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“Ah,” I said as I looked up at him from under my lashes, giving him a flirting smile. “How interesting. And what is it that qualifies you to teach such an important class?”
He returned the smile and leaned onto his side of the counter, bringing his face closer to mine. “As it so happens, my specialty is Creole and Cajun cooking.”
“Oh,” I let out.
“That’s right. I grew up in Louisiana and learned all about the rich and hot spices. I have a few restaurants down there. One in New Orleans and two in Baton Rouge.”
“You just keep getting more and more interesting.”
“I also have a bistro on the Gulf coast of Texas.”
“Well, now you’re in my territory,” I said with a playful grin. “I’m from Texas. Amarillo, to be precise.”
“Then, I’m sure we’ll get along quite well,” he said.
I smiled at him, meeting his gaze. He really was a very attractive man. The more I looked at him, the more appealing he became. He was a solid man who knew where he was going, knew what he was doing and got it done. There was something so manly about him, so sexy and self-assured.
I glanced down at my schedule again and found that I didn’t have a class with him that day. Too bad. I was really looking forward to cooking up something hot and spicy with him.
“Well, Chef Mac,” I said, extending my hand out to him. “It’s been very nice meeting you. My first World of Spice class is at the end of the week, and I very much look forward to learning all that you know.”
He nodded as he straightened up. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I will. But now I’m running late and must go. Thank you so much for the copy of my schedule.”
“No problem,” he said. “See you in class.”
I turned to walk out.
“Oh,” Chef Mac called. “Ms. Tyler.”
“Yes,” I said, turning back to him.
“Take one of these,” he said, handing me a flyer. “As a scholarship student, you might be interested in entering the cooking competition that we’re going to be holding this year on campus. We usually only allow seniors from graduating class, but this year we’ve opened it up to all classes. I think someone like you could bring something new and exciting to the competition. I hope you’ll take the time to consider it.”
I looked at the flyer. “Sounds interesting. I certainly will look into it.”
“The grand prize is a doozy,” Chef Mac went on.
I quickly scanned the flyer to find the prizes. “Oh. Wow. An appearance on a new cooking show.”
Chef Mac nodded. “It’s produced by Chef Errol King’s producers. It’s going to be a big deal. Not to mention having your winning dishes incorporated into the menu at Chef Errol’s restaurants.”
“How can I refuse?” I said. “Thanks again.”
Feeling upbeat about my prospects, I walked out into the sundrenched afternoon and then on to find my first class.
With only minutes to spare, I walked beyond the administrative building and back to a long narrow, two story building in which many of the classes were held. I glanced at my watch and ran into the building then rushed to the second floor where the class was.
I opened the classroom door, my watch telling me that I was definitely late by a few minutes. Flushed and sweating, I found a vacant station, then turned to the front of the class, hoping my late arrival had gone unnoticed.
No such luck.
Not only had my late arrival been noticed, but it had been noticed by none other than Axel King who stood at the front of the class, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at me while shaking his head in disapproval.
Chapter 7
