‘You like soufflé?’ Jett’s question, spoken in that deep husky voice, those midnight eyes focused on her as if he’d read her mind...
‘I tried to make it once. But it failed.’ Cooking was her weakest skill and least favourite thing to do.
‘You only gave it one shot?’
‘Once was more than enough.’
‘Persistence, Olivia,’ he told her with a wink in his eye. ‘Perfect timing’s the key to good soufflé.’ He regarded them both in turn while he chewed but Olivia sensed he was talking to her specifically when he said, ‘You’ll have to try my amaretto soufflé some time,’ in a subtle way that stroked over her nape like the warm liqueur it was named for.
Brie’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. ‘You’re going to give us the famous Jettsetter Chef recipe? It’s not in his books,’ she told Olivia.
‘How about I come and cook it for you some time? Show you how it’s done?’
How about you do that? Olivia swallowed, the response turning her cheeks hot.
She should have recognised him from the photo inside the dust cover of Sundae Night. How could she not have picked up on the perfect bone structure and classic dark handsomeness? ‘Brie gave me one of your books last Christmas.’ She’d thought it was Brie’s way to inspire Olivia’s interest in cookery—now she knew better. Her best friend had kept him a secret... She raised her champagne flute. ‘Now I know why it was a signed copy.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’ He added another dollop of horseradish sauce to his plate.
‘It’s got some delicious desserts.’ And the added bonus of some sexy photos of the chef at work, but nowhere near clear enough to recognise him in the flesh. ‘I do have to admit, though, that I’ve only tried out a couple.’ She studied him a moment over the crystal rim. ‘Do you ever get tired of cooking?’
‘We’ve just finished filming a TV series to be shown later in the year, and, with the restaurant critiques, it’s been full-on. I’m looking at some time-out so I’m working on ideas for themed cookbooks. Planning to start in Tasmania after the Taste Festival.’
At his mention of Hobart’s premier summer event on the historic docks where the yacht race ended, Olivia said, ‘If anyone can appreciate that particular festival, it’s a chef.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Where to, then?’
‘I’ve booked accommodation at Cradle Mountain.’
‘Admit it, you must have had at least one cooking disaster in your lifetime.’
His lips twitched in amusement and his sinner’s eyes teased. ‘I don’t recall.’
‘Tell me about it anyway.’ Olivia smiled back, and, awkwardness forgotten for the moment, she barely noticed Brie excuse herself and head out to the balcony with her glass of champagne.
Despite her earlier antagonism, she found herself drawn to him. The way he laughed with his eyes, his smooth way of talking, his hands. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his hands, especially when he absently toyed with a miniature glass angel from the table centre-piece and she imagined those fingers toying with her—
Stop. Now.
He wasn’t here for her pleasure; he was here to see Brie and share Christmas.
Olivia’s family had always celebrated the day at home, with a tree and silly hats and enough food to feed an entire naval fleet. Even last year after her mother had passed away, she’d ensured they had a traditional day—her and Brie and a couple of single girlfriends from the health centre where they worked.
‘Are you into natural beauty therapy like Breanna?’ Jett asked, glancing at Brie as she sauntered back to resume her seat at the table.
‘I work in the field of natural medicine. I share a suite of rooms with Brie, a massage therapist and a kinesiologist. I’ve taken a month’s leave to participate in the race and focus on our fundraising.’
‘Livvie has an advanced diploma in Naturopathy,’ Brie boasted before Olivia could get another word out. ‘She’s also got a degree in Health Science. Now she’s halfway through a business course so she can set up a cancer retreat. And there’s her charity foundation, and—’
‘Brie...’ Olivia felt herself flush at Brie’s enthusiasm. She’d learned that guys weren’t interested in a woman whose academic achievements outstripped theirs. It had never bothered her before. It shouldn’t bother her now, but, for some reason she couldn’t figure out, it did. She wanted Jett to see her first and foremost as a woman. Which made no sense at all.
‘...And we’re going to be business partners when the centre’s up and running.’ Smiling, Brie sat back and crossed her arms.