Page 46 of The Movie Star and the Spy

She spotted the perfect selection. “The Four Ingredient Cookbook.”

Now he laughed. Apparently, he thought she was joking. She looked closer at the options. The cookbooks covered a variety of nationalities and cooking styles, from novice to expert and everything in between. She didn’t want to admit she’d lied (again), but she’d give herself away with the complicated recipes. “How about that one?” She pointed.

He scooped the volume off the shelf and frowned. “Easy Meals in Under Half an Hour?”

Perfect.“You said you weren’t an experienced chef. I don’t want to make something too complicated for you.”

Narrowed eyes said he didn’t quite believe her. “All right. Do you have any particular recipes in mind? I was thinking we could make an appetizer, main course and dessert.”

She didn’t have to make one dish, but three? She’d be lucky to emerge without setting anything on fire.I’m sorry, Captain, but I burned down Julian Starcroft’s mansion. Don’t worry, it’ll only cost the department twenty-five million dollars. Just take it out of my next 2,472,972 paychecks.Thankfully, they no longer sentenced people to debtor’s prison. She flipped throughthe appetizer section and stopped at a page in the super-duper easy section. “Cheesy crackers. These are great.”

He blinked at the recipe. “The recipe consists of precisely two ingredients: cheese and crackers. Isn’t that a bit simple for someone who’s been cooking since she was three?”

Her resume claimed she’d been cooking since the age of three? The department had wanted to give her a hobby, but they’d turned her into Michelin-starred chef, plus an accomplished dancer, Miss Excavator Falls, etc. Of course, they (and she) never imagined she’d have to prove any of it. “Simplicity builds a masterpiece.”

He looked at her as if she’d sampled a bit too much of the cooking wine. “What does that mean?”

She was hoping he’d know. “I really have no idea.”

Suspicious look #524.“Okay. Cheese and crackers it is.” He opened the fridge and retrieved several gourmet cheeses, then went to the pantry for some crackers. “All I have is plain salted crackers.” He held up the box.

“Classic.” Yet she couldn’t quite hide the cringe as he adorned the crackers with small pieces of cheddar, mozzarella and gouda. When he’d made a small array, he set them out, and they each took a selection. Cheyenne bit into a surprisingly delicious appetizer, courtesy of the gourmet cheese.

Julian ate every bite. “This is actually quite good.”

“Classic,” Cheyenne repeated, amidst stark relief. She might actually pull this off. Now all she needed was a main dish, a dessert and an excuse to leave early, and she’d be on her way with date two complete.

Julian put the plates in the sink. “So now the main dish. Any ideas?”

“Maybe Italian,” Cheyenne suggested. Even she could make pasta, and a simple sauce with clear directions should be within her reach. He swept the cookbook to the correct section,which listed thirty varied recipes, most of which seemed fairly straightforward. She pointed to an easy baked ziti. “This looks pretty good.”

He read the recipe, a simple concoction of pasta, jarred sauce and pre-shredded cheese. “It doesn’t even have four ingredients.”

Even better.“Well, it looks really good.”

He braced his hands on the counter. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something? Are you sure you’re an experienced chef?”

“Of course. Cooking is my passion. After acting that is. And square dancing.” She cleared her throat. “Like I said, I just want to make it…”

“Easy for me. I know.” He gave her his patented I-know-you’re-lying-just-like-you-were-lying-about-everything-else-including-the-square-dancing-and-furthermore-I’m-going-to-catch-you-in-it look. “But I like a challenge. Plus, I bought all these fresh vegetables.” He turned the page. “How about this?”

She wet her lips at a mouth-watering vegetable lasagna. The list of steps went on and on (and on) in the most complicated recipe in the entire cookbook. “Don’t you think that’s a little complex? I’m just thinking of you, of course.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, “but you can teach me.” His gaze challenged her to come up with another excuse.

Unfortunately, she was all out of them. “All right.” She rubbed her hands together, pretended to study the cookbook. “The first thing to remember in any recipe is to follow the instructions exactly. We don’t want to deviate at all.”

“Really?” Julian turned the page to the continuation of the recipe. “I thought most chefs liked to tinker. You don’t see any way to make it better?”

“Order it from a restaurant.”

He blinked.

Had she said that out loud? Woops.“I’m joking, of course.”No, she wasn’t.“It’s absolutely perfect. Exactly as I would’ve made it.”Except less on fire.

“If you say so.”Chances he believed her: On the south side of 0.“Let’s gather the ingredients. I’ll get the pasta and vegetables, and you find the spices. They’re in there.” He pointed to a tall oak cabinet.

With forced poise, Cheyenne strode over to the cabinet and opened the door. Endless rows of glass jars stood like gleaming soldiers, each filled with a different spice. Red, green, yellow, black, brown, fine, coarse and whole, an array more comprehensive than at her local grocery store. The cupboard literally held hundreds of jars of spices.

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