Fearless Love by Meg Benjamin Read Free Book Online

with the skin. With the cut side flat on the board, she made four horizontal slices and then a series of vertical cuts, careful not to slice through the root end. Finally she chopped through the vertical cuts, producing a quarter-inch dice, or close to it.
    Cunningham narrowed her eyes. “Needs to be a lot faster. And more even. Some of these are closer to half-inch than quarter.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.” MG managed not to snarl.
    By the time she’d chopped all the onions on her board, which required numerous stops to wipe her streaming eyes as well as ferry chopped onions to the silent, sneering Leo, the morning rush had begun to die down. Placido, whose job seemed to include both loading the dishwasher and cleaning up the kitchen, was loading the last trays of dishes while the busboys gathered clean linen and silver to get the dining room set up for lunch.
    A chef with light brown hair and an impeccable white jacket came through the swinging door from the hall. MG figured he was the guy who was responsible for the lunch prep. He was smiling faintly, head up, the picture of success. He even wore a classic white chef’s hat, unlike the black caps on nearly everyone else’s head. It stood up straight, like a starched white mushroom. He glanced around the kitchen, then stopped, his gaze fastened on her. His forehead furrowed into a frown. “And who is this?” he said in a silky voice.
    Cunningham half turned, giving him a grim look. “Kitchen slave,” she said, turning back to her counter again.
    The chef braced his hands on his hips. “Who hired her? Darcy? Did you?”
    Darcy turned back again, her expression blank.
    The chef waited for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re not authorized to do any hiring. That’s my job. I’m going to be talking to LeBlanc about this.”
    To MG, he sounded a lot like a prissy first grader. She purely hated being talked about as if she wasn’t in the room. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure what she could say to him.
    “You’re going to be talking to LeBlanc about what?” Joe walked across the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “What’s going on?”
    “This woman was hired without my authorization.” The chef gestured toward MG. “Darcy has no right to hire anyone.”
    Joe leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “Darcy didn’t hire her. I did. This is MG Carmody. She supplies us with eggs, and she’s our new prep assistant. Any problem with that?” One black eyebrow arched imperiously.
    The chef straightened, although his expression was still grim. “I wish I’d known you were doing this in advance. I could have set up some training that wouldn’t have interrupted the meal prep.”
    Joe’s eyebrow stayed up. “I didn’t notice any interruptions out on the omelet station. Did anything happen in here, Darce?”
    Darcy shrugged. “No problems.”
    “Leo?” he called.
    The chef at the stove turned slightly. “Huh?”
    “Any trouble with breakfast?”
    Leo shook his head. “Nope.” He turned back to the cooktop.
    “We did fine,” Joe said. “And Darcy’s doing the training. No worries.”
    The chef looked as if he had a few more things he wanted to say, but after a moment he subsided. “Glad to hear it.”
    Joe turned toward MG. “This is Todd Fairley. He’s the sous chef, which means he’s the second in command here.”
    From where she was standing, MG had a partial view of Darcy’s face. She could swear she mouthed a particularly ripe obscenity at the phrase second in command.
    Fairley gave her a slightly stiff bow, hardly more than a brief bob of the head. For a moment, she felt like curtseying. He turned back to Joe. “I guess we can discuss her hours and her duties later this morning.”
    Joe shrugged. “If you think it’s necessary.”
    “I do, yes.” Fairley’s clipped words told her something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure what.
    “All right then, let’s do it now.” Joe pushed himself to