“Possibly, but if it makes you feel better to go there to begin with, I’m your man. You have my undivided attention. At least until this coffee’s finished.” He sipped at his mug. “Tell me, Bella Moore. What is it you do that makes your sister so happy to have you in the kitchen?”
He didn’t know who she was. How was that possible? Bella knocked her cup with a start, sending the teaspoon skittering off the table onto the ground. She reached down for it at the same time as Jake and their heads hit with a resounding bang. With a groan of pain, she sat back up, her hand on her head, waiting for the stars to recede. Jake reached out to console her, his hand covering hers. Bolts of electricity shot up her arm, stealing her breath. No man’s touch had ever made her this jittery.
“Um, I, ah… I cook.” I cook. Heat raced up her cheeks.
What a stupid idiot she was. All but throw yourself at him then play coy. Way to go, Bella!
He grinned. “Me too but not to the standard I believe The Lake Hotel wishes to be noted for.” He laughed and her belly flipped. “Tell me exactly how and what you cook that makes your sister so happy.”
Bella pulled her hand back, slid the plate with her Danish toward her, and started picking at the layers of flaky pastry, separating them, thinking she would have rolled them thinner given the chance. But not everyone was as fussy as she was. “I won Masterchef a couple of years ago and now I kind of have my own show.”
He blinked. “You mean a television show?”
She nodded, embarrassed for the first time by her fame. “Yeah.”
“Wow. I mean, wow.” He stared at her. “You won the cooking show, Masterchef?”
“Yes.”
On cue, staged whispers came from a table close by. “That’s her, I know it is.”
“No. Why would Bella Moore be here in Cherry Lake? Get a grip, Melanie, she’s still in Seattle filming her next show.”
All she wanted was to slink under her chair until they went away.
“I tell you, it’s her.”
Bella tried to smile at Jake but the effort was too much. Still raw over her enforced break, she wasn’t ready for the recognition she got wherever she went. It reminded her too much of what she’d left behind. Her idea of dressing down and forgoing makeup and hair didn’t change her appearance as much as she thought it did. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized. Maybe a wig would have been a good idea along with thick glasses. She could have kicked herself for not being more careful. But what could possibly go wrong in this tiny town? She ripped the pastry in half and jammed it in her mouth doing her best to chew and swallow without choking. It sat in her mouth, refusing to budge like a failed white sauce.
“Do you want to leave?” The concern in his voice almost brought her to tears.
Here of all places, people recognized her. Part of the job and she’d never worried about it before, why was it making her uncomfortable now? Her stalker had more to answer for than she thought if this was how shot her nerves were. Russell had been right, forcing her to leave. She was so much closer to the breaking point than she realized.
Bella gulped at her coffee forcing the soggy pastry down; she had to do something to save herself from embarrassment. “No, it’s okay. If it wasn’t for my fans, I wouldn’t be where I am today. And I love my fans, really. I’m afraid the attention that goes with my lifestyle can get a bit overwhelming sometimes. Would you mind if I go and say hello? I’ll only be a moment and then we might be able to have our coffee in peace.”
*
“Not at all. I’ll sit here and keep guard on the pastries.”
She approached the women and Jake was startled at how they turned into giggling fans when she crouched down beside them. They took out their phones and snapped selfies with her before she managed to get back to their table.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem from me. I didn’t realize I was in the company of TV royalty, someone quite so famous.”
“It’s not like I advertise it.” A shadow crossed her eyes.
“So, why are you here then? Tell me to mind my own business but it seems strange that someone who’s in the middle of filming a show, if those ladies are to be believed, would take a rental house for six months in a small town like this, miles away from the action or whatever you call the filming on set.”
She crossed her arms on the table, looked at him. Her pale blue eyes had a seriousness about them that wasn’t there when he saw her in the kitchen earlier. “My producer decided that I needed a break.”
“As in a holiday break or a mental health break?”
“He said I was taking on too much and didn’t want me to burn out before we start next season’s show.” She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“But isn’t he responsible for giving you that kind of deadline?” Seemed counterproductive to make the guy’s employees exhausted when he was the one reaping the benefits. Fatigue was never worth it.
“The show, yes, but not the cookery books or all of the public appearances that I have to do. The books are a separate deal I signed and I don’t want to lose them because I enjoy them so much. I think I have more fun inventing the recipes and the photo shoots than anything else I do, including the series.”
“Why do the shows then?”
“Because, when I won the competition, part of the
