Accidental Cinderella

“Lunch would be good. Could we set a date for a return visit now?”

Lindsay sighed. “I wish we could, but with work, I don’t know when I’ll be able to make it back to St. Michel.”

“Oh, Linds, I’m so happy for you. Not to bring up a sore subject, but how did Mary take it? I’ll bet she had a fit.”

Lindsay sighed. “That’s putting it mildly. I thought she was going to reach through the phone and strangle me. I’ve never quit a job without giving at least two weeks’ notice.”

Lindsay cringed at the thought.

“Right, but she should understand you’re not just ditching her. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I hope so because if not, I’ve just blown years of my life because Mary informed me she won’t give me a good reference—no way, no how.”

“Well, you won’t need one. Despite my prodding, Carson wouldn’t have chosen you if he didn’t see something special in you, Linds.”

“Here’s my idea.” Lindsay took a deep breath and placed Carlos Montigo’s press kit on the restaurant table in front of Carson Chandler. She, Paula and Sam were having dinner with Carson to firm up their game plan for the first show.

They still hadn’t ironed out the focus of the show. When they met back at the press tent, Lindsay, giddy with possibility, had spouted her idea. Even though she’d anticipated Paula being a hard sell, Lindsay had no idea that woman would be so disagreeable and dead set on her wine and goat cheese man.

It was clear that Paula was turning the show content into a competition when she grabbed the first opportunity to present her idea to Chandler—before they’d even been seated at the restaurant.

Chandler had nodded politely, and asked as they walked to the table, “But where’s the edginess in wine and goat cheese, Paula? Remember, we’re making the jump from run-of-the-mill to edgy and provocative.”

When Paula didn’t reply, Lindsay decided it was time for her pitch. She took a deep breath and twisted her hands into the napkin on her lap.

“Do you remember that Food TV chef, Carlos Montigo?” Lindsay asked. “The one who got the boot because he lied about his credentials? Well, he’s here at the festival and it looks like he’s staging a comeback.”

Paula grimaced as she opened the menu. “Why would you want to give him free press?”

“It’s not free press,” Lindsay said. “It’s a chance to give Carson the type of story he wants. Something with an edge.”

Lindsay glanced at Chandler to gauge his response, but he was staring at the menu. She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. If he had, he didn’t look enthused.

Over the menu, Paula regarded Lindsay with arched brows and a smug smirk that gave her pessimistic mouth an ironic upturn. No backing there—no surprise. So, Lindsay looked to Sam for support, but he was busy buttering a dinner roll. For a moment, an awkward silence enveloped them.

Okay.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious aroma of herbed bread baking in a wood-burning oven. The enticing scent of rosemary and thyme filled the restaurant and fueled her courage. Giving the napkin one last twist, Lindsay decided it was time for the new girl to prove her mettle.

“In all my research, I couldn’t find anything telling his side of the story,” Lindsay said. “This is a chance to ask him why he lied and to hear about his future plans.”

Paula closed her menu and shook her head, as if Lindsay had proposed a feature on The Wiggles or something else laughably inappropriate and ridiculous.

“Who cares?” Paula choked on an incredulous laugh, then pursed her lips as if stifling the urge to guffaw. She looked at Chandler as if she expected him to have the same reaction.

“Who cares?” Lindsay countered. “A lot of people would find the story interesting.”

“Maybe we can catch up with him for another episode,” Paula dismissed. “Since we’re in St. Michel, we’ll go with the wine and goat cheese theme.”

Chandler held up his hand. “Not so fast, Paula. You haven’t made a case for your goat man.”

Paula laughed again, as if she expected Chandler to join in on the joke. But his serious expression warned otherwise.

“I think Lindsay is onto something with the Montigo story,” he said. “Let’s move forward with it.”

Chapter Four

Carlos’s role in the food and wine fest was three-fold and simple: He’d host a one-hour, audience-interactive cooking demonstration; join five chefs in presenting a charity fundraiser “celebrity chef” dinner; and sign books at a launch party celebrating the release of his new cookbook, Carlos in the Kitchen.

The launch party, sponsored by the publisher, Lone Wolf Press, was his last event in the lineup. And, by all accounts, the most important to him.

There was a lot riding on this book.

As the taxi stopped in front of the Hotel St. Michel, Carlos tucked a copy of the new cookbook under his arm.

No one need know that Carlos and Max were the driving force behind Lone Wolf. It wasn’t ideal to self-publish and throw a party for himself. But his former publisher had dropped him and these days corporate sponsors were hard to come by.

The way he and Max had sheltered the publishing house, no one need be the wiser. Right now, that was the last thing on his mind. Things were off to a great start. Max, who deserved a huge bonus once they got on their feet, had secured an interview with the new host of The Diva Dishes. That interview was the reason he’d rushed back to the hotel.