly focused on lower income neighborhoods.

For the first year, Gracie taught all the classes, but now most of her time is spent behind the scenes. She is hard at work fine-tuning and designing a new curriculum, developing a related television show, writing her cookbooks and expanding Recipe for Success to more schools and community centers across the country. She’s also finalizing details to build a 100-acre urban farm overlooking Houston’s skyline. In 2010, she had more than 120 schools and districts on her waiting list to bring the program to them, too, and she and her board launched a national push to put Recipe for Success’s Seed-to-Plate Nutrition Education™ in every community in America.

Busy, yes, but children will still find Gracie rolling up her sleeves and digging in the dirt with them. Her philosophy—if people cared as much about food and cooking as she does, they would treat it with care and moderation—drives her to be hands-on, too.

She thinks back to a little boy who refused to participate in the program at first, a boy who turned up his nose at anything green. Every day his mother would show up at school with his lunch in a fast food bag. But on the last day of the program, as he gleefully cut, stirred and diced vegetables with his friends, he waved his mother and the takeout lunch away.

“He wouldn’t even touch it,” says Gracie. “This is a huge gulf that we crossed.” She admits that she has so many other success stories she doesn’t know where to begin. “What we teach is a lesson they’ll have for life.”

MERYL SAWYER

Worth the Risk

MERYL SAWYER is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of twenty-five romantic-suspense novels, one historical novel and one anthology. Meryl has won an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for Contemporary Romantic Suspense as well as an RT Book Reviews award for Best New Contemporary Author. Meryl lives in Newport Beach, California, with her three golden retrievers. She loves to hear from readers and may be contacted at her Web site at www.merylsawyer.com.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Letter to Reader

Chapter 1

Lexi Morrison swept through the doors of Stovall Middle School along with a gust of spring wind. She waved at the secretary as she sailed down the hall to the cafeteria to volunteer in her sister’s class. She hated being late, but it couldn’t be helped. Professor Thompson had kept her behind to compliment her work. It would have been unspeakably rude not to listen, especially since she was counting on him to give her a reference once she’d completed her MBA.

“Lexi, there you are,” called Mrs. Geffen as Lexi shouldered her way through the double doors into the cafeteria.

“Sorry I’m late,” she whispered to the teacher. The second the words left her lips, Lexi realized the room was silent, which was unusual when over thirty teenagers were assembled in one place.

Then Lexi saw why. At the front of the room was a tall man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. He wore a navy shirt with Black Jack’s emblazoned in red on the pocket. He must be the guest chef who was scheduled to demonstrate today.

“Mr. Westcott was just telling us that he learned to cook in the CIA,” Mrs. Geffen told her in a voice everyone could hear.

Lexi nodded and understood what he meant, but she couldn’t imagine the students would catch on. No doubt they assumed he’d been in the Central Intelligence Agency.

She quickly glanced around the room to locate her younger sister, Amber. Volunteering once a week in Amber’s culinary arts class was the commitment Lexi had made to encourage Amber with her studies. This cooking class was an elective and the only subject that interested her. Unlike Amber, Lexi had always been in advance-placement classes and loved school as much as her sister hated it.

She spotted Amber in the front row. Her sister was always so eager to get to this class that she’d probably been waiting for the doors to open. Her honey-brown head tilted slightly toward the guest chef, then she turned and caught Lexi’s eye. “Hot,” she mouthed.

So that’s why her sister had been in such a rush to get here. Lexi thought the guy looked arrogant. He was frowning at her. She’d obviously interrupted and he didn’t appreciate it.

“Class,” Mrs. Geffen said as the group began to whisper, “Mr. Westcott was telling us about his training. Let’s listen to what he has to say.”

The teacher was short and packed into a moss-green suit that she’d worn almost every Wednesday that Lexi had volunteered.

“Someone asked where I learned to cook,” the chef repeated.

Lexi recalled Brad Westcott was the owner and executive chef of Black Jack’s, one of the most successful restaurants in Houston. It was also one of the few that didn’t purchase produce from City Seeds, Lexi’s gourmet-vegetable operation.

“Like a lot of you,” he said in a voice that indicated he was at ease with inner-city kids, “I used to think cooking was tossing something in the microwave.”

The students chuckled and elbowed each other, especially the boys. Many of them came from Mexico or South America and regarded cooking as women’s work. They were in this class because their other elective choices had been filled.

“Then I went into the army,” he continued.

That statement got the boys’ undivided attention. Many of them would join when they were old enough.

“I was assigned to the officers’ mess hall. That’s what they call the kitchen—the mess hall. Mostly I peeled potatoes, carrots—”

“What about the CIA?” yelled one of the boys.

“The army is where I became interested in cooking,” Brad continued, ignoring the interruption. “When I got out, I had enough money to enroll in the CI.A. The Culinary Institute of America right here in Houston.”

Lexi smiled, but it took a few seconds before the light dawned on the rest of the students. The girls giggled while the boys rolled their eyes or elbowed each other.

Their reaction didn’t bother Brad Westcott. “Over half the students at the culinary institute were men. Top chefs in many restaurants are men. Lots of the celebrity chefs on television are men.”

The boys seemed more interested. “A good chef can make a lot of money,” Brad continued. “Plus, you meet lots of interesting people, especially women.”

Now they were impressed. Money was a never-ending concern in the inner city. The word money got the boys’ attention, but mentioning women didn’t hurt. They might try to deny their interest in the opposite sex, but they didn’t fool anyone.

“Something to think about,” Brad told them with a canted smile that made him look mischievous. “Today, I’m going to show you how to make an easy treat. Has everyone washed their hands?”

Lexi was sure they had. It was required before any class where food was to be prepared, and special monitors at the door checked the students. In addition, the tables had been covered with clean butcher paper to prevent spreading germs.

“You’re going to learn how to make chocolate-truffle balls.”

There were a few snickers from the boys and Lexi groaned inwardly, but not for the same reason. No doubt they thought truffles sounded like a sissy word, even though most of them probably had no idea what it meant. Lexi knew her little sister adored desserts—especially chocolate.

Amber had been diagnosed with juvenile diabetes when she was just seven. She realized sweets weren’t good for her, but she often ignored the doctors’ warnings. The girl loved to cook and she especially liked to bake.

Lexi and Aunt Callie had tried to encourage Amber to prepare healthy food, but since Aunt Callie’s death, she had become more difficult. She indulged her sweet tooth even though she was aware of the health risks. If a hyperglycemic attack resulted, her blood sugar would suddenly spike, and she would need a dose of insulin or a trip to the E.R.

Amber resented Lexi being named her legal guardian. Lexi couldn’t understand her younger sister’s attitude. After all, since the death of their parents, Lexi had been more of a mother to Amber than Aunt Callie. Their aunt’s death and the judge’s decree had merely formalized the arrangement. But at fourteen, Amber believed she was old enough to take care of herself.

Seeming to realize Lexi was thinking about her, Amber turned and flashed playful green eyes that were exactly like Lexi’s. Then she turned back to the two boys who would be her partners for the cooking assignment. How could Amber be so sure of herself? Lexi wondered.

Lexi was almost ten years older than her sister and had excelled in school, especially in math. Amber never worried about her grades or about having diabetes. She took everything with an “oh, well” attitude. She didn’t seem to realize—or care—that they lived one step from being homeless.

When Aunt Callie died, she’d left them the house. It no longer had a mortgage, but there were property taxes and utilities, plus college tuition to be paid. Lexi worked two jobs to make ends meet while she attended college. The last thing she needed was for Amber to become ill from an improper diet.

“Do you sell vegetables to Mr. Westcott?” whispered Mrs. Zamora. She was one of the mothers who regularly volunteered to help Mrs. Geffen on cooking days.

“No. I think Black Jack’s is more casual, less gourmet,” Lexi responded, although she wasn’t really sure. She couldn’t afford to eat out so she’d never been in the trendy restaurant.

“That’s too bad,” Mrs. Zamora said almost wistfully, with a glance at the visiting chef.

Lexi didn’t need to look at him again to know that most women—not just girls Amber’s age—would find the guy attractive. He was tall and powerfully built with a ready smile and blue eyes that radiated a certain sparkle.

“Black Jack’s probably doesn’t serve baby vegetables and exotic greens,” she told Mrs. Zamora. Lexi was justifiably proud of the unusual vegetables she raised in the backyard behind the house they’d inherited. It was in an older part of Houston where homes had large yards. Most of the neighboring houses had been split into multifamily homes with shared rear yards.

Luckily, Aunt Callie had kept the family home intact and used the yard to raise market vegetables to sell. After her death, Lexi had realized there was more money to be made in smaller baby vegetables that could be sold directly to restaurants.

“I was at Black Jack’s once,” Mrs. Zamora said. “For my husband’s company party. Great ribs.”

“Right,” Lexi responded, her eyes on the chef. Ribs and steak. Texas food.

Right now Brad was showing the class how to roll the chocolate mixture into small balls. “Does anyone know what a truffle is?”

Lexi doubted many of the students would, but to her surprise Amber’s hand immediately shot up. Brad nodded at her and Amber answered, “A truffle is in the mushroom family. It’s brown and grows mostly in deep forests. Pigs hunt them by sniffing them out. They’re very expensive.”

The class laughed uproariously, as if Amber had just told an off-color joke.

“That’s right,” Brad’s voice cut through the noise. “Truffles are hard to find and rare. That’s why they’re so expensive.”

Amber must have read about wild truffles in one of her cookbooks. Why she couldn’t devote as much attention to her other studies mystified Lexi.

“We call this chocolate a truffle because it’s brown and roundish,” Brad continued. “You don’t have to roll a perfectly round truffle. Just make them about the same size.”

Lexi, Mrs. Zamora and Mrs. Geffen walked around the room helping any students who were having problems. It was a simple assignment. The only ones who asked for help really wanted attention. Lexi often found this true when she volunteered.

After they formed the truffle balls, the class was shown how to roll them in cocoa powder and place them on cookie sheets for cooling in the commercial- size refrigerator. It was a simple assignment, considering some of the more intricate recipes guest chefs had prepared, and everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun. Of course, that meant the noise level in the cafeteria shot into the stratosphere.

Brad Westcott didn’t seem to mind. He made his way around the room to speak encouragingly to the students. Lexi caught him looking at her several times.

“I hear he’s one of the chefs being featured on a television program about rising stars in the restaurant business,” Mrs. Geffen whispered as the students lined up to put their cookie sheets into the refrigerator.

“Really?” Lexi said, but she wasn’t surprised. Black Jack’s had opened to rave reviews and become an overnight sensation.

What Lexi didn’t understand was why the chef had chosen to demonstrate chocolate truffles. Mrs. Geffen’s class was supposed to feature healthy food.

Many students, like Amber, had chosen culinary arts as an elective because of their previous experience in Recipe for Success back in elementary school. The program had given them an appreciation for growing and preparing food.

“How many of you know about my restaurant Black Jack’s?” Brad asked after the students had gone back to their seats.

Most of the group raised their hands. Lexi considered it tactful of him not to ask how many had eaten there. Fast-food places were the extent of most of their dining experiences.

“Good,” Brad said. “We’re known for ribs and steaks, but also for fabulous desserts. I’m sponsoring a contest for middle school students organized by the Chefs’ Association. The grand prize will be a thousand dollars and a summer internship with my pastry chef for the student who creates the best new dessert.”

“An internship is an opportunity to work alongside a professional,” Mrs. Geffen told them. “You learn by doing.”

“You won’t get paid for your work,” Brad added.

There were some moans from the boys, but most of the students were interested. Especially Amber. She was beaming and whispering to the students seated beside her.

Great. Just what Lexi needed. Summer was her busiest season in the garden and her most profitable. She wanted Amber to go to summer school to boost her grades and help with City Seeds in her free time. Spending hours in the kitchen creating a new dessert would be catastrophic for her health and no help in raising the money they needed so much. Besides, as far as Lexi was concerned, the world had too many desserts.

Chapter 2

Lexi groaned inwardly as Brad Westcott described the two rounds of the contest. Each school would have a winner; then the winners would compete in a final round for the grand prize. She could just imagine the hours Amber would spend in the kitchen.

“Who’ll judge?” Amber wanted to know.

“Chefs from restaurants in the area,” replied Brad. “They’ll be looking for something different…unique. A dessert that’s healthy and lower in calories.”

“They’ll taste like…yuck,” protested one of the boys.

Just then the timer went off, signaling the truffles were ready to come out of the refrigerator. The leader of each team went to retrieve their cookie sheet. Naturally, Amber was a leader. She proudly displayed the collection of quarter-size brown truffles to her teammates.

“Amber’s a natural cook,” commented Mrs. Geffen. “You can teach the basics but there’s a certain flair some people have that others lack.”

Lexi couldn’t help saying, “I just wish she was as interested in her other subjects as she is in cooking.”

“Her grades are average,” Mrs. Geffen said quietly. “Maybe you expect too much.”

“I want her to have the opportunity to go to college.”

The teacher looked thoughtful for a moment. “Amber might do better to attend junior college first.”

Lexi didn’t want to disagree with Amber’s teacher, but she believed that if her sister applied herself, she could be in advance-placement classes. Lexi was afraid that junior college might be too much like high school and Amber would become bored, drop out and take any job she could get.

“Speaking of school,” Mrs. Geffen said, “how are you doing?”

“Very well. I’ll complete my master’s in business administration soon, and this summer I’ll prepare to take the CPA exam in the fall. I need to get a part-time job in an accounting department. Firms hire grad students and let them work until they pass the exam. I’ll start interviewing next week.”

“That’s fabulous,” Mrs. Geffen said. “You’ve worked really hard.”

Lexi watched as the class devoured the chocolate truffles they’d made. Even Amber ate both of hers, knowing her blood sugar level would spike. Did she engage in such risky behavior to provoke Lexi or because she couldn’t resist sweets?

“You rolled those truffles in cocoa powder,” Brad said, raising his voice to get their attention. “Does anyone know where cocoa powder comes from?”

That was a great question, Lexi thought. A lot of kids believed food came from a package in the supermarket. Amber’s class had learned about planting and harvesting in the Recipe for Success program back in the fourth grade.

“It’s ground-up chocolate,” called out one of the girls. “Like from a Hershey bar.”

Brad chuckled, a deep masculine sound that took Lexi by surprise. It made her want to laugh along with him. For some reason she hadn’t expected the chef to have a sense of humor. “Not exactly, but you’re on the right track.”

Amber was waving her hand furiously. Brad nodded at her.

“Cocoa powder comes from cocoa beans, not from a candy bar. Candy bars are made from cocoa.”

“What does a cocoa bean look like?” Brad asked.

“Like a coffee bean… I think,” Amber replied.

Lexi silently admitted that’s what she thought, too. She’d seen pictures but never actually held a cocoa bean.

He pulled a foot-long yellow pod out of a shopping bag. “This is where chocolate comes from. Before it’s processed it grows on trees in warm, wet places in Africa and South America.

“You open the pod.” He demonstrated by splitting the plant with his pocketknife. “Inside are the smaller pods that make up the cocoa that becomes chocolate when processed.”

“Who do you think was the first European to see cocoa beans?” Mrs. Geffen asked the class.

No one had an answer and Lexi wasn’t sure she knew. She guessed it must have been one of the Spanish explorers.

“Who discovered America?” Brad asked.

“Columbus—1492!” a boy shouted.

“That’s right. Later he met some natives who had cocoa beans in their canoe. He thought they were a new type of almond because no one in Europe had ever tasted chocolate.”

“Get out!” someone cried.

“Seriously,” Brad responded. “Columbus didn’t taste it either. The Spanish conquistadors tried it in 1519 when it was served to Montezuma as a drink. That’s over twenty years after Columbus saw it.”

Interesting, Lexi thought. The students had given him their full attention. Brad Westcott knew the right buttons to push: money, girls, television, chocolate.

“The Aztecs used cocoa beans as a form of money,” added Mrs. Geffen.

“When chocolate was taken to Europe, it instantly became popular,” Brad explained.

This was the best demonstration she’d seen, Lexi decided. The kids were so animated, so interested. They’d really learned something today.

“The truffles you made are actually low-calorie treats,” Brad told them. “The recipe I used cuts down on the fat and sugar but still tastes good.”

From the low buzz that hummed through the group, this was a surprise to the students.

“That’s what I’m looking for in the contest,” Brad said. “We want desserts that taste great and are also healthy for us.”

Lexi endorsed the idea of healthy desserts, but she still didn’t want Amber spending hours in the kitchen for a contest.

The bell rang, signaling the class was over. “Clean up your workstation before you leave,” instructed Mrs. Geffen.

Most of the students hastily gathered the butcher paper and wiped down the tables, then stampeded toward the door. But a few hung around to talk to the chef while the monitors washed and put away the cooking utensils.

Amber charged up to Lexi, her face flushed with excitement. “I’m going to enter that contest.”

Now was not the time to have a discussion about her grades and the work she was responsible for in the garden.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with a really unusual dessert,” Mrs. Geffen said.

Lexi tried for a smile, but didn’t quite manage. She reminded herself that Amber needed to build self-esteem when it came to schoolwork. The culinary arts class would earn her a good grade. It would probably be the only A she received, but it might also encourage her to pay more attention to her other classes.

“I’m gonna enter the contest,” Amber informed the chef as he walked up to them.

Brad smiled. “That’s great! I’ll look forward to tasting your dessert.”

Lexi had to admit the guy was charming. Too charming. No doubt Amber would be talking about him for days. She was going through a boy-crazy stage.

“Are you going to be a judge?” Lexi asked Brad.

Brad turned to her with a captivating smile. “Actually, the chefs from the Chefs’ Association are judging, but I’ll want to taste the winning recipe.”

“Brad, this is Alexis Morrison,” Mrs. Geffen said. “She’s Amber’s older sister. She helps me on the days we’re preparing food.” The teacher turned to Mrs. Zamora and introduced her as well.

“Everyone calls her Lexi,” Amber said.

An early warning signal from Lexi’s brain said to get away from this man before Amber was even more intrigued. Lexi had to admit that even she was conscious of his virile appeal. A young girl would find him irresistible.

“I’m going to win the contest,” her sister assured Brad before Lexi could drag her away.

Brad smiled encouragingly. “If you win, you’ll be up against students from all the other middle schools in the final round.”

“Not a problem,” Amber assured him with her usual confidence.

“Lexi owns City Seeds,” Mrs. Geffen said.

Lexi stifled a groan. “Mr. Westcott has probably never heard of us.”

“Please, call me Brad,” he responded as he gazed at her with intriguing blue eyes. “I’ve seen City Seeds’ produce. You specialize in baby vegetables, right?”

“And upscale greens,” Amber answered for her. “I help grow them.”

“Really?” Brad’s assessing glance stayed on Lexi. “My sous-chef is in charge of purchasing our produce.”

“Do you use baby vegetables?” Lexi asked. They were two or three times more costly than regular ones.

“We haven’t, but you never know. Our menu is always changing.”

“Thanks for the demo,” Mrs. Geffen said. “My students really enjoyed it.”

Lexi nodded her agreement, then nudged Amber. “Time to go.” She turned to Mrs. Geffen. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Thanks for your help,” the teacher said as Lexi walked away, Amber in tow.

“That was, like, so mean,” Amber said once they were out in the hall. “I wanted to talk to Brad. Get some hints about how to win the contest.”

“I have a paper due,” Lexi told her. “And before I even begin, I have to water and weed.”

“Whatever,” Amber replied with an exasperated sigh.

Brad Westcott watched the attractive brunette walk away. He’d noticed her the minute she’d walked into the room. She looked just like her sister. Who would have thought Lexi Morrison owned City Seeds? Brad wasn’t sure who he had expected to own the premier local produce company, but someone so young or so pretty.

“Did Lexi start City Seeds herself?” he asked Mrs. Geffen.

“Her aunt had a backyard garden. The girls came to live with her after their parents were killed in an automobile accident.”

How terrible, Brad thought with a pang of sympathy. His own youth had been difficult, but both his parents had loved him, and he’d always had them for support.

“Lexi’s aunt sold produce at the local farmer’s market, and Lexi noticed baby vegetables brought a higher price,” put in Mrs. Zamora.

Enterprising, Brad thought.

“She did all that while getting straight A’s and a scholarship to the University of Houston.” The teacher smiled proudly as if Lexi were her own child. “She’s about to get her master’s degree in business administration. Then she’ll take the CPA exam.”

“Impressive,” Brad said and he meant it. Not many people could juggle so much at once. No wonder she’d been in a hurry to leave.

He left the school and drove to Black Jack’s. Although he had three restaurants in the Houston area, he concentrated on this one. It was the largest and most profitable.

Lexi Morrison drifted out of his thoughts as he strode through the back door. As usual, the kitchen was controlled chaos. Slabs of beef ribs were smoking and huge pots of barbecued beans simmered on the industrial-size stoves.

“Hey, Brad,” called Charmayne Collins, the pastry chef. “How was the demo?” She was piping whipped cream around a tiramisu mousse.

“Great,” he replied. “The kids seemed to enjoy it.” An image of Lexi Morrison flashed across his mind. “Where’s Allen?”

Charmayne kept her eyes on the ceramic dish in front of her. “He’s not here.”

Brad stopped and spun around, nearly bumping into a waiter carrying a tray. “What? Where is he? Did something happen?”

It was late in the afternoon. The sous-chef should have started preparations for the evening crowd. If the assistant chef hadn’t stepped up, Brad would have to hustle or every dinner would be late tonight.

“I don’t know what happened to Allen,” Charmayne told him. “He spoke with Trevor.”

There was an undertone in her voice that he didn’t like. Something was wrong. He charged across the busy kitchen and into the bar area, where Trevor, the head mixologist, was setting up for the evening rush.

Just when bartenders became mixologists, Brad couldn’t say, but they did deserve the more impressive title. The bar was the cash cow of most restaurants and Black Jack’s was no exception. Like most mixologists in successful bars, Trevor had created his own specialty, the snakebite.

“Where’s Allen?” he asked the short fireplug of a man.

Trevor looked up and said, “He quit. There’s a message in your office. He took the job as executive chef at Valentino’s.”

The air left Brad’s lungs in a dizzying rush. “Without giving me notice?”

Trevor shrugged one shoulder. “Allen told you more than once that he wanted to move up.”

“True,” Brad conceded. He was Black Jack’s executive chef and didn’t intend to give up the position. Since his other restaurants already had executive chefs, he didn’t have anywhere to move Allen. “I assumed he would have given me more notice.”

Trevor shrugged again in his laid-back way. “The position came up unexpectedly and they needed him ASAP. They offered him a bundle.”

Unbelievable, Brad thought. He was going to have to do the work of two people until he could find another sous-chef.

Chapter 3

Lexi walked through the front door of her house, her new briefcase under her arm. She’d just interviewed at a fourth accounting firm. Another cube farm, she thought. She might as well become a factory worker. Calculating people’s taxes wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she started her MBA, but in this weak economy, it seemed to be where the jobs were.

Once she’d gained some experience to add to her résumé, she could look for a smaller firm.

“Amber,” she called when she didn’t see her sister at the dining room table doing homework.

The delicious scent of chocolate hung in the air. Lexi wasn’t surprised. Since Brad Westcott had announced his dessert contest, Amber had been obsessed with creating a winning recipe. She tried to hide her efforts by meticulously cleaning up after herself and donating the “experiments” to the senior center nearby, but Lexi wasn’t fooled. The telltale scent of baked goods was impossible to hide.

Lexi changed into work clothes and went out into the garden. Spring was here, but heat shimmered up from the ground in visible waves as if it were the middle of summer. Netting shaded the more sensitive plants, but everything desperately needed water.

Naturally, Amber had been too busy baking to water the plants. Baby vegetables were very sensitive. They could easily wilt in the scorching heat even though they were shaded. Once a baby veggie flopped over, there was no reviving it. Lexi uncoiled the soaking hoses from their bins and placed them so they would slowly fill the dry trenches that snaked through the garden.

The yard wasn’t big compared to a real farm, but it was large for the area and entirely devoted to gardening except for a small locked shed that held the equipment. In this area of Houston, what wasn’t locked up was stolen.

Even the gates to the backyard had industrial padlocks on them. The neighborhood children weren’t inclined to steal the vegetables, but they’d been known to tear up the garden beds just for fun.

Three hours later, she left her muddy sneakers on the back porch and went into the house. Still no sign of Amber. She was probably kicking back at a friend’s or had taken the bus to the mall.

What would become of the garden when Lexi found a job at an accounting firm? She certainly couldn’t trust Amber to run the operation alone. Chefs at several of the most prominent restaurants in the city counted on City Seeds’ produce.

Lexi would need to find an assistant. She thought about Urban Plots, a community garden several blocks away. Local people planted and tended their own spaces in a lot provided by the city. Maybe someone there would want to make some extra money by helping Amber.

The front door suddenly burst open, bringing with it a gust of heat. Amber rushed into the house. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” she shouted.

Her sister was so excited that Lexi hated to scold her for not having watered the garden. It seemed lately that all they did was argue.

“What have you got?” Lexi asked with all the patience her tired body could muster.

“I know what I’m going to bake for the contest.” Amber collapsed onto the sofa that had been ancient years ago when they’d come to live with Aunt Callie. She swung her feet up onto the scarred coffee table. “A to-die-for chocolate-raspberry tart. I made it for the third time today and everyone at the senior center said it was the best. A real winner.”

Lexi doubted the seniors would criticize a free treat, but she had to admit Amber was a good cook.

“Don’t forget this is just the first round. If—and it’s a big if—you win, then you’ll have to compete against the winners from all the other middle schools.”

“I know,” Amber replied with her usual self-confidence. “I’ll invent something new for that round.”

Swell, Lexi thought. More baking, more sampling. Too many sweets for a diabetic. “Have you tested your blood sugar?”

Amber swung her feet to the floor. “All right. All right. I’ll test, but I didn’t have a piece of the tart. I relied on people to tell me if it was good.” She stomped off toward her bedroom, presumably to test her blood sugar. Lexi resisted the temptation to follow her. Amber had been giving herself insulin long enough to be able to do it on her own. Having Lexi hover over her only made Amber more difficult.

In a few minutes, Amber reappeared. “While I was waiting for the tart to bake, I made a chicken salad for dinner. The kind with Granny Smith apples that you like.”

Lexi thanked her sister. She could hardly berate her for not watering the plants now.

“How did your interview go?”

Lexi was amazed Amber remembered that she’d had one. She rarely paid attention to anything unless she was directly involved.

“Okay, I guess.”

“What do you mean—you guess?”

“They didn’t offer me a job on the spot, but they may. I’m just not sure I want to work there. Everyone’s jammed in like cigars in a box.”

“What else can you do until you take the CPA exam?”

“Good question,” Lexi admitted. “Not much. Keep City Seeds going and continue to work at Millard’s.”

Millard’s Upholstery was a small business nearby where Lexi did the payroll as a part-time job. There was no chance to move up in the family-run business, so it made sense to join a large CPA firm until she passed the exam. It would also pay better.

“It sounds as bad as school,” Amber complained. “At least you’re earning money. What use is geometry and history?”

“It’ll help you get into college.” They’d been down this road too many times to count.

“So I can end up like you, with a master’s and nothing interesting to do with it?”

Lexi hoped the anger that surged inside her didn’t register on her face. Amber was baiting her, and reacting would just encourage her sister. She repeated her usual explanation. “A college degree will give you more options. If you settle for being a cook without a college education, you may end up slinging hash at a drive-through fast-food joint. Would you like that?”

“Maybe,” Amber huffed.

Brad hesitated outside the old Victorian house. This couldn’t be City Seeds. The home was in one of Houston’s oldest areas. It was in the DMZ between a lower-middle-class district and a neighborhood overrun by gangs and the homeless. Once the neighborhood had belonged to the city’s elite, but over time people had moved to more desirable enclaves. Most of the homes had subsequently been split up to accommodate multiple families.

He checked the address on the note he’d written. This was the right place. He assumed its large backyard was intact or there wouldn’t be room for a garden.

When he rang the bell, he heard a girl yell that she would get it. Amber, he guessed. The door swung open.

“Oh my gosh!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”

Before Brad could answer, Lexi appeared in cutoffs and a faded navy blue T-shirt. A sexy outfit, but he doubted she realized it.

“Mr. Westcott?” she said, obviously not thrilled to see him.

Lexi had been on his mind a lot since he’d met her, but he’d been so busy at work that he hadn’t found a chance to see her again. Finally he’d hired another sous-chef, a woman this time.

“I’ve heard such good things about City Seeds that I thought I’d come see for myself.”

“That’s great,” gushed Amber, but Lexi didn’t look too pleased. “I’ve come up with a winner of a dessert for the contest.”

“Really?” It took a second for him to recall that the contest’s preliminary round was next week. “That’s wonderful.”

Lexi moved around her younger sister. “What sort of vegetables are you interested in?”

Brad shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m creating several new dishes for the summer menu.”

“This way,” Lexi said as she walked by him.

They headed down the front steps then followed a stone path around the old Victorian. Amber trailed behind them. He watched Lexi move and decided she was one of those women who could be provocative without trying. Something he found extremely appealing.

Lexi unlocked a metal gate then swung it open to reveal a lush backyard full of plants and vines. There didn’t seem to be an inch that wasn’t under cultivation. Rows and rows of plants covered the ground. Long containers were set on stepped racks that lined the fence, creating space where there was very little. Ingenious, he thought.

“We grow a lot of unusual lettuce,” Amber told him.

“I can see that,” Brad replied, a little ashamed he didn’t recognize the varieties.

“Some of these greens are native to Asia,” Lexi said.

“Really?” Brad was impressed. Houston had a sizable population of Asians. He had been experimenting with some Chinese and Thai dishes in his spare time.

“You should taste this.” Lexi picked a curly red leaf off a plant and handed it to him. Brad didn’t particularly like lettuce. He wasn’t a salad kind of guy, but he took it anyway. He popped it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“Good, really good,” he said, and he meant it. The lettuce had a slight taste of nuts.

“You could design a special summer salad with red wave lettuce,” Amber said.

“True.”

“It also goes great with chicken,” she added.

“I’m sure I can come up with something,” Brad said. “May I buy a box of red wave lettuce?” That would give him a dozen heads to use. If he created a luncheon special, he’d go through that much in a weekend.

“Yes, but there’s a limited supply,” Lexi responded.

“Great,” he said. He could use the exclusive aspect to promote the dish.

“I’ll box it up for you.”

“How much per head?” Brad asked, and almost choked when she told him the price. The new salad would cost as much as a seafood salad.

“I’m dying to see how you use our lettuce,” Amber said.

Lexi was filling a wax-coated box with lettuce that she was pulling directly from the ground.

“Do you have anything else that you think might work with it?” he asked.

Lexi raised her head and looked at him, but it was Amber who answered.

“What about beets? The yellow variety is incredibly sweet. Everyone loves them. They serve them as a side dish at Marché.”

That got him. Marché was one of his chief competitors. Their food appealed to an upscale crowd that was willing to spend a lot of money dining out. “That’s a possibility. Could I try some?”

“I’m not sure we have enough,” Lexi responded. “Marché buys almost all the specialty beets we grow.”

“Is that right?”

Again Amber answered for her sister. “Most of what we grow is already promised to restaurants who’ve been buying from us for years.”

“I see.” Why hadn’t he known more about City Seeds? Obviously, letting his sous-chef buy all the produce had been a mistake. He’d lost touch with the local market.

“We do have an Asian type of baby squash that might work,” Lexi suggested.

“Really?”

“They’re over here.” She left the half-full box of lettuce and walked across the yard to a small hothouse. “I grow them hydroponically.”

Lexi plucked a small green squash the size of his little finger off a vine growing from a cylinder of water. At the top of the baby squash was a bright orange bubble-shaped blossom.

Brad bit into the veggie and an unusual savory flavor filled his mouth, unlike any squash he’d ever had. “Wow! This is good.”

“I thought you might like it,” Lexi said with the first smile he’d seen from her.

“I’m going to go with them instead of the beets.”

“Awesome!” squealed Amber. “I can hardly wait to taste your special.”

The girl had more confidence than three kids her age, Brad decided. Lexi was more reserved, but Amber’s interest gave him an idea.

“Do you two have plans for lunch on Saturday?” he asked. He really wanted to know about dinner, but decided anyone as attractive as Lexi would have plans for the evening.

“No, we don’t,” Amber answered.

Lexi didn’t look half as pleased as her sister. She was about to say something, when a horn blared.

“That’s my ride.” Amber dashed toward the gate. “See you tonight, Lexi.” She stopped, hand on the gate, then spun around and called out to Brad, “I’m going to win your contest. Count on it!”

Lexi waited until Amber slammed the gate shut. “I hope she doesn’t win.”

Her reaction surprised him. “Really, why?”

Lexi hesitated for a moment. “I want her to get a college education. I don’t want her slaving over a hot stove only to find out the job’s not as glamorous as she thinks.”

“She could do both,” Brad responded, a little shocked at the frustration he detected in her voice.

“Not Amber. She’s got a one-track mind. Right now all she can think about is winning that contest and she’s neglecting her schoolwork. I want her in summer school, not tagging around after some pastry chef.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Brad said, attempting to assure her. “What are the chances she’ll win?”

“She’s an excellent cook. Baking is Amber’s specialty.” Lexi sounded defensive. “And if she loses, she’ll be disappointed, crushed.”

Cripes, Brad thought. There was no reasoning with women.

“I have an idea that might solve your problem.”

Chapter 4

Lexi followed Amber through the double-wide doors into Black Jack’s on Saturday. Amber had been so excited about lunch that she’d changed outfits at least six times. Brad had persuaded Lexi that a visit to his restaurant and a tour of the kitchen during the hectic noon rush would show Amber that working in a restaurant wasn’t glamorous. But what if he was wrong? Suppose the chaos and hair-trigger tempers Brad had so vividly described actually energized Amber?

“Wow! This is awesome!” Amber made no attempt to hide her enthusiasm.

The place had a Caribbean style to it with dark wood floors and plantation shutters that filtered the light. High above their heads, ceiling fans shaped like palm fronds circulated the air above the wicker and bamboo furniture.

Lexi hadn’t dated a lot, but she had been out enough to know there were ritzier restaurants in Houston. Amber had only eaten at fast-food places, so this had to seem highly sophisticated to her.

“You must be the Morrisons,” said a perky blonde hostess when they walked up to her.

“Yep. That’s us,” Amber responded with a beaming smile.

Lexi hoped they were suitably dressed. She’d worn a tan pair of slacks and a coral blouse with a thin tan stripe running through it. A conservative outfit but one that looked nice, she thought. Amber couldn’t be talked out of a very short raspberry-pink skirt and a matching tank top that revealed her midriff whenever she raised her arms.

The hostess picked up menus the size of wall posters and led them to a corner table. “Brad will be right out.”

“Look at this menu! A-mazing!” Amber exclaimed after they’d been seated. “Ribs, steaks, chicken and zillions of yummy desserts.”

“Interesting salads and chicken dishes,” Lexi said. If she came out and told Amber to make a healthy choice, her sister would balk.

Amber didn’t reply as she intently read the menu word for word. Great, Lexi thought. Amber would study a recipe or cookbook or menu as if it was a treasure map, but she could barely find the time to scan her schoolbooks. But now was not the time for that discussion, Lexi reminded herself.

“I don’t see our red wave lettuce on the menu,” Amber whispered, even though no one nearby was paying any attention to them.

“The waiter usually tells customers what the specials of the day are,” Lexi said. “That way they don’t have to reprint menus all the time. It would be too expensive.”

Amber gazed at her with something akin to respect—a first. “How do you know? Do your dates bring you to places like this?”

Lexi had been receiving more and more questions from Amber about boys and dating. Aunt Callie hadn’t allowed Lexi to date until she was sixteen. Lexi thought that was a good rule, but Amber insisted all the girls she knew were already dating. Soon some boy would ask Amber out and Lexi would be forced to make a decision. “I’ve been to nice places like this a few times, but young guys mostly take you to fast-food places.”

“Oh, yuck!”

“Think about it,” Lexi said. “It costs a lot to have dinner and go to a movie. Most guys can’t afford anything fancy.”

“Matt could.”

Matthew Hastens. Lexi’s former boyfriend. She’d broken up with him because he’d gotten too serious. At the time she’d been barely nineteen and Aunt Callie had still been alive. “It’s easier to marry money than make it,” Aunt Callie kept telling her.

Lexi intended to marry for love—not money. And she hadn’t loved Matt.

“When we went to nice places like this—“ Lexi looked around “—Matt didn’t pay. His parents did.”

Amber shrugged. “Whatever. Hey!” She waved frantically. “There’s Brad.”

Lexi had to admit the man was attractive, but for some reason he disturbed her. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because she knew he was too worldly and sophisticated to be interested in her.

“Hey, glad you could make it.” He came up to the table and pulled out a chair.

“Great place,” Amber said before Lexi could utter a word. “Where did you get the idea for the decorations?”

Brad shot them an engaging smile that seemed to be second nature to him. “I liked the tropical feel they have in Key West restaurants. I told the decorator that’s the look I wanted.”

“I read you have other restaurants,” Lexi said.

Brad turned toward her. “True. I have two more. One is done like a Paris bistro—”

“What’s that?” Amber wanted to know.

“A small café about a quarter the size of this with lots of wood paneling, soft lights and white tablecloths.”

“That’s what it’s like in Paris?” she asked.

Paris sounded so exotic, Lexi thought. A must-see place—a world away from Houston. She intended to visit one day—after she’d completed her education, landed a good-paying job and sent Amber through school. Maybe then she’d have enough money to travel.

“You’ve been to Paris?” she heard herself ask. Dummy! Of course Brad Westcott had traveled extensively.

“Yep. Courtesy of Uncle Sam. In the army I was stationed in Germany. On leave a bunch of us went to Paris. The food was awesome. Paris bistros are like our coffee shops. They’re everywhere. But unlike some of our coffee shops, it’s hard to get a bad meal. Owners take great pride in what they serve.”

A cute redhead sashayed up to their table with a flirty smile for Brad. “I’m Tiffany. I’ll be your waitress. What can I get y’all to drink?”

They decided on tropical ice tea and their waitress swished away to fill their order. Out of the corner of her eye, Lexi watched Amber. For once she didn’t seem to know what to say.

“What’s the theme of your other restaurant?” Lexi asked.

Brad settled back in his chair. “Jo’ Mama’s is a backwoods-style rib joint. Southern barbecue. Picnic tables, checkered tablecloths, mugs for beer.”

“Sounds like a winner,” Amber said. “Everyone loves barbecue.”

Another food that Amber loved but needed to limit, Lexi thought.

Brad must have detected the concern on her face. “We offer plenty of healthy choices at all my restaurants.” He pointed to the oversize menus in front of them. “The hearts in front of a selection mean it has less fat and sugar.”

“You’d be surprised how much sugar is hidden in food,” Amber said.

This insight was a direct result of the nutrition classes she had taken after she’d been diagnosed with diabetes. Sugar was in an amazing number of foods—especially prepared foods in the grocery store.

“You two into healthy eating?” Brad asked.

Lexi waited for Amber to answer. Sometimes she felt uncomfortable discussing her diabetes.

“I always watch what I eat. I have diabetes.”

“Interesting.” He grunted the word, obviously not knowing how to respond. Lexi waited for his captivating smile, but it didn’t come.

“Interesting is a word people use when they don’t have a clue what to say,” Amber responded.

As usual, Amber’s thoughts moved directly from her brain to her mouth. But to give her sister credit, Lexi thought, she accepted her diabetes even though she sometimes ignored the food restrictions.

Uncertainty shadowed Brad’s eyes. “Actually, I was thinking that’s a lot to have to deal with at such a young age.”

“You learn to handle it. That’s why I’m going to win your contest. I want to create a dessert even diabetics can eat.”

“I know the feeling,” Brad said, his expression intent. “When I was your age, I was overweight. Obese, probably, but we didn’t say that back then.”

Lexi couldn’t believe this buff guy had ever been overweight, but the earnestness in his voice said he was telling the truth.

“Did the kids tease you?” Lexi asked.

“All the time,” he admitted.

“I get teased about having to take insulin,” Amber said in a sharp tone. “I just ignore them.”

“That’s what I did. I developed my own interests.”

“Cooking?” Lexi asked.

Brad shook his head. “No. Like I told the class when I did the demo, I didn’t get interested in cooking until I was put on mess duty in the service. I was interested in stamp collecting. My grandfather had left me a dozen boxes of loose stamps that he’d purchased but had never sorted and put into collector’s books.”

“Fascinating,” Lexi said, and she meant it.

Brad focused his blue eyes on her with a penetrating gaze. “After I went into the service, discovered my interest in cooking and lost the flab, I sold the stamp collection to finance my first restaurant.”

Wow, Lexi thought. Brad had a depth to him that she hadn’t suspected. It gave her new respect for him and his accomplishments. The information also made him seem more accessible somehow. He wasn’t as perfect as she’d imagined.

“Let’s order,” said Brad. “While we’re waiting for our meals, I’ll show you around the kitchen.” He signaled to the waitress and she approached with a practiced smile to tell them the specials.

“We’re featuring an awesome red wave lettuce salad. That’s a really unusual but yummy Asian lettuce that’s in limited supply. We serve it with grilled chicken on top.”

The server rattled off a few more specials. Lexi and Amber went for the special, but Brad ordered a grilled-vegetable salad.

“What?” cried Amber. “You’re not having the red wave salad you created?”

Brad winked at her. “Nope. Coming up with a new dish means lots of combinations, lots of tasting. I’ve had more than my share of the special. Let’s see what you two think.”

“What if we don’t like it?” Amber asked.

Brad shrugged. “Be honest. Let me know. I haven’t been serving it that long. I’m still evaluating it.”

“It’s a deal,” Amber said.

Brad rose. “Let’s tour the kitchen while they’re preparing our lunch.”

Chapter 5

“We’re in the beverage center,” Brad informed them as they walked into an alcove where built-in stainless-steel coffee urns were marked Decaf and Regular. A wall-mounted unit dispensed soft drinks, and pitchers marked Tropical Iced Tea were nearby. A huge ice machine dominated the corner. Off to one side was a computer terminal.

“The server inputs the drinks ordered and the table number,” Brad explained, pointing to the computer, “then serves the beverages except for alcohol. That has to come out of the bar.”

They moved through swinging doors into what Brad called the lion’s den. It was a fitting description for the hurricane of activity in the huge commercial kitchen. Everyone seemed to be moving at once without—miraculously—bumping into each other. Most of them were shouting at someone else.

A mist of steam from the simmering pots and smoke from the nearby grill filled the air. A thousand different, delicious smells swirled around Lexi. She couldn’t help wondering if there was some order in this chaos.

If any of the crew noticed Brad, none of them showed an interest. Everyone seemed to have a job to do, and by all appearances, they were behind schedule and frantically attempting to catch up.

The three of them stood there a moment, watching in amazement. Lexi caught Brad’s eye and he smiled, lifting his chin just slightly to indicate Amber. The girl was gazing awestruck at the scene before her. Like Lexi, Amber had naturally curly hair. A few minutes in this kitchen and she would look like Frankenstein’s bride, but Amber didn’t seem to notice. She stood, silent and trancelike.

And loving every second, Lexi would bet.

“Looks pretty high-tech,” Lexi said to Brad. “Aren’t those minicomputer terminals above each station?”

“That’s right,” he said. “The server enters the selection at a terminal just outside the kitchen and it appears in front of the chef. That way we don’t have any extra people in the cooking area, creating a traffic jam. The completed dishes are put on the ledge for the server to pick up.”

“Doesn’t the heat and steam make the computers short out or something?” Lexi asked.

“Nah. These are special computers.”

“It’s a miracle a meal comes out of here,” Lexi said.

“Everyone has a job,” Brad assured her, “and they’re doing it. As long as food’s not backed up, the kitchen is running smoothly. Right now, things couldn’t be better.”

“What’s the woman in the corner doing?” Amber asked, speaking for the first time.

Lexi immediately saw who Amber meant. A woman with a white gauze bandanna wrapped around her head like a turban stood in one corner. A crate of pomegranates was on the counter beside her. A large stainless bowl full of water was in front of her. Was she washing them one by one? Lexi wondered.

“Come on,” Brad told them. “Let’s take a closer look.”

They wriggled their way between the workers and came up behind the woman laboring over the stainless bowl. Nearby a mound of glistening pomegranate seeds stood on a platter.

“Emily is prepping pomegranate seeds to be used as garnish,” Brad said. “She’s doing mise en place—that’s prep work for the chef.”

Emily looked over her shoulder with a toothy grin. A bristle of bangs like a whisk broom stuck out from under her bandanna, a casualty of the steamy kitchen.

“Removing pomegranate seeds is easily done underwater,” Brad said. “The membranes float to the top while the seeds sink. You skim off the membranes, then drain the water through a strainer to save the seeds.”

“Awesome!’ cried Amber. “I hate taking out pomegranate seeds.” She twirled around to face Brad. “I never read this in my cookbooks.”

Brad laughed. “Some things aren’t in books.” Then he looked pointedly at Lexi. “Learning doesn’t just take place in the classroom either.”

Amber turned to Lexi. “That’s why I want to win and be an apprentice to the pastry chef. I’m gonna find out inside tricks.”

Just my luck, Lexi thought. Amber didn’t view the kitchen as a trip through hell. No. She was intrigued and wanted to learn more.

“Where is the pastry chef?” asked Amber.

“In the next room.” Brad pointed to a door that opened off the side of the kitchen. They walked into a cool passageway with racks of fruit and cheese lining the walls.

“This is a semicool room,” Brad said, “like they use in Europe. Cheese and fruit is best when it’s close to room temperature. Americans tend to whisk everything straight from the refrigerator to the table. The food’s too cold to really appreciate the flavor.”

They entered another kitchen where a soft buzz of conversation filled the air. Unlike the pandemonium of the main kitchen, this smaller area had fewer people and was more orderly.

“Charmayne, got a minute?”

“Sure,” the petite blonde said with a smile.

Lexi realized most of the female staff had a thing for Brad. He possessed an easy kind of charm and the good looks women appreciated. She wondered what kind of boss he was. Brad introduced them and told Charmayne that Amber was entering the baking contest and hoped to serve as her intern for the summer.

“Great,” said the pastry chef with genuine enthusiasm. “I was just about your age when I decided I wanted to become a pastry chef. Mother made me go to college first.”

Lexi silently blessed Charmayne’s mother. Amber’s smile faltered, but the woman kept talking.

“I worked part-time in pastry shops. You have to get up at three in the morning to bake and be ready for the morning coffee crowd, but it pays really well and leaves plenty of time for classes.”

Had Brad coaxed the pastry chef into mentioning her education? Lexi wondered. He was working hard to relate to Amber, and Lexi appreciated the effort. What she thought made little difference to her sister, but Amber looked up to these professionals.

“Didn’t college just eat up time you could have spent learning your trade?” Amber wanted to know.

Charmayne shook her head. “No. I studied hotel and restaurant management. The world is a really technical place these days. You need to know how to run your own kitchen. That takes as much business know-how as it does cooking skill.”

“Really?” Amber sounded doubtful.

“You’d be surprised.” Charmayne pointed to something creamy she’d been whipping. “How much cream should you order for a weekend? How long does it keep? Is there anything else you can do with it if no one orders a certain dessert and you’re stuck with too much?”

“Making one recipe of anything is easy,” Brad said. “Multiples take time and planning.”

“Right.” Charmayne turned to a set of double-wide coolers. “Some desserts can be prepared in advance. You can estimate how many to make by checking your computer and seeing what was consumed previously. Other desserts have to be put together when the order hits the kitchen.”

“We better let you get back to work,” Brad told Charmayne.

“Thanks,” Amber said. “Look for me this summer.”

After they left the pastry kitchen they passed another bank of computers where a young man was working. “This is the check station,” Brad said. “The final bill showing all you’ve ordered is printed out here. The cash and credit cards are processed here by one person—Jake.”

“That would be me,” the young man said with a bow.

“Why one person?” Lexi asked.

“There’s a lot of credit card fraud these days,” Brad told them. “When you allow all the waiters to use the machines, one bad apple could be using a swiper to record the card numbers. This way just one trusted person is responsible.”

They arrived at their table just as Tiffany and a helper brought their lunches. They were silent for a few minutes while they began to eat. Lexi waited for Amber to give her opinion first.

“This red wave lettuce salad is scrumptious.” She munched enthusiastically. “It’s bound to be a hit. Watch your computer and see.”

“What do you think?” Brad asked Lexi, catching her off guard.

“I agree. The blend of flavors really works.”

“Honest?” He kept aiming his blue eyes at her, making her even more uncomfortable.

“Absolutely,” she assured him as a warm flush crept up her neck.

“How did you come up with it?” asked Amber, oblivious to the intimate moment between them. “I know we suggested the lettuce and the baby squash, but I think you made your own dressing and marinated the chicken in lime and something, right?”

“Correct. I had to experiment a lot because this is my first Asian-fusion salad. I wanted a simple dressing that wouldn’t taste like some kid’s chemistry experiment.”

Amber giggled. “This salad dressing is great. I taste…balsamic vinegar.”

Brad nodded. “Balsamic vinegar from Spain infused with ginger. I use the KISS method. Keep It Simple Stupid. Balsamic vinegar, ginger, Vietnamese herbs and—”

“Sesame oil not olive oil.”

“You’ve got a knack for taste,” Brad said with an approving smile. “Sesame oil is best in this salad. It allows the unique Asian flavor to come through.”

“You marinated the chicken before it was grilled.” Amber speared a sliver as she spoke.

“Again. Keeping it simple is the secret of most chefs’ success. I marinated the chicken in lime juice for an hour before draining it and patting it dry. Too many people use enough marinade to pickle a bull and leave it on too long. An hour, two, tops, for chicken, or it gets mushy and all you taste is the marinade.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“What did you think of my kitchen?” Brad asked Amber.

“Hectic. Much more frantic than I imagined.” She played with her fork for a moment. “But it was really exciting. Not boring like some jobs.”

I told you so, Lexi silently said to Brad.

“Most people in a kitchen work for minimum wage,” Brad added. “It’s stressful and pays poorly.”

“Not the sous-chef or executive chef or pastry chef.”

“True,” Brad conceded, “but that’s a few people out of—what?—two dozen.”

“I want to be one of the few,” Amber assured him. “You know, the few, the proud, the brave. Like the Marines.”

Lexi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead she nearly choked when she looked up and saw Rick Fullerton, executive chef from Marché, heading toward their table.

“Out slumming, Fullerton?” Brad greeted his competitor.

“Hello, Lexi,” Rick said to her.

“Hi,” she managed to reply in what could pass for a level voice. Rick was her biggest customer. He personally picked out produce from her garden twice a week. She’d never had enough money to eat at his restaurant. How could she explain being here?

“Actually,” Rick said with a barely perceptible smile, “I came to try your special salad. I’m hearing great things about it.”

“It’s fabulous,” Amber said. “Lexi gave Brad the idea.”

Lexi had the urge to dive under the table.

“Interesting.”

She didn’t like the sound of Rick’s voice. She hoped she hadn’t lost her best customer over a lunch that had done absolutely nothing to change her sister’s mind about pursuing a career as a chef.

Chapter 6

“You’re not going to believe this!” cried Amber.

Lexi was stooped over a row of baby squash and plucking out the weeds that seemed to have sprouted since she left this morning for a job interview. She stood up, her back aching. How had Aunt Callie done this when she’d been over eighty? “Believe what?”

Amber clutched her backpack to her chest and kept talking. “Today Mrs. Geffen had us draw lots for the proctors for the cooking contest.”

“So?” Lexi yanked up another weed. “You knew there would be a proctor who would watch you prepare and bake your dessert. They just want to make sure the contestants don’t buy it somewhere or have their mother make it.”

“Yeah, right, but talk about luck. Guess who I drew?”

Lexi could tell from Amber’s tone it wasn’t good. According to the contest rules, a pastry chef or a pastry chef’s assistant would be a proctor. “Who did you get?”

“Monsieur Broussard. He’s the pastry chef at Marché.”

Lexi didn’t know him, but since her encounter with Rick Fullerton at Black Jack’s, she’d been concerned about her relationship with the chef/owner. He’d come this week as usual to select the best of her baby vegetables, but hadn’t been very friendly and he’d purchased fewer vegetables than she’d expected. She wondered if he had found another supplier. With baby vegetables in such demand, a number of local farmers were now cultivating them.

“What’s wrong with Monsieur Broussard? After all, Marché is known for its fabulous desserts. I understand he comes from France.”

“You weren’t there the day he did the demo of crème brûlée. He was mean and snobby and hard to understand. And he didn’t even try to make a healthier version for our class like he was supposed to.” Amber sighed, the deep exasperated sound she made when she was really frustrated. “He’s going to make me so nervous I’ll goof up.”

Lexi sympathized; she didn’t like anyone looking over her shoulder while she worked either. “You won’t make a mistake,” she assured her sister. “You’ve prepared the recipe many times, right? You know how to do it by heart. Just relax. The chef is merely checking to make sure no one cheats.”

“Easy for you to say.” Amber stomped off toward the house. It would be nice to believe she was going to study, but that would be wishful thinking.

“I have some news,” Lexi called after her sister.

Amber turned, the sullen look still on her face. “What?”

“I’ve been offered a great summer position with Gilfoy and O’Malley. They’re one of the biggest firms in the city. It could lead to a permanent position when I pass the accountant’s exam.”

“That’s awesome!” Amber sounded as if she was genuinely thrilled for Lexi. “When do you start?”

“Next Monday.” A lot of people had been interviewed yet she’d been selected.

“Who’s going to take care of the garden?” Her sister’s surly expression had returned.

“I’ll work every weekend. I’ve hired Joey Tran to help you during the week.”

“Help me?” Amber said it like it was a crime.

“You know what to do. Train Joey. He’ll be fantastic.” She doubted Joey would need much training. All he had to do was follow a watering schedule and weed. He worked with his mother at the community garden. He was probably better at it than Amber, but Lexi thought giving her sister a little responsibility would help her mature.

“I’m going to win the baking contest. When I’m interning with Charmayne, I won’t have time for the garden.”

“If you win,” Lexi replied with all the patience she could marshal, “I’ll figure out something. We can’t just let the garden—”

“You don’t think I’m going to win, do you?” Amber’s voice teetered on hysteria.

“I hope you do.”

“No, you don’t. You want me to lose so I can be a slave in your precious garden.”

Lexi battled the impulse to say something sarcastic. “It’s not my garden,” she replied in as level a tone as she could muster. “Aunt Callie started it long before we came to live with her. The money it generates allows us to live here and go to school.”

“But you’ll be working, making plenty of money,” Amber retorted. “We don’t need the garden.”

“Yes, we do,” she replied matter-of-factly. They’d been over this too many times to count. “I have to repay student loans and save money for your college education. If we keep the garden, you won’t have to take on costly student loans.”

“Like I care!”

Lexi watched her sister bounce off. A minute or two later, music loud enough to rupture eardrums screeched from Amber’s room through the open window. Lexi wanted to ask her to turn it down, but didn’t fell like another confrontation.

The portable phone rang barely loud enough to be heard over the music, and Lexi scooped it up from the ground and pushed the button to answer. “It’s Brad Westcott,” said a deep male voice.

Her heart jitterbugged beneath her ribs. She’d been thinking about him more than she wanted to admit. “Hi,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “What’s happening?”

“Not much,” Brad responded. “But I hired a new sous-chef.”

“That’s great.”

“I’ve been a little slow to let anyone else assume responsibility in the kitchen. That’s why my last chef left. Tomorrow night, the new sous-chef is taking over for me.”

“You’re letting him run the place?” Why was he calling her? Did he want to purchase vegetables or was the call more personal?

“The new chef is a woman. Alice Blankenship has three new entrées that will be available tomorrow evening. We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a moment of silence; Lexi was tempted to speak, but still wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m getting out of Black Jack’s so I don’t make Alice nervous,” Brad finally said. “I was wondering if you might want to join me at the annual mixology contest.”

“Mixology contest.” She nearly choked on the words. Brad Westcott was asking her out on a date.

“Bartenders compete for most original drink. It’s being held tomorrow evening at the Silver Spoon. Trevor, my head mixologist, has come up with a concoction he calls Black Jack’s Snakebite.”

“Is it black?” she asked, her mind scrambling for a way to phrase her response to his invitation. She wanted to go out with him more than she’d wanted anything in a long time.

“No. Black drinks don’t sell. This is a pale amber. The ingredients are a secret, but it’s topped with foamed egg whites.”

“Eggs?” Lexi asked, a little surprised. “In drinks?”

Brad chuckled. “Whipped egg-white drinks are the latest. Started out in California. People are always looking for the unusual. Gives them something to talk about.”

“That should work.”

“How about it? Would you like to join me?”

Would she ever! But it was impossible. Why did it have to be tomorrow evening? “It’s the first meeting of my board study course. I can’t miss it.” Despite her best efforts, her voice wavered. “I really wish I could, but I have to pass the accountant’s exam to keep a job I just found.”

“You have a job besides City Seeds?” Brad sounded surprised.

“Yes. I’ve been doing payroll for a family-owned company. I’ll receive my MBA in a few weeks, so I’ve been hunting for a job in that field. Gilfoy and O’Malley offered me a position. In this economy, I’m lucky to get it. I want to be sure I pass the exam the first time I take it.”

“I’ve heard of them. Supposed to be a really good firm.”

“It is a good firm, but there’s a lot of pressure to pass the exam. I just can’t skip class tomorrow evening.”

“I understand,” Brad assured her.

Lexi wanted to suggest the following night instead, but she didn’t have her sister’s bold personality. “Thanks for asking. I hope your guy wins.”

“I guess I’ll see you next Saturday then,” Brad said.

It took her a moment to recall what was going on then. “Yes, at the baking contest. My sister is still determined to win.”

Brad laughed. “I’m sure she is. See you then.”

Lexi hung up with a surge of disappointment and she wasn’t sure why. Brad Westcott was out of her league. Going out with him would only lead to more disappointment. Still, she couldn’t help feeling an inexplicable sense of loss.

Brad hung up the phone in his small office at the rear of Black Jack’s kitchen. Since his divorce, he hadn’t dated much. His restaurants occupied all his waking hours. But Lexi was different. He kept thinking about her even though he didn’t have time for a woman in his personal life.

He put his feet up on the desk and looked out at the kitchen through the glass that formed half his office wall. When he wasn’t out there himself, he often watched the lion’s den from his desk. This afternoon, though, he was deep in thought, wondering why Lexi appealed to him when no other woman had in a long, long time.

Maybe it was because she was as devoted to her work as he was to his. And besides running City Seeds, she would soon be holding down an accounting job. He hoped she would learn to manage better than he had. A satisfying career was only part of a fulfilling life.

Brad assured himself that by hiring Alice and allowing her to take part of the responsibility for running Black Jack’s, he would have more time to himself. Who was he kidding? Taking one day a week off didn’t make a balanced life. He’d been unable to ask Lexi if she could go out another night because he didn’t have any time available.

His next free day was Saturday, which he would spend going from one baking contest to another. Of course, he would have to work Saturday night. It was the busiest night of the week—make-or-break time in most restaurants.

He thought back to his failed marriage. He’d been too wrapped up in his work to devote the necessary time to a relationship. If he wanted to try again, he would need to make some real changes in his schedule and allow the sous-chef more freedom.

Chapter 7

Lexi leaned toward Amber so her sister could whisper in her ear without having anyone in Stovall Middle School’s auditorium overhear them. The contestants had baked their entries for the contest in the cafeteria and the desserts had been brought here for judging. They were on display at the front of the room. Each entry had a number beside it but no name was attached. There were about a dozen, Lexi noted.

Most were fairly professional, considering middle school students had baked them, but a few others weren’t so good. One was a chocolate layer cake that listed like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Another looked like a sticky caramel bird’s nest.

The contest rules stated that entries had to use healthy ingredients. Nothing was mentioned about presentation, but Lexi suspected appearance would influence the judges—at least a little. Amber’s Ali Baba Tart looked as good as any dessert Lexi had ever seen. It was a simple raspberry-chocolate tart garnished with plump raspberries from their garden.

“I’m not going to win,” Amber whispered, a note of despair in her voice. “Monsieur Broussard watched every move I made. He didn’t smile or even blink. He made me sooo nervous, I know I messed up big-time.”

“Don’t worry,” Lexi reassured her sister as she glanced around the crowded auditorium, looking for Brad. He hadn’t arrived yet, which wasn’t unexpected. Since he wasn’t a judge, he didn’t need to be here when the chefs sampled the desserts. His job was to award the prizes at the various schools.

Still, she kept hoping to see him. She wondered what would have happened if she’d gone out with him.

Don’t go there, she warned herself. She had too much on her mind, too many things to do. She couldn’t waste time mooning like a teenager over a man.

Suddenly, Brad came through the side door with Charmayne at his side. A few people noticed him, but most seemed to think he was just another parent or friend here for the contest. He glanced around the auditorium, spotted Lexi and… Had he winked at her? It happened so fast she couldn’t be sure. He opened the backstage door for Charmayne and disappeared before he saw the special smile Lexi flashed at him.

Be cool, she told herself, knowing she would see him after the contest.

“Brad brought the pastry chef, Charmayne,” whispered Amber, who obviously hadn’t noticed the wink. “I wonder why. Do you think she’s going to sample the entries?”

“I’m not sure, but he may want to introduce her as the person the winner will work with this summer.”

“Makes sense,” Amber replied. “Look! There go the judges. That was so fast.

Lexi saw the judges leaving by the same side door that Brad had used. “They’re probably on their way to the next contest. This is their second today. They have six in all.”

“Right,” mumbled Amber.

Lexi could tell her sister was getting nervous. It wouldn’t be long now. The endless rounds of chocolate-tart making would be over. She wanted Amber to win and knew how devastated she would be if she didn’t at least place in the contest. But if she did win, it would mean yet another series of baking experiments and tasting sessions and less work in the garden.

Mr. Rodgers, the principal of the middle school, walked up to the microphone. He tapped on it twice and silence fell across the large crowd. “Earlier I introduced the judges, chefs from local restaurants. They had to leave for another contest, but they have chosen two runners-up and a winner of the first annual Light-and-Healthy Bake-Off at Stovall Middle School. Here to announce the winners is Brad Westcott, owner and executive chef at Black Jack’s. Mr. Westcott is also the sponsor of this contest.”

Brad emerged from the side of the stage, a smile on his face. “Thank you, Mr. Rodgers,” he said, and the older man stepped to the side while Brad stood in front of the microphone. “The judges told me their decision was really difficult. Everything was so delicious that they had to taste each entry twice before reaching a decision.”

Lexi imagined a silent drumroll as he paused and removed a three-by-five-inch card from the pocket of his sports jacket. Amber clutched Lexi’s arm with fingers like steel bands. “Don’t worry,” Lexi whispered.

“Before I announce the winner and runners up, let me introduce my pastry chef, Charmayne Collins.”

Charmayne walked up beside Brad. She beamed and waved at the crowd.

“I know this is just round one,” Charmayne said, “but I can hardly wait to find out who will win the cash prize and be my intern this summer. All I do is create desserts, so you know it’ll be a lot of fun.”

The audience laughed politely, but Lexi could tell they were as anxious as she was to hear who’d won. Amber’s hand was still on her arm, and she was facing forward, her eyes fixed on the podium. Lexi could feel the tension in her sister and realized how much this meant to her. It hadn’t been that long ago when Lexi had sat in an auditorium and waited for the winners of a scholarship contest to be announced. She’d felt as if her very life hung in the balance.

Then her name was called.

Lexi said a silent prayer for her baby sister and hoped she, too, would experience the joy of winning despite the problems it would cause.

“Learning about food—where it comes from, how it grows and when to harvest it—can lead to careers in the food industry,” Brad continued. “This contest highlights just one possible career—becoming a pastry chef.”

“I think many of our parents and guests grow crops in the community garden, Urban Plots,” added Mr. Rodgers.

Lexi recognized people in the audience from the community garden, including Joey Tran’s entire family. They were known for their high yield of lemongrass.

That’s where she’d first met Joey and his parents. Lexi had been looking for locals to help plant exotic vegetables to sell to restaurants through City Seeds. The Transes couldn’t help because they needed their six plots to fill their lemongrass orders from chefs, but she’d gotten to know them and they’d taught her about Asian vegetables.

Charmayne held up a plaque. “The second place winner goes to the Lemon-Rosemary Cake created by Shelby Tibbets,” Brad announced.

Above the round of applause, Amber said, “I knew she would at least place. She’s a really good cook.”

Shelby walked up to the podium, all smiles, to receive the plaque.

“The judges really liked the delicious flavor of your cake,” Brad told Shelby and the audience.

Shelby bowed slightly, beaming at her parents, who were seated in the second row. “Thanks,” she said as the audience clapped.

Brad waited a minute for Shelby to leave the stage before saying, “First runner up goes to Peter Nguyen’s Lemon Grass Panna Cotta.”

Amber dug her fingers into Lexi’s arm. “He’s Joey Tran’s cousin. Guess where he got the lemon grass?”

Lexi had never heard of lemongrass until she visited the community garden. Peter had used it to give traditional Italian panna cotta a creative spin.

The Transes and Nguyens stood, clapping and stamping their feet as a short boy with glossy black hair gelled up like a rooster’s tail shuffled up to the podium. His lackluster smile revealed his disappointment.

“Peter’s good and he expected to win,” Amber told her. “He bragged about his ‘invention’ for weeks.” Amber made it sound like a crime.

As Peter was congratulated, Lexi was alarmed by the fierce look on her sister’s face. She knew Amber was stubborn and difficult to deal with at times, but she’d never been this determined before. Lexi wasn’t sure how she should respond if Amber lost. How did you encourage someone when they were confronted with failure?

Lexi realized she knew very little about mothering. How could she give Amber advice the way a mother would when she had had so little mothering herself? Aunt Callie had been loving, but she’d had no parenting skills.

As Peter left the stage, Lexi ventured a sideways glance at Amber. Her back was rigid, her eyes focused straight ahead.

“Please,” Lexi whispered to herself, “let Amber win.”

Brad held up a gleaming gold-colored metal plaque that was much larger than the others. Even from the midsection of the auditorium where Lexi was sitting she could make out the words: Winner of the Light-and-Healthy Bake-Off. “This year’s winner…”

For a second the room froze. Then Lexi realized Brad had said, “Amber Morrison. The chefs chose her Ali Baba Chocolate-Raspberry Tart as the best entry in this contest.”

Amber spun around in her seat to bear-hug Lexi. “I can’t believe I won!”

“You deserve it,” Lexi assured her. “You worked really hard.”

Lexi’s heart filled with pride and wonder and she blinked back tears as she watched her sister walk up to Brad and Charmayne. How thrilled their parents would have been, Lexi thought. When they’d died, Amber had been so young. It would have been difficult to imagine the self-assured girl that Lexi saw on the stage.

“The chefs commented on the delicious flavor of this tart,” Brad told the audience. “It uses unsweetened chocolate and whole fresh raspberries. Amber used unsweetened coconut, which gives the tart a unique texture. She also used a sugar substitute and whole wheat flour, which cuts back on the calories and is healthier.”

“Amber will now represent Stovall Middle School in the final round,” said Charmayne. “The winner will receive a thousand-dollar cash prize and an internship as my assistant for the summer.”

There was an enthusiastic round of applause, then Brad said, “Amber, do you have anything to say?”

Amber stepped up to the mic with such confidence that Lexi was certain she’d practiced this speech many times. “Gee, it feels like the Academy Awards,” she joked, and the audience laughed politely. “I want to thank Mrs. Geffen for all her support and her wonderful cooking class. I also need to thank my sister, Lexi, for all her help.”

Lexi hadn’t really helped except to taste the last few Ali Babas. But still, she was touched by the acknowledgment.

“Most of all I want to thank the Recipe for Success program,” Amber said. “Back in the fourth grade, I planted, harvested and cooked in their program. Until then, I hadn’t really appreciated how food was grown and how to prepare it.

“You see, I’m a diabetic. I have to be careful what I eat. Their program gave me a new appreciation for foods I’d never tasted. That’s why I enrolled in Mrs. Geffen’s class.”

Amber paused, then smiled at Brad. “I’m sure I speak for all the contestants in thanking the Chefs’ Association for sponsoring this contest.”

Tears welled in Lexi’s eyes. She’d never heard her sister speak about her diabetes so passionately or in front of such a large group. That took true courage.

Brad strode up to Lexi. He projected such an energy and power, and Lexi was almost embarrassed by her instinctive response to him.

“Your sister outdid herself,” Brad told her.

“Amber deserved to win. She tried hard. I can’t tell you how many tarts she baked.”

“She didn’t taste them all, did she?” Brad sounded concerned. That made her like him even more.

“No. She was good. The seniors at the center sampled them and offered opinions.”

“Hey, that’s a smart move.” Brad touched her arm lightly. “You’re both very enterprising.”

“I guess.” Lexi had never thought of herself as anything other than a survivor. She did what she needed to do, even if she often felt as if she was on a treadmill.

“I’ve got to rush off to another contest,” Brad said. “How about going out for coffee around five—before I have to get back to the restaurant for the dinner rush?”

Lexi’s heartbeat throbbed in her ears and she felt heat creeping up her neck. “I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at four.”

She watched him walk away. A strange excitement filled her as she turned to find Amber.

Chapter 8

“So you’re a runner.” Brad flashed his engaging smile. “So am I, when I have the time.”

“Same here,” Lexi responded. “I was on the track team in high school, but now I’m lucky if I can find the time to run a couple of days a week.” An unexpected glow warmed her. They had a lot more in common than she’d thought.

They were sitting at a small corner table at Brew Ha-Ha, having iced caramel-flavored coffee drinks and sharing a blueberry scone.

“What about movies?” Brad asked.

So many questions, she thought. Most men liked to talk about themselves or their work, but not Brad. He wanted to know all about her.

“I don’t have much time for movies lately,” she said. “When I do go, I look for foreign films.”

“Hey, so do I.”

“I don’t mind the subtitles. I like to see how people in other countries view life.

“Exactly!” He leaned forward and lowered his voice in a way that added to the intimacy she already felt. “I’m not interested in films that are nothing but car chases and shoot-outs.”

Lexi nodded. Most of her dates had taken her to “guy” movies because they liked them or silly “chick flicks” to please her. She’d rarely been asked what she wanted to see. “I like to talk about films after I see them. That means there has to be something to discuss.”

His look was galvanizing. What was he thinking? Did she sound pretentious?

“I like to talk about films, too,” he told her. “I find I dissect a lot of things to see what makes them work. This place, for instance.” He examined the last bit of the scone they’d been sharing. “The coffee is great, but there are other places with coffee that’s just as good. What makes Brew Ha-Ha special is their pastries.”

“Right,” she agreed. “Their scones are tastier than others even though they’re low fat. At least that’s what the sign says.”

“They are. I’ve spoken at length with the owner.” He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. “You analyze the world around you, too.”

It was a compliment, but Lexi wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally, she said, “I guess that’s why I’m a numbers person. I like to come up with definite answers.”

“That’s where we’re different. I don’t mind not coming up with an exact answer. I like to consider the opportunities for creativity in each situation.” He gestured to the room around them. “Pastries set this place apart, but there’s more—”

“Great ambience,” Lexi cut in, “and really friendly service. They always remember your name.”

“Right! The world is so impersonal these days that folks appreciate a friendly attitude. I tell my servers that all the time.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of servers, I’ve gotta run.”

Lexi stood up. “I have rows of veggies screaming for water.”

She thanked him for the coffee, feeling way more relaxed than she had when they’d come here.

“Let’s get together again—soon. I’d like your opinion on a pizza place people have been telling me about.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” She said this in an offhand tone, but as they walked out she admitted to herself just how much she wanted to see Brad again.

They’d enjoyed a “working” dinner because Brad was considering adding pizza to his menu. Lexi had liked the deep-dish house special and had several ideas that he seemed to take seriously. They’d met at a park twice to run. And each time Lexi found herself relaxing more.

Since she’d started her new job at the accounting firm she wasn’t around the house as much as she should be to help Amber with her schoolwork. From what Lexi could tell, her sister spent most of her time working on her new recipe, which she was positive would win her the final round in the competition.

Joey Tran was helping in the garden. Lexi had spent all day each weekend there, as well, but getting Amber to help remained a struggle. Lexi didn’t nag her about it. That only made Amber more stubborn. Besides, Lexi had to prepare herself for the possibility Amber would win and not be able to help over the summer. Anticipating this, Lexi gave Joey more responsibility.

“I’m home,” yelled Lexi after she closed the front door.

Silence answered her, but the scent of chocolate swirled around her like a heavenly mist. What did she expect? Amber had prepared another Diva’s Red Velvet Torte. No doubt she’d taken it to the center for the seniors to sample.

Lexi put down her purse on the sideboard and flopped onto the sofa. She was too tired to pick up the remote control and switch on the television. She would just rest a minute before changing shoes to go out and check on the garden.

“Lexi, Lexi. Wake up.”

Lexi heard her sister speaking, but it took a few seconds for the words to register. She gazed around and realized she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Almost seven,” Amber replied.

Lexi walked toward the kitchen. “Did you eat?”

“No.” Amber waved a sheet of paper in front of her. “I have my grades,” she said, joy bubbling in her voice.

“Already?” Lexi knew the school year was drawing to a close, but didn’t expect a report card for a week or so.

“They came out today. I got mine in homeroom,” Amber informed her with a smile.

Good news, Lexi thought. Amber wouldn’t be this happy if she was failing a class. Her sister handed her the computer printout that served as a report card. Lexi scanned it, then reread it slowly.

“Not bad, huh?”

“Excellent. Really great, Amber. You pulled up your grades.”

“Except for math. I’m going to get a head start on algebra by studying at home this summer.”

Problem was—Amber didn’t have Lexi’s self-discipline. She had good intentions but no follow-through. She had to attend summer school.

As if guessing her thoughts, Amber said, “I worked really hard this term to bring up my grades. I worked even harder after I found out about the contest. I’ll study at night after I work with Charmayne.”

Lexi didn’t want an argument right now. After all, the report was good. Now was not the time to harp on Amber’s shortcomings. Or to suggest she might not win the contest.

“There is bad news. I saved it for last.”

Uh-oh, Lexi thought. “What’s wrong?”

“Rick Fullerton is going to be one of the judges in the final round.”

“That’s not so bad. I think he’ll be fair.”

“Ha!” Amber grunted. “He isn’t buying as much from us, is he?”

“No,” Lexi agreed. Rick had been giving her the cold shoulder since their meeting at Black Jack’s, but at least he was still buying some of her baby vegetables.

“If I don’t win, will I have to go to summer school?”

Lexi wanted to say losing might be a blessing in disguise, but she didn’t. No sense in burdening Amber with another worry. They could deal with this when the contest was over. “We’ll see. I’m not making any promises.”

The next morning was Saturday, the busiest day for City Seeds. Chefs or their helpers appeared before she opened the gates. They were anxious to select produce for weekend specials. As usual Rick Fullerton was at the head of the line. He personally selected produce. Brad had been coming, too, but he wasn’t here yet.

“Hi. Looking for anything special?” she asked Rick with her warmest smile.

“Just looking,” he replied. After poking around for about half an hour, Rick left with two boxes of her best baby vegetables.

There was still no sign of Brad, and she was a little concerned—not about him buying produce elsewhere. She was unnerved by how much she wanted to see him.

The group had thinned as most chefs raced back to their kitchens. Her cell phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket. The caller-ID screen read, Black Jack. Brad was calling!

“Hello.”

“Hey,” he said in his husky voice. “How’s it going?”

She mustered a level yet friendly tone. “Fine. Most of my regulars have already been here. I’m down to half a box of Asian red wave lettuce. You can have it if you want it.” She’d warned him that the heat was ending the season, so he wouldn’t be able to prepare his highly successful salad much longer.

“I’ll take it. Got any of that baby squash left?”

“Yes. Probably enough for the available lettuce.”

“I’ll send someone by to pick up the produce.”

“Okay,” she replied in a voice that seemed to come from some distance away. All she could think was that she wouldn’t get to see him for another week. How had she allowed this man to mean so much to her?

“I’m giving the new sous-chef special training this morning. I should be through by three or so. Could I come by and take you with me to sample some gelato that I’m thinking of using?”

A sigh of happiness nearly broke from her lips. “Sounds like fun.”

“What do you think?” Brad asked as they sampled strawberry gelato at Gelato Paradiso. The Italian shop had been open for more than a year, but Lexi had never tried it.

“Great.” She licked the ice cream in the waffle cone. “Sensational, actually.”

“I’m thinking of cutting a deal with the owner to exclusively supply Black Jack’s with several flavors of gelato.”

“How would you serve it? Alone? With fresh fruit?”

“I’d take vanilla to put with our flourless chocolate cake or whatever else Charmayne thinks will work. I’ll also use it with seasonal fruit. Baci could stand alone.”

“Perfect.” Lexi had already sampled the chocolate and hazelnut gelato called baci and knew it was unique enough to stand alone. She smiled at Brad and allowed herself to bask in the shared moment. He was asking her opinion; she had to mean more to him than just a quick date.

They were sitting at a table for two hardly bigger than a briefcase, eating the gelato. An undeniable magnetism had built between them. What would she do if he kissed her? Kiss him back came the immediate answer.

“How’s the summer job?” he asked.

Lexi had conditioned herself to give a reply like “good.” But that wasn’t the truth, and considering how Brad treated her, she needed to share her feelings with him. “I’m a little bored. No, actually, I’m really bored. I’m working on taxes. It’s the same stuff over and over every day.”

“Aren’t we beyond tax season?”

“Yes, of course, but you’d be surprised how many people missed the deadline and had to ask for an extension. We’re working on those now.”

“You must have known what it would be like to work for an accounting firm,” he said, leaning closer.

“I did, but I guess being at a small private company for so long made me think I’d be doing lots of things, not just taxes. I find I’m in a rut. Taxes are the bread and butter of the firm.”

“You could go elsewhere and do something more challenging with your degree.”

“True,” she agreed. “But first I have to pass the exam. So I’m stuck here until the fall at least.”

He took her hand and rose. Her skin prickled at his touch. As they walked toward the door, he put his arm around Lexi and she couldn’t resist leaning against his powerful chest. “Life’s too short to get stuck in a job you hate. It’s worth the risk to follow your dream.”

“True,” she agreed, but she also had a sister to put through school.

He stopped outside the shop, his arm still around her. “Speaking of dreams. I have an idea.”

Something in his tone alerted her. “Oh? What’s your idea?”

“Amber is determined to win, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Obsessed is a better description,” she reluctantly admitted.

“What if she doesn’t? Your sister will be upset, won’t she?”

“Amber will go to summer school as planned. It’s important for her to pull up her math marks by taking a prep course in algebra this summer.”

Brad studied her for a moment. “Amber will be fifteen in a few weeks and old enough to work. What if I give her a job that will allow her to attend summer school and work part-time at Black Jack’s?”

“No! Don’t do that!” Lexi responded more sharply than she’d intended.

Brad dropped his arm and took a step back.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t intend to sound so angry. It’s just that Amber has no discipline and she’s developing an attitude. If she wins the contest and earns the internship, I’ll make it work somehow. But I really want her to study this summer and help me with City Seeds. Why should I pay someone to work in our business while Amber earns minimum wage working in a restaurant?”

“Because the experience would do her good,” Brad replied in a strained tone that indicated he didn’t agree with her. “She might discover that she doesn’t care for the restaurant business.”

“That’s what you thought when we came to lunch.” The second the words left her lips, Lexi cursed herself for saying them. “What I mean is…Amber is stubborn. She won’t admit she doesn’t like working at Black Jack’s even if she does.”

“I understand,” Brad said, but it was clear that he didn’t. They walked to his car in silence and he made no attempt to put his arm around her again.

Chapter 9

Unlike the preliminary round, the finals of the bake-off were held in the evening. Lexi was grateful, and she was sure the other working parents were as well.

Amber had come to Samuel Houston High School’s cafeteria midafternoon to bake and decorate her torte. At this point, the chefs had sampled the desserts and decided the winner. Lexi expected Brad to make the announcement after the head of the foundation called the group in the auditorium to order.

Once again, she glanced around to see if Brad had arrived. This would be the first time she’d seen him since their disagreement last week. He might have come in through a back entrance, she decided.

A cold knot had formed in Lexi’s stomach the minute she’d walked up the steps of the auditorium. She was concerned that she’d ruined her chances with Brad. No matter how many times she thought about it, Lexi felt she was right. Her sister did not need a job handed to her. If she won, that was one thing, but if she didn’t, then summer school was the best place for her.

The curtains parted to reveal a spacious stage with a podium in the center. On a table stood a large silver trophy and an easel with a huge mock-up of the thousand-dollar check the winner would receive. The other side of the stage had a table with the desserts on it. Seated in the rear were the judges and several other people, including Brad and Charmayne.

Lexi tried to relax, but it was impossible. The air in the huge room seemed to be electrified as Brad was introduced and stepped up to the microphone.

Looking very handsome, he smiled at the audience. Lexi warned herself that Amber might not be the only Morrison to be disappointed today. What if Brad left without talking to her?

“I want to thank our judges for their hard work in both rounds of this Light-and-Healthy Bake-Off,” Brad told the audience.

Lexi barely listened as he introduced the chefs who’d judged the contest. Get a grip, she told herself. Win or lose—her sister would need her. The contestants were seated in the first row with their backs to the group. Lexi could see Amber’s glossy-brown hair but not her face.

“I’d like you all to meet Charmayne Collins,” Brad said, “pastry chef at Black Jack’s. The winner will be interning with her this summer, in addition to winning the prize money.

“My goal in sponsoring this contest is to help combat childhood obesity. I was an overweight kid myself. I know how being overweight can make you miserable, wreck your health. People need to think about what they eat.”

Charmayne added, “That’s where I come in as a pastry chef. Everyone loves dessert, but it isn’t always good for us. That’s why we’ve asked contestants to create healthier desserts with reduced sugar and fat.”

“We have some really outstanding desserts here tonight,” Brad said. “The judges told me it was difficult to pick a winner. In fact just one vote separated the first runner-up and the winner.”

“Maybe we should announce the second runner-up,” Charmayne cut in.

“Right,” Brad conceded with a smile. “I almost got ahead of myself.”

The audience laughed politely, but Lexi mentally crossed her fingers. Please, please. Let Amber win. Despite the havoc it would cause, Lexi wanted her sister to win. She’d tried so hard, and she was truly an excellent cook.

“Second runner-up goes to Taylor Jamison for her Waldorf Cupcakes.”

It took a few minutes for Taylor to come forward and accept her award, then thank everyone who’d helped her. Lexi stared at the back of Amber’s head, willing her to turn around so she could smile her encouragement, but her sister remained facing forward.

“The next award is special,” Brad said when Taylor had left the stage. “This entry came within one vote of giving us a tie. The first runner-up is a fabulous cook with a real future. The prize for first runner-up goes to Amber Morrison for her Diva Torte.”

A wild flash of disappointment ripped through Lexi. Oh, no. Amber had lost by one vote. How terrible to come so close yet not win.

“The recipe makes excellent use of beets—you’d never guess they were beets—to achieve the red color,” continued Brad. “She used grape seed oil instead of less healthy oil and agave nectar for sweetness.”

Amber was approaching the podium now. She must be heartsick, Lexi thought, but she sported a smile as she accepted the small trophy.

“I encourage all of you to think about what you’re eating,” she told the audience. “Go for light and healthy!” She started to step away from the microphone. “Oh, and a huge thanks to my teacher, Mrs. Geffen, and my sister, Lexi.”

Lexi watched as Amber left the stage, her runner-up trophy in the crook of her arm. She kept a smile on her face as she returned to her seat. Lexi listened politely while the winner was announced. A burly youth who looked as if he’d be more at home on a football field won with his Cranberry Baklava.

One vote.

How would Amber take such a narrow defeat?

The ceremony finally concluded and Lexi rose to join her sister, but Amber left her seat and headed for the stage where the winner, Toby McCall, was talking with the chefs. Amber went right up to Toby and high-fived him. Apparently they’d become friendly during the contest.

Lexi smiled to herself. Maybe this contest was a learning experience on more levels than one.

“Sorry Amber didn’t win.” Brad’s voice came from beside her. He’d walked up unexpectedly while she’d been watching her sister. “It was really close.”

Lexi drew a deep breath and refused to reveal how thrilled she was that he’d sought her out. Maybe she hadn’t lost her chance with him after all. She told herself to say something that would smooth things between them.

“Amber can be proud. She created two innovative desserts. Just because she didn’t get first prize doesn’t mean she isn’t a winner. Still, she’s going to be disappointed not to be working with Charmayne.”

Amber was talking with the chefs now and they were all smiling at her and chatting as if they were old friends. Pretty amazing, Lexi decided. She would have thought Amber would have left after congratulating the winner.

“Your sister has talent,” Brad said, his voice low. “Are you sure you don’t want me to offer her a summer job?”

Lexi was tempted to say yes and change the dynamics of the situation. Brad could be a hero and Lexi would no longer be the spoilsport sister. She and Brad could take up where they’d left off. But she knew what was best for Amber. She boldly met his eyes. “Thanks, but Amber needs to attend summer school and help with City Seeds.”

“Not even a part-time job? A couple of hours a day?” he asked, a trace of reproach in his voice.

Again, she had to resist the urge to say yes. Experience with her sister told her that Amber would find any excuse to hang around Black Jack’s when she should be home in the garden or studying.

“Thanks for the offer, Brad. Maybe next summer.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, as if he expected her to change her mind. “Did you tell Amber that I wanted her to work for me this summer?”

“No, I didn’t. I wanted her to concentrate on winning.”

“But you didn’t want her to win. Did you?”

“Of course I did!” Indignation rippled through her body. “I was prepared to give Joey Tran a full-time job with City Seeds so Amber could complete the internship.”

Amber spotted them and dashed over, smiling. “I almost won.”

“You did great,” Brad said with real enthusiasm.

“I gave it my best.”

“It was really close,” Brad told her. “Just one vote and we would have had a tie.”

“It’s okay,” Amber said with sincerity. “I had fun just trying.”

Brad nodded his approval, but Lexi could hardly speak. Was her sister really this calm about not winning?

“I’ve got to run,” Brad said—more to Amber than Lexi. “Saturday night is our busiest time.” He turned and left without saying a word about seeing Lexi again.

“What happened?” Amber asked. “I thought you two were…you know—”

“Brad’s busy. I’m swamped between work and studying for the exam. That’s all.” Lexi told herself this was the truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

“Then why did Brad come over to talk to you after the contest?”

Clearly Amber was more perceptive than Lexi realized. Her sister’s voice, her expression said she knew Lexi wasn’t being entirely honest.

“Brad came over to talk to me about giving you a part-time job this summer at Black Jack’s.”

“You’re kidding! That’s awesome!” Amber was practically bouncing up and down. “I can hardly wait.”

“Don’t get excited! You’re going to summer school and work in the garden. Next summer, if your grades are still good, you can work for Brad. I’m sure he’ll give you a job.”

“That’s not fair!” Amber practically shouted and the group nearby stopped talking to look at them. “Next summer is, like, aeons away. Brad could sell the business or something.”

Just what Lexi didn’t want—a scene—in front of all these parents. Over Amber’s shoulder she saw Rick Fullerton and his pastry chef coming in their direction.

“Don’t turn around,” whispered Lexi, thankful for the diversion. “Here comes Rick Fullerton and Monsieur Broussard. I’ll bet he didn’t vote for you.”

Tears welled in Amber’s eyes. “You’re right. Monsieur Broussard hasn’t liked me since the first round.”

Lexi shook her head. “Don’t blame him. Rick Fullerton is angry that Brad now gets his produce from us.” She slipped her arm around her sister. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 10

A week later, Lexi arrived home and pushed through the front door. A cool wave of air indicated the ceiling fan was on low. It was a welcome relief from the heat outside.

Lexi was late—again—and she was exhausted. It was apparent the accounting firm saw the summer interns as little more than indentured servants. The work they assigned the interns always required overtime. Since they were paid a base salary, the interns didn’t earn any more money for the extra hours.

“Amber, I’m home!” she called.

There was no answer. Lexi shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the hall tree. She shouldn’t be surprised Amber wasn’t around. The house was silent. Where was she?

Amber hadn’t been bitter about not winning. She’d taken the loss in stride, proud of missing by just one vote. Lexi had to give her credit. The contest had matured her sister. In another week summer school would begin. With luck, Amber’s transformation would carry over and she would take summer school seriously.

As she opened the refrigerator to see what she could throw together for dinner, she heard Amber blast through the front door. “Lexi, are you there?”

From her sister’s upbeat tone, Lexi decided something good must have happened.

“Sit down,” Amber said, her cheeks flushed.

Lexi slowly lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table. After tossing her purse on the table in front of her, Amber took the seat opposite.

“Please, just listen. Don’t say anything until I’ve explained.” When Lexi nodded, Amber continued. “I brought up my grades, right?”

A warning bell sounded somewhere deep in Lexi’s brain.

“I baked all those goodies for the contest but didn’t risk triggering a diabetic episode by eating them. I had the seniors test for me. True?”

Lexi nodded. What was Amber leading up to?

Amber pulled a packet of CDs from her purse. “I want to bring up my math grade next year by studying algebra this summer. That’s why I borrowed these Learn on Your Own CDs from Joey Tran. I can work in my spare time on the computer.”

Now Lexi got it. This was Amber’s way of getting out of summer school.

“I’ve got a job! A real job that pays way more than minimum wage!”

Great. Lexi had alienated Brad for nothing. Amber had gone out and found a job. From her glow of exhilaration, Lexi realized it would be a knock-down-drag-out fight to convince her sister to give it up.

“Aren’t you going to ask where?” Amber inquired.

“Am I allowed to talk?”

“Of course!”

“Where are you planning to work?” She emphasized the word planning so Amber would know she wasn’t agreeing to anything.

“Guess,” Amber said, her blue eyes sparking fire.

Lexi knew Amber loved being in a kitchen. She might have checked local bakeries for a job, but she doubted she would have found one so quickly. The fast food places had tremendous turnover. There were always openings at them. “Bronco Bill’s?”

“Nope!”

The way Amber’s eyes gleamed, Lexi figured she was on the right track. “Chicken Bucket.”

“No way. Yuck. Fried food.”

“I give up.”

Amber smiled the sly smile that said she was up to something. “Where’s the last place you’d think I would find a job?”

Lexi crossed her arms and stared at her sister for a moment. “You didn’t go to Brad, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t ask your boyfriend for a job. Not when the contest winner is working there with Charmayne.”

“Sorry.” Lexi tried for a casual tone. “I give up. Where did you find a job?”

An expression of smug satisfaction crossed her features. “I start tomorrow morning at…Marché.”

Lexi stared wordlessly at her sister. One of the premier restaurants in the city had hired Amber. How could that be? Rick Fullerton had seemed upset with Lexi since he’d met them at Black Jack’s. Amber had lost the contest by one vote—Rick’s vote. Or so they’d assumed.

“Say something,” Amber said.

“That’s…fabulous,” Lexi sputtered. “I’m so thrilled for you.”

“There’s more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m working in the pastry kitchen with Monsieur Broussard.”

Lexi was helpless to smother her stunned gasp. “You’re kidding! You said he was as friendly as a scorpion.”

“I thought so at first. It’s just that he doesn’t speak English that well so he doesn’t say much. He came here this afternoon with Rick Fullerton to pick out marionberries for a special dessert. Rick said my torte was superb and asked for the recipe.”

“He did? That’s—that’s amazing.” Lexi couldn’t believe Rick would ask anyone for a recipe but Amber wouldn’t make it up.

“Monsieur Brossard said he’d be ‘honored’ to have me work for him.” Amber grinned. “Honored. That was exactly what he said. Rick was really impressed with me and thought I should have won. They asked if I wanted a part-time job in the pastry kitchen.”

Marché hired Amber. The words repeated in her brain like a chant. Marché hired Amber. Marché hired Amber. This was just as big a tribute as winning the contest. A well-known pastry chef from Paris wanted her sister to work with him. How could Lexi say no?

“Oh my gosh! I’m so proud of you. I don’t know what to say.” Lexi put both arms around Amber and hugged her tight. “You’re amazing.”

Her sister really was special. She didn’t see the world the same way Lexi did, but she had enough confidence in herself to pursue what she wanted.

She had found a way to prepare for next year’s algebra course without going to summer school. How could Lexi deny Amber this opportunity?

“Joey said he would like to work full-time at City Seeds,” Amber said as she implored Lexi with pleading eyes. “I’ll pay him out of what I make.”

“I’m a little concerned about your health,” Lexi said gently. “Being at a restaurant like Marché is going to be a major temptation.”

“No, it’s not. Monsieur Broussard tastes every dessert himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else’s opinion. He told me so.”

“Okay. What about the other food? Marché is known for its cuisine.”

“I swear I won’t eat anything I shouldn’t. I’m only there for four hours a day. That’s barely time enough to do my own work.”

Lexi didn’t take a second to think it over. “Okay, but if you develop health issues or don’t study, I’m going to insist that you quit.”

Amber stood up. “I’m going to start on the CDs right after I take my blood sugar.”

“Then let’s eat,” Lexi told her.

“I had to eat earlier,” Amber said. “You were late and I was starving.” Amber kissed her cheek. It was the first time her sister had kissed her in… Lexi couldn’t recall how long it had been. Seemed like a year.

Lexi waited until Amber left the room to pick up the telephone and call Brad. It was a weeknight and in the middle of the dinner hour. He would have his cell phone off, so she could leave a message without having to talk to him personally.

She didn’t want Brad to hear about Amber’s job and think Lexi had sent her sister to the competition. Even though Houston was a large city, the restaurant community was tight-knit.

The phone rang twice and Brad answered, taking Lexi by surprise. “Westcott.”

“Brad? It’s Lexi Morrison.”

“The Lexi Morrison?” he teased.

“Yes. Sorry to call you in the middle of rush hour.”

“S’okay. I’m in my office watching the lion’s den. I was about to call you.”

“Really?” Lexi was stunned; it was the last thing she expected.

“Have you eaten? How would you like to catch a late dinner?”

“No, I haven’t eaten,” she managed to mumble. “I’d like that.” She could wait until they were together to tell him about Amber’s job.

The waiter at the Mexican restaurant Brad had chosen strolled up to them, ready to take their order.

“I’ll have a Texas Tornado,” Brad told him. “What about you? Want to try the drink that won first prize in the mixology contest, or would a traditional margarita be better?”

“I’ll try the Tornado,” she told the waiter, and he left to fill their order.

“Was your bar—mixologist disappointed he didn’t win?”

“Probably, but he was a good sport, the way Amber was.”

This was her opening, Lexi realized. “Speaking of Amber, she’s the reason I called you.”

“Really?” His blue eyes narrowed speculatively. “Changed your mind about letting her take a summer job at Black Jack’s?”

“Not exactly. She got a part-time job on her own. At Marché with Monsieur Broussard.”

“You’re kidding.” He started to laugh. “How’d that happen?”

Thankful he had taken the news so well, Lexi smiled and explained as their drinks arrived. “I assumed Rick hadn’t voted for Amber, but apparently he had.”

“Good for her,” Brad said with sincerity, and raised his glass for a toast. “Next summer I’ll try to hire her away from Fullerton.”

Lexi clinked her glass against Brad’s. “What’s in this?”

“Reposado tequila, fresh lime juice and cherry liqueur. Whipped egg whites make the foam on top. Remember, I told you how popular frothy topping has become.”

“Right.” Lexi took a sip. “It’s good, but knowing there’s tequila in it makes me cautious. It’s deadly.”

Brad reached over and put his large, warm hand on hers. Her whole body tingled at his touch. “How’ve you been?”

She started to say she was fine, but decided to tell him how she really felt. “Like I told you before, I’m not enjoying working at a big firm as much as I thought I would. I just sit at a desk in a cube farm, punching numbers.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Brad asked, concern underscoring each word.

“In order to become a CPA, I have to pass the exam and work under a licensed accountant for two years. I’m going to send my résumé around to some smaller firms and see what happens.”

Brad leaned closer and gazed directly into her eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. Make sure your résumé includes City Seeds as well as your payroll work at the upholstery shop. You’ll find another job.”

His confidence was as contagious as his smile. “What about you? How are things going at Black Jack’s? How’s Charmayne’s apprentice doing?”

“He’s great. Charmayne really likes him.” Brad took another swig of his Tornado. “And the sous-chef is really working out well. Tonight Alice is in charge of the show at Black Jack’s.”

“Really?” Lexi was more than a little surprised. Brad had said he didn’t like relinquishing his position as executive chef.

“Yes.” His features became more animated. “I want to have a life that I can enjoy beyond the restaurant business. I had to figure out how to make it work for me.” He slipped his arm around her. “I need to make time to see more of you.”

She inhaled sharply at his words. “You do? I—I mean, I want to see more of you. I don’t like spending all day punching numbers.”

“When you know what you want, it’s worth the risk to go after it,” Brad said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Having a life you enjoy is worth the risk. Amber’s going after what she wants.”

“I wasn’t referring to Amber’s plans. I’m talking about us as a couple. I don’t want to sacrifice having you in my life just to have a successful restaurant.”

This man was special, Lexi realized. He meant more to her than she had wanted to admit. Now was the time to acknowledge how she felt.

He leaned closer, halting a scant inch from her lips. “Am I part of your plans?”

“Of course. I—”

His mouth cut off her response as his lips covered hers and he pulled her flush against his chest.

Lexi could hardly believe this was happening.

Brad pulled back, whispering, “I want us to be together. You come first—before the restaurant, before everything else.”

Lexi smiled. “I have no idea what it’s like to come first in anyone’s life, but I’m sure willing to give it a try.”

Dear Reader,

I was thrilled to be asked to contribute to this year’s edition of More Than Words. I have followed the program since its inception and have been so impressed with the many outstanding women honored over the years. Now, I have the pleasure of writing a story to commemorate another exceptional lady, Gracie Cavnar and the Recipe for Success Foundation.

The accomplishments of Recipe for Success cannot be understated. There is now a heightened awareness of childhood obesity and its causes. More people appreciate the importance of growing and preparing food. From the White House garden to community gardens across this country, people understand the importance of healthy food.

I hope you enjoy Brad and Lexi’s story and feel the message is important enough to help spread it. Food is not just something that comes in a package from the supermarket. It plays a vital role in keeping us healthy and deserves our admiration for the way it is grown and prepared.

This story is dedicated to Harlequin Books for their efforts in rewarding the women in our communities who have gone above and beyond to help others. It is especially dedicated to Gracie Cavnar for her efforts on behalf of children with Recipe for Success. I also wish to acknowledge the efforts of Executive Editor Marsha Zinberg for all her hard work in putting this novella together.

Wishing you love and laughter,

Meryl Sawyer

Another FREE eBook awaits!

USA TODAY bestselling author Pamela Morsi reminds us that nurturing hearts and minds leads to great things in her novella, Daffodils in Spring, a tribute to Karen Thomson, founder of Literature for All of Us.

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MORE THAN WORDS

Copyright © 2011 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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