Page 3 of Slow Simmer

Chapter Two

Seeing Suzannah in the flesh again had left Carlo speechless for several moments. In his memory, she was still the gangly girl in her early twenties who’d been the first woman he fell in love with.

For a full year, they’d worked side by side at the famousLe Cordon Bleuchef school in Paris, competing to each be the best in their class. It was the night after their final presentation exam, before they knew whether they’d passed or not, when they drank far too much wine in a seedy bar and somehow ended up in bed together.

That night, Carlo finally understood just why Suzannah got under his skin so much. Why he could take competition from everyone else, male or female, and laugh it off. Why every comment from her made him edgy.

They were both young enough not to recognise sexual tension for what it really was. But that night in Carlo’s narrow bed in his tiny garret apartment, they practically blew the roof off with passion.

He remembered waking after a brief doze, finding Suzannah’s red hair tumbled on his pillow, his face buried in the fragrant curls, before taking her in his arms again. Her smile was like the sun coming up.

She’d changed in the nine years since he’d last seen her. Grown into those gangly legs, developed curves even the stiff chef’s coat couldn’t disguise. Her face had matured too, losing the last vestiges of her teenage youthfulness and becoming fine-boned, serene as she worked, drawn in tight lines of anger now as she faced him and Luke, her arms folded.

Only her hair was unchanged, a thick mass of copper curls. Pinned up atop her head and severely restrained at the moment, Carlo knew when she let it down the curls would fall almost to her waist.

This was a mistake, he found himself thinking, because he’d barely set eyes on her again and he wanted to kiss her, wanted to unpin her hair and fist both his hands in its thick weight, kiss her until she melted into him the way she had all those years ago.

He shouldn’t have come.

“I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted trip,” Suzannah said, not sounding sorry at all as the kitchen door closed behind them, giving them some semblance of privacy, “but this obviously isn’t going to work out. I’m sure Jace can arrange for your return to Milan.”

Even though he was already thinking coming had been a mistake, Carlo’s hackles rose at her flat dismissal of him before they’d even had a chance to talk. He didn’t even have to speak up, though; Luke was already doing that.

“Now just a minute.” Luke looked between the two of them. “Do I take it you two already know each other?”

“We were at culinary school at the same time in Paris.” Carlo waved a dismissive hand, as though to say the past was of no importance. “It was a long time ago.”

Green eyes flashed as Suzannah glared at him. “What are you even doing here?” she hissed, ignoring Luke completely. “Aren’t you happy with your family business in Milan and your status as the hottest celebrity chef on YouTube?”

“If you watched my program, which obviously you don’t,” Carlo said, trying to appear unruffled, “you’d know my younger sister and her husband have taken over the business. My dessert offerings have always been my speciality, and I felt it was for the best they take over general operations and leave me free to do my own thing. Working for a Michelin-starred restaurant as a specialist pastry chef was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

Not that he’d have accepted a similar offer from any other restaurant. He’d kept track of Suzannah over the years, knew very well where she worked, so when Jace Hunter contacted him out of the blue and asked if he’d be interested in the position atLa Sirène, he’d said yes before he even really thought about what he was getting into.

Which was, apparently, Suzannah’s bad books, as she paced up and down beside the rubbish binds gesturing and swearing to herself in French.

“You do realise I understand every word?” Carlo said in the same language.

“Yes, but Luke doesn’t.” Suzannah stopped in her pacing and shot him a ferocious look. “This isn’t going to work, Carlo. It can’t. I can’t work with you.”

“Why not?” he asked, and heard the echoes of long-ago hurt in his voice as he added “You’re the one who leftme, remember?”

He couldn’t see the colour of Suzannah’s eyes in the dim light behind the restaurant, but he knew them by heart, could imagine the emerald in them brightening as she stared at him in wide-eyed silence.

“If we could return to English for a moment,” Luke said dryly, and both of them snapped their heads around guiltily to look at him.

“My apologies,” Carlo said guiltily. He was always very conscious of his manners, and he did answer to Luke, after all. Or would, if Suzannah could be convinced to let him stay.

“Suzannah,” Luke nodded briefly at Carlo before turning his attention to his executive chef. “Do I take it that whatever issues you have with Carlo have nothing to do with his ability in the kitchen?”

“No,” Suzannah said sulkily after a pause.

“I’m sorry,” Luke addressed the remark to Carlo, “but I have to ask her this. Suzannah, has Carlo ever assaulted, threatened or intimidated you?”

“No!” She looked shocked at the idea. “No, Luke, it’s nothing like that. We… have a history, that’s all.”

“We were rivals in culinary school and then we were lovers,” Carlo said baldly, seeing no reason to hide the truth.

“I see,” Luke said.

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