“All I’ve ever wanted was to be a chef, so this is a dream come true!” Something about the quote made him want to toss his laptop across the room. He slammed it shut and pushed himself off the couch. Anger rolled in his chest. He was pacing again. Hobbling like a bloody idiot.

The last thing she had ever wanted to be was a chef.

Rico never let himself get angry. At least not angry enough to raise his heart rate and heat his earlobes.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up his phone and dialed Rod.

Yes, having an agent with a name like that was a bit of a ridiculous cliché as well, but Rod was the best Hollywood sports agent and Rico happened to be in a position where he had access to the best. Rod was responsible for the fact that Rico had been one of Calvin Klein’s longest-serving underwear models. At first he’d done it on a dare, but he didn’t mind the money it brought in.

“Hey, Rico, my man, how’s the knee?” Rod boomed, because his name wasn’t the only cliché about him.

“You know anything about Food Network shows?”

“Okay, let’s skip the small talk, then. Food Network is becoming bigger than it’s ever been. But no, I’ve never worked with them. Anything in particular you want to know about?”

“Yes, they have a new show, Cooking with the Stars. I want to be on it. As one of the celebrities.”

There was a full minute of silence. Which was a good thing, because, holy bloody hell on toast, what was he doing?

This was probably the first time in his life that anyone had made Rod Singh speechless.

“Why?” Rod managed finally.

A brilliant question.

Rico dropped back on the couch. “I’m tired of modeling underwear. I think it’s time to learn some cooking.” And because anger was still hammering in his heart and heating his ears from that quote and that picture, and the shit ton of memories exploding inside his head.

“No, seriously. Is this a dare, like the Calvin Klein thing?”

“Something like that.”

“I don’t think they can afford you. Let me ask around, but I’m guessing it’s more for failed boy band stars, retired soap opera actors, struggling comedians, authors who are looking for sales. That sort of thing. Too far beneath your pay grade.” You had to love agents. Rico said a grateful prayer for his.

“I don’t need to be paid. If we win I’ll donate my part to that animal rescue your little girl couldn’t stop talking about the last time you brought her to London. How does that sound?”

“The second half sounds great. Ami will be thrilled. But not the first part. We’re not doing unpaid gigs.”