Some Like It Hot (14 page)

“Excuse me,” Melanie said, squeezing past him and Jean-Paul. Her elbow accidentally brushed against his hip and Robert’s heart tumbled all the way to his shoes.

To heck with it; he’d go after the ground turkey himself. If he could just get away from Melanie for a little while he could collect himself, get a handle on his emotions and survive this day.

“Continue with the rest of the preparations,” Robert told Jean-Paul. “I’ll go after the turkey.”

“W
HERE’S
R
OBERT GOING
?” Melanie asked Jean-Paul.

“The ground turkey for the canapés never showed up. He went to get some.”

What else would go wrong? Melanie wondered. She glanced at the clock. “We’re working down to the wire. Do we
have anything in the refrigerator we could substitute for turkey?”

“We’ve got plenty of fresh crabmeat.”

“Great, let’s substitute that.”

If Robert had just talked to her about the problem with the menu, she could have saved him a trip to the store.

“Listen up, people.” She clapped her hands. “There’s been a change in plans. We’re substituting crabmeat for turkey in the canapés. Now hop to it. Time is of the essence.”

T
HE SKY WAS OVERCAST
and twilight was beginning to fall as Robert walked to the parking lot a short distance from the hotel. He headed to the farthest corner from the street, where he’d parked his car.

He heard footsteps behind him, but thought nothing of it until a man’s voice he didn’t recognize called out, “Hey, buddy.”

Robert turned to see who it was and felt a blow to the back of his head.

The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was two shady-looking men dragging him across the cement.

W
HERE WAS
R
OBERT
? Melanie fretted. He’d been gone over an hour. Good thing she hadn’t waited for him to start making the canapés.

She tried him on his cell phone but he didn’t answer. She left a message on his voice mail, telling him to call her as soon as he got the message.

Worry gnawed at her. What if he’d been in an accident? It wasn’t like responsible Robert not to answer his phone or
to take so long over a simple errand. Then again, she hadn’t thought he was the kind of guy who’d have sex with her and then just dump her, either.

Face it, Mel, you don’t know him. Not really.

What if the stress had gotten to him and he’d gone off to search for cocaine?

That thought sent a cold chill through her.

She briefly considered telling Charlotte that Robert was MIA, but immediately decided against it. Her sister was stressed to the max. She didn’t need this on top of everything else.

Resolutely, Melanie decided Robert must have gotten caught in traffic and forgotten to recharge the batteries in his cell phone. No point freaking out until there was something to freak out about.

F
IVE MINUTES AFTER
the appetizers had been served to the members of the Charboneaux-Long wedding party, Leo the bartender came barreling from the dining room into the kitchen looking as if he’d just encountered Frankenstein’s monster.

“Duck and cover, Mel,” Leo panted. “Here comes Bridezilla.”

“Who?” Melanie looked up from the salad she was assembling for the second course.

“Carly Charboneaux, the bride-to-be!” The high-pitched screech came from the deranged-looking young woman marching into the kitchen behind the bartender. “And I demand to know who’s responsible for this…this…fiasco.” In her hand she held a squashed crabmeat canapé up in a paper napkin.

“Is something wrong with the food?” Melanie wiped her hands on her apron.

“Is something wrong with the food?” she shrieked. “My maid of honor is highly allergic to crabmeat. I told your executive chef that months ago and he assured me I had nothing to worry about. Now Amy’s face is swelling up like a balloon.”

“What?” Fear squeezed Melanie’s heart as she shot past Carly toward into the private room where the dinner was being held.

She found a young woman sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by a cluster of people. Melanie raced over and saw that the poor woman’s face was pink and puffy.

“I’ll be okay,” Amy said. “I just needed a shot of Benadryl. I carry it in my purse.”

“You should go to a doctor,” Melanie said.

“My fiancé is a doctor.” The maid of honor placed a hand on the shoulder of the man sitting beside her.

That made Melanie feel slightly better.

“Really,” he said. “Amy will be all right. Carly is making a bigger deal of this than she needs to.”

“Amy looks like a freak and my wedding is tomorrow. It’s a disaster. Everything is ruined.”

“The swelling will be all gone by then,” Amy’s fiancé assured Carly. “I promise.”

“Miss Charboneaux, Amy,” Melanie said, “I am deeply, deeply sorry for the mistake. I’m completely responsible. I made the last minute substitutions to the menu without the executive chef’s knowledge. Let me make this right.”

“Just you wait. When I get through suing this hotel, you won’t have a pot to…” Carly shook her finger under Melanie’s nose.

“Carly, honey, you’ve got to calm down,” The mother of the bride said as she trailed behind her daughter.

“Calm down? Calm down? How do you expect me to calm down? First they screw up our allotment of rooms and now they’ve put crab in the canapés and made Amy swell up.”

“Carly, look at me,” Amy said. “The swelling is already going down. It’s okay.”

A vein in the bride-to-be’s forehead was so prominent Melanie feared the girl would keel over. She could just imagine the lawsuit if Carly fainted and cracked her head open on the floor.

Carly burst into tears. “It’s an omen. A terrible omen. The marriage is going to be a disaster. Call off the wedding, Mother. Send everyone home. My marriage is doomed.”

“We’ll refund your money for the rehearsal dinner,” Melanie said. “And we’ll compensate Amy for any medical expenses incurred due to eating the crabmeat.” It wasn’t her place to offer the Charboneaux a refund or to take on Amy’s medical expenses, but she’d pay for it out of her own pocket if she had to.

“Please, everyone,” Amy said. “Let’s not make a fuss. Accidents happen.”

“Where’s your general manager?” Mrs. Charboneaux said. “I want to speak to her. Right now.”

This was the last thing Charlotte needed, Melanie decided.

“I will make this up to you,” she promised. “I’ll prepare a special dessert and it’ll be complimentary like the entire meal. Please, please forgive my mistake. We’ll bring in the second course. Go back to your celebration.”

After making sure that Amy really was okay, Melanie returned to the kitchen.

“Okay, people, we’ve got to get the second course out there, right now.”

She drew aside the busboy. “Raoul, I’m going to give you a grocery list. Go get these items for me now and get back here as quickly as possible.”

The young man nodded. She made out a list sent him on his way, and then she went to help serve up the second course. With any luck, she could salvage her reputation and keep Charlotte from finding out about her mistake in the process.

M
ELANIE WAS PLANNING
an extravagant gesture to redeem herself. She had to show the Charboneaux and their guests how extremely sorry she was for her mistake.

Raoul had returned with the ingredients she needed and she was assembling the cherries jubilee when Jean-Paul ambled over.

“You’re going to do a flambé?” He arched an eyebrow.

“It’s going to be the grand finale to the meal—which, by the way, crabmeat canapé fiasco aside, everyone is raving about.” She spoke in a rush.

“You ever done a flambé,
chère?
”

“Sure, lots of times.” At home, not for guests, but come on, how hard could it be?

“Why don’t you get Allison to do it?”

“Because for one, Allison is working on the wedding cake for tomorrow, and two, I’m the one the Charboneaux are mad at. I have to save face. I can’t let them leave with a bad taste in their mouth for Chez Remy and the Hotel Marchand.”

“But are you trained in proper flambé technique?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? Are you going to help me or not?”

Jean-Paul shrugged. “Okay, but all the responsibility is on you.”

“Of course.” She waved a hand. “Let’s get these cherries loaded up on the cart.”

The wedding party was in the process of making celebratory toasts when Melanie pushed the flambé cart to one side of the table, parking it near the big picture window that looked out on the French Quarter. While they finished their toasts, she turned on the portable gas burners and announced her surprise, which was met with enthusiastic applause.

“I’ve never had cherries jubilee,” Carly said. “This should be fun.”

Melanie put the cherries into the saucepans until they were thoroughly heated, and when they were ready, she added the cherry brandy.

Striking a long kitchen match, she lit the liqueur fumes.

The cherries flambéed.

The guests gasped with delight as the flames licked up.

The applause and smiling faces were like a soothing balm to her conscience. There, she’d done everything she could to right her mistake, and she felt much better.

But the flames were already burning out. Maybe if she put just a tipple more brandy in, she could prolong the show.

She reached for the bottle of brandy and liberally laced the cherries with more liquor.

Whoosh!

The flames leaped from the pan, following the arc of alcohol.

“My God,” Carly Charboneaux cried. “The place is on fire.”

“Don’t panic,” Melanie said as she grabbed the flambé pan’s oversize lid and dropped it over the flaming cherries. “I’ve got everything under control. Fire’s all out, see?”

But no one was listening to her. Chairs were being knocked
over and people were screaming as they stampeded for the door.

And that’s when she saw the flames had ignited the curtains.

Not only that, but her apron as well.

She was on fire.

Redemption, she decided in that moment, had come at a steep price.

R
OBERT CAME TO IN THE
parking lot, slumped over the hood of his car. His head was throbbing and his back ached.

What the hell?

It took him a moment to remember what had happened. His hand immediately went to his wallet. It was gone.

He’d been mugged.

Groaning, Robert stumbled to his feet. His head swam dizzily. He stood there a moment, taking in deep breaths, trying to get his bearings and orient himself.

What time was it? He squinted at his watch.

Good God, it was seven-thirty.

He’d been out over two hours and the rehearsal dinner was in progress. So much for the canapés. The Charboneaux were going to be thoroughly pissed off.

He had to get back to the restaurant and smooth things over. Head reeling, he staggered back to the hotel and entered the private dining room, intent on apologizing profusely to the wedding party for not delivering on the canapés.

Chaos greeted him.

People were screaming and running for the exits.

And then he saw the source of the panic.

Fire!

Fear shot a bolus of adrenaline through Robert’s veins. He
walked into the dining room just in time to see Melanie’s apron catch flame.

Melanie was on fire!

Beware of fire,
Madam Lava had told him.

Damn, it seemed as if the crone had been right…

Robert was galvanized into action while everyone else trampled over one another to get out of the room. His head cleared instantly and he dashed to the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. It took him only a few seconds to get there, but it felt as if he were moving in slow motion through the Louisiana swamp.

Melanie’s eyes were wide as she batted at the flames licking up her apron. A deep sense of calm settled over Robert, allowing him to function rationally. He detached himself from his emotions. Felt nothing as he grabbed the extinguisher and pulled the pin. Aiming the nozzle, he depressed the trigger, showering Melanie in white CO
₂
foam, instantly dousing the fire. When her burning apron was extinguished, he turned to the curtains and blitzed those flames into oblivion, too.

It was a surreal experience. Robert couldn’t have been calmer if he’d popped a twenty milligram Valium. Melanie just stood there, clearly in shock.

He took off her scorched apron and tossed it to the floor. He examined her body, looking for damage. She shivered, her teeth chattering.

Thankfully, he found no burns. He had gotten to her in time.

“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so but I can’t really feel anything. I’m numb.”

Me, too.

Robert looked up to see that Luc was in the room, trying to calm the guests who had not gotten out. Robert had no doubt Charlotte would be showing up as soon as she heard what had happened.

He wanted first crack at Melanie before her sister got to her. Gently, he took her by the shoulders and led her into the kitchen.

“Out,” he told the cooks and the wait staff. “Everyone get out. Go clean up the private dining room.”

His employees stared at him.

“But, boss,” Jean-Paul said, “we’re in the middle of dinner rush.”

“Turn your fires off. Get out of the kitchen. Ten minutes.” He pointed to the door.

His staff stopped what they were doing, turned off the gas burners and filed solemnly out of the room.

Once everyone had cleared out, Robert lost it.

He spun on his heel to face Melanie. “What in God’s name were you thinking, woman? No, wait.” Angrily, he snapped his fingers twice. “I’ve got it. You weren’t thinking. Just Melanie doing whatever pops into her head without a single thought for the consequences. Not caring one damn bit who she hurts in the process.”

“I care,” Melanie mumbled.

He saw the tears glistening in her eyes, saw her hands trembling and knew that she was scared and shaken. But, damn it, he was scared, too. She could have been badly hurt. He could have lost her tonight.

The stark truth of it was almost more than he could bear.

Robert clenched his teeth. He felt stripped naked, raw, vulnerable. Anger and fear and love wadded in his throat and he could not swallow.

“Robert,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” He couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her face, saw the insecurity in her indigo eyes, he knew he would break down. He found a spot just above her head and stared at a crack in the wall, cramming his feelings down tight inside him.

But the emotions refused to go away. He’d finally called up his long-buried feelings and now they would not leave. For better or worse, he was stuck with them.

“What do you think you were doing with that flambé fiasco!” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “That wasn’t part of the dinner. What you did was inexcusable.”

“I know,” she wailed.

“Guests could have been hurt. Damn it, Melanie you could have been…” He could not finish the sentence. He thought of her scar, what she had already suffered, and his gut twisted.

She sank her hands on her hips. “Who are you to criticize me, Robert LeSoeur? I might be foolish at times, and impulsive and too high-spirited, but at least I’m not a liar and I own up to my mistakes. I take responsibility for what I’ve done. What happened in the dining room is entirely my fault and I’ll do whatever it takes to make amends. I won’t blame it on someone else or get someone to do damage control for me. I’m going to face the Charboneaux. I’m going to make this right.”

“What do you mean, you’re not a liar? What did I lie about?”

“You know.”

“No,” he said, perplexed by her outburst. “No, I don’t.”

“Fourteen years ago you were arrested for possession of cocaine, but lucky you. You had a high-powered district
attorney aunt who got you off scot-free. Ring any bells, Robert?”

He stared at her, disturbed both by what she’d said and what he was feeling. “How do you know about all that?”

“So you’re not going to deny it like you did last night at my place? When you lied straight to my face and told me you’d never been arrested, that you’ve never done drugs?”

“I’ve never done drugs. Ever.”

“But you have been arrested.”

He said nothing.

“Oh yeah.” The CO
₂
foam was starting to dissipate, but she still looked as if she could pass for the hotel poltergeist. “I’m sure you were just wrongly accused. Someone must have planted the cocaine on you. Framed you.”

Robert’s breath rattled in his lungs. He thought he’d put this far behind him, thought he’d buried it away for good. Well, except for the darkness that overtook him from time to time. How long did a man have to pay the price for a mistake?

“Where did you get this information?” he demanded.

“I have my sources.”

He knew then that she was the one who’d had someone call the Stratosphere to ask about him. It had been her, not Charlotte, as he’d supposed.

“You had me investigated.” He didn’t know which hurt more, the fact that she’d had done so or that she was so ready to believe the accusations against him.

“I had to find out about the man my mother had given complete control of my father’s kitchen.”

“You were going to use the information to get rid of me,” he said flatly. He couldn’t wrap his head around what she’d done, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

She didn’t deny it.

“You can think whatever you like, Melanie, but the drugs weren’t mine. I took the rap for a friend.”

“A likely story.”

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.” He shrugged. “At this point I don’t really care anymore.”

“Who was this friend and why did you take the rap for him?”

“That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

“Why? If it’s true, why not tell me all the details?”

“Because,” he said, “I don’t trust you.”

She flinched.

He saw that he’d struck to the heart of her insecurities. Her trustworthiness was a touchy issue. She wanted people to trust in her, but she shied from the responsibility that came with it. Robert hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but she needed to hear the truth.

“I was beginning to think that maybe we could have more than just sex,” she said. “That we could have a future together—you know, work out our differences. That we were actually good together
because
of our differences. That we balanced each other out. But now I know that was a foolish dream. I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

“And I can’t be with a woman who sets spies on me,” he said to the woman he loved, the woman who had just stabbed him in the back.

T
HE JOYOUS SOUNDS
of free-flowing jazz, the blatantly outrageous costumes, the growing crowds on Bourbon Street announced that Mardi Gras celebrations were heating up. The French Quarter hadn’t been this lively since before Katrina, but Melanie felt utterly miserable as she trudged through the streets.

She could still see the anger in Robert’s eyes when he’d realized she’d had him investigated.

He’d said he’d taken the drug rap for someone else. She wanted so badly to believe him.

Misery ate at her. Robert thought she was capable of using the information she’d uncovered to get her own way. And how could she blame him? She had given him no reason to trust her.

She’d lost him and there was nothing to do but leave town. She didn’t fit in here, anyway. Even when she tried to do the right thing it seemed to blow up in her face. Her family got along just fine without her. She’d go to that job interview in Seattle, and if they offered her the job, she was taking it.

C
HARLOTTE WAS SITTING
in her office, exhausted, drained from the day’s events, but she could not make herself go home. She couldn’t stop thinking about Melanie and how seriously she could have been hurt.

Both Robert and Luc had stepped up to the plate, calming the guests, dealing with the fire department, handling the rest of the mess while Charlotte smoothed things over with the Charboneaux. With the help of her staff, she’d managed to weather that particular storm, but there was another one brewing—confronting Melanie about her drug use. The time had come. Charlotte was going to have to get their mother involved.

The ringing of the phone startled her. It was almost eleven. A call this late usually spelled trouble. Bracing herself for a fresh onslaught of problems, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Char, it’s Melanie.”

“Mellie, thank goodness. Are you okay? Robert said you two had a fight.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Listen, Charlotte. I’m going to take off for a few days. I need some time alone.”

“Sweetie, no. Don’t go anywhere. Come to the hotel where we can talk. Or better yet, I’ll come over to your place. We can help you through this.”

“I’m not at home.”

“Where are you?”

“At the airport. I’m about to board a plane to Seattle.”

“You’re going up there to interview for a job.”

“Yes.”

“Running away isn’t going to solve your problem,” Charlotte said.