A Taste of Temptation. Cat Schield
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that her mother would schedule a beauty treatment in the midst of a personal crisis. No matter how bad things got, she never neglected her appearance.
“Mary will get you settled in a suite. I’ll order dinner to be served there at seven. We can talk then.”
* * *
Ashton lounged in the Fontaine Ciel’s executive conference room, tapping his fingers against the tabletop in a rhythm that called to him from the past. He had his back to the large monitor set on the wall opposite the door that led to the hall. The network suits in New York had not yet figured out the connection was live and he was gaining some useful insights into their thought processes.
He’d been in negotiations for a brand-new television series for almost five months now. The Lifestyle Network wanted him to star in a culinary show that “showcased his talent.” Or at least that was the way his manager, Vince, had pitched it. Ashton agreed that it was a solid career move. Something he’d been working toward these past eight years.
It would allow him to live permanently in New York City. He’d never again have to travel under the most uncomfortable conditions to places that no one in their right mind wanted to live.
Too bad he loved all those miserable out-of-the-way places he visited. Nor was Lifestyle Network’s demand that he quit The Culinary Wanderer if they gave him his new show sitting well with Ashton. With the sort of taping schedule he had with the travel show, there was no reason why he couldn’t do both. He’d given six years to Phillips Consolidated Networks and The Culinary Wanderer. The show remained vital and continued to do well in the ratings. Giving it up made no sense. And then there was all the aid that the places he visited received as a result of the show.
He hadn’t set out to do a culinary series that highlighted socioeconomic and political issues around the world. He’d started out romping around the globe doing a six-part series featuring out of the way culinary adventures for the network’s travel channel. At some point toward the end of the first season, he’d started to see the potential of shining the light of television on some of the places regular travelers would never go. But it wasn’t until the first segments aired that he realized he was raising social awareness.
The series’ high ratings caught the network executives’ attention. They liked what they saw and wanted to work with him again so Ashton pitched them a show focused as much on the problems faced by the locals as it was about the regional cuisine. Six months later, The Culinary Wanderer was born.
By the end of the first season, his viewership had increased threefold. Inspired by the flood of emails from viewers asking how they could help, the network partnered with a world help organization to bring aid to the areas hit hardest by war and poverty. It was somewhat surreal to discover he did more good with his half-hour television series than his parents did in a year with their missionary work. And it was sad to realize no matter how much he did, they would never approve of his methods.
Still, money had been raised. People had been fed and given medicine. Sources of fresh water had been brought to villages that needed it. But no matter how much Ashton accomplished there was always another town ravaged by unrest or burdened by poverty. His gut told him he shouldn’t walk away from all those who still needed help. Yet wasn’t it this exact sort of arrogance—that he was somehow special and necessary for others’ salvation—that made him so angry with his father?
“Chef Croft, are you ready to begin?”
Ashton swiveled around and gave the assembled group an easy smile. “Whenever you are, gentlemen.”
He could see that his manager was on the call from his L.A. office. Vince’s expression gave away none of the concern he’d voiced to Ashton late last night, but he wasn’t looking as relaxed as usual. This show would take Ashton from celebrity chef to household name. From there the possibilities were endless.
“Chef Croft,” began Steven Bell, a midlevel executive who’d been acting as the group’s mouthpiece these past several months. He was the third in a line of conservatively dressed, middle-aged men with a talent for pointing out problems and little else. “We have slotted the new show to begin the end of February and would like to start taping in three weeks. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.”
Several of the men exchanged glances, and Ashton picked up on it. If he’d learned anything in the past several months, he’d discovered the path to superstardom wasn’t a smooth one.
“We’ve been told your restaurant in the Fontaine hotel is behind schedule,” said the man Ashton thought of as Executive Orange because whatever spray tan he used gave his skin a sunset glow.
“Untrue. It’s set to open in two weeks.”
“And your expectation is that you’ll have it running smoothly immediately?”
Ashton knew what was going on. Vince had warned him that since Ashton was unwilling to give in on the matter of quitting The Culinary Wanderer they were looking at other chefs in an effort to force his hand.
“I will be leaving my kitchen in good hands. I offered Chef Dillon Cole the head chef position.” He left out the fact that Cole hadn’t agreed to take the job.
“He’s out of Chicago, correct?”
Unsure which of the six executives had spoken, Ashton nodded. “A talented chef.” Which was perfectly true, despite his earlier criticism. Ashton just wasn’t sure he was the right man for Batouri, but he was running out of time and options. If he wanted to host the new show, he needed to be available.
“We’d like you to come to New York next week and spend a couple days working with our producers. We feel you should be on the set and run through a couple versions of the show to get some film that we could run past a couple of our current hosts for their input.”
“What days did you have in mind?”
“Wednesday and Thursday. We could schedule something in the afternoon, say around two?”
Harper was going to filet him when she caught wind of this impromptu trip. “I’ll be there.”
“We’re looking forward to seeing you.”
After a few more niceties and good luck wishes for his restaurant opening, the New York executives signed off. When it was just Ashton and Vince still on the call, the manager let his true feelings show.
“Those bastards are not making this easy, are they?”
“Did you really expect them to?” Ashton countered. “This isn’t a travel network with a couple hundred thousand viewers. This channel draws over a million viewers for some of its least popular primetime shows.”
“What I expected is for them to be falling all over themselves to bring you in. They’re looking to give their lineup more sex appeal. While the numbers have been slipping for cooking shows lately, home improvement segments are on the rise.”
“Any idea why?”
“If you listen to my wife and daughter, it’s all due to the hunky carpenters they’ve been hiring.”
Ashton grinned. “So you’re saying they aren’t as interested in my culinary expertise as my impressive physique?”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Like we should be negotiating for more money.”
“Maybe I should suggest you do the episodes shirtless.”
“Don’t give them any ideas.” Ashton grimaced. “They’ll probably turn it into a bit. Stay tuned for the next segment when Chef Croft will burn off his shirt.”
“Well, you’d better get that restaurant of yours open in Vegas or you won’t have to worry about what they want you to wear.”
“Have you heard from the guys over at Phillips about the proposals I made regarding next season’s location?”
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