Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“There’s not much to tell. After—” Again, he cut himself off, as though he knew she’d steer the conversation away from their history. “I did a lot of those celebrity cook-offs. And the catering for a bunch of celebrities. It’s funny how it only takes one person to like what you do and then it’s all word of mouth.” She glanced over long enough to see him smile. “They all want the best for their big parties. And if they think you’re the best, then they all want you.”
She couldn’t help thinking that Ransom was the best. Of course everyone wanted him. Many of the exquisite meals he’d made for her had almost been an aphrodisiac.
“And somehow I just slid into the cooking show after the cookbooks took off in stores.”
“Do you enjoy preparing food on camera?”
“I like giving people tips and tricks to make their cooking time easier.” He gave a throaty laugh that weaseled its way inside her. “Like recommending a really good package mix for béarnaise sauce. It’s a pain in the ass to make, and the package mix tastes just as good. When I first did that, the producers were shocked I didn’t make everything from scratch.”
She gave him a sideways glance with a little smile. “Oh, so you take shortcuts.”
God, he’d always had the biggest, most beautiful laugh. “If I can’t make it any better than something I can buy, you’re damned right I use a shortcut.”
She snorted, pretending she was aghast. “Don’t tell me you use precut vegetables,” she drawled.
He waved a hand. “I have to draw the line somewhere. Precut can be dried out and flavorless. I’m not afraid of telling my viewers that.”
“I see the cooking show and the cookbooks are doing amazingly well.” He was always number one in the online bookstores. Not that she’d looked for him specifically.
“I always enjoyed when you and I sliced our vegetables together.” His voice dropped to a sexy note, sending a shiver running through her.
She couldn’t let that happen. “You’re going off topic here,” she singsonged.
“I’m still answering the question about packaged versus fresh.” Humor laced his voice.
But she had to push past it. “You’ve done catering for the rich and famous, extravagant billionaire parties, fancy resort celebrations, cruise ship festivities.” His events were so impressive they were written up in magazines. At least, that’s what Dane had told her. She might have seen a few articles when she was leafing through the magazines at the dentist.
“Yeah. Like Gideon Jones’s New Year’s Eve fundraising gala at Dane’s Napa resort.”
When Dane had told her Ransom was catering the gala, Ava had almost backed out. But the whole family was there, and they’d needed to support the Mavericks. Gideon’s charity, Lean on Us, for veterans as well as foster kids, was a good cause, and she’d donated. But she’d steered clear of the kitchens. And when she’d seen Ransom across the ballroom talking to Dane, she’d made sure to stay on the opposite side.
“So you know the Mavericks,” she said casually, hoping her voice hadn’t gone too high.
She picked up his nod in her peripheral vision. “The Mavericks are great. They invested in my restaurants and helped me open the first three in Vegas.”
She raised her eyebrows as if she didn’t know. It was uncanny how much she actually did know, as if she’d been following him on social media. “You opened three restaurants at once?”
“We figured it was a great marketing strategy. Different restaurant styles. A Brazilian chophouse. Something slightly lower-end that anyone can afford. Then a high-end dining experience on top of a casino.”
“Obviously, the strategy worked.”
He chuckled. “Big-time. The Mavericks are savvy businessmen. I wouldn’t have attempted it on my own, but we keyed off the cooking competitions I’d done and some of the better-known events I’d catered. But with the lower end, we were also saying you didn’t have to be a billionaire to dine at a Ransom Yates restaurant. Since I had all the contacts overseas, once the Vegas restaurants took off, things seemed to go viral. Now I’ve opened a restaurant in every major city.” He paused, and she sensed he was looking at her. But she didn’t turn. She just kept smiling. And driving.
She couldn’t avoid walking by his San Francisco restaurant—it was right there downtown—but she’d never gone in, had never even felt the urge.
A voice inside whispered, Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Not wanting to even acknowledge that naughty voice, she said, “So you’ve spread out internationally. Restaurants in London, Paris, Berlin, Oslo.”
“We’ve hit all the capitals of Europe. But they’re not all high-end. I don’t want only the very rich to taste my food.”
Just like his mom and dad’s burger and milkshake joint back in the Midwest. She knew his history. That’s where he’d caught the cooking bug and the desire to be a restaurateur. He’d come out to San Francisco only because his grandmother was living in a care home. After marrying her second husband, she’d moved to the Bay Area, and Ransom had visited often.