Sweet Promise (The Grahams Book 1) Read online

  “And strong like Tennessee whiskey, too.” She said, pursing her lips a little and narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms. There was definitely more to her than I had thought at first blush. I thought, challenge accepted!

  “What are you two up to?” Georgia was startled. It was John, joining us at the table.

  “Georgia and I were just talking about her name. She has a twin brother, you know.” I said.

  “Really? That’s interesting,” he said as he sat down. “You ready to start shooting tomorrow?” He smiled sweetly at Georgia. He always seemed to be giving her a little extra attention, and I was not a fan of it.

  “We are,” she said. “Lucas, have you done a lot of location shooting? I’m a little nervous about being out of the studio.”

  “Yeah, it’s no big deal, really. Same as in the studio, just a different place,” I shrugged. “For the interview segments, Ian and John will give you some questions to ask the restaurant owners.”

  “Georgia,” John, who had sat next to her at the table, turned to explain, “The producers will give us an outline for each show. I’m already scouting the places you’ll talk about and will line up each tour or activity. We’re going to approach it with a sweet and heat perspective,” he used air quotes as he said it, leaning in to touch his shoulder to hers playfully. This, combined with John’s genial smile made Georgia giggle. I immediately felt territorial. This was my gig and my co-host, and if anyone was going to get in, there, it was going to be me.

  “What do sweet and heat mean in TV talk?” Georgia grinned.

  “Well, for our purposes, we’ll shoot your segments during the day in more traditional locations. Lucas’ segments will be a little edgier. You’ll both be in each other’s segments as well, though. For example, tomorrow we have you at St. James’ Park and the Tower of London. We’re going to talk about fish & chips and street foods. Then we have Lucas hosting at the London Eye and the Shard,” he paused to explain, “The building that looks like broken glass? The tall one – have you seen it?” John asked.

  It was evident that Georgia loved talking to him, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Oh, I saw that when I flew in,” she remembered.

  “Right, well there is a nightclub up there we’ll shoot in, then we’ll do the breakfast scene at Jerry’s in Borough Market. It’s an after-hours thing for people in the food business in London,” John said.

  “It’s right around here,” I chimed in, trying to regain Georgia’s attention. It was childish, but I couldn’t help myself. “In my neighborhood. I’ve been going there for years.”

  “That sounds really fun. Then there will be cooking segments, too?” Georgia replied.

  “Yeah, so we’ll set up either in a public spot, like a park or something, or get a local restaurant owner to share their kitchen with us for you to do the cooking segments. You’ll bake a local dessert, and Lucas will recommend food and drink pairings, perhaps do another local dish that’s either savory or spicy. Between the two…,” Georgia cut him off.

  “There’s somethin’ for everyone. And since it’s Lucas and me, you’ve got an American and a Brit – a woman and a man. So, they want that cross-cultural, cross-gender appeal. I’ve got it, now.” Georgia said. “That’s why the network kept saying sizzle – if the public thinks we have chemistry, they’re more likely to keep watchin’ to see that element unfold.”

  “Exactly!” John looked at me, “I thought she was new to the industry, but this one’s got it, mate!”

  “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m dumb, ya know,” Georgia added somewhat defensively, squaring her shoulders. “I take my work very seriously and try to learn everything I can.”

  “No, no! I didn’t mean,” John put a hand on Georgia’s arm, and I tensed all over, “I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to imply anything like that.”

  “It’s alright. It’s just that, well, I may not have gone to college, but I am big on learnin’ new things. Anything I want to do well, I work hard, study it, and practice. That’s how I get better, and I don’t do anything halfway. If I am going to do somethin’, I’m all-in, ya know?” She smiled and looked back at me. “I bet you’re like that too, huh? If you do somethin’, you do it all the way?”

  I grinned. “Very observant. I do like to be all the way in, absolutely.” She wriggled in her seat as I uttered the double entendre and stifled a giggle.

  We finished eating lunch and chatted a while longer. John said he had to get some additional scouting calls made and excused himself. I was happy to have Georgia all to myself again. I paid the check, and we headed out of the restaurant. Georgia yawned as we walked out onto the street. “Is the jet lag setting in?” I asked.

  “Yeah, a little,” she said. “I hate to waste a free afternoon in London sleepin’ at the hotel, though.” She grinned, reminding me of that sweet, wide-eyed side of her.

  “I can take you back to the hotel to get some rest, or I’d be happy to show you around a little if you’d like. Maybe you’d just like to walk around the neighborhood some?” I asked.

  “That’s so nice of you, Lucas.” She touched my arm, almost unconsciously, and then immediately withdrew her hand.

  I laughed. “Georgia, it’s okay. I don’t bite, you know. Well, unless asked,” I smirked. “Besides, I may not be a big celebrity, but this is home for me. You never know when someone might recognize me or snap a photo. It might not hurt for people to see us together. It would be good for the show, after all.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but the truth was that I wasn’t quite ready to let her go just yet.

  She paused, “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right. Besides, the network said if we get any positive press outside the show, we could earn a bonus.” She seemed deep in thought for a moment. “Well, if you ain’t too busy to show me around for a bit, I’d really like that. Besides, we’re gonna to be spending a lot of time together. We might as well get to know each other.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I put my elbow out for her to take and we headed down the street.

  CHAPTER 7

  Georgia

  Lucas had taken me around the Borough Market neighborhood, and then showed me the Chelsea neighborhood where his first restaurant had opened. He told me he had sold both restaurants in the past couple of years, retaining a small interest in each in exchange for the new owners keeping the original names. My eyes were getting heavy when he dropped me off back at the hotel for some rest, but he offered to take me to dinner later that evening.

  He had backed off the naughty jokes when we were walking around London together. Maybe he was taking it easy on me because he knew I was jetlagged. Despite his flirting making me crazy nervous, I enjoyed spending the day with him. When we were walking around, just chatting together, it felt very natural. He didn’t seem to be putting on any pretenses, but just talking to me about things that genuinely interested him. He was funny and smart as well as charming. When he was just talking about his neighborhood or his work, he was just a regular guy. The guy who was walking me around London was one I could really like a lot. That fact, combined with his good looks and the fact that every time I saw him I wanted to climb on top of him and do things that would make my Sunday school teacher blush, could prove to be a problem if I wasn’t careful.

  At the hotel, I called my family. “Hi, Daddy,” I said.

  “Hi, Georgia. How was your trip?” He asked.

  “Good thanks. Long flight. The city is incredible!” I said enthusiastically.

  “You’re bein’ safe ain’t ya, baby girl?” He asked, protectively.

  “Yes, Daddy. My co-host Lucas is comin’ to get me to take me to dinner in just a little while.” I tried to make him feel more at ease.

  “Well, you text me tomorrow and let know you’re doing alright. Love you, honey.”

  “Love you too, Daddy.”

  After a much-needed nap, I got up, showered, and got ready. I put on a thin, short-sleeved sweater in French blue and a navy pencil sk
irt. I was dubious but opted for heels anyway, not sure where we’d be going. A few minutes before seven, there was a knock on my hotel door. I looked through the peephole and was surprised to see Lucas there.

  “I thought you would text me when you got here,” I said smiling brightly as I opened the door. Turning around, I quickly scanned the room for any signs of anything that could be embarrassing and was relieved to see it was all clear.

  “I thought I’d just come up,” he smiled and held up a small paper bakery box. “I brought you these. They’re from a local bakery in the neighborhood. The owner is a friend of mine. They’re delicious – I thought you’d enjoy them, being a baker.” I cracked open the top of the box to reveal a dozen cookies, some in molded shapes, others beautifully topped with chocolate and nuts or coconut.

  “They look amazin’! You’re so sweet! Thank you so much.” I put the box on the desk and finished putting on the earring I’d had in my hand then stood back and turned to Lucas. “Is this alright for dinner?”

  He walked around me slowly as he had done in the green room when we first met. “Bloody hell, Georgia, that’s more than alright.” He stepped forward and brushed the curls from the front of my shoulder to the back. “Makes me want to skip dinner and go right to dessert.”

  I blushed and gave a nervous laugh. “Lucas, you’ve gotta stop sayin’ things like that! I mean, we work together! Don’t you think datin’ is a bad idea? I thought we were just trying to get to know each other.”

  “Who said anything about dating?” He gave me a dirty smile. “We are getting to know each other, absolutely. At the same time, though, we’re going to be on the road together for months. Us hooking up seems inevitable, don’t you think? Why delay the enjoyment we could be having now?” He cocked up an eyebrow and stepped closer, grazing my cheek with the tips of his fingers. It sent a shiver down my body. I wondered if the touch had felt as electric for him.

  “So, you think I just fuck random guys I just met? I’m not like that.” I quipped, a little defensively. I couldn’t help but notice that hearing me swear made him grin.

  “You’re a grown woman. You can fuck who you like.” He stepped forward, and our blue eyes met, his, the intense color of the sea, mine the lighter shade of a bright summer’s day. “Are you saying you’re not attracted to me?” He asked.

  “I ain’t sayin’ that.” I couldn’t bring myself to lie. Every fiber of my being wanted him. “I just think…well, we both need this job, and there’s no point complicatin’ things. That seems risky. And I know I can fuck whoever I like, but that doesn’t mean I just go around sleeping with every good-looking man I see.” I was growing more uncomfortable as we stood close, though the only thing threatening about him was how he made my body respond. My brain was on high alert, but every fiber of my body wanted him.

  “So, you do think I’m good-looking?” I pouted at this well-timed retort, and he threw his head back and laughed heartily. “We’ll play it your way, then, I suppose. Remember, though, that the network is looking for chemistry. The more we flirt, the more the audience thinks we want each other, the higher our ratings will be and the better for the both of us. The thing is, the more we flirt, the harder it will be to resist temptation, don’t you agree?” He stepped around me and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Remember when we were on set in LA and I put my arm around your waist, like this?” He slid his hands around my waist. I nodded my head, and I was sure he could hear my heartbeat, which felt like it was pounding out of my chest. “Remember how I pressed my body against yours, and that amazing reaction you had?” He mimicked the motion, and I tipped my head back against his shoulder.

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly, unable to resist the feel of his hands on me.

  “That,” he said, “is real chemistry. So, if you want to hold off, it’s up to you. But before we wrap this season, I suspect you will want to find out what this feels like,” he moved his hands from my waist to my hips and pushed against me a little from behind. I felt the stream of warmth pooling in my panties. I couldn’t contain a small sound that escaped from my lips.

  The exchange had made me want him so much, that when he stepped away, the loss of his body left me feeling cold. Lucas walked over to the door. “Come on then, Georgia, if we are going to dine out instead of in, we might as well make our seven-thirty reservation.” He gave me a dirty grin and held the door open for me. I composed myself, grabbed my bag, and we headed out to dinner.

  We took the tube, London’s underground subway, to Hampstead Heath in north London. On the crowded subway car, he had insisted on letting me sit, and standing in front of me protectively. Unlike his behavior from earlier, this showed me his gentlemanly side. When we were walking through the station, Lucas grabbed my hand and held it tight in his. It wasn’t flirty or romantic but felt warm in a way that I could only describe as protective. I had not only allowed this but welcomed it. I knew he was trying to keep track of me and keep me safe in an unfamiliar environment.

  Lucas had made reservations at the restaurant where he had earned his first Michelin star. When we arrived at the restaurant, the hostess smiled at him with recognition and gave me a similarly warm greeting. “Hello darling,” he said to the young lady behind the stand. “Would you let Michael know we’re here, please?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Nash.” She disappeared into the back of the restaurant and emerged a moment later, beckoning the pair of us. “Right this way, please.” Lucas again took my hand in his, leading me between the cramped tables and booths.

  I was surprised when we crossed entirely through the back of the restaurant and entered the swinging doors in the back. The kitchen was crowded and busy. As the young woman held open one of the swinging doors for us to pass through, Lucas stepped through it and released my hand as a bear of a man in a white chef’s jacket approached him, first shaking his hand, then taking him in a one-armed embrace with the other.

  “Lucas! Good to see you, man! Very good to see you, indeed!” The man said as the pair smiled at each other enthusiastically.

  “Michael, it’s been too long, mate! How are you these days? Business is booming, I see?” Lucas seemed genuinely pleased to see his friend.

  “It’s really, really great. And how are you doing? What’s our superstar chef’s latest project?” He smiled affably.

  “Well, we start filming a new show this week,” he smiled at me. “Speaking of, where are my manners? Michael, this is Georgia, my new co-host.” Lucas put a hand on my shoulder, and I put my hand out to greet the introduction.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I smiled broadly.

  “Oh, mademoiselle, the pleasure is all mine,” he took my hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Is that an American accent I detect?” He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

  “Yes, sir. I’m from Tennessee – near Nashville.”

  “A real southern belle! What’s a beautiful creature like you doing hanging around with the likes of this riff-raff?” Lucas playfully held up a fist to Michael, and the two men laughed. “Come on, then, let’s get you to your table.” He led us to the back of the kitchen, where a small table was set with two places and a white tablecloth. Lucas held out my chair, and I sat down, putting the napkin on my lap. He joined me at the table, and Michael poured us each a glass of wine.

  “We’re doing a chateaubriand this evening, with a beetroot salad, salmon mousse, and a blackberry bread pudding.” Michael smiled proudly as he read off the menu.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Lucas said smiling. I looked around the kitchen as people busied themselves with prep-work and cooking. The space was warm, but not so hot as to be uncomfortable. Lucas leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Have you ever eaten at a chef’s table before?” He asked discreetly.

  “No, I haven’t.” My nerves had to be visible. He smiled back at me warmly, and I felt instantly comforted.

  “The table is reserved for special guests of the chef, or restaurant owner. There are no menus,” he sat back up cautiously a
s one of the sous chefs walked closely by the table, then leaned forward again when she had passed. “The chef prepares what inspires him or her that day. It’s not an experience that the general public gets to enjoy often.” He raised an eyebrow, nodding. The way in which he was careful to protect my dignity while explaining what I should know about our dinner was incredibly sweet, and I was grateful.

  After a few minutes, a small plate of salmon mousse arrived along with a small loaf of artisanal bread, fresh from the oven, and a few crudité. Lucas winked at me as he picked up the loaf and ripped a chunk of bread from it, dragging it through the mousse and holding it up for me to taste. I cautiously took the bite from his fingertips, and as the soft, savory paste melted in my mouth and as I began to chew the crusty bread, my eyes grew large. “That’s delicious!” I said as quietly as my enthusiasm would allow. He pulled another chunk of bread and took a bite of the mousse himself.

  “Salmon mousse is such a simple thing, but it can be done really badly. Michael’s is the best.” He suddenly noticed I hadn’t tried my wine. “The wine’s excellent,” he added, “and a nice compliment. It’s from his personal cellar.”