Chapter OneSix years ago...
Philippa Gayle buttoned her white kitchen jacket and brushed lint from her black pants. As she looked in the dresser mirror, she put on her chef’s beret, tucking in her short dark hair, and adjusted the band until the monogrammed name of her hopefully would-be employer, Coral Cove Resort, showed clearly in front.
Last month in New York, she’d gone through two intense rounds of interviews for the position of sous chef at the exclusive property, beating out a dozen candidates to make it to the final stage—a month-long, paid interview audition.
Leaving her position as a cook at a hotel in Charlotte, North Carolina, and traveling to the private island just off the coast of Barbados was a huge gamble. But at age twenty-two, having a shot at her dream job made the sacrifice worth it.
Knocks echoed in the small bungalow.
Philippa walked from the bedroom into the adjoining living room.
The sun, just peeping over the ocean horizon and shining through the sliding glass door along the side wall, added a soft glow to the blue-and-cream decor.
Outside on the deck, Dominic Crawford leaned on the doorjamb. The breeze swaying the surrounding palms and yellow, flowering cassia trees plastered his blue button-down to his solid chest and ruffled the hem hanging over his tan shorts.
She opened the door, and the smile edging up his mouth and the intensity of his gaze stole words.
Madagascar cinnamon... His eyes were the same rich color of the spice known for its understated flavor, but there was nothing subtle about Dominic. He was six feet plus of dark-haired, naturally deep-tanned gorgeous.
Backing Philippa inside the bungalow, he shut the door behind him, grasped hold of her waist and kissed her. He faintly tasted of one of her favorite things—hazelnut-flavored coffee.
Sliding her hands up and around his neck, she fell into a kiss that sped up her heart rate.
If only she could forget about everything and just spend the day with him. But she was due in for the Friday breakfast and lunch shifts in the kitchen. And she couldn’t be late.
Philippa eased out of the kiss. “Don’t you have a boat to catch?”
“I do.” Dominic briefly pressed his mouth back to hers. “But I think I left a shirt here. A long-sleeved white one. Did you find it?”
Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she attempted to hide a smile. “I did. But it’s wrinkled. I slept in it last night.”
“You did, huh?” His grin, along with his short, dark, tapered hair, brought even more attention to his eyes and the taut angles of his face. “If you would have let me sleep here last night, you could have had me instead of the shirt.”
Laughing, she half-heartedly held him back as he nuzzled her neck. Heat and the inviting scent of citrus and amber emanating from Dominic made him even harder to resist. “Sleep was the last thing on your mind. And what about Bailey?”
His older sister, Bailey, had arrived on the island yesterday morning. Dominic and Bailey were taking a water taxi from Coral Cove to Bridgetown, Barbados, that morning to meet their parents who were flying in from New York.
He huffed a chuckle. “She wouldn’t have missed me. She was snoring in bed by nine last night. But I’m missing you already. I wish you were coming with us.”
“Even if I didn’t have to work, it would have been wrong for me to intrude. It’s your day off, and your family came to spend it with you.”
“Intrude? Not even close. Once my parents get to the hotel suite, they’ll spend the rest of the day working until it’s time for dinner with one of their prospective clients.”
His parents were financial advisors and ran their own firm. Twenty-seven-year-old Bailey, older than Dominic by two years, worked for them.
Dominic laid his forehead to Philippa’s. “You could have sat by the pool with me and Bailey.”
And that would have been as thrilling as being tossed into the deep end.
During dinner at Dominic’s bungalow last night, a conversation she’d had with Bailey had felt more like a comparison analysis where, in Bailey’s eyes, she’d come up short.
Bailey had pointed out that Dominic had graduated from Johnson & Wales University’s culinary arts program with honors. Philippa had completed a culinary arts program at a junior college in Atlanta.
Bailey had bragged about Dominic interning in kitchens with award-winning chefs during semester breaks, while Philippa had confessed to working part-time gigs from food trucks to pop-up restaurants to catering companies to help pay her tuition.
Later on, Bailey had been sitting on the back deck talking on the phone. She’d been unaware of Philippa walking outside to bring her a piece of ice-cream-topped chocolate cake.
Dominic has been with her since he’s been on the island. It’s no big deal. She’s second-rate compared to him...
The self-doubt and negativity Bailey’s remembered comment had stirred up then came back to Philippa now. Pushing them aside, she smiled up at Dominic. “It’s just one day. We’ll be together tomorrow.”
“I know.” He released an extended breath. “But we really need to talk.”
Just as Philippa was going to ask what about, the reminder she’d set for work beeped on her phone.
Slipping from his grasp, she took it from her pocket and turned off the alert. “I better go. I want to get in early. You know how Chef LeBlanc is. I have to be ready for anything.”
As she turned to retrieve his shirt from the bedroom, Dominic lightly grasped her wrist and tugged her back to him. “You areready for anything. Remember that.”
His sincerity made it easy to forget that they were rivals for the sous chef position.
From the moment they’d said hello to one another at the airport, waiting at the gate for the flight from Charlotte to Bridgetown, they’d been drawn to each other. In the days that followed, every glance, smile and conversation neither of them wanted to end had brought them closer.
Sleeping together had just naturally happened. But they were keeping things professional in public, always waiting until they were in their private bungalows to indulge their attraction.
She brought him his shirt, then nudged him out the sliding door. Before she shut it after him, he snuck in one last kiss. “I’ll call you.”
“You better.” A short time later, smiling, she left by the front door and hurried down the palm-tree-lined path.
Ahead of her, employees who’d arrived by water taxi from Barbados walked into a three-story yellow building with white shutters known as the Hub.
Located near the center of the island, it housed support services, administrative offices, a suite of rooms for the general manager and a kitchen providing twenty-four-hour room service.
Philippa and Dominic had been placed in two of the resort’s smaller bungalows so they could get a taste of guest life, but whoever got the job would have to live in Barbados.
In the Hub, Philippa found Executive Chef Liza LeBlanc on the delivery dock, checking over crates of produce.
The brown-skinned woman with family roots in New Orleans and Hawaii shifted her attention from the delivery man opening a crate of mangos to Philippa.
Philippa suppressed the urge to glance down and check if her uniform was in order. The other day, she’d missed tucking a strand of hair under her hat, and Chef LeBlanc had brought it to her attention.
Chef LeBlanc nodded to the delivery man that she would accept the mangos, but she waved away the crate of carambola. “It’s nearly a full house. I hope you’re prepared for a busy day.”
“Yes, Chef. I’m ready.”
“Good. I have paperwork to finish, so you’ll be in charge this morning.”
Nerves knotted and pulled inside of Philippa. Supervisory experience was one of the weakest areas on her résumé. This could be one of her last chances to impress Chef LeBlanc and the higher-ups with her leadership skills before they made their selection next week.
Philippa joined the staff in the heart of the well-equipped commercial kitchen.
Cooks prepared an array of orders from scrambled-egg combos to Bajan salt bread filled with succulent ham to thick, rich smoothies made with fresh fruit and vegetables.
Off to the side, butlers in crisp aqua-colored shirts and black knee-length shorts waited for the orders they would promptly deliver to their assigned guests.
During a lull in the service, she reviewed lunch tickets stacked in an in-box near the butler’s station, searching for special requests. Today, they fell into the “none of this, less of that” variety.
Last week, they were more unconventional. One of the guests had requested a tuna melt made with blue cheese, drowned in hot sauce and served on crustless, extra hard, cinnamon-raisin toast every single day of their stay.
The sandwich had resembled a crime scene on a plate, but she’d added a carrot-rose garnish and personally handed the meal to a butler with a smile. The guests came first, and Coral Cove aimed to please.
A chime dinged on her phone tucked in the front pocket of her jacket.
The dark-haired butler standing next to Philippa sent her a slightly startled glance. “No personal distractions during a shift” was one of Chef LeBlanc’s main rules and she’d just broken it.
Crap! Philippa fished out her phone.
On the screen was a selfie text from Dominic, smiling in the hotel pool with a green dinosaur floaty wrapped around his waist.
Barely suppressing a laugh, Philippa turned her phone to silent and put it back in her pocket. She missed him already. Once the interview audition was over, how would she handle not living just a bungalow away from him?
They hadn’t talked about what would happen when the interview process was over. They’d stay in touch, wouldn’t they? Was that what Dominic wanted to talk about?
At the end of her ten-hour shift, she removed her apron, tired and ready for a walk on the beach. Maybe she could catch Dominic before he went to dinner with his parents and find out what was on his mind.
“Philippa.” Chef LeBlanc beckoned her.
Weariness followed Philippa to the corner office. Hopefully, a double shift wasn’t in her future.
Chef LeBlanc sat behind the desk, her expression more stern than usual. “Have a seat.”
Anxiety rippled through Philippa as she sat in the chair in front of the desk. Breakfast and lunch had gone smoothly. Was she in trouble for not remembering to turn off her phone?
“We received a complaint from bungalow five about their breakfast.”
Chef LeBlanc slid an order ticket across the desk, and Philippa picked it up. “A tomato-and-spinach omelet and a high-protein, berry-and-kale smoothie. No added salt or sugar. I remember this one. I saw the omelet being prepared to order, and I made the smoothie myself. Was something missed?”
“The smoothie was supposed to be made with rice milk, but it was blended with soy.”
An image of the red-lettered, soy milk container in her hand as she made the smoothie flashed into Philippa’s mind. Her mouth went dry. “I’m so sorry. I’ll apologize to the guest right away.”
“It’s too late for that. The guest in bungalow five is the daughter of Coral Cove’s newest investor. She complained to her father, and he called the general manager. I tried to convince them to give you another chance, but I was outvoted. I’m sorry, but this incident has taken you out of the running for the position.”
Not sure she’d heard her right, Philippa sputtered, “So...my audition is over?”
Empathy came into the other woman’s eyes. “Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
Disbelief stunned Philippa into silence. She swallowed against the tightening in her throat. “Thank you for the opportunity. Working with you has been a great experience.”
“You were impressive. Don’t hesitate to include this interview audition on your résumé. I’m happy to give you a recommendation.”
Chef LeBlanc taking an interest in her future displaced some of Philippa’s sadness. “Thank you.”
“I also have some advice, if you’re willing to hear it.”
“I appreciate any guidance you’re willing to give me.”
Chef LeBlanc sat back in the chair. “Managing a top-notch kitchen is a full-time commitment that comes with rewards and sacrifices. The reward is having your talent and creativity appreciated. The sacrifice is having to put most of your focus on the job. That doesn’t leave room for much else...especially a personal life.”
Was Chef LeBlanc just giving her general advice or did she know about her relationship with Dominic?
Philippa couldn’t tell as she met Chef LeBlanc’s steady gaze. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
In her bungalow, fighting back tears, Philippa packed her bags on the bed. Messing up a simple ingredient change on an order. How had she made such a rookie mistake? But her relationship with Dominic had nothing to do with it. For the past three weeks, other than her hair being out of place and forgetting to turn off her phone, she hadn’t made one major slipup until that morning.
Philippa’s phone rang on the dresser, and she caught a glimpse of the caller ID on the screen. Dominic.
She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, not without getting all emotional. And now wasn’t the time to break down and cry.
Per the agreements her and Dominic had signed at the start of the interview audition, as the unselected candidate, she had two hours to pack her things and leave. Human resources had already booked her a hotel room in Bridgetown near the airport. Her flight left in the morning.
Philippa let the call go to voice mail, but fifteen minutes later, Dominic phoned again.
She answered.
“Philippa...” Relief filled Dominic’s tone. “Are you okay? I ran into one of the butlers in town. They told me what happened. I can’t believe they’re ending your interview audition over one mistake.”
“But it was a big one. The guest was a VIP, related to an important investor. ...
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