WIP Wednesday: In the hot tub with Mateus and Crawford

Happy Thanksgiving Eve to my fellow Americans! To everyone else, happy Wednesday! Since we still don't have a kitchen thanks to all the remodeling snafus, the Baker family has decamped up north to Chicagoland to celebrate with relatives. There's snow up here, guys. Yuck.

I was able to get some writing done in the car on the way up, which is good because today and tomorrow will be filled with family and food. I've left the guys at a pretty critical point, though, so I may have to excuse myself to write. Cliffhangers are hard on readers, but they're hard on writers, too!

Crawford and Mateus are in the penthouse honeymoon suite at the hotel, and Crawford is trying to convince himself it's a bad idea to join Mateus out on the rooftop hot tub. Or is it a very good idea? *g*

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Photo credit: Hotel de Maya

Tall, Dark and Deported

But now he was about to do something very, very stupid, so maybe it hadn't been much of an escape after all. If he were smart, he'd go to bed. He'd tell Mateus, rightly so, that he had an early meeting and needed his rest. He'd ask for a rain check so he could tackle the mountain of paperwork that was waiting for him in messy piles on the dining table. He'd fake a water phobia.

Anything that kept him out of an enclosed space in one of the most romantic settings Crawford could imagine with the one man he couldn't make a move on.

But Crawford wasn't smart. He ran through excuses in his head as he took off his clothes and carefully hung his suit in the closet and rifled through his suitcase to find the swim trunks he knew he'd packed. Not for this occasion, of course. He'd envisioned a vigorous swim in the lap pool, not an agonizing soak in a private hot tub with the most attractive man he'd ever met.

He picked up his phone and texted Adam, not sure whether to hope he was awake to talk him out of this to hope that he didn't see the message in time to chastise Crawford for even thinking about it.

Rooftop hot tub with Mateus. Bad idea?

His phone dinged almost instantly.

The worst. Have fun.

Damn it.

I can't get involved with him, he texted back.

You already are. You may as well get something out of it.

Crawford took a breath and rubbed his hand over his face. As usual, Adam had cut to the quick of it and said exactly what Crawford needed to hear. It would be wrong to take advantage of Mateus. And even if Mateus said he was interested, how could Crawford be sure he really was and he wasn't just saying that because he was afraid Crawford would change his mind about helping him get a visa? No. He had to keep his distance.

Thanks, bro, he texted back. He tossed his phone on the bed and strode out into the main room to tell Mateus he couldn't join him tonight. The doors to the terrace were already open, so Crawford walked through. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Mateus.

He was silhouetted against the skyline, his arms folded together like he was cold. He'd apparently picked up a pair of swim trunks at the same place he'd gotten his clothes for tonight, because they were almost indecently tight, just like the trousers he'd had on.

Crawford's excuses died on his lips. Mateus looked so breathtakingly lonely that he couldn't bring himself to disappoint him. Especially when Mateus turned around and a huge smile bloomed across his face.

WIP Wednesday: Mateus gets a taste of an American delicacy

He's as wonderfully strange and intimidatingly
 intelligent in person as he seems in his books!

I'm at a librarian conference this week, so I haven't had time to do much more than my minimum NaNo count each day. In fact, I've barely been getting that accomplished.

But I'm learning lots of library things, which I promise is more exciting than it sounds. Plus I got the chance to meet Daniel Handler (aka Lemony Snicket), so I think Mateus and Crawford will forgive me if I've been a little distracted. *g*

A word on NaNo--I've been running a Come Write In program at my library this month, and it's been wonderful getting the chance to meet other local writers and see people hard at work on their craft. And I also had the chance to talk with Headline News about NaNoWriMo and the publishing world, which was pretty exciting.

All in all, it's been a few exciting weeks of NaNo! And just like usual, I was bitten hard by a new bunny just a few days into starting my NaNo project. It's a new collaboration with Lex Chase, and you'll have to wait until after November is over to find out more about it because the deadline for Tall, Dark and Deported will be here before we know it, so I can't nurture the bunny (*cough* the three book series bunny */cough*) at the moment.


Here's a snippet from Tall, Dark and Deported for your #WIPWednesday fix!

“What? Seriously? You've never had a hot pretzel?” Crawford's eyes widened incredulously. “Where are you from? Mars?”

Mateus snickered. “Portugal. We don't have—” he squinted at the bag. Grease spots were starting to soak through, and he had to fight not to grimace. “—Auntie Anne's.”

“Oh, this is just one type. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's the best type. I think they dip them in butter after they cook or something. But you can get hot pretzels everywhere. Sporting events, skating rinks, library food courts. You've really never had one?”

He reached into the white bag and pulled out a small doughy nugget that was covered in large pellets of salt. It didn't look like any pretzel Mateus had ever seen, though he'd never seen any that weren't small and hard, so who knew.

“Shouldn't it be folded?”

Crawford's brows drew together for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Oh, these are pretzel bites. But yeah, they sell the big pretzels, too. These are just cut up so they're easier to eat. Less messy.”

The whole thing glistened with butter, so Mateus very much doubted it was actually less messy than its larger cousin. His gaze traveled up to Crawford's mouth, drawn to the full, rosy lips. There was a tiny bit of yogurt in the corner of his mouth, and the resulting mental image made Mateus shift slightly in his seat. Bree was right. He needed to settle down and stop fantasizing about handsome strangers in airports. Well, that last bit was his own addition, but it still stood.

“You should try it,” Crawford said. He held the pretzel out to Mateus.

Mateus shook his head. “They're your favorite. You keep it.”

Crawford held his gaze for a second and then shrugged. He popped the pretzel in his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he chewed. He had long lashes, Mateus noticed. And he made eating a pretzel look orgasmic. They had to be flirting. There was no way this wasn't flirting.

“Your loss,” Crawford said when he'd swallowed and opened his eyes again. “But they're about a hundred times better than they look, I promise. Are you sure you don't want to try one?”

Mateus's attention was fixed on Crawford's lower lip, which was glossy with butter from the pretzel. He swallowed hard. “A small one,” he said, his voice huskier than it had been only a moment ago.

Crawford grinned. He took another pretzel out of the bag, but instead of holding it out to Mateus, he let it hover in between them, his expression questioning. A beat later Mateus leaned forward and opened his mouth, praying he wasn't reading this wrong. Crawford's smile grew, and he gently placed the pretzel into Mateus's mouth.

 The taste of salt exploded across Mateus's tongue, followed by butter and the sweet, yeasty flavor of the dough. He'd been dubious, but Crawford had been right. The pretzel was delicious. Or maybe it was just that all of Mateus's senses felt heightened as he sat there eating out of a total stranger's hand.

WIP Wednesday: Stopped at the border with Tall, Dark and Deported

It's been a busy time around here, wrapping up the short blog tour for King of the Kitchen, which was released Nov. 6. All of my guests posts revolved around food, both because that's a central theme in the book and because I'm currently four weeks into what was supposed to be a five-week kitchen remodel, so I'm really missing being in a kitchen and cooking something that doesn't have to go in the microwave or crock pot. And my suffering isn't over yet--thanks to delays and Lowe's ordering the wrong cabinets, it looks like it'll be mid-December before I have a kitchen. *sob*

I included a recipe with each blog post, so if you haven't checked those out and you're interested in the food in King of the Kitchen plus a few of my personal favorites, like the egg roll recipe that was a family secret for years, it's worth a look.

Duncan's refrigerator velcro frittata on Joyfully Jay
Beck's roasted brussel sprouts with balsamic glaze on Prism Book Alliance
Garlic and shallot pasta on Gay List Book Reviews
Egg rolls on The Novel Approach


I also found out last week that Playing House earned an Honorable Mention in  Gay Contemporary General Fiction this year's Rainbow Awards, which was so exciting! Frank is a character that's so close to my heart, and seeing the judges talk so favorably about him and the book made my day.

And last but not least, here's an excerpt from my current WIP, Tall, Dark and Deported. Crawford and Mateus have fulfilled their promise to Homeland Security and gotten married while they were in Canada, but the US Immigration needs a little more convincing than a marriage certificate and a steamy kiss in front of the border agent.

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Tall, Dark and Deported

The guard cleared his throat again. His eyes looked a little glassy when they met Crawford's. “I, uh, passed along the fact that you and Mr. Fontes seem to be still in the honeymoon phase on to Officer Stewart. She told me to have you check in with her at the US Citizenship and Immigration Office in Whatcom County.”

He scrawled a name and number on the back of a Homeland Security business card. “You'll have to make an appointment, but she might be able to see you today. My understanding was she wanted to meet you and set up future appointments, not put you through an interview right away.”

Well, that was ominous. Crawford flipped the card over and read the name—Office Kathleen Stewart. The guard looked apologetic, though he certainly wasn't the one who had done anything embarrassing. “I'll call her now,” Crawford said. “Should I step outside?”

The guard straightened. “No need. I'll leave you two to set that up. Just stop by the desk on your way out to let them know you've set up your appointment so they can confirm it with Useless—” the man looked stricken. “—I mean USCIS. Shit.”

Crawford laughed, feeling at ease for the first time since they'd been pulled over at the border and told to get out of the car. “Interdepartmental nicknames, eh? I guess there's no love lost between immigration services and homeland security. Though with that , they really were asking for it.”

The man chuckled. “Right? Anyway, I apologize. I'm sure Officer Stewart will do a great job with your case.”

Crawford certainly hoped not.  

King of the Kitchen is out today!

I'm at work today, so sadly I couldn't do a release day party like I usually do. But I'm so, so excited that King of the Kitchen is out today! I had such a blast reading from it at GRL, and the response I've gotten so far has been wonderful.

If you haven't been following my blog tour, be sure to check out my posts on Joyfully Jay and Gay List Book Reviews earlier this week. I'll be hosting a Dreamspinner Press Facebook chat Saturday, Nov. 7, from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. EST, and I'll be over on Prism Book Alliance (Nov. 9) and The Novel Approach   (Nov. 10) next week. I'm including a recipe at each stop on the blog tour, either something from the book or something that's a personal favorite of mine. Come check them out!

Early reviews for King of the Kitchen have been great, and I'm looking forward to hearing from more readers about how they liked Beck and Duncan!

From Divine Magazine: "King of the Kitchen by Bru Baker is the kind of book you can't put down but never want to end."

From The Novel Approach: "I would highly recommend this book if you enjoy a real romance and slow buildup kind of story. This was my first Bru Baker story, but it definitely will not be my last!

Blurb:

Rising kitchen talents Beck Douglas and Duncan Walters have been on the foodie paparazzi radar for years, since their status as heirs to two of the biggest celebrity chef empires around makes them culinary royalty. Beck is known for his charm and traditional food as cohost of his uncle's popular TV cooking show, while Duncan earned himself a reputation as a culinary bad boy, both for his refusal to work in his father's restaurants and his avant garde approach to cooking.

They're also heirs to a food rivalry that could put the Hatfields and McCoys to shame, and when they're photographed in the middle of a heated argument, the press goes wild with speculation. Damage control ensues, with a fake friendship engineered by PR cronies that leaves both of them secretly pining for more.

Beck chafes under his uncle's micromanagement, and Duncan's relationship with his homophobic father becomes even more tenuous when Beck and Duncan start getting closer. It's hard to hide their chemistry on national television when Duncan joins Beck's cooking show, but they won't be able to take their relationship—or their careers—to the next level without breaking a few eggs.

Buy links: Amazon, Dreamspinner Press, Barnes and Noble, Are

WIP Wednesday: Dating advice from Crawford's favorite (and only) nephew

NaNoWriMo is in full swing, and I'm off to a great start on Tall, Dark and Deported for Dreamspun Desires. It's a fluffy, funny lark full of characters I want to wrap in blankets and feed soup to, and Crawford's fifteen-year-old nephew Brandon is no exception.

In today's #WIPWednesday sneak peek, Brandon is helping Crawford pack for a business trip and offering up some dating truisms that Crawford wishes he'd known before his disastrous marriage.

And don't forget, King of the Kitchen releases on Friday! I'm so excited to get Duncan and Beck out there for everyone to see. *g* You can preorder it now from quite a few places, including: Dreamspinner Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and

ARe. 

I was over on Joyfully Jay talking about the book and sharing one of my favorite recipes from it yesterday, and I'll be over at Gay List Book Reviews tomorrow with more food fun. And don't miss the chance to ask me about King of the Kitchen or throw any cooking-related question my way during my Dreamspinner Press Facebook takeover from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. EST on Saturday, Nov. 7.

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Photo credit

Tall, Dark and Deported

Brandon yanked the brown socks out of Crawford's hands and tossed a pair of black ones into his suitcase instead. “How long you gonna be gone this time?”

“I'm hoping to wrap it up in a week. Two weeks, tops.” He poked Brandon in the stomach and grabbed the purloined socks when the teen let out of a bark of surprised laughter and dropped them.

Brandon scowled when Crawford dropped them into the suitcase. “Those don't match anything.”

“They're one of about four pairs I have that don't have any holes in them, so they're going.”

“I could come with you,” Brandon said. He perched on the edge of the bed, his expression guarded. “I've never been to Canada.”

“And unless you've been moonlighting as an international man of mystery, you don't have the passport that's required to cross the border.”

Brandon's shoulders slumped, and Crawford kept half an eye on him as he tucked a pair of freshly shined shoes into a canvas bag so he could pack them. “Some reason you suddenly want to travel?”

“I asked Becca Johnson to the homecoming dance and she said she'd have to get back to me, which basically means she's using me as her back-up date in case Chris Atkins doesn't ask her,” he said with a dejected sigh.

Crawford winced. This was exactly why he'd sworn off relationships. Everyone had an agenda, and it was rarely in anyone's best interest but their own. “Ouch. You don't have to wait for her to make up her mind, you know. You could ask someone else.”

Brandon threw him a look that could peel paint. “And then later when he doesn't ask her— because he won't, he's going with some upperclassman—then I'll be the jerk. She'll spend the dance in the bathroom crying with her friends and no one will want to date me because I'll come out of it looking like a dick.”

Crawford bit back a smile, knowing Brandon would see it as mocking and not amused. His nephew seemed to have things figured out pretty well for a fifteen year old. Hell, he had a better grasp of relationship dynamics than Crawford did at thirty. Maybe if he'd had half of Brandon's insight he wouldn't have fallen for a snake charmer like Davis.

WIP Wednesday: Tall, Dark and Deported

For those of you who don't know, Dreamspinner Press is introducing a new line of fluffy, fabulously trope-y romances called Dreamspun Desires. You know how I feel about sappy fluff, so I'm obviously over the moon about the idea.

I'm working on something for it now, and I'm ridiculously excited about possibly being part of the new line. You've met Crawford and Mateus in earlier posts, and now they're fake-married to keep Mateus in the country. Immigration doesn't just rubber stamp these marriages, though, and they are headed to Mateus's brother's house for the first home visit with the immigration agent. It's also Crawford's first introduction to Mateus's family. So no pressure. *g*

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Tall, Dark and Deported

“My sister-in-law is going to eat you alive,” Mateus warned. “And my brother might progressive on his view of sexuality, but he's as Catholic as can be when it comes to marriage being a sacrament. He'd never forgive me for marrying you just for a Greencard. We're going to have to lie to them.”

Crawford found himself grinning at the prospect of continuing their sham of a marriage, which was bizarre. He just couldn’t help but feel at ease around Mateus, though, and the thought of meeting his family and seeing the orchard Mateus had talked so glowingly about was undeniably appealing. Even if it did mean forcing Mateus to be dishonest with them.

“I—does that bother you? We're too far in to go back, but we could come clean to the immigration agent and hire a lawyer for us. We could fight the deportation.”

Mateus laughed. “Crawford. Really? There's no chance of that working. That's the whole point of the home visit. If they found out our marriage was fake, I'd be arrested on the spot. So would you.”

“Well, we could keep it up for the visit, and then you could tell your brother we fought and are taking some time apart. Have a long separation and then divorce after he's able to hire you, and if immigration had a problem you could get a work visa then.”

Mateus pursed his lips. “There is absolutely zero chance of my family buying that story. They know me too well. You're exactly my type. I wouldn't let someone like you just walk away, especially not if I'd loved you enough to marry you.”

Crawford's throat tightened. “You'd fight for me?”

 Mateus seemed to realize what he'd said a second later. His face crumpled with concern, and he reached out and wrapped an arm around Crawford's shoulders. “Without question. You're an amazing man, Crawford. And Davis was an asshole for leaving you. I'm sorry.”

WIP Wednesday: cooking with King of the Kitchen

Photo credit: Brandon Witt

I'm back from GRL 2015 and the usual post-con slump has hit. It's hard coming back to reality after spending a week with so many amazing people. I loved catching up with old friends and making a bunch of new ones, too. There's really nothing like getting to be among your tribe, and that's exactly what GRL is for me. A week where no one looks at me askance when I say I write gay romance, and no one asks me when I'm going to write "real" books. (I usually tell them that my imaginary ones keep me more than busy enough on their own.*g*)

My reading from King of the Kitchen went really well. The audience was amazing and laughed in all the right places, which made me a lot more confident. And the King of the Kitchen T-shirts I made to give away were a big hit, too.

I'm sharing an excerpt from King of the Kitchen with you today because it's finally up for preorder everywhere. Yay! The book will be out on Nov. 6, and I'll be guest blogging during release week. You can find me on Joyfully Jay Nov. 3, GayList Book Reviews on Nov. 5, the Dreamspinner Press Facebook page on Nov. 7 (stay tuned for my chat time), Prism Book Alliance on Nov. 9, and the Novel Approach on Nov. 10.

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King of the Kitchen, Dreamspinner Press, release date Nov. 6

Preorder links: Dreamspinner Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ARe, Kobo, Google Play

The kitchen was as hot as a sauna, and the bandanna Duncan had tied around his head had lost its ability to keep his forehead dry hours ago. His feet ached, his hands were chapped, and despite being surrounded by food, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was long past the dinner hour, but the flurry of frenetic activity hadn’t slowed much at all. People were underfoot everywhere in the small space, bustling around with hot pans and large pots, and no matter which way he turned, Duncan ran the risk of toppling a precariously placed container.

It was perfect.

“Order in! Rancher’s omelet, no onions, no peppers, no potatoes, no meat.”

Duncan rolled his eyes, yanking the ticket out of John’s hand. “So basically they want a cheese omelet? You don’t think you could make it easier on us in here and just write down what they actually ordered?”

John grinned. “She ordered the rancher’s omelet, dude.”

“Without three quarters of what makes it the rancher’s omelet? Did you tell her she could order a cheese omelet and save $3.75?”

“I did, but she’s not the one paying, and she wanted to stick it to him.”

That startled a laugh out of Duncan. John motioned over his shoulder, toward a table, and Duncan leaned through the pass-through, trying to see the couple without being too obvious. He knocked over a battered pot in the process, making most of the diner’s customers look up. So much for subtle.

“Them,” John said, pointing toward a small table in front of the plate-glass windows near the entrance to the diner. The woman was tall and slender, with dark wavy hair cascading down her back. Her clothing and the purse hanging off the back of her chair screamed money, as did the suit on the man she was with. They weren’t the diner’s typical patrons by a long shot, but Duncan did have to concede she looked like the type of person who’d be a special order. When business was slow, he and some of the other kitchen staff passed the time by betting on whether the customers who walked in the door would be complicated. He was almost always right.

“What about him?” Duncan asked, jutting his chin toward the man she was with. He could only see him from behind, but from his immaculately cut hair and his ramrod straight posture—difficult in the rickety diner chairs, Duncan knew from personal experience—he looked like a special order as well.

Duncan looked down at the ticket, frowning as he tried to decipher John’s chicken scratch. No matter how many times the kitchen complained, John’s handwriting never improved. Duncan had worked at the restaurant on and off for more than ten years, and the only constant had been John and his atrocious handwriting. It was kind of comforting, in an extremely exasperating way.

“Seriously? Two eggs over easy, bacon, and whole wheat toast?”

Duncan looked from the ticket to the man, surprised. He peered at him, studying his shoulders and finding himself wishing he could see the mystery man’s face. Duncan’s culinary profiling rarely went astray. Intriguing.

“They’re cousins. It was his week to pick where they had dinner. I’m getting the feeling she’s less than pleased,” John said.

“Which is why she special-ordered something guaranteed to piss him off?”

“That’s just it, though. He didn’t get angry. He laughed and told her if she really wanted to pull one over on him, she should have ordered the eggs Benedict, since that’s the highest profit margin dish on the menu.”

Duncan furrowed his brow. It was true the eggs Benedict was the most expensive breakfast item on the menu, aside from the steak and eggs, but the dish was hardly ridiculously priced. None of the regulars ordered it, but that was more because they had traditional meat-and-potatoes palates.

Francie, the other waitstaff on duty at the moment, broke Duncan’s view of the man as she walked up to grab an order off the warmer, and Duncan shot John a mischievous grin before ducking back through the pass-through into the kitchen.

“Duncan,” John said, his voice holding a note of warning.

“Order in!” Duncan yelled, ignoring him completely.

Ten minutes later, Duncan got his wish when a plate clanked noisily on the pass-through. He looked up absently, about to scold John or Francie for being so harsh with the dishes, when he realized it wasn’t either of them. It was the man in the suit, and even scrunched up in irritation, his face was beautiful. He had a strong, straight nose and full lips—currently thinned in annoyance—and eyes the most interesting shade of blue Duncan had ever seen. He absolutely looked like someone who would special order, and Duncan found himself wishing even harder that he could puzzle him out.

“We didn’t order this.”

Duncan looked at the plate of eggs Benedict and smiled his dopiest grin, the one that never failed to get him free refills and phone numbers whenever he applied it. He’d sent the guy a free meal along with the breakfasts he and the woman had ordered—could he seriously be pissed about that?

“On the house. I heard you had a particular interest in them.”

The man blinked in confusion but seemed to recover quickly, anger clouding his features.

“If you wanted to impress me, you’d have to do a hell of a lot better than a plate of fatty ham and congealing hollandaise. We don’t serve eggs Benedict in our restaurants, Charlie,” he said, eyeing the name on Duncan’s chef’s whites with disdain and drawing it out like an insult, “and even if we did, I don’t appreciate having you encroach on my personal time with your pathetic attempt at a job interview.”

Duncan’s mouth hung open, and he wavered between outraged and completely confused. What was this guy talking about?

“Listen, buddy. I was only being friendly,” Duncan snapped, choosing to go with outraged. He left the plate in the pass-through, pointedly ignoring it—and the man—as he pulled a new ticket off the carousel. “Order in! One deluxe hamburger, one order of chicken tenders, one spinach frittata!”

He turned toward the kitchen to get started on the eggs but was pulled up short by a hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t talk to me like that, buddy.”

Duncan scowled. “Of course, sir. The customer is always right. Yes, the eggs Benedict was part of a convoluted plan of mine to apply for a job cooking for your, what?” He made a point of studying the gorgeous guy’s suit. “Office building? Hotel, maybe? I admit, it’s always been my life’s ambition to run a carving station at a Marriott buffet. How could you tell?”

The man gaped at him and would have responded, but the woman he was with—his cousin, John had said?—walked up behind him and unceremoniously placed her hand over his mouth.

“I apologize for Beck’s behavior. Charlie, is it?” Duncan nodded, figuring it was easier than correcting her. He was too busy watching as the man fumed silently behind her hand. “He’s a bit on edge at the moment, and he misread your intention in sending the plate. He’s used to having dishes we didn’t order sent over to our table when we go out, and it’s almost always a gesture followed by the chef coming out to ask a favor or chat him up.”

She leveled a look at Beck, her sculpted eyebrow arched in challenge as she removed her hand. He huffed ungraciously but didn’t resume yelling at Duncan, so Duncan was going to go ahead and call it a win.

“I apologize,” Beck bit out, the words sounding forced. “Please add the eggs Benedict to our check in recompense for the misunderstanding.”

Duncan was struck by a familiar pang of guilt. He could never hold a grudge against anyone. It was well known among his friends—and often taken advantage of. But he had sent the eggs over as a prank, and now he felt bad because he’d obviously ruined their meal. As he looked closer, he could see the designer suit was wrinkled, as if the poor guy had been wearing it all day, and dark circles smudged the skin under his brilliant blue eyes.

“No need,” Duncan said, lifting the untouched plate down from the pass-through and setting it aside. He and John were both off shift in twenty minutes; the dish wouldn’t go uneaten. He looked over at their table, noting that neither of them had touched their food. “I’d be happy to remake your meals. I’m sure they’ve gone cold by now.”

The man stared at him with an unreadable expression, but the woman chimed in.

“We’ve had a long day, and I don’t think we were that hungry anyway,” she said, smiling slightly. She slipped a business card on the pass-through. “I’m Lindsay. I realize you’re not looking for a job right now, but if you ever are, give me a call.”

Beck looked a bit sour at her parting words, but he followed her silently back to their table, pulled his wallet out, and dropped some cash on the table. Duncan watched them leave, Beck’s posture stiff and menacing until Lindsay wound an arm through his and leaned into him. He seemed to melt against her, his shoulders relaxing and his gait less abrupt as they walked down the sidewalk and out of sight.

Duncan looked down at the card on the pass-through, his eyes widening when he read it. Lindsay King, Assistant Producer, King of the Kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, staring at the empty sidewalk. The Kings were legends in the restaurant and culinary television worlds. Lindsay’s father, Christian, hosted what was widely considered the most popular cooking show on the air, and he had a huge stable of high-class restaurants as well. Duncan had been forced to listen to rants about the evil King empire practically every time he talked to his father.