“Stay close to me,” she said to her cameraman. “And don’t let me eat any of this.”
Ronan shook his shaved head and grinned, the effect softening his stern features. With his crooked nose, and imposing frame, he looked intimidating. Deep down, he had a heart of gold under the rough exterior.
Alice pushed her way to the front of the store and ignored the grumble of her empty stomach. The place reeked of calories, and she could guess without even looking at the glass display cases that nothing low-carb existed between these four walls.
“Can I help the next victim, please?” Somewhere at the front of the shop, a lively, male voice rose above the cacophony.
The spot-on phrasing curved Alice’s lips, and she craned her neck as the crowd shifted. A long, L-shaped counter with a small seating section appeared where a woman with a ponytail stood behind the register. The man Alice assumed had spoken walked out from behind a tall coffee urn.
Coffee, just what she needed. She’d arrived in Seattle earlier in the morning and had been on her phone nonstop with the assistant producers, each in charge of a contestant and their backstories.
In the week since Mitchell sprung this on her, she’d pulled every string she had to get three judges. Brooke, who would arrive with the rest of the crew by bus, had volunteered to track down the puppies. No matter how much they accomplished, she was still faced with a few glaring problems. Getting a venue during the busiest banquet season of the year had proved a nightmare. She’d managed to find an American Legion hall willing to rent their basement. Grace agreed to host yet, apparently puppies and snow-making machines were in high demand, because for all the phone calls Brooke had made, she couldn’t find either of them.
Alice’s phone buzzed and she looked down at the screen. Richard. She bit her lip, sending the call to voicemail; she didn’t have time to talk with him.
Too busy to talk to your fiancé about Christmas? Why is that?
She scooted past the other patrons and inched her way up to the counter where the teenage barista handed out cardboard cups with the CG logo. From what she’d seen of Grace’s video, this boy wasn’t Niko Stavo. Like most chefs, Niko was probably hiding in the kitchen. She motioned for Ronan to follow while she approached the counter and caught a glimpse of a young girl sitting on a high stool by the register.
Dark circles marred her face and a pink headband matching her scarf enhanced the smoothness of her bald head. Judging by the surgical mask dangling from her chin, she had to be Chloe.
The air left Alice’s lungs, and she struggled to gain her equilibrium. Thanks to Grace, she’d seen a photograph of the girl but not one of her before she’d fallen ill. Could this be her, the baby girl Alice gave up for adoption at 9:03 p.m. on December 23rd nearly ten years before? The application claimed Chloe was born on Christmas Day. Had her parents disclosed her true birthdate or was Alice making a huge mistake by assuming they’d lied? Hell, she couldn’t even be certain Chloe was the person the donor bank organization matched her with. Alice had been told she was donating to a young girl but any two people whose particular immune systems resembled each other were a match and they didn’t have to be related.
“Chloe.” The woman with the ponytail motioned for the girl to put the mask back on. Then the woman turned to Alice. “Can I help you?”
Her nametag read Hallie. She recognized the name from the contract and pegged this pretty woman as Chloe’s adopted mother.
“Double espresso, please, the stronger the better.” Alice removed her black and white houndstooth coat and tried not to stare at Chloe. For years, she’d imagined her first sight of the little girl, but never in her wildest dreams did she picture such a tragic scenario.
“I’m sorry, we don’t serve coffee.” She pointed to a sign above her head. “Starbucks serves coffee, at CG we serve—”
“Hot chocolate,” Chloe said with an endearing lisp. “Today’s flavoring is cayenne. You have to try it. It’s delish.”
Compassion ripped at Alice. Chloe’s dream was to have her uncle compete on the show, and if nothing else, Alice understood the importance of living out your dream.
“Delish, is it? I don’t suppose it’s low fat and infused with caffeine?” Alice asked Hallie, trying to get her emotions under control. Sobbing like a baby at the unfairness of such a young life being wasted by a deadly disease wouldn’t do anything except embarrass her.
“Yes to the caffeine, sadly no to the low fat. Chloe’s right, it is delish,” Hallie said. “My brother wouldn’t have it any other way. He practically lives on the stuff.”
“I’ll take two then,” Alice said. She paid Hallie and accepted the two cups. Chloe watched expectantly and Alice took a sip. Oh my God, heaven in a cup. She wanted to take another drink but stopped, shy of indulging her inner sugarholic.
“Why does he have a camera?” Chloe asked, pointing to Ronan.
“Because he’s a cameraman. Is Niko in? My name is Alice and this is Ronan. We’re with the EN Channel—”
Chloe let out a piercing little girl scream, and the whole crowd instantly quieted. She brought a pale hand to her mouth, her eyes shimmering with excited tears.
A man rushed into the area behind the counter and stopped by the glass display case, his frantic stare locked on Chloe.
Chloe looked from the man to Alice and pointed. “Uncle Niko, you’re gonna be on 3Square. You’re gonna be on the show!”
Charcoal-grey eyes rimmed with black lashes turned in Alice’s direction and her heart beat a little bit faster. Niko Stavo straightened his tall frame and shifted a motorcycle helmet from his left to his right hand, confusion marring his brow. Instead of a chef’s jacket, he sported a black leather vest over a black long-sleeved T-shirt, and leather chaps over a pair of jeans.
Brooke was definitely right; there was something to be said about a man in chaps.
Niko looked in her direction, lifting one heavy eyebrow, its thickness marred by a scar. An ex-Mixed Martial Arts fighter, there was no denying the raw masculinity that he exuded.
The rebel in her responded to the call of the sexy man, alarm bells ringing in her head. Caught staring like some love-struck teenager, she lowered her gaze, set down the CG cups, and retrieved a business card. “I’m Alice Carlson with the EN Channel, and I’m the producer of 3Square. Our studio executive was so touched by your application question, he decided to create a Christmas special featuring only desserts.”
