the passion behind his eyes. What was he seeing, so deep and intense? Surely he couldnât see through to her weak, trembling core.
âWant to check the chops?â He tipped his head toward the skillet.
âChecking on the chops.â Joy hooked the mike back to the edge of her top, picked up a fork, and did a jig as she headed for the stove.
The seasoned juice flowed over the side of the meat into the bubbling oil.
âHow do they look?â Luke ran his knife through a pile of rosemary leaves.
âScrumptious.â Maybe a moment ago, with his acute stare, he saw her. But this time she saw himâkind, selfless, knight in a white chef coat.
The low murmur of conversation faded from her hearing. The grind of boat motors on the river silenced. Wenda disappeared.
Allison and the crew were faraway specks on the horizon.
In Joyâs universe, scented with sweet peaches, the only beating hearts belonged to Luke and her.
She pressed her hand against his arm and he straightened. âAre you okay?â
Without a word, she pressed her hand to his chest and touched her lips to his. At first, he didnât respond. He barely breathed. Joy gripped her hand around his collar, pulling him tighter, closer.
When she broke the kiss and stepped back, exhaling, the magic of the moment fading, the heat of realization crept up the side of her neck. Sheâd apologize the first moment her heart found a sane word.
But before she could back away, Luke captured her with the taut power of his arm, bringing her into him, his lips covering hers. He tasted like flour, vanilla, and cream, like the comforts of home at the end of a long, hard journey.
Allison snatched the collar of Garthâs T-shirt. âPlease tell me youâre getting this. Every last delicious inch of it.â
âIâm getting it. Trust me, Iâm getting it.â He might have been taping, but he wasnât watching the stage from behind the camera. Instead, Garth lifted his eyes above the lens, gaining an unobstructed view, his Adamâs apple bobbing.
Allison felt downright giddy. Unbelievable. Twenty-five years in the biz, working like a mule, giving up vacations and holidays, letting romances slip through the thin cracks of her heart, leaping over obstacles, crashing through iron doors, lining up for every parade of opportunity television offered, and Allison had finally discovered her own pot of gold.
Right here in the steamy corridors of the lowcountry. In the heart and soul of delectable Joy Ballard.
Oh, God, if Youâre real, thank You. Even if Youâre not, thank You . Allison engaged the camera on her BlackBerry and lifted it over her head. âGarth, look at the screen. Do I have them framed?â
He leaned over, grabbed her wrist, and lifted her arms another inch. âNow you do.â
Allison snapped the shutter just before Luke broke the kiss. It was a sign . . . a sign. Everything was going her way.
Not quite a month into her deal with TruReality, and the starryeyed phase was already over and they were asking Allison for little changes and tweaks. Marketing had gotten involved, advertising and program development. âWe need a bigger âwowâ factor for the show,â they said. âA slightly better angle to fit within our network brand.â
Allison peered at the image of Luke embracing Joy and smiled. Sheâd been sleepless the last few nights, her mind racing with ideas of how to âwow upâ Dining with Joy , but on this blessed day, the âwowâ factor came to her.
The kiss started out innocently enough, in Joy Ballardâs grandstanding style. Allison enjoyed a small tingle of magic musing over the idea of having Luke as a guest on the show.
But then Joyâs little peck grew into a bushel as Luke surrounded her, drawing her into him, firing sparks and amore into the atmosphere. Beside her, Garth cleared his throat and ducked back behind the
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