On top of all that, he was standing right beside her and had been for going on their eighth hour now, being positively charming and gracious and sexy as all hell. And he smelled so good. The words sweet parts kept running through her mind.

Try as she might, she couldn't find the center of the storm. She'd always been able to block out the insanity by focusing on the next step, then the next one. Chop, chop, chop, mix, mix, mix, bake, bake, bake. The rituals of measuring, blending, sifting, rolling were as soothing to her mind as a full body massage would be to her body. She could always depend on the confidence and comfort she found in the rhythm of it all, as if she was simply another piece of equipment, doing its job, producing the next product. As long as she kept on task, it didn't matter what was going on around her.

The problem was, she couldn't just focus on her own little world of creation. Her own little world was being filmed, so she had to find a way to invite the whole freaking universe into her quiet, focused place. And be bright, cheerful, and casually charming while she did so.

They'd spent the entire previous day blocking everything out, and teaching her where to stand, what to do, what not to do, where to look, what to say, what not to say. Clearly, one day of training had not been enough. At the moment, she wasn't sure a master class on the subject would help.

"Let's go again," Rosemary called out. "Overheads only. Then sides, then we'll do steps."

Good, Lani thought. Overheads meant she didn't have to talk, just let them film from above. All she had to do was keep her hands in the right places so as not to block anything. Surely she could manage that. She'd learned there would be multiple takes of the same exact section of the recipe they were demonstrating, from different angles, along with additional film of the discussion and explanation, as well as the dreaded casual banter, which would all be spliced together afterward to produce the seamless episodes she'd taken entirely for granted when watching cooking shows on television.

Lani thought about the late night hours when she'd unwind with her television chef pals, whom she'd never met. Those she was certain would be her very best friends if they ever did. She'd relax as she enjoyed the lovely soothing background music, and Giada in her kitchen, cooking so happily, and so competently. All by her sweet, charming, relaxed little self. In her serene, beautiful kitchen.

Yeah. Turned out it wasn't like that.

Of course, Lani had known that. Intellectually. But the reality went so far beyond what she'd imagined went into the making of a single episode. Just the time spent choosing which recipes were going to be re-created, then breaking down exactly how to show the pastries being assembled in as entertaining and understandable ways as possible. Plus the testing, the tasting, the prep work, the camera angles required and how her hands-which felt enormous to her now-were always, always blocking every shot. How did Giada, Bobby, and the Contessa do it? How?

Baxter ... well, she knew how he did it. Effortlessly was how he did it. Which was why she smiled at his attempt to make her feel less of a dork, but didn't buy it for a second. To look at him, a person would never know he didn't cook on the hastily assembled set every day of his life, and that he hadn't been doing it all in front of the camera for decades, rather than just a few years. The camera loved him, the crew loved him, Rosemary-despite being pretty scary with her barking orders and charging about-Lani could tell, adored him. Privately she thought it was probably more because Rosemary looked at him and saw dollar signs cha-chinging in her head, but whatever the motivation was, he was the golden child in this arena every bit as much as he had been in the kitchens they'd worked in together.

She, on the other hand, felt a lot like the ridiculous, clumsy sidekick. She glanced down, took a calming breath. Yeah. Wearing her Roald Dahl Charlie & the Chocolate Factory apron for inspiration seemed a bit laughable. Definitely a bit of a reach. She'd even make the Oompa Loompas cringe at her performance thus far.

"Rosie, let's get this section in the can, then break," Baxter said. "We can do the sides and the final reveal after we get something to eat, yes?"

Lani glanced at Rosemary, who nodded, albeit seemingly reluctantly. Lani still could not fathom anyone calling the director-producer Rosie.

"Gus," Rosemary directed the cameraman, "from the top left. Lani, left hand on the counter, use your right to tilt the beaters up from the mixing stand, then take out the bowl so the overhead can get the shot. Baxter talks. Then you both use the ice cream scoops to fill the cups, and into the oven with the trays."

"We've got it," Baxter said, and looked at Lani, who nodded and smiled gamely.

Sure thing, she thought. Right. Piece of cake. Ha.

Rosemary clapped her hands. "Okay, quiet please. And? Go."

To everyone's pleasant surprise-and great relief, she was sure-Lani managed to get through it in a single take. A short cheer went up from the crew as lunch was announced. Given the remote location, they'd hired on Laura Jo to cater during the shoot. Tents had been set up across the street in the park and within minutes, Lani's kitchen and shop were deserted. Except for Baxter. She turned to follow the guys out, not so much hungry as mentally exhausted. All she wanted was to find a place to sit and do nothing more complicated than contemplate her navel for the next half hour.

"Leilani, wait." Baxter untied and took off his Some Like It Hot movie poster apron.

Dre had shown up yesterday afternoon near the end of the actual recipe testing time-Lani had found both the original and the updated schedule on her office fax the next morning-to bring Baxter a few aprons to wear during filming. She and some of her graphics classmates had custom designed the aprons for him, making them longer to accommodate his above-average height.

He'd gotten a kick out of them, as had Rosemary, so they'd gotten the go ahead. Dre had been so thrilled she'd straightened from her typically slouched frame, to practically skipping when she'd headed out again.

Lani smiled briefly at the memory as she slipped the neck loop of her own apron over her head, then groaned a bit at the tight muscles in the base of her neck. She was used to standing, hunched over a worktable, for very long hours, but it had been a while since she'd been so tense while she did so. And the last thing to help reverse that was alone time with Baxter. "Can I catch you la-oh. My."

Baxter had stepped up behind her and put his warm, wide palms on the upper part of her shoulders and started massaging the muscles at the base of her neck with his thumbs.

She should politely slip out from under his touch, but all she could do was groan in abject appreciation as he skillfully worked out each and every kink and knot. "All that time we worked together, you never once offered up these mad massage skills of yours," she said, feeling the tension release all the way down her spine, even through the backs of her legs. A few more minutes and she'd be like wobbly gelatin.

"Well, luv." He cupped her shoulders and turned her around to face him, waiting until she looked up into his face. "I thought it best to keep my hands only on the pastry dough." He smiled, and worked his fingertips gently into her shoulders, which kept the tingles going, but for an entirely different reason.

"Baxter-"

"I've thought a lot about our walk on the beach the other night."

Alarm bells went off and she stiffened all over again. "Nothing has changed."

His hands tightened on her shoulders, more to steady her than anything. He rubbed his thumbs along the curve of her muscles and it felt so good she was helpless to shrug them off, even knowing she should.

"The past few days, in the test kitchen and on set with you," he started, "have been-"

"Nothing has changed," she reiterated. "Chef."

His fingers went slack, but only for a moment. Then he gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, and let her go.

She wished she didn't feel so damn bereft when he did, but the fact that had been her gut response only proved it was the right way to go. She was more vulnerable than she cared to be, but she couldn't seem to do much about that. The best thing to do was keep him at a distance as much as she could. Physically, and emotionally.

"You conceded," she reminded him. "We both did. For a good reason."

"We?"

She held his gaze for another moment, then let out a soft sigh. Crap. The last thing she wanted was for him to regain any hope regarding a future with her. He'd said it himself. He had no life to offer her, even if she wanted it-which she didn't. In reality. In her dreams? Maybe there it was different. Every night, in fact. Very different. But in reality, they had no future to offer each other.

"Lei?"

Still, no matter how big and strong and capable he was, he had feelings, too, and it wasn't fair to let him hang out there, thinking he was suffering alone. She took a breath, and just put it out there, once and for all. "Once you realized there was no future to be had between us, you've been kicking yourself about bringing the show here, about being shortsighted, not thinking this through, just setting your sights and full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes."

"I think you have that last part backward," he said with a bit of a smile.

"I just-and this doesn't change anything-but it's only fair you know that it's not just you making the ... adjustment."

"Adjustment," he repeated. He did not make it a question, but his expression was one of confusion.

"To not being able to act any further. On your ... attraction."

His smile winked briefly back to life. "You're saying you have to make the same ... adjustment?"

"Nothing changes, remember?"

"Right, right. So ... when did you first realize you needed to make this ... adjustment?"

She held his gaze, and thought hard on how to respond. She could just tell him it was since he'd arrived on the island and made his intentions clear. She'd responded to that last kiss he'd laid on her, he knew that. They both knew that. She should just tell him that. At least he wouldn't think he'd been completely crazy to want what he wanted. She opened her mouth, and what came out was, "Do you remember when you told me you took the offer to do your own television show as a way to put some distance between you and your feelings for me?"

"Yes. That's the truth, Leilani. It's been a wild ride, and has changed things for me in ways I never would have expected, most of them good. I don't regret the decision, but it wasn't a move I made to reach for something; it was a move away from what I couldn't reach for."

"Well," she said, determined to hold his gaze, "deciding to stay in Sugarberry was a move away for me, too."

His smile slipped. "What?"

Her smile wobbled a little. "You weren't the only one in the Gateau kitchen who had to work on keeping things professional."

He took her shoulders again. "Why didn't you-"

She covered his hands and pulled them away, but he just took her hands in his and held on. "You didn't do anything because you were my boss. And I didn't do anything ... because you were my boss."

"I didn't know, Lei. How did I not know?"

"How did I not know? Maybe we both knew, on some level, at least subconsciously, we were tuned in. The other reason I didn't do anything was because I honestly didn't think the feelings would be reciprocated. At all. I felt foolish, like a schoolgirl with some kind of crush on her teacher. It was so silly. Then there was all the supposition that we were involved, and all those nasty ugly things the staff were saying about me. It was so ironic that I was so hurt and disgusted they didn't have any respect for me, for my talents. And yet, the whole time I knew, given a chance, or any encouragement, maybe I would have been that girl, maybe-"

"No," Baxter stated, almost defiantly. He pulled their joined hands up between them and tugged her a bit closer, his gaze so intent on hers, she couldn't look anywhere else. "You earned your spot through skill and hard work, and would have no matter what. I do know that about you. They were jealous. Of your talent, of our rapport, I don't know, I don't care. But no one-no one-can say you weren't worthy of and capable of handling every bit of the responsibility I handed to you."

"I know that. I do. And yet, I wonder now, if I'd have been able to resist ... or even stay on, working for you, with you, had I-had we-"

"Doesn't matter. You didn't. We didn't."

"Right. I know." She finally broke the hold his gaze had on her, though her hands were still clasped tightly within his own.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked. "Why now?"

"You're trying so hard to make this experience easier on me, stepping in with Rosemary, the crew-"

"You're new. It's not easy. Everyone knows that, no one expects-"

"Oh, I'm sure they'd expect me not to be such a total dork. But I appreciate what you're doing. Calling lunch when it was getting to be too much for me."

He tried a smile, urging her to do the same. "We do eat, you know."

"On your set, when it's just you, would you have taken a break right then," she challenged him, "or finished getting that recipe done on camera?"

"It doesn't matter," Baxter told her. "It all gets done. We eat at some point. Who cares when?"

"I'm just saying, I see how hard you're trying, and I know it's because you feel badly for forcing this on me. I wanted you to know that I'm not ungrateful, for one. As I said on the beach, I do realize this is going to make a difference for my shop. That it's a good thing. It is. I wanted to tell you that, so you wouldn't feel you'd just come barging into my world. It didn't seem fair to leave you thinking you'd forced yourself on me, too, and so I just-it was only right for me to-" She stopped when he grinned. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The lady doth protest, quite a lot, in fact, and talks a wee bit faster when realizing she's cornered herself."

"I'm not cornered. I'm setting us both free. Don't you get it?"

He tugged her closer, until her elbows bumped his torso and he could let her hands go, but keep them trapped between them while he reached for her face. "I don't want to be free of you. Don't you get it? You're telling me you feel something, too. Do you want to be free of me, Lei? Honestly? Do you?"

Before she could answer him-and heaven help her, what she might have said-he bent his head down and kissed her.

It wasn't awkward like the first time, or staking a claim like the second one. It was just a kiss. His kiss. He wasn't in a hurry, or surprised, or acting out of frustration. He was just ... kissing her. Easily, earnestly, and quite thoroughly.

She could tell herself had her hands not been trapped against his chest, she'd have pushed him away. She'd have made it clear, once and for all, they simply couldn't indulge themselves. It was senseless torture.

But she couldn't. And so, she didn't. She let him kiss her, let all the sensations he brought with his kiss course through her freshly relaxed body. His mouth was warm, strong, and he tasted sweet and spicy, partly from the ginger-laced cupcakes they'd been baking and testing, and partly because she knew that's just how he tasted. Under his continued exploration, she relaxed further, opened her mouth to him, took him in ... and sighed as he filled her so perfectly. She groaned softly, or maybe it was him, as he took the kiss deeper, and it slowly turned more ardent. She realized she'd dug her nails into his shirt, pressing her knuckles into him as she clutched the linen in her fists in her urgent need to get closer to him.

"Wow," she gasped against the skin of his jaw as he left her mouth to kiss the corners of her lips, then her cheek, her temple, and dropped his head down to nuzzle at the tender side of her neck. It was the sweetest seduction and a primal rush, all at the same time. She rose up on her toes, wanting more heat, more contact, more ... Baxter.

"How can this not be the right thing, Leilani," he whispered gruffly against the sensitive skin below her ear. "Tell me, and I'll step away. I won't-we won't do this again. But it's bloody brilliant, it's perfect, you're-"

"Oh. My."

They sprang away from each other as if they'd just put their bare hands on a sizzling hot cake pan.

Leilani covered her mouth with her hand, as if she could hide the evidence of what they'd been doing, of what she was feeling, of ... She turned to find Alva standing just inside the swinging kitchen door, carrying two large paper plates loaded down with Laura Jo's golden fried chicken, steaming mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob, and oversized buttermilk biscuits. It smelled heavenly and, to add to the turmoil in Lani's head, her stomach chose that minute to growl. She dropped her hand from her mouth to her stomach. "Ah ... Alva, hello."

"I thought the two of you might be hungry." Alva smiled as if she hadn't just walked in on the two of them about a half second away from tearing their clothes off. She slid the plates onto the nearest clean work surface. "I see I was right," she added with a little wink. "Rosemary asked me to bring out the trays of cupcakes from the recipe test last night, for the crew. I can't believe they have any room left ... my goodness, the spread Laura Jo put out there. They fell on it like a pack of starved hound dogs." Alva looked between the two of them, who just stood there, blinking back at her. "The ginger-marscapone cupcakes ?"

"Right." Lani finally snapped out of her Baxter-induced stupor. "They're in the display cases up front. We ran out of room back here this morning, so Dre put them there."

"Do you need any assistance?" Baxter asked, finally finding his own voice.

It sounded more than a little rough to Lani's ears, setting off her overly sensitized little pleasure receptors all over again.

"It's just one big tray. I think I can take care of it," Alva responded, moving back toward the swinging door that led to the front of the shop. "Bon appetit." She shifted her gaze between the two of them, not even glancing at the plates of food. With a last gleaming twinkle, she ducked out.

Lani could feel the steam rising from the plates of food; the mingled scents were making her mouth water. Or maybe that was Baxter. Between the taste of him, the smell of the food, the remembered feel of his hands on her she was on sensory overload. And she was suddenly ravenous. "We should eat." She stared at the food, but didn't move. "That's what we need to do. Eat, recharge, refocus."

"Right." Just ... right." Baxter still sounded distracted. He wasn't looking at the food. Or the door where Alva had exited. He was looking at her. "Leilani-"

She jerked her gaze to his. "Don't. Don't tell me we should just go for it anyway, or take what we can get. If I thought that was something I was capable of, I'd have already-"

"Actually, I was going to suggest you might want to follow Alva out there, and ..." He waved his hand in a vague circular motion.

"Stop her from talking?" Lani snorted. "Really?"

"Right. You have a point."

"She's either already sharing her eyewitness account with all and sundry one picnic table at a time, or we're going to be the new lead item in her first column. Or both."

The desire for her was still there, in his eyes, and she wondered what it was he saw in her own. But there was regret in his, too. "I am sorry this is going to cause you additional grief."

"I think that ship has sailed already. The speculation has already been rife, and I'm fairly certain our favorite little octogenarian out there is a goodly part of the gust of wind that's filling those sails." Lani smiled resignedly. "It's going to be whatever it's going to be. I knew there would be no stopping that, and for all my concerns about it, to be honest, it hasn't really been all that bad. Most of the folks here seem tickled by the idea. It's all been rather harmless and kind of charming, actually. It's nothing like it was back in New York, probably because the people here have no stake in whether we are or aren't. They're just naturally nosy." Her smile softened. "I'd like to think they just want what's best, and if the story is juicy, all the better." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Well, Chef, I think we just gave them the juice they were hoping for."

Baxter's smile deepened at that, and she was happy to see the cloud of regret clear away. "You're right, I suppose, to just ride the wave in. Or wind gust, as it may be." He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She reached up as well, surprised it had come loose, what with all the bobby pins and other torturous devices the show's hairstylist had poked in there. Her hand brushed his, and she started to pull away, but he curled his fingers around hers and pulled her hand to his chest.

"Now you're just begging for trouble," she said, trying to sustain the light humor they seemed to have found in the situation.

"Worried Alva might pop back in, or-"

"I was thinking about Alva, or worse, my father." She laughed when Baxter blanched. "But, I'd be lying if I didn't say the or part plays a role, too." At his look of surprise, she said, "What, you don't think this-you-tempts me, too?"

He shook his head, not in a way that said he didn't believe her, but in a way that said he was having a hard time taking it all in. She knew exactly how that felt.

"It's just ... you're different," he said at length. "Now. Or maybe it only seems that way to me, because now I know that you-well, now I know. And, I'll admit, it's making my whole conceding the field decision far more of a challenge."

Hearing him say that made her stomach knot ... and her pulse pound. Danger, danger, her little voice whispered. Like she didn't already know that.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her tone steady, on track, "one thing you do know about me is that I can always create that calm space in the center of the storm. I need to do that, so I can stay focused, and productive. Here, today ... that's been a real challenge for me. The television part of this is a lot more overwhelming than I thought it would be." She smiled wryly. "In case it's escaped your notice, I'm definitely not a natural on camera. In fact, the whole thing has me a little freaked out. Since this is going to air on network television, there is added pressure. I know I have to get a grip and not make a fool of myself."