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a bit ordinary.”
    Pride made her bristle but she kept herself in check. “Not everyone appreciates the unusual when it comes to food.”
    â€œMy guests will. A group of us belong to a private gourmet club that travels the country for new and interesting eating experiences.”
    â€œWhat kind of experiences?” she asked. Her mother might have mentioned he and his friends were gourmands.
    His eyes brightened. “There’s a tiny place in Rosebud on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria. Only holds twenty people, and everything they serve comes from their own produce or is sourced locally. We flew down there one Sunday, spent a day with the owners, picking ingredients from their kitchen garden, helping with preparation and eating one ofthe best meals of my life. Another time, we traveled to the outback to eat crocodile meat beside a river infested with them.”
    â€œHardly a relaxing venue,” she said, wondering how often he’d been interrupted by work calls there.
    He leaned forward. “That’s the point. Knowing we were dining on a man-eater in its territory was a real buzz. The indigenous community hosting the dinner obtain all the ingredients in and around the river. They supplied the crocodile meat and showed us how to hunt goannas, dig for yams and climb trees to harvest wild honey.” He brought his fingertips together. “Have you eaten live witchetty grubs?”
    She couldn’t suppress a shudder. “It’s not high on my list of foods to try.”
    His lopsided grin was oddly appealing. “You should. The texture is soft, and the taste reminiscent of a gamey veal pâté. You hold the grub by the head and kind of suck the meat off.” He mimed the action.
    â€œAre you telling me you’d like live grubs on your birthday menu?”
    He shook his head. “Only a few of the group volunteered for that experience. But generally we’re more adventurous with food than most people, so you can pull out all the stops.”
    His proposal was a chef’s dream, but she was inno position to take advantage of it while she was still in the throes of establishing her business.
    She closed the net book. “I can’t tell you how much this tempts me.” In more ways than one, she thought, wondering fleetingly if she was turning the job down because of the business or him. “In good conscience, I won’t take a job on unless I can do it well. Now I know what you’re looking for, I’m positive I’m not the right person for this assignment.”
    â€œAnd I’m positive that you are.”
    He wasn’t insisting because of her talents, but because he was used to getting his own way. She’d been through similar scenes with her family. His attitude on the phone had shown her how accustomed he was to being in charge.
    â€œWhy are you so determined to hire Love This Catering?” she asked. “You must have a lot of contacts in the food business through your group.”
    He took his time answering. “You intrigue me. I know your parents and brother professionally, and you’re totally different from them.”
    â€œIn what way?” she asked warily, so used to being compared with her family and found wanting that she braced herself automatically.
    â€œYou’re an original,” he said, surprising her. “You don’t like being reminded of how you came on to me at the party, but no one’s done anything like that to me before, at least not so ingenuously. The alcohol may have boosted your nerve, but it didn’t put theidea in your head. You saw what you wanted and you went after it. Just as you did when you started your own business.”
    â€œI get my passion for cooking from my grandmother, Jessie Jarrett,” she explained, reluctantly pleased by his appreciation.
    He frowned. “I thought all your family were doctors.”
    â€œDad’s father is an oncologist, but