C.A.K.E

“Excuse me,” Arden says with a coy smile.

“Pardon me.” The slightest whiff of an English accent is discernible in his voice.

Arden and a rather attractive man have reached for a bunch of shallots at the same time. Now her hand is wedged underneath his. The pale purple of the tiny onions swirls about the stainless steel counter under the pressure of their palms.

His deep-set dark eyes look her over and she feels naked. But she isn't embarrassed. She's happy to let him look. It's only fair. Arden's studying him, too.

The heat emanating from her husband's body at her side makes her conscious of the stranger's lingering touch. He follows her eyes to their fingers and removes his hand. A nervous chuckle escapes him. He takes a look at his wife before smiling back at her.

Their respective spouses don't seem to notice the interaction. He hands the shallots to her. And Arden thanks him.

“No problem at all,” he says.

His voice sweeps over her ears like a refreshing breeze. It's a nice change of pace from the heavy syrup of the southern accents she hears every day.

British men always seem so suave. Like their accent comes with an ingrained refinement. And the specimen in front of her is no exception.

She wishes he would say something else. Anything else.

Arden lets her eyes wander over him in furtive glances, as she reduces the shallots to uniform oblong circles.

As if he knows she's watching, he licks his bottom lip and she gets a flash of his blinding, white teeth as his lip unfurls from their bite.

His face has a rugged maturity to it. Its features are bold, but not menacing. A pristine goatee frames his thick lips. The soft laugh lines forming at his cheeks make him endearing. His head comes to a slight point, which gives her the sudden urge to run her hand over its slope. The dark, silky skin blanketing his six-feet-plus frame reminds her of freshly brewed coffee. Strong, black, and twice as smooth.

Elliott's hand on her elbow interrupts her examination of the man across from her. She clears her throat and turns to look at him.

“Should I add the wine now?” Eli asks her.

Tonight she and her husband, Elliott, are attending a couples' cooking class. He called her at the bakery and said they were going to do something different for date night.

He wouldn't tell her what he had in mind. Just that she should wear something a bit covered.

Arden couldn't have cared less where he was taking her.

As long as they didn't end up at their regular table at Luciano's. The chef sees them walk into the door, and begins to fire up Eli's medium-rare steak with the Gorgonzola and chive mashed potatoes. The entire staff knows them by name.

Hell, Arden would ridicule them herself, if she had to seat the same couple at the same table every Friday night. Familiarity is comforting. But too much of it is suffocating.

Now, she's surrounded by plenty of local produce, an industrial gas range, and enough butter to sculpt a bust of the alluring Adonis before her. She is a tad annoyed that Elliott chose to center their date around an activity she does every day. But she's thankful for the change of scenery.

The open-air kitchen of the smaller satellite location of the L'Orange Culinary Institute is abuzz with sizzling skillets, and clanging pots and pans. Arden feels a little less stale among the other chatty couples. And the presence of a broad-shouldered view doesn't hurt either.

She takes her eyes off the stranger and hands the wine to her husband. He pops open the bottle and pours a generous amount into the pan with the simmering shallots. She notices the heavy-handed splash. But doesn't say anything.

Eli pours a glass for himself and offers to do the same for the handsome man and his wife. The couple accepts. And the four begin exchanging small talk across their small workstations.

The man introduces himself as Casper Callaghan. His name suits him well, Arden thinks. It possesses a certain intrigue and uniqueness, much like his looks.

His wife, Karma, is a wisp of a woman with lips that seem to overwhelm her slender face. Her brown eyes, give off a cold that makes Arden shiver. The gray of her structured midi dress dulls her caramel skin, making her look even less approachable. The cocky smirk on her face doesn't help matters either.

She doesn't know much about Karma yet. But she already doesn't care for her. Something about the way the woman carries herself puts Arden on guard. Maybe it's the woman's name that bothers her.

“Karma, your name sounds so familiar.” Arden's brow furrows, as she tries to recall where she's heard it.

Karma purses her lips, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, that might be because of my impressive 97% conviction rate with the DA's office.”

Now, Arden remembers. Karma Callaghan is the shark assistant district attorney whose arrogant mug has been all over HLN for the past month. She's one of the prosecutors on the Pollard murder trial.

The state is seeking the death penalty. And if anyone can get a jury to condemn a man to the needle, it's Karma. Todd Pollard would likely plunge the lethal dose into his own arm to escape the massacre of her cross-examination.

The caption of the courtroom coverage often reads: “Karma's a bitch.” And the statement couldn't be more accurate. Her blitzkrieg style of questioning a defendant can have the presumed innocent so scared shitless, they stumble over their own lies.

“You are a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. Bad news for Pollard,” Elliott comments with an appreciative nod.

“But great for my reputation.” Karma grins. “He's the Ted Bundy of my career. If I nail him to the wall, you could be looking at your next senatorial candidate.”

“And who wouldn't love to see Karma in Congress?” Casper toasts his wife with a sarcastic glint in his eye. He smiles and glances at Arden.

She catches the flash of insincerity and laughs to herself.

Karma cuts her eyes at Casper. He wipes the smile off his face. She snatches a tomato from its basket and places it on the cutting board in front of him. Grabbing a knife from the butcher block, she impales the vegetable, leaving the blade standing straight up in the wood.

Elliott and Arden glance at the knife. Whatever that is about, they want no part of it.

emergency exit. It's five steps to their immediate left. If Karma takes a stab at her husband, Elliott and Arden will be halfway home before

tries to diffuse the tension by keeping Karma talking about what must be her favorite subject—herself.

and begins hacking away at the tomato. The result is a mushy mess of

knife and slips it to him. Their hands touch again, as she places the handle of the tool into his palm. A shared shock of electricity passes through them. Arden pauses a moment and meets his eyes. What she sees there alarms

fingers over the top of the tomato, she steadies it with her thumb. She angles the serrated blade just above the ripened flesh, keeping the

follows her lead, though with much less finesse than she does. But it'll do. She gives him a quick nod of approval, as he tosses the neat

now. Arden closes her eyes a second and breathes deep. Forcing herself to concentrate on more appropriate interaction, she asks

the CFO

work all night, and remain dry as a desert. There is nothing sexy about math.

accounting.” Eli tips his glass to Casper. “I

too much pride in it.” Casper shrugs.

Casper could read War and Peace to her after she's worked a twelve-hour day.

with numbers, too,” Elliott smirks and nudges her. “You can guess

the lesser

her. “I'm sure your talents are more than satisfactory.” His gaze drops to her

come to the surface until she can gauge

is

to the advance. Even if

women much better. Karma downs her wine like water and refills the stemless glass. After burning a

Karma asks. Her lips caress the rim of her wine glass like she's

cucumber she's cutting into

asks about his work. He makes an almost apologetic gesture and takes a

lab piecing together the decayed remains of some unfortunate individual. Eli's work either garners respect, awe or a mixture of the two. Which is why he is reluctant at times to discuss

he's too flustered to elaborate in his usual

about Australopithecus afarensis in front of a hundred students, without so much as an awkward pause. But put him in a more intimate setting, with a couple new faces and ask him about his own evolutionary

and laughs. His blonde curls sway like pliable blades

the risotto, letting her touch linger

consultant. He estimates the age and gender of human remains to determine identity, as well as the possible time and cause

had to repeat it to relatives who question Eli's absence at family

at Elliott "How

this woman.” Elliott puts an arm around Arden's waist, pulling her into him. “Nothing can bother me when

She gives him

displays of affection. It invites scrutiny. She and Elliott get enough sideways glances from people in

total package.” Karma puts a hand to her chest and twists the diamond solitaire pendant hanging in the divide of her cleavage between

small green leaves of parsley take the brunt of Arden's growing annoyance with Karma's not so subtle flirting. She minces the herb to within an inch of its becoming dust. Taking her eyes off her work to grab a bell

to look away. But he doesn't. His shameless observation makes her wonder what he might

of her pale canary yellow dress. As she does, the chiffon slips lower on her opposite shoulder,

of chuckles, smirking at

again, promising herself that she won't

the pepper she just cut into his mouth. She watches his mouth beneath the cover of

problem. She reaches for the June issue of Cooking Light that's displayed on a nearby shelf. The makeshift fan sends gentle gusts of air whispering through her silken strands, hurried and hushed like two schoolgirls sharing a secret. She tilts her head

escaping the stovetop. The blush she swept along her cheekbones becomes a rosier hue. It enhances their steep

Eli asks

head. Casper is staring

She glances at Casper out of the corner of her eye.

and whispers to her. “I'm usually the one who's all hot and bothered around

lip. Nudging him, she whispers for him to stop. Elliott goes

throat loud enough for it to be heard over the pop and crackle of hot pans. The couple at the next range gives him a quick look.

his hands. Someone other than her husband is appreciating the

woman's well. However, she is prepared to check her reflection in the darkened pool's surface with

jacket and lays it on a nearby chair. Loosening his iridescent cobalt tie, he undoes the top button of his shirt. “How do you spend your time, while

not going to look at him . .

she tries to ignore Casper's hard-earned physique, she gains another captivated audience member.

to shoot icy daggers at the man who shares her Egyptian

answer him, a spray of orange flames shimmers across Casper and Karma's

and pulls a stunned Karma back from the blaze. Smothering the fire with a towel, she turns off the burner quicker than the other three can realize

of the instructors rushes over with a fire extinguisher. “Is

another towel and moves it

fine. Just

clutches at her heaving chest. “It's okay everyone. Everything's under control.” She waves the alarmed group of novice chefs back

her face. “I put out

white chef's jacket crinkle like a paper cone. “Well, we're all grateful

other end of the kitchen, she tells the others to feel free to torch

know what happened.” Karma steps forward, eyes wide and mouth

an understanding smile. “That's usually all

back on the fire, then minces another handful of shallots. Spreading her hand over the skillet to test the heat, she drops in a pat of butter. When the shallots are introduced to the greased copper bottom

just showing off,” Elliott says with a

wrist.” Ardi winks at him and hands the reins over to Karma. “Keep the heat low. It's better not