“Ah,” I say. This clever response is the best I can come up with, so I use it again. “Ah.”
“The food really was amazing,” she says, and I can tell she means it. My shoulders are almost beginning to untense when she follows that up with, “Trent really knows what he’s doing.”
I blink. “Excuse me?” I look around for Trent again, who continues not to be there.
She gives her fragile-sounding laugh again. “I guess it never hurts to have friends in high places.”
I’m mystified. I’m still in a tailspin just from running into Jamie again, so my powers of deduction probably aren’t firing on all cylinders at the moment.
Daniel, however, suddenly looks as though he is putting two and two together and begins tugging at my sleeve. “We should get back to the kitchen,” he says, and I don’t like the urgency in his voice. What has he figured out that my dazed brain hasn’t tipped to just yet?
Like a Bond villain, though, Jamie appears more than happy to shine a light into the well of my ignorance.
“Lucas wasn’t a bit put out when his previous chef quit,” she says. “He’s used to changing his staff around all the time anyway. And he was honestly amused when he found out that it was because Trent had paid her off to take another job. I guess it didn’t hurt, though, that Trent was immediately able to recommend the city’s best chef to Lucas to use for today.”
She looks at me and tilts her head slightly. “Trent didn’t tell you,” she says, with a hint of mock disbelief. “Oops. Guess I let the cat out of the bag, didn’t I?”
“‘Cat’ is right,” Daniel says, taking my arm in earnest now and leading me towards the stairs. “Come on, Steph, let’s go.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I protest, planting my feet. Then, to Jamie, “Who told you this?”
She tilts her head the other way and looks at me pityingly. “Why, Lucas, of course. Like I said, he thinks it was a pretty good joke on Trent’s part to snatch his private chef out from under him and install you in her place. It’s all right, though. Lucas has a sense of humor.” She pauses, maybe for effect, maybe to enjoy the look on my face.
“He must,” she says. “He’s been sharing the story with everyone.”
“Okay,” Daniel announces, “we’re going now.”
I’m too stunned to say or do otherwise. I let Daniel guide me below deck and back to the fabulous floating kitchen.
Even though he’s not a nail-biter, Daniel gnaws a thumbnail as he regards me anxiously in the passing minutes.
“You figured it out for yourself,” I say, and my voice sounds thin and faint.
He shrugs.
“How?” I ask.
He looks like he’d rather do anything in the world than reply to my question, so I ask him again.
His eyes are downcast. “You’ve heard the saying, ‘if a thing sounds too good to be true, then it probably is’? This is a solid-gold, platinum-dipped, diamond-encrusted gig, Steph. Do you deserve it? Sure, you do. But it was weird how it just materialized out of thin air and dropped right into your lap, don’t you think?”
“But—”
“Things like this don’t just happen,” he swept on. “They’re made to happen, and who do we know who’s got the kind of resources to make something like this happen? Only one that I can think of.”
“But…why?”
Daniel shrugs again. “I guess maybe he feels like flowers aren’t enough this time.”
As if on cue, my phone pings. With numb fingers, I retrieve it from my pocket and look at the screen. It’s a text message from Trent.
“So, how’d it go?” it reads.
Daniel is watching me closely. He apparently doesn’t like the look on my face, because he suggests, “Maybe you should cool down a little before—”
I hit the “Call Back” button on my phone.
Chapter 20 - Trent
My phone rings almost immediately after my text to Steph has been shown as delivered. It must have gone really well indeed then.
“Hi,” I say when I pick up. “That was fast. Got lots of details to share?”
“Oh, yes,” she replies, and I immediately get a bad feeling when I hear the tone of her voice. “I have details. I think you do, too.”
“Me? I’m on the other side of town. You’re the one who’s been in the trenches all day.”
“That I have been,” she agrees, and it’s a good thing a literal chill can’t be transmitted via phone. I’d be looking at a frostbitten ear.
“What’s going on? You sound mad as hell. Did something go wrong?”
“Oh, no,” she says, and I swear it sounds like the words are coming through clenched teeth. “Everything went according to plan, right up until the point where I crossed paths with Jamie Wells.”
I winced. So that explained it.
“Jamie was there? Oh, hey, I had no idea that would happen. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to run interference for you.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask. “Did she say something to you?”
“Quite a bit, actually. We had a most enlightening little chat, her and me.”
My bad feeling is getting worse. “You’re going to have to bring me up to speed here because I’m a little lost. What happened?”
“Trent, what happened to Monroe’s original chef? The one who was going to cook for him and his friends at the Regatta?”
Uh-oh.
“She quit,” I say, not looking forward to where this is heading. “She left to take another job.”
“And did you drop my name into Monroe’s ear afterward?”
I sigh. “Okay, yes. You got me. I knew he needed
