Blaze (Heat #3)(7)

I bite my bottom lip. "I know a lawyer. I'll call her this afternoon and see if she can take a look at this today."

I wouldn't call Zoe Beck my friend but we're definitely acquaintances. We struck up a conversation about food one day when I was leaving Axel after my shift. She stopped me to ask if I had anything to do with the lobster salad she'd just had for lunch.

My only contribution was the preparation of the dressing but she raved about it. I gave her my number when she told me that she was considering hiring a personal chef but that never came to fruition. Instead, she started texting me whenever she had a question about cooking. She's told me enough times that if I ever need legal advice, I can call her since that's her specialty. Today is the day I take her up on that offer.

"I've taken the liberty of contacting a photographer." Barbara grabs her smartphone from her desk, her fingers deftly gliding over the screen. "We've built a portable set for your segments. We want a series of pictures of you there, some of you at markets, and maybe a few traditional headshots."

"All right," I say evenly. "When will that happen?"

"Whenever we can mesh your schedule with Falon's." She rubs her top lip. "She has an opening on Friday morning if you're good with that."

"Falon Shaw?" I ask quietly. Falon is engaged to Asher Foster. They were in old Nova just days before the fire. She's one of the best photographers in New York. She's also one of the most expensive.

I flip through the contract trying to find anything that stipulates who pays for promotional material. Since I'm working strictly on ad revenue, I doubt that I'll make enough this year to cover the cost of a professional photography session.

She leans back in her chair. "I've sent Falon a list of the shots we want but we're paying her for a block of her time. If you two come up with any ideas for food related imagery that we can use on our website or your social media accounts, you go ahead and do that. We want all the photos to be authentic. Our viewers are going to want to feel that they're part of your world, Cadence."

I smile inwardly, grateful that she answered my question before I had to ask it.

"Will you have time this week to meet with our web designer?" She doesn't miss a beat as she draws a straight line through some text on a piece of paper in front of her. "We purchased a domain for you and we'll be building your web presence."

"A domain?"

"Cadence Sutton dot com," she answers with a grin. "We jumped the gun on that but I was hoping you'd agree to take the job."

I rub my hands over my face. When I came here today I expected a few details about how we'd move forward. I didn't know that Barbara was already nearing the finish line before I even set foot on the track.

"That all sounds good," I say quietly. "Can you text me a schedule of where I need to be and when? That'll make it easier."

"You bet." She holds her phone in the air. "We're going to be in constant contact so I need you to have your phone with you at all times."

Seeing as how it's practically attached to my hip, that's not a problem.

"I'm excited for this." I skim the palm of my hand over the contract. "I'm actually going to be a regular on Rise and Shine."

"You're going to be much more than that, Chef." She stands and extends her hand. "You're going to be a star. Six months from now, you'll be the sweetheart of the culinary world."





CHAPTER 8


"The sweetheart of the culinary world?" Sophia pulls a piece of caramelized onion from the bun she's holding and pops it into her mouth. "Maybe we should just buy a food truck and sell these sandwiches. We'd make a mint."

If I ever need a boost to my ego, my best friend is the person I'll go to. I hurriedly tossed together two sandwiches when I got back to the apartment after seeing Barbara. I almost bailed on lunch, but Soph is the one person, besides my mom, who can put things into perspective when I need it.

"You think there's that big of a demand for ciabatta buns packed full of grilled portabella mushrooms, caramelized onions and Swiss cheese?"

"Is that what this is?" She skims her index finger over the corner of her mouth to collect the garlic aioli that's settled there.

I take another bite of my own sandwich before I wash it down with a mouthful of raspberry lemonade. "We should be at the park. It's beautiful outside today."

She swings her elbow toward the phone sitting atop her pristine desk. "I'm waiting for a call. I can't leave this spot."

I steady my gaze on her face. The joy that's always dancing in her eyes when she's at home working tirelessly behind her sewing machine is missing. Here, she's responsible for keeping Gabriel Foster's office in order. She's an assistant to one of the leaders in the fashion industry, yet the man has no idea that an incredibly talented designer is wasting her life answering his phone.

"Is Mr. Foster here?" I look at the closed door of his office.

"He's in there with the wife." She tilts her head to the left and winks. "He gave me strict instructions not to disturb him."

"Why not?"

Her eyebrows wiggle as she purses her lips. "I think it's called a nooner, Den. It's that or afternoon delight."