“I look like a mess,” I complained to my friend, adjusting the dress in the reflective paneling in the elevator and slathering makeup on the bags under my eyes.
“You need another coffee,” Morticia said, stabbing more bobby pins into my frizzy hair. “And considering that your last Instagram post was you in way less clothing, eating a cupcake, I feel like you're overreacting. Sex sells baked goods.”
When I walked into the studio space, it felt like Christmas. I was immediately hyped. For all her acerbic anti-Christmas comments, Morticia was a good artist, and the decorated space was warm and festive without feeling cheesy. There were garlands and lights strung around the perimeter of the large studio. The palette was whites and golds, with pops of dark reds. It felt like everything had been dusted lightly with powdered sugar. Brighter lights shone over each baking station. I rummaged through the boxes under my table. We each had a set of the high-end Platinum Provisions cooking tools. I whistled. This was thousands of dollars' worth of stuff.
Dana Holbrook and Gunnar Svensson, the producers, were talking to a tall, willowy woman at the front of the room. I recognized her as Anastasia, the host of the show and owner of the Whimsical Dining blog. Dana nodded as she and Gunnar walked off the set. They looked up to the front of the room. The camera guy signaled, and the willowy woman smiled brightly.
“Welcome to the second season ofThe Great Christmas Bake-Off. Just like last year, this contest is all about the bakers, the desserts, and of course, Christmas! We don't believe in gimmicks. The contestants have hours, sometimes a full day, to complete their desserts. Also, like last year, we have a fantastic panel of judges. Anu and Nick are back! Anu Pillai, a chocolatier and baker from Li'l Masa bakery in NoLiTa. Then we have Nick Mazur, a pastry chef and restaurant owner with businesses all over the New York area. Finally, we have Owen Frost, founder and CEO of Quantum Cyber. He does not do any baking, but he's very good-looking, so here he is!”
OMG. That was the guy who had been in my-slash-his room the night before. He sat at the reclaimed-wood judges’ table, back straight, wearing a dark-navy suit that made his hair and icy-blue eyes pop. Something else down in the South Pole was popping too. I must really be going through a dry spell if I was freaking out over some guy who said he hated Christmas.
I internally flipped out. Did he recognize me? I really wished I had changed my outfit now. I must look like a drugged-out stripper.
You are not Amber. You are not going to freak out over some egotistical billionaire, I chanted to myself as Anastasia continued to talk about the rules of the competition. Owen scowled as he surveyed the contestants.
I forced myself to concentrate.Think of the prize money! Think of the debt you're going to pay off! Don't get distracted.
“The first challenge,” Anastasia said, “is the Shimmy Down the Chimney Challenge. You have until this afternoon to create a fun, festive dessert that's tasty enough to make reindeer dance and Santa shimmy on down the chimney!”
I'd like Owen to shimmy down my chimney.
But he was watching Anastasia. I sighed. She was willowy and pretty, with a curtain of chestnut hair.I bet Christmas-hating billionaire Owen goes for women like her.
I pulled at my skirt some more and adjusted my top. I seriously needed to cut back on the sweets. I looked up from adjusting my boobs. Right. I was on camera. Better stop touching myself inappropriately. Owen's gaze flicked in my direction. His eyes narrowed slightly.
I slept in your bed last night, I mouthed to him.
His eyes widened slightly, and he scowled.
“You're trying to steal him! I knew it!” Amber whined nasally. She had managed to worm her way to a station next to mine. “Owen is mine,” she continued. “I already have a bombshell Christmas dessert planned. Owen is going to come crawling for my sweets.”
“Whatever. You want some sort of Christmas-hating ice prince, fine with me,” I said, taking out the pans I would need for my dessert. “In fact, if you're chasing after Owen Frost, then I know something's wrong with him.”
I went to collect my ingredients. Amber and Owen could spiral into a descent of Christmas-ruining madness, but I was going to bake. I had the perfect dessert planned: chocolate pomegranate tarts. Chocolaty, rich, with a smack of pomegranate, they were a more adult Christmas dessert. It would be very sexy to eat a piece with a glass of wine by the fire, a Christmas tree softly blinking while you fed a bite to your paramour curled up beside you under a fur throw.
My pastry dough was perfect, if I did say so myself, and I could fill it with literally anything. In the pantry, I grabbed pomegranates, bricks of deep-brown chocolate, heavy cream, sugar, flour, and butter. I was planning on making several smaller tarts—not too small, because then it was all crust—but if they were too big, one might as well be eating chocolate pudding.
Using a food processor so as to not overwork the crust, I began cutting the butter into the flour. I was regretting wearing the sweater dress, which rode up whenever I raised my arms above boob height. I was also regretting not getting up earlier so I could shower. That clean, masculine scent from Owen's room clung to me; anytime I moved my hair, I could smell it. It was distracting.
“I can't believe I was in his bed. Did they even change the sheets before we arrived?” I muttered as I made the dough. “What if he sleeps nude? It would be like I was sleepingwithhim. Naked.”
I jumped when a man said behind me, “I assure you, I do not sleep naked.”
6
Owen
When Anastasia started the clock, the contestants scurried to collect their ingredients. One woman with frizzy hair looked oddly familiar. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought she was the girl who had been in my room last night and who I thought was going to bludgeon me with a Yule log when I told her I despised Christmas.
“Since there's so much time in the competition,” Dana said as the camera guys moved around to take close-up shots of the contestants, “we want the judges to mingle a little bit and talk to the contestants about what they're making. Just don't get in the way. Owen, why don't you start over there near Amber and Holly?”
“Who's Holly?”
Dana glared at me. “Did you seriously not read the packet?”
I shrugged. Dana tapped her foot. “Red sweater?”
The girl.
