The Perfect Dish Read Online Free PDF

She slid a key card through a black box on the wall. A few seconds later, the doors opened. Meredith walked in.
    “Have a great evening,” the girl called as the doors closed.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Meredith mimicked softly. She smirked, overcome with the cloak and dagger silliness of a password-protected elevator. Heaven forbid some of the unwashed masses sneak into the VIP dining room. Or worse, party-crashing groupies.
    The doors opened and she stepped out beneath another twinkling night sky ceiling.
    In one corner, a man perched on a stool playing the Spanish guitar she’d heard downstairs. Small groups of people stood around chatting beneath sparkling glass stars dangling on invisible line. More silver stars decorated the indigo walls, and cranberry glass votives lined the bar, flickering like tiny beating hearts. The place was beautiful but oozed seduction.
    “Impressive,” she breathed. No wonder Chef Spicer did so well with the ladies. He had his own personal lair.
    “Glad you like it.”
    She turned, recognizing the twang, and stared up into infinitely blue eyes and a dazzling smile. His crisp white shirt opened at the neck to give a glimpse of tanned skin. Faded blue jeans with a large silver and turquoise belt buckle and well-loved cowboy boots accentuated his lanky lower half. A lesser woman wouldn’t have stood a chance.
    He stuck out his hand. “Kelly Spicer. Welcome to the party.” His brow furrowed. “You look familiar. Are you press? I’d be happy to do an interview.”
    So much for great first impressions. He didn’t even remember her. Viv’s description of blah rang in her head. Meredith held up the book instead of shaking his hand. “I’m a guest. Your guest. You invited me.”
    The smile faded. He looked at the cover, then her, back at the cover then at her again. “Meredith?”
    “Yes.” Wasn’t this a fun evening.
    “Man, you look a whole lot different. Don’t I feel the fool?” He ran a hand through his sandy blond waves. “I guess I was expecting the suit and the hair and—anyway, I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”
    She inwardly cringed at the mention of what she’d worn that day. She hated when Viv was right. “You’re forgiven.”
    He looked her up and down again, adding a whistle. “Damn, you fix up good.”
    To her utter dismay, her face warmed. Annoyance crawled up her spine. Had she looked that bad before? He’d definitely noticed her this time. She fussed with the book jacket, anything to buy a moment to compose herself. “Where’s your sister?”
    “Running late.” His mouth quirked. “Can I get you a drink?”
    What was he smiling at? “I guess.” Maybe a drink would take the edge off these weird nerves.
    “Have you ever had champagne sangria? It’s amazing. We make it with apricots, peaches and raspberries.”
    “Sounds fine.” She held out the book. “Can you hold this behind the bar? I don’t want to get anything on it.”
    “Sure.” He took the book and motioned toward the bar, waiting for her to go first. As she walked by, his fingers brushed the small of her back. The unexpected sensation wobbled her knees. She bobbled on her stilettos like a marionette and reached for the nearest support. His arm.
    “Whoa there!” Kelly slid his arm around her back, forcing her hand to lose its grip and coast to his chest. The scent of rosemary tickled her nose as his warmth seeped through the fabric of her dress. The body beneath her fingers was granite hard.
    She pulled her hand away, got her balance and found her head. “I guess it’s my turn to feel like a fool. That wasn’t exactly graceful, was it?” Screw Jimmy Choo. A woman could break her neck in these stupid shoes.
    He leaned closer. “Between you and me, those shoes are damn sexy, but if you wanna go barefoot, I got nothing against that either.”
    The heat of his whisper against her ear shivered down her back. “I think I’ll keep them on.”
    He released her, removing the comfortable