Slow Simmer (Island Escapes Book 4) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Author Note

  Copyright Notice

  Other Works

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Author Notes

  Slow

  Simmer

  Island Escapes, Book 4

  by

  Caitlyn Lynch

  Author Note

  Michelin do not produce an Australian version of their famous guide, and hence there are no Australian restaurants with Michelin stars, a fact of which I was unaware when I wrote Finding Cory and gave the resort’s top restaurant a Michelin star.

  That said, who’s to say they might not produce one, one day? And it’s not like they’d give restaurants advance warning. Could happen any time. Any time at all…

  Copyright © 2018 by Caitlyn Lynch

  Ebook Edition

  All rights reserved. This ebook or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Other Works by Caitlyn Lynch

  SUNFISH ISLAND RESORT SERIES

  FINDING CORY

  THE RELUCTANT BILLIONAIRE

  HER FAKE ISLAND WEDDING

  SLOW SIMMER

  FIGHTING FATE (UPCOMING)

  IF WISHES WERE HORSES - AN IRISH ROMANCE (UPCOMING)

  DANA’S DUO

  HOT FOR HEATHER

  ELEVATOR ENCOUNTERS SERIES

  ELLIE’S ENCOUNTER

  JULIET’S ROMEO

  THE BEST MAN FOR LEAH

  RANGER HEAT SERIES

  FIRST SUBMISSION

  SECOND SURRENDER

  THIRD THRILLS

  Chapter One

  Suzannah Monteil could speak four languages fluently, and swear like a sailor in half a dozen more. It was the latter skill she utilised as she stared at the disaster on her serving counter. Her long, capable fingers slashed at the air as she expressed her extreme displeasure with the sagging mess masquerading as a wedding cake her cringing pastry chef was trying to pretend had nothing to do with her.

  “Suzannah!”

  A shout finally broke into her tirade and she whirled on the heels of her sensible shoes, green eyes afire with fury. She didn’t calm down in the slightest even as she came face to face with her boss, resort manager Luke Collyer.

  “Look at it!” she shouted, pointing a trembling finger at the lopsided cake. “Look at it, Luke! I cannot send that out of my kitchen, not tomorrow, not ever!”

  Summoned by the maître d’hotel who’d merely informed him that his temperamental chef was in a taking again, Luke surveyed the cake and bit his lip, wincing. Suzannah might have lost her temper, but she certainly had cause this time.

  “That’s… not a good-looking cake,” he said finally. “Is that supposed to be the wedding cake for the big wedding tomorrow?”

  Being chosen as the venue for the wedding of a movie star and a supermodel was a major coup for Sunfish Island, and Luke was well aware it was in large part because of La Sirène, the restaurant Suzannah ran with an iron fist. One of the first restaurants in Australia to be awarded a Michelin star, La Sirène was one of the resort’s major attractions. And there was no way in hell that travesty of a cake could be served up to the two hundred guests attending tomorrow’s ceremony, many of them celebrities with huge social media followings.

  “What’s your plan?” he asked calmly as Suzannah trembled with rage. He knew his executive chef; she’d already solved the problem in her head, but she needed to vent.

  “I can fix it,” the hapless pastry chef said.

  “I will fix it,” Suzannah said testily. “By starting again, from scratch. The cake has collapsed because it is not well made, which means just stripping the icing off and re-decorating is unacceptable. Undoubtedly I will be up all night.” She glowered, and Luke winced again. It was nearing midnight already, and the wedding was at eleven in the morning.

  “Thank you,” he said inadequately.

  “It is my reputation on the line, is it not?” She shrugged in a very Gallic way. “Unless we want this idiot’s creation to end up on CakeWrecks dot com, I have to fix it.”

  Luke choked at the mere idea. Suzannah shot him a wry smile before turning to point at the pastry chef.

  “Vicky.” She swivelled her finger towards the door. “Get out. You’re fired.”

  “But…” Vicky looked at Luke for support.

  “Nope. You’re fired. You’ve got twenty-four hours to gather your stuff and get off the island.” Suzannah was well within her rights to fire the woman for a disaster of this magnitude, and Luke had no intention of undermining her authority in the restaurant. Even though Vicky was several years older than Suzannah, she didn’t have a tenth of Suzannah’s talents.

  “Bitch!” Vicky hissed at Suzannah. “Good luck finding someone to replace me - nobody wants to work for a control freak like you!”

  “That’s enough,” Luke said sharply. “Get your things. You’re on the first boat to Airlie in the morning, and if you don’t want to spend the night in the Hamilton Island lockup you’ll be spending the rest of the night packing and preparing to leave quietly.”

  “Thank you,” Suzannah said with a sigh as Vicky stormed out, shooting vindictive glares at everyone who even glanced in her direction. Unbuttoning her white chef’s coat, stained after a long evening cooking, she shrugged out of it and stretched briefly before tossing it in a waiting laundry hamper and reaching for a fresh one. “Well, I’d better get started on this cake.”

  “Can I get you any extra help?” Luke asked. “I know your staff have all knocked off for the night, but I can get some of them called back if you need…”

  Suzannah shook her head. “I will be quicker working alone, without any of them to distract me. Don’t worry, Luke. Nobody will ever know that even existed.” She shook her head over the awful cake.

  “You’re a superstar, Suzannah.”

  “I know.” She smiled at him before turning away, picking up the offending cake and tossing it straight into the food waste disposal bin. “Now leave me alone to cook. And for God’s sake, find me a decent pastry chef. If La Sirène is going to be the first restaurant in the country with two Michelin stars, I need the best.”

  “Well, we can advertise the position, shortlist some people for interview…”

  “Non!” Suzannah reverted to her native French briefly, waving her arms for emphasis. “I do not have time for all that nonsense. You and Jace promised me I should have whatever I wanted; well, I want the best. Find me the best.”

  Luke watched as Suzannah turned away, headed over to the huge industrial refrigerators to pull o
ut eggs, milk and butter. He had every confidence that she would pull off a spectacular cake by tomorrow, and it would be the crowning highlight to an incredible meal for the two hundred guests which would be raved about and end up extending the already-long waiting list for a table at La Sirène even further.

  Suzannah Monteil had put Sunfish Island on the foodies’ map by winning that Michelin star, and Luke, with the approval of Jace Hunter, the resort’s billionaire owner, had indeed promised her anything she wanted. Despite her temperamental attitude, this was the first thing she’d asked for, so he figured he’d better come up with the goods.

  He hoped Jace had some ideas, because he honestly had no idea where to start looking. Being a billionaire, Jace must have eaten in a lot of fancy restaurants. Maybe he’d have contacts who could suggest someone.

  * * *

  Twenty-four hours later, Suzannah finally collapsed into her bed.

  It had been one of the longest days of her life, even for a professional chef used to early mornings and late nights. She’d slaved all night to create the spectacular, three-tiered wedding cake decorated in the bride’s signature pale pink and white checks, then supervised her staff as they prepared the all-organic, paleo speciality menu the bridal couple insisted upon. With almost twenty-five per cent of the serves being further specialised, of course. Gluten-free, nut-free, seafood-free, lactose-free and vegan food had all been prepared and served to their guests, and many images of the beautifully prepared and presented dishes had been uploaded to Instagram and Twitter accounts with followers numbering in the millions.

  Tables at La Sirène were booked out three months in advance now. Suzannah smiled wearily into her pillow, a smile of genuine satisfaction. By any measure, the day had been a huge success, even though she’d worked herself to exhaustion making it as perfect as she could.

  Until Luke found her a new pastry chef, she’d have to take over the pastry kitchen herself and supervise her sous-chefs in the main kitchen, and she groaned at the thought of the extra hours she’d have to put in. With any luck, they’d have a replacement who was up to her exacting standards within a few weeks.

  Suzannah’s tired, stinging eyes finally closed. She had to be up in five hours to select the fish from the fresh catch for the following evening’s menu, and while normally she might catch a couple more hours sleep after that, there were two more big weddings coming up that week with speciality cakes to prepare. She might as well get started, to avoid having to pull another all-nighter.

  She fell asleep with visions of wedding cakes dancing in her head, and woke just before her alarm from a nightmare of being featured on Cake Wrecks. Shaking her head to clear the last vestiges of the bad dream, she shuddered with the memory. Her career would be over if something like that ever happened. It was every chef’s nightmare to end up on a foodie disasters blog or named and shamed in a harsh review in a major publication. She’d known several who ended up retiring in disgrace from haute cuisine. You just never knew when a mystery diner might end up at one of your tables.

  Nobody in Australian fine dining circles had any idea Michelin were expanding their critic program to include Australia for the first time, after all, until the first Michelin Australia guide was published and La Sirène’s phone started ringing off the hook.

  * * *

  The buzzing of her alarm roused Suzannah from a sound sleep and she reached out to silence it with a groan, immediately pushing herself upright. She was far too experienced to allow her eyes to close again. That way lay blissful oblivion… and being hopelessly late. Which in her job, meant she didn’t get first pick of the fish from the boat which pulled in to the island’s dock at five o’clock every morning.

  For the last three weeks, she’d been running both the pastry kitchen and the main restaurant kitchen, and the pressure was beginning to take a toll. She hadn’t managed more than five hours of sleep a night since firing her pastry chef, and though she’d do exactly the same thing again, she was really hoping Luke and Jace came up with a replacement soon. Jace had taken off in his private jet for Europe a few days ago, and she had her fingers crossed he might have her new pastry chef with him on his return.

  And also, that whoever he hired was competent at the least. She was in no mood to clean up any more of other people’s messes.

  The dinner hour rush was just beginning when Suzannah heard her name called and looked up to see Luke standing at the doorway between the two kitchens. Handing the task of flash-frying chocolate-filled wantons over to an assistant, she made her way over to the door.

  “What?” she said brusquely.

  There was a man standing behind Luke, she registered, just on the other side of the doorway. There was something familiar about the way he stood, lounging comfortably with one hip against the counter, ankles crossed, arms folded. Her eyes flew to his face and she took in the designer stubble, the chiselled cheekbones, the amused gleam in honey-gold eyes.

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “Meet your new pastry chef!” Luke sounded really quite excited. “We have our very own celebrity now, Suzannah… Carlo Gianetti!”

  “I know who he is.” Suzannah kept her tone flat. “And he’s not staying.”

  “Can’t take the competition?”

  Carlo’s voice sounded exactly as she remembered, a sensual, husky rasp which still made goosebumps raise up on her skin. Suzannah narrowed her eyes at him.

  “There is no competition. This is my kitchen, and you don’t belong in it. Get out.”

  “Now just a minute,” Luke cut in. Glancing around, he saw every eye on them. “Outside, the two of you. I don’t think this conversation requires an audience.”

  Suzannah glanced around, and immediately everyone’s attention was back on their appointed tasks. She sniffed audibly, letting her staff know she wasn’t fooled for a moment and she wouldn’t tolerate any inferior product being served from her kitchen, before following Luke and Carlo out of the restaurant’s rear door.

  Chapter Two

  Seeing Suzannah in the flesh again had left Carlo speechless for several moments. In his memory, she was still the gangly girl in her early twenties who’d been the first woman he fell in love with.

  For a full year, they’d worked side by side at the famous Le Cordon Bleu chef school in Paris, competing to each be the best in their class. It was the night after their final presentation exam, before they knew whether they’d passed or not, when they drank far too much wine in a seedy bar and somehow ended up in bed together.

  That night, Carlo finally understood just why Suzannah got under his skin so much. Why he could take competition from everyone else, male or female, and laugh it off. Why every comment from her made him edgy.

  They were both young enough not to recognise sexual tension for what it really was. But that night in Carlo’s narrow bed in his tiny garret apartment, they practically blew the roof off with passion.

  He remembered waking after a brief doze, finding Suzannah’s red hair tumbled on his pillow, his face buried in the fragrant curls, before taking her in his arms again. Her smile was like the sun coming up.

  She’d changed in the nine years since he’d last seen her. Grown into those gangly legs, developed curves even the stiff chef’s coat couldn’t disguise. Her face had matured too, losing the last vestiges of her teenage youthfulness and becoming fine-boned, serene as she worked, drawn in tight lines of anger now as she faced him and Luke, her arms folded.

  Only her hair was unchanged, a thick mass of copper curls. Pinned up atop her head and severely restrained at the moment, Carlo knew when she let it down the curls would fall almost to her waist.

  This was a mistake, he found himself thinking, because he’d barely set eyes on her again and he wanted to kiss her, wanted to unpin her hair and fist both his hands in its thick weight, kiss her until she melted into him the way she had all those years ago.

  He shouldn’t have come.

  “I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted trip,” Su
zannah said, not sounding sorry at all as the kitchen door closed behind them, giving them some semblance of privacy, “but this obviously isn’t going to work out. I’m sure Jace can arrange for your return to Milan.”

  Even though he was already thinking coming had been a mistake, Carlo’s hackles rose at her flat dismissal of him before they’d even had a chance to talk. He didn’t even have to speak up, though; Luke was already doing that.

  “Now just a minute.” Luke looked between the two of them. “Do I take it you two already know each other?”

  “We were at culinary school at the same time in Paris.” Carlo waved a dismissive hand, as though to say the past was of no importance. “It was a long time ago.”

  Green eyes flashed as Suzannah glared at him. “What are you even doing here?” she hissed, ignoring Luke completely. “Aren’t you happy with your family business in Milan and your status as the hottest celebrity chef on YouTube?”

  “If you watched my program, which obviously you don’t,” Carlo said, trying to appear unruffled, “you’d know my younger sister and her husband have taken over the business. My dessert offerings have always been my speciality, and I felt it was for the best they take over general operations and leave me free to do my own thing. Working for a Michelin-starred restaurant as a specialist pastry chef was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  Not that he’d have accepted a similar offer from any other restaurant. He’d kept track of Suzannah over the years, knew very well where she worked, so when Jace Hunter contacted him out of the blue and asked if he’d be interested in the position at La Sirène, he’d said yes before he even really thought about what he was getting into.

  Which was, apparently, Suzannah’s bad books, as she paced up and down beside the rubbish binds gesturing and swearing to herself in French.

  “You do realise I understand every word?” Carlo said in the same language.