The Secret Ingredient Read online

  Of course he had to trust the hotel chefs. He had personally picked them, got drunk with them and slayed them with cooking better than them. But as for trusting other people to create an entirely new menu? Forget it.

  He needed to get to the hotel kitchens and find out exactly what they intended to serve at this function.

  He glanced around the gilt high-ceiling dining room. Top hoteliers, company directors in designer suits, food journalists and, if he was not mistaken, several of the college lecturers who were responsible for what skills he had. So overall pretty much everyone in London with an interest in developing amazing new chef talent.

  Brilliant for the charity. And a nightmare waiting to happen if this new menu was not totally spectacular.

  And walking towards him around the edge of the room, one very, very pretty girl.

  Lottie Rosemount. Only not the hard-working baker version of Lottie he had spent most of the day with.

  This Lottie was dressed in a pale lilac cocktail dress that fitted her perfectly, the fabric draped close to her waist then flaring out over the slim hips to just above the knees. Then long, slim but muscular legs and high heels.

  Tonight Lottie Rosemount was every bit the young female corporate mover and shaker he had seen at parties all over the world. Efficient. Brilliant. Organised.

  Only he knew the real Lottie. The woman who had taken a high-street bakery and transformed it into something spectacular. Doing what she loved to do, her passion. On her own terms.

  When had he last met a woman like that? Not often. Oh, he had met plenty of glossy-haired girls with high IQs who had claimed they were doing what they truly loved, and plenty of lady bakers had studied business, but so few people were able to combine the two skills to create a successful bakery.

  Lottie had.

  Maybe that was why he connected with the elegant, stunning woman he was looking at now, though he had only met her a few days earlier.

  They were different from other people.

  Her life forces, her energy, sparkled like the jewels in the bracelet on her wrist. She was effervescent, hot, and so attractive he had to fight down that fizz of testosterone that clenched the muscles under his dress shirt and set his heart racing.

  Just at the sight of her.

  Rob watched Lottie chatting away to the other guests. He heard her speaking and replying to questions in French and what sounded like Russian. Of course. She must have studied modern languages for business.

  He headed for the bar, anxious not to make a fool of himself, ogling the woman in the lilac dress, but she strolled across through to the other room, totally confident and completely at ease in this group of top decision makers in the catering world. It was the kind of ease that came from an expensive education. Hadn’t she mentioned something about a management degree?

  It was an education designed to open doors. And it had.

  His education had been at the school of hard graft and a local college that would take in a boy with a police record and next to no academic qualifications past the age of seventeen.

  He picked up a glass of sparkling water and turned back to the cluster of other guests at the same moment as Lottie started introducing some tough-looking lads to one of the college lecturers he vaguely recalled from his student days, going out of her way to make them feel relaxed and included.

  He had got it wrong.

  She was not one of the hobby bakers who opened a cupcake shop for a joke. A whim to keep her and her friends amused and give them somewhere to meet up to laugh at the poor schmucks who had to slave for a living.

  Just the opposite

  She had trained. Worked. Slaved. Knew what she was talking about.

  People did not often surprise him, not after years in the hotel trade.

  Lottie Rosemount was one of a kind.

  Perhaps that was why his gaze stayed locked solid on that lovely face until she turned and strolled away towards the stage on Sean’s arm to begin the charity auction, leaving Rob to stare after her. And the low back of her dress.

  Whoa. Mind-blowing. Brain-blasting whoa.

  What had he intended to do? Oh, yes. Find out what the hell was going on with this new menu he knew nothing about.

  He caught sight of a waiter emerging from the kitchen with a platter of canapés. Then another, and another. His heart instantly sank. It was too late.

  The food service had started. There was no way he was going to barge into that kitchen and start asking questions when the food was already on plates.

  Plan B. He was going to have to find out the hard way. By tasting every single dish presented to the guests at this event. And they had better be spectacular. Or he would want to know why.

  * * *

  ‘Well. What did you think?’

  ‘I think he did a fine job.’ Lottie smiled, her gaze focused on the stage. ‘Consider me impressed. But don’t you dare tell him that I said that. The students are thinking of joining his online fan club and they must have taken at least a hundred photos on their mobile phones.’

  Lottie stood shoulder to shoulder next to Sean and they watched in contented silence as Rob chatted and laughed with the newest group of catering students. He had spent most of the last hour following the charity auction happily introducing the wide-eyed students to chefs who Lottie had held in awe for most of her life. Chefs who she had somehow managed to get to donate seven-course dinners as auction prizes were like putty in Rob’s hands.

  ‘There is one tiny little thing which I should mention. Did Rob come up with tonight’s menu?’

  Sean shook his head. ‘Rob is responsible for the hotel standards but the executive chef at the Paris hotel sent over the recipes.’

  Lottie slowly produced a printed copy of the menu that she had stolen from the table and passed it to Sean who groaned out loud.

  ‘Oh, great, what’s this? Marks out of ten? And what are these scribbles down the side and over the page?’

  ‘Suggestions. Ideas. Proposals. And when it comes to that mess of a salad, a shut-down notice. Pomegranate seeds on the same plate as chopped walnuts, anchovies and smoked ham? It was a mess. But the rest?’

  Lottie flipped the flat of her right hand from side to side and sucked in air between her teeth. ‘It was edible. But that is all I could say about it.’

  Sean coughed. ‘Don’t hit me, but it sounds like you might enjoy working with that brother of mine and coming up with your own recipes.’

  ‘Work with the mighty Rob Beresford? The very idea. I’m far too good. His ego would never recover.’ Then she laughed and nudged Sean in the arm. ‘Let’s go talk to your chef and hear what she has to say about tonight’s meal. I’d like to hear what she thinks.’

  Then Lottie paused and shot a quick glance back towards the stage and her voice faded away. ‘But after that I need to catch up with Rob about a very interesting phone call that I have just had with Valencia Cagoni. Your brother has some explaining to do.’

  Sean snorted out a reply. ‘Too late. He’s seen you and is coming this way. Best of luck!’

  Lottie lifted her chin as Rob sauntered over with a couple of students and waved towards the buffet table where a few remaining desserts were being demolished by the students before they were cleared away.

  A wave of conflicting emotions coursed through her at the sight of his handsome face smiling at her. Confusion, disbelief, annoyance, and something alarmingly like respect were in the mix.

  ‘Hi,’ she said in a very hoarse voice, then covered it up with a quick cough. ‘Fed up with signing autographs yet?’

  ‘They’re a great bunch.’ Rob nodded and half turned to face the buffet. ‘You were right about the scholarships. Half of those young men wouldn’t be here if their fees were not paid. Good idea. I like it.’

  He rolled h
is shoulders back and shoved both hands into his trouser pockets. ‘I like it so much I am going to do something about it. Leave it with me. I’ll come up with something to give that fund a boost.’

  ‘Really?’ Lottie squeaked. ‘That’s fantastic. Splendid. Great.’

  There must have been something in her voice that made Rob turn and look at her.

  ‘Are you feeling okay?’

  ‘Never better. In fact I have just had the most fascinating chat with my old boss, Valencia Cagoni. Her twins are recovering from the chickenpox and she was delighted that I had found such an inspiring replacement chef for the fundraiser. But, of course, you know Valencia very well, don’t you, Rob?’

  Lottie whirled around and stepped closer to Rob so that the few remaining guests would not be able to hear their conversation.

  ‘In fact, you know her so well that you sometimes pass on your personal recommendations for new apprentices in her restaurant.’

  She took a breath and took one more step so that she could almost reach out and touch him if she wanted to. ‘Apprentices like me.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You were the one who persuaded Valencia to give me that training place. You made the call, you told her that I would be coming to see her and that she should give me a chance.’

  ‘She told you.’ Rob winced. ‘Damn.’

  Lottie stabbed Rob in the chest with her forefinger. ‘You are responsible for my entire career. You!’ Then she stepped back and looked around the ballroom. ‘I still cannot believe it.’

  His eyebrows lifted. ‘Valencia Cagoni is an old friend from college. You needed a job in a hurry. I made the call. Happy now?’

  ‘No, I’m confused.’ Lottie blinked. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me that earlier and save yourself some grief? And Valencia never said a word. Not once in three years. She made me slave for that training post.’

  ‘I asked her not to tell you that I had called,’ Rob replied, and then dropped his shoulders back. ‘You know how chefs talk. It makes it feel a lot sweeter if you had to fight for what you want and get it on your own merit, instead of who you know in the business. You had to work, and work hard. What you achieved was down to you, not me.’

  Then he flicked one hand in the air. ‘You know Valencia would never have taken you on unless she was convinced that you had talent. She is way tougher with her training than I am.’

  ‘You fired me, and then set up my replacement training position. Why? Why did you do that?’ Lottie asked, her voice trembling with emotion. ‘I would really like to know because right now my head is spinning.’

  ‘Because I knew Debra was never going to be a mentor to anyone with talent. You deserved a chance to show what you could do and Debra was not going to let another chef steal her star. Valencia needed someone who could step up. Okay?’

  Lottie stared at Rob in stunned silence, her hands planted one on each hip, her gaze locked on to his eyes.

  ‘Has anyone ever told you,’ she breathed in a low voice ‘that you are the most infuriating man alive?’

  ‘Frequently.’ He grinned. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are the prettiest and most persistent woman alive? Perhaps that is why I find you so intriguing.’

  He glanced from side to side and then pushed out his elbow. ‘We’re done here. Might as well hit the road in style! How about it?’

  Lottie glared at Rob’s elbow, then at his face and then back to his elbow, before sighing out loud and hooking her arm through his.

  ‘This has already been one crazy evening. Why not go the whole way? Because I really don’t know what to think about you any longer. First I think you are a complete...and then the whole image gets flipped over. It is so beyond annoying it’s not funny and it’s giving me a headache just thinking about it. I really don’t have a single clue who you are, Rob Beresford.’

  ‘Want to find out?’

  SEVEN

  ‘Is this legal?’

  ‘Behave. I need to clear my head and the main entrance is too far away. Fancy a walk?’

  Lottie stared at the wooden sign that read in large letters: ‘Keep Off the Grass’, inhaled sharply, pulled her arm tight towards Rob and stepped over the low wooden white fence that separated the London pavement from the grass in the public park.

  It only took a minute to skip across the grass and onto the path but her heart was beating a little harder when they were back on tarmac.

  ‘You don’t like breaking the rules. Do you?’ Rob smirked.

  He was observant, too. ‘Not something I do very often. But I suppose it is a lovely evening and my headache needs an airing. Why don’t we take a tour of the park? I haven’t been in there for years.’

  And it was a lovely evening, and Rob Beresford looked hotter than fresh bread just out of the oven. He smelt just as good, too.

  Her treacherous heart had not completely got used to the fact that she was strolling along the pavement arm in arm with this dazzling man as he casually chatted to her as though they were old friends out for the evening.

  Occasionally Lottie had to fire a hot glance in Rob’s direction to make sure that she was not in fact hallucinating and this was the same man who breathed dragon fire at trainees and made grown men cry on TV.

  The arrogance and attitude were gone and in their place was this astonishing man who she now knew was responsible for kicking off her career with the finest award-winning patisserie chef in London.

  And the transformation knocked the feet out from under her.

  ‘Ian was telling me about your idea for a birthday cake book. I like it. Could be fun.’

  ‘I think so. My cake shop is right in the middle of the high street and these days a lot of mums and dads simply don’t have the time or, to be honest, the skill, to come up with that perfect birthday cake. So I get a lot of orders. And you would be surprised at how many are for old-style family cakes for grandparents and even great-grandparents.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Rob asked with a lilt in his voice.

  ‘Nope. That’s one of the reasons why I started the Bake and Banter club. To teach adults how to bake a cake they can make at home which the family will love.’

  She shifted closer to Rob to avoid a group of tourists who had their heads down, totally engrossed in their tablet computers and oblivious to other people on the walkway.

  ‘You really get a buzz out of the baking, don’t you?’

  ‘More than I ever expected,’ Lottie replied with a smile. ‘So far I have made eight versions of that cartoon–racing car cake you saw this morning for little boys aged four to eighty-four and they all love it. Everyone is so different. Take next week, for example. The baking club want me to demonstrate how to make a chocolate birthday cake for one of our regular customers. Ninety years young. She wants loads of soft gooey chocolate icing. And three layers of chocolate sponge in the middle. Eat with a spoon. Whipped cream on the side. Delish.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember what it was like to have my hands in sticky icing sugar and chocolate all day. Don’t miss it a bit. But let me tell you—’ he tilted his head closer to hers and half whispered ‘—for a working baker, you look fabulous.’

  ‘Thank you, kind sir. My pleasure. You clean up nicely yourself.’

  Rob exaggeratedly tugged with one hand at the lapel of the same dinner jacket he had worn for the gallery opening, while dodging the other pedestrians on the busy west London pavements. ‘Oh, this old suit? Thought I had better make an effort as the star pupil.’

  Lottie gave his arm an extra squeeze before snorting out loud. ‘Shameless! Make that one of the many star pupils! How is your mum’s cold?’

  ‘She’s feeling a lot better today and went to the gallery this afternoon before heading off to tea with her pals,’ Rob replied as he negotiated around some dog walkers. ‘So I am officially
off duty for a couple of hours and, unless you are desperate to get home, I think this calls for a small delay! Look across the street. What do you see?’

  He slipped his dinner jacket around her shoulders and held her within it for a few seconds, bringing up the collar so that he could flip the ultra-soft fabric around her smooth neck.

  She pretended not to notice as his fingertips gently moved against her skin to flick the ends of her hair back over the collar.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled back in reply, conscious that the hard cheekbones of Rob’s face were highlighted too sharply by the streetlight outside the swish, glossy shopfronts. He was too lean, but she knew that he had eaten something from every tray of the buffet at the hotel.

  Maybe she could do something about that, if he stayed around long enough.

  He smiled and surprised her by sliding around behind her, so that his arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against him. She felt the pressure of his head against the side of her face as he dropped his chin onto her shoulder, lifted his left arm, and pointed.

  Lottie tore her eyes away from Rob, and stared across to a very familiar sunlit stone building. Then laughed out loud.

  ‘It’s the old grand entrance to the catering college. We’ve come around in a circle.’

  Rob nodded and looked up into the high carved stone entrance to what had been a 1930s art deco school of architecture before it was taken over by the catering school.

  ‘The first time I walked through those doors I was seventeen, angry, bitter, and furious with the world and myself. I was a mess, Lottie. And maybe not someone you wanted to be around.’

  There was something is his voice that compelled Lottie to look over her shoulder into his face. This was the young man, so full of hope and dreams.

  ‘Why do you think that you were such a disaster?’ Lottie replied with a smile, looking into his face. ‘From my experience, most seventeen-year-olds feel that way.’

  ‘Oh, girl, if you only knew the truth of it.’

  Then something shifted in his eyes as though a darker memory had floated up to the surface.