Afterburn

imported from a small farm in Tuscany.
    “How’s the panna cotta? ” Lei asked me.
    “You’ll never have better,” I replied. “Have you already had dinner?”
    “Not yet. Lesson number one—life’s too short. Don’t put off the good stuff.”
    I bit on my lower lip to hold back a grin. “Does that mean I got the job?”
    She held up her flute with a brisk nod. “Cheers.”

Chapter 2
    One year later...
    “G OD , THE RUSH ,” Lei said, her feet tapping beneath the dining table. “It never gets old.”
    I grinned, having caught the bug from her over the months we’d been working together. We’d experienced a lot of highs, but today—a cloudless late-September afternoon—was special. After months of finessing and wooing, we were going to close a deal that would snag two of Ian Pembry’s brightest stars. Payback for what he’d done to Lei long ago and a major coup for us.
    Lei had dressed for the occasion and so had I. Her Diane von Fürstenberg wrap dress was vintage and her signature red. Paired with black boots, she looked fierce and sexy. I debuted a dark gold shell snagged from Donna Karan’s fall collection and the cigarette pants the designer had paired with them. The ensemble was chic and reflected a new me, a Gianna who’d evolved a lot over the previous year.
    Impatient to finalize everything, I looked toward the entrance of the hotel bar and felt a surge of adrenaline when the Williams twins appeared as if on cue. Brother and sister made a striking pair, with auburn hair and jade-green eyes. They were a great team in the kitchen, having made a name for themselves with down-home Southern cooking updated with gourmet ingredients. The package they presented sold deluxe books and cute little tins of seasonings, but the truth wasn’t so pretty. Behind the scenes, they hated each other.
    And that had been Pembry’s fatal mistake with his dynamic duo. He told them to suck it up and make it work, because they were making millions off their sibling success story. Lei had offered them what they really wanted—the chance to split up and shine on their own, while still capitalizing on their supposedly playful rivalry. Her plan was to build a chain of restaurants with dueling kitchens in the world-famous Mondego casinos and resorts.
    “Chad. Stacy,” Lei greeted, rising to her feet along with me. “You’re both looking fabulous.”
    Chad came over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before he even said hello to Lei. He’d been flirting with me for a while and it had become part of our negotiations with him.
    I’ll admit I’d been tempted to do more than flirt on occasion, but thoughts of his sister retaliating held me back. Chad wasn’t a saint by any means, nursing a fierce ambitious streak. But Stacy was a real piece of work and she hated me more than her brother. Despite all my friendly overtures, she’d taken an instant dislike to me and that had seriously hindered the whole process.
    Personally, I suspected she was sleeping with Ian Pembry—or had been once—and was carrying a torch for him. I thought that was why she didn’t like Lei, either, but maybe she was just one of those females who hated other women.
    “I hope your rooms are comfortable,” I said, knowing damn well they were. The Four Seasons didn’t have its five-star reputation for nothing.
    Stacy shrugged, her glossy hair sliding over her shoulder. She had an angelic face, pale with a smattering of freckles that were adorable. It was disconcerting how someone so sweet and innocent-looking, with a syrupy Southern accent, could be such a raging bitch. “They’re all right.”
    Chad rolled his eyes and held out my chair for me. “They’re great. I slept like a rock.”
    “I didn’t,” his sister griped, sliding gracefully into her chair. “Ian kept calling. He knows something’s up.”
    She slid a side glance at Lei, as if gauging the impact of her words.
    “Of course he does,” Lei agreed easily. “He’s a smart man. Which is why I’m surprised he didn’t do more to keep you both happy. He knows better.”
    Stacy pouted. Chad winked at me. Usually I didn’t find winking cute, but it worked for him. Part of his good-ole-boy charm that was tempered by how sexy he was. There was something about him that hinted he might spank you with a spatula as expertly as he cooked with one.
    “Ian did a lot for us,” Stacy contended. “I feel disloyal.”
    “You shouldn’t. You haven’t signed anything yet,” I