Major moved around the kitchen as directed, doing his best not to be freaked out that a big guy with a large camera on his shoulder was following his every move. The lights they’d put up in every corner of the triangular kitchen were really heating up the place, and he hadn’t even turned on the stove or oven yet.
“You good, Nelson?” Pricilla asked.
“Yep.”
“Let’s go through your menu, Chef, and figure out the best order for doing this. We want it to be real time as much as possible—meaning that if someone was really making this for a meal, they’d have to be working on multiple projects all at once. We aren’t just going to do a dish at a time.”
Forty-five minutes later, he pulled the paper towels out of his collar and began explaining to the camera how to thaw frozen meat safely.
“Let me stop you for a second, Chef.” Pricilla came out from behind her camera.
His heart pounded, and he really needed a bottle of water from the case he’d seen in the pantry. “What’s wrong?”
“First, you need to remember to breathe. You’re talking way too fast.”
“Right. Breathe. What else?” He took a couple of gulps of air to prove he could do what she said.
“Don’t say all right at the beginning of each sentence and end each sentence with okay, okay?” She nodded her head.
“Right. No all rights or okays.”
“Ready to go again?”
He gave her a thumbs-up. “Ready.” He launched into his explanation of defrosting meat again, trying to slow down the words tumbling out of his mouth and stumbling each time he was about to say the no-no words.
“Let me stop you again, Chef.” Pricilla sounded a little more frustrated this time. Major knew just how she felt.
“Still too fast?”
“A little bit. But the problem is that you don’t sound like you’re talking to a person. You sound like you’re talking to a camera. Forget that it’s a piece of equipment. Pretend that there’s someone you know really well, who doesn’t know how to cook, sitting right here across from you. Talk to that person. In your head, carry on a conversation with them. Imagine their reactions to what you’re saying. Can you do that?”
“Imagine a person, right.” A person. A person who didn’t know how to cook. Slowly, a grin split his lips. Meredith. Of course. The one person he’d love to spend time with in the kitchen more than anyone else. Imagine Meredith sitting here, taking cooking lessons from him. Imagine this was his kitchen and Meredith was here with him, lending her moral support and gazing on him affectionately with those wonderfully expressive brown eyes.
“Let’s try it again.” Pricilla made another notation on her clipboard and moved back behind the camera.
For the next six hours, Major talked to Meredith—through the camera—and created dishes he knew she would be able to recreate if she put her mind to it. Finally, at four o’clock after Nelson got closeup shots of the plated dishes, Pricilla called it a wrap.
Having cleaned as he went—as he’d been taught to do by Aunt Maggie—Major didn’t have much cleanup to finish, so he immediately set to it, eager to run up to the office to find out how everything had gone today.
“Now, when you come in Thursday to do the voice-over—”
He whipped around at Pricilla’s words. “What? Where am I supposed to go Thursday?”
“Didn’t I tell you we’d need you to come in and do some voiceovers for where we’ve edited the segment down?” The corner of her mouth pulled down in a sheepish expression.
“No. I wasn’t told I’d have to do more than just filming on Tuesdays. How much time do you think it’ll take?” He couldn’t afford any more time away from work. And if he started the restaurant, he’d need every hour he could get.
“An hour, maybe ninety minutes. You’ll get to watch the edited segment through and write out what to say to bridge where we’ve condensed. Remember, this is fitting into a fifteen-minute segment. It’s just too bad that everyone at the studio won’t get a chance to taste it, because just what you fixed us for lunch was fabulous.”
“Thanks.” Yeah, having to cater lunch for all of Alaine’s coworkers would be the cherry on top of this hot-stress sundae. He rummaged around in her cabinets for storage containers. He separated all the food out into single serving sizes and labeled everything with the masking tape and marker he found in one of the drawers. Too bad he hadn’t thought to bring a disposable takeaway box so that he’d have something to take back to Meredith.
He hummed as he worked, enjoying the sense of accomplishment that washing the last few dishes gave him. By the time Alaine’s kitchen was as spotless as it had been when he’d walked in, Pricilla and Nelson had finished loading their equipment in the van.
Pricilla came back in and closed the garage door then ushered Major out the front, locking the door behind them. She gave Major a funny look as they walked down the steps.
“What?”
“You’re going to want to wash that makeup off as soon as you get home. Most people complain that their faces break out pretty bad if they wear it for more than a couple of hours.”
His face suddenly started itching again. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” He had to go right past his complex on his way to the office, so he might as well stop and do it there.
“See you Thursday,” Pricilla called, swinging up into the passenger seat of the van.
He waved and climbed into Kirby. As he drove home, he reviewed the day. Thank goodness Pricilla had the idea to tell him to imagine talking to someone. He’d be forever indebted to Meredith for helping him make it through his first day of filming. Maybe one day he’d really have the chance to spend that much time with her one-on-one.
He just hoped it wasn’t so she could cook for Ward Breaux or any other man.
Chapter 18
As the weeks dwindled down to days and then hours before the Hearts to HEARTS banquet, Meredith began to realize just how hard her New Year’s resolution was going to be to fulfill. Though she had been asked out twice since Antoine’s invitation, and had even gone out with one of the guys, she just couldn’t seem to find anyone she wanted to spend a whole evening with, let alone the rest of her life. And while she enjoyed Ward’s company, she couldn’t force herself to fall in love with him.
She stared out over the city from the glass-front elevator. Truth of the matter was, no matter how hard she tried to get over Major, each man she met seemed to reinforce just how deep her feelings for him ran.
Fat lotta good being in love with him would do for her, though. That he was falling for Alaine Delacroix couldn’t be any more apparent—from the tanning to the teeth whitening to going to the gym and losing weight, he seemed to be doing everything he could to make himself fit the image of a man someone like Alaine would deign to be seen with.
Shame tingled on her skin. Alaine had never been anything but friendly with Meredith, and she couldn’t allow her own jealousy to shine an unflattering and untrue light on the reporter.
The elevator doors slid open on the twenty-third floor. Speaking of Alaine ...
The facilities staff swarmed the enormous floor space of Vue de Ceil, with a cameraman and his spotter hustling around in the chaos getting shots of the setup. Meredith jinked and dodged through the mayhem to get to the service corridor on the other side. She wished she could stop and enjoy the way the red and orange sunset made the banquet facility glow, but she did at least spare it a moment’s glance, hoping tomorrow’s sunset would be just as spectacular.
The pandemonium in the kitchen wasn’t at quite the fevered pitch of the banquet hall, though the presence of another cameraman and spotter, along with Alaine and her producer, did make it feel much more crowded than usual.
“Hey, Meredith.” Alaine waved in greeting.