THE TASTE TEST (#1 STEAMY CHEF SERIES)

◘ thirteen ◘

I begged Wendy to pull me out of the Comic Con.

Yes, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and yes, I'd been wanting to go for eons—but to be on a panel with Zane Rose? I couldn't. I wouldn't.

It would put an end to all the efforts I'd made to forget he existed.

I harassed her day and night with emails, texts, voicemails. I even considered showing up at her apartment, which was, coincidentally, in L.A., and I knew exactly where it was.

When she got back to me at last—without explaining why she'd sent me that bombshell of an email and then ignored me—she apologized, but assured me this was an optimal move for my career as an author.

"We need to tease your book release," she said to me, sounding hurried, not having much time to chat with me, one of her best-selling authors. "We're in pre-publication already, and we want to make sure we're drawing the right crowd and hyping you up. You being on that panel, and yes, with Zane Rose, will be great for book buzz."

I snickered, holding back the urge to throw my phone against the wall. "Is there no other panel I can be on? One that he's not on?"

"Trust me," she said, cutting in and out. "You on a panel with Zane Rose is exactly what you need to do. You've been distant, the whole Food Me! thing has sort of blown over, but now you're both authors and the world is curious if you've spoken about each other in your work. We know you haven't mentioned him; your book is all about cooking. But what has he done? What has he written?"

"What has he written?" I sneered at the tiled wall in front of me, imagining him in the reflection, holding up a book with a picture of his stupidly handsome face on the cover.

We'd last parted ways two, three months ago, and he was already releasing a book? I wasn't a pro, but as far as I was aware, it took years for most traditionally published books. Unless he'd been working on it all this time and only recently announced it?

"No clue—it's all really mysterious. He's self-publishing it, but he does have an agent helping him, for some reason? It's all super unconventional and strange, but whatever. Maybe it got rejected from traditional houses? Who knows." She still sounded rushed, eager to get me off the phone—which was unusual for her. "Anyway, I'll keep you posted if I hear anything else, but in the meantime...can I count on you for this? It's huge, Béatrice. We need you there."

I winced, nearly burning the breakfast I'd made for myself. I was in a permanent state of hangover for the past few days as I tried to reach her for explanations. Greasy bacon and sunny-side-up eggs were my jam for recovering from hangovers.

"Declining after you already accepted in my stead will make me look shitty, won't it?" I sighed.

Were she in front of me, she would have nodded. "It absolutely will. And Béatrice, I know you've been through some stuff these past few months. The show and its reception has been so left and right, from fervent supporters to people breaking you down. You need this exposure. We can only hope Zane will be on his best behavior. He suffered from all this, too, and I'm banking on him being smart enough to not be a public jackass again."

"Me, too," I said, hanging up and refocusing on my food, opting to trust my agent.

But I didn't trust Zane. Not one bit. Stunt after stunt, he proved he was a bitter jerk who was after money and fame. And while he cared about cooking, he cared about his cooking more than anything else.

In the weeks leading up to the conference, I endeavored not to let my stress and nerves get the best of me. But even as I kept busy, preparing myself for the panel, making edits according to my editor's requests, approving book covers, and researching the other chefs on the panel with me, I couldn't quit thinking of all the ways Zane's presence would undermine me.