On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [126]
Recalling her own nanny days made her smile. Maybe she should buy one of those pink hoodie sweatshirts and a pair of pants with something inappropriate written across the seat. Devon would probably get a kick out of that.
She grinned and tuned back into the conversation when they hit the end of the line for the Middle Eastern food vendor.
Devon was saying, “I don’t think I ever thanked you for your help with the Center for Arts Education fundraiser. And not just the dinner itself, but the surprise floor show afterward.”
“That’s my job,” Simon said, puffing out his chest. “The only thanks I need is my hourly retainer. Ha ha!”
Jackass, thought Lilah.
Still, she felt sorry for him, since she knew what was coming next.
“Well, I’m about to give you a whole new way to earn that hefty retainer, Si,” Devon said. Lilah squeezed his hand and he met her gaze calmly, his eyes deep, still pools of blue.
Lilah got the dreamy weightless feeling of happiness again. “Go for it,” she said.
“Go for what? Dev?” Simon sounded nervous.
Devon grinned and turned back to the publicist. “I’m quitting One-Night Stand.”
“What?” Simon’s squawk startled a nearby flock of pigeons pecking around for scraps of pita into flight. The people ahead of them in line, however, didn’t even turn to see what the commotion was. Lord, Lilah loved New York.
“You can’t mean it. Dev, think about what you’re saying. That show made you famous!”
“That show made him miserable,” Lilah said. “He’s not really into being miserable anymore.”
“I’m making some changes in my life,” Devon agreed. “Starting with the show. Breathe, Si. It’s going to be okay.”
“Yes, don’t worry. Your retainer is secure.” Snide, maybe, but Lilah couldn’t quite feel guilty about it.
“I need to sit down,” Simon moaned.
“Buck up,” Lilah told him. “There’s more.”
“More?” He gulped.
“Lilah and I are starting a new project, and we need your help. No one creates buzz like you, Si.”
Shooting Devon a raised eyebrow that communicated exactly what she thought of his blatant flattery, Lilah said, “Yes. We need buzz. And you don’t want to lose your star client. Everybody wins!”
“Wait a minute.” Simon’s expression sharpened. “What, exactly, is this new project? It’s not illegal, right? Because that costs extra.”
Devon lit up like he always did when he talked about their brainchild, and Lilah lost her heart all over again.
“It’s not illegal, you scumbag. We’re founding the Sparks Culinary Classroom,” he said. “A cooking school for kids. We want to work with the New York City public schools, offer courses for free to their students to help fill the gaps in extracurriculars caused by lack of funding.”
“Kids, huh?” Simon wasn’t impressed. “That sounds . . . nice, I guess. Not very sexy. Might be tough to rebrand you as an upright, concerned citizen, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Lilah said. She got a grip on her gag reflex and continued, “We needed the best, so of course we came to you.”
Devon rubbed between her shoulder blades consolingly. He knew what that cost her. She was only able to spit it out because it was true—they needed public perception of Devon Sparks to switch from foul-mouthed celebrity hothead to patient teacher and caring father, or no school would take a chance on partnering with their fledgling program.
As Tucker and Devon worked on strengthening the bond Lilah liked to think she’d helped foster, they naturally gravitated to the kitchen. Maybe it was genetic, maybe it was his innate artistic ability, or maybe it was the simple desire to do well at something his father loved, but Tucker got a genuine thrill out of cooking.
Even more interestingly, Devon loved teaching him. Lilah, who found she missed the atmosphere of the classroom more than she would’ve believed, finally asked Devon what was stopping them from setting up their own little culinary academy.
It was perfect. Devon had plenty of time and