the puddle of broken glass, mangled flowers and splattered water. He arched a brow when the florist scooped up a handful of bruised posies and whacked the other man with them.
“Things do look a little disorganized.”
“Mia’s usually on top of everything. She has a reputation as the queen of organized. But this is a mondo major event and her latest assistant flaked.” The blonde winced when the dolly guy pushed back. “This one only lasted three days—go figure. You’d think a person could handle a little constructive criticism while they’re learning the ropes of a new job, right?”
“You’d think,” Spence agreed, following her gesture to the small side room already piled high with boxes, and adding his to the stack the blonde gestured toward. “So, what’s the problem?”
“The assistant couldn’t handle a few accidents and mix-ups.”
“What kind of accidents?”
“Nothing big. One time the ninny forgot to set the emergency brake on Mia’s van and it rolled down a hill into a street sign. She sprained her shoulder when a stack of boxes fell on her in the storeroom. Once she slipped on ice in Mia’s kitchen, landed on her butt while screaming her head off.” The blonde rolled her eyes as if screaming was a stupid way to deal with a fall. “Throw in a minor bout of food poisoning, a broken stair rail and a minor electrical shock, and the gal claimed the job was jinxed.”
“That’s a lot of accidents,” Spence agreed. “This was over what period of time?”
A month? Three?
“Six days.”
“All of that happened in less than a week?” Spence stopped in his tracks. “Did this woman experience all of these accidents when she was with Mia?”
“Mia wasn’t always there. But sure, Roxie was on the clock when they happened.” The blonde gestured for Spence to move out of the storeroom. “Mia even offered hazard pay until this event was over. But no. Despite the fact that Mia has a huge event and a major client on the line, the woman was too much of a weenie to even try.”
“Is that so?” Glancing around the makings of the huge event, Spence wondered if Alcosta was the major client.
“It is definitely so.” With a roll of her eyes, she gestured for Spence to follow her as she skirted around the people mopping up water and mangled flowers. “You look like a talented guy, though. I’m sure that you can handle it.”
He looked around the ballroom, noting the multitude of issues dripping off tables, spilling across the floor and arguing on the carpeted dais.
“I’ve handled worse.” Figuring she could give him the ins and outs of the job, he offered up a friendly smile. “You seem to know a lot about the position and it’s requirements. Do you work for Mia, too?”
“Nope. I’m Clair. I’m Mrs. Perkins’ assistant. She’s the head of the Forever Families Foundation. She hires Mia to coordinate events like this one. Turns out, Mia’s great at finding ways to get rich people to dig deeper and donate more.”
“Speaking of Ms. Cade, any idea where I might find her?”
The blonde gave him another strip-you-naked once-over before gesturing toward a narrow hallway.
“She’s fighting with the chef over tonight’s meal.”
“Fighting? Sounds dangerous,” he murmured. “I’ll go do what I can to make sure she wins.”
He headed for what he assumed was the kitchen, but not before he heard the blonde murmur, “Mmm, I like the way you think.”
Figuring he had a solid handle on both the job itself and the lay of the land, Spence formulated the rest of his cover as he strode into the kitchen. He’d thought the ballroom was chaos, but it had nothing on the bedlam that was the stainless steel monstrosity of a kitchen.
White-clad workers scurried through the cavernous space like confused ants, many of them cowering each time the bulbous man in the center of the room bellowed orders and insults.
Yet over the babbling, bellowing and other kitchen noises, one voice caught his attention. Intrigued by the husky tone, it took a few seconds for the words to sink in.
“I’m so glad you’ll be joining us. Of course I’ll save you a dance, Señor Alcosta.” She paused just long enough for Spence to slip farther into the room. “Yes, absolutely. I’d be happy to meet with you Monday at noon. Your offices? Sounds great.”
Looked like the intel was right.
Spence had never once questioned orders, but he’d figured the admiral was overestimating the seriousness if this particular mission.
But now, given the list of accidents Mia Cade had nearly missed, and that she was definitely in contact with Alcosta, Spence decided those orders might be a little more serious than he’d thought. Prepared to report for duty, Spence strode into the kitchen. His friendly smile froze when he saw the woman pacing, phone in hand, in front of the walk-in freezer.
Damn.
She was even better looking from the front.
Her features were both delicate and sharp, in a triangular face dominated by huge amber eyes, lushly lashed and tilted at the corners. Knife’s-edge cheekbones seemed to point toward a wide mouth currently cajoling the chef with a creative litany of threats, praise and bribes.
Hair so black it reflected the overhead lights was cut almost as short as his but for a long sweep of bangs that swept across one arched eyebrow, curving nearly to her chin.
The front of the tunic crossed in front to gather at her hip, accenting her willowy figure. Throw in that husky voice that made even the mundane argument about lobster presentation sound sexy, and he was pretty sure she was the most tempting woman he’d ever encountered.
This was Cade’s daughter?
Damn, Spence thought again, this time in pure appreciation. He’d give a lot to get a good look at Mrs. Cade.
Even as he thought that, the woman ended her call, slipped her phone into her pocket and gave the chef a friendly smile.
“Now, as we were saying...”
And they were off, arguing over something to do with lobster, arugula and risotto. He watched as, obviously losing the verbal disagreement, the chef opted for physical intimidation. They were about the same height, but the chef had a good two hundred pounds on her, so Spence quickly stepped into the room.
“Look, missy, this is my kitchen,” the bull-shaped man growled. “I run it. I cook in it. I call the shots. You want me to cook this meal tonight, I serve it my way.”
“Actually, Jacques, I appreciate creative license a great deal, but you signed a contract to prepare a very specific meal. A delicious meal I know everyone is looking forward to. That’s what I expect you to serve tonight.”
“Contracts be damned. I serve what I choose to cook, and people are grateful.”
“Look, buddy,” the woman he assumed was Mia snapped, jabbing her finger into the guy’s chest. “The florist sent the wrong flowers. The supplier, instead of delivering midnight-blue tablecloths, sent navy. And the tapers are twelve-inch ecru instead of eleven-inch cream. I’ve had enough mix-ups for one event. So I suggest, very strongly, that you do what you agreed before I make you regret it.”
Spence had seen that look on people’s faces before. Usually right before they fired a gun. So he decided to intervene before the sexy brunette sent the chef to the hospital.
“Sorry,” he said, offering up his most charming smile as he stepped between them. “I thought Ms. Cade was in charge.”
“This is my kitchen, sir.”
“My mistake.” With just a twitch of his shoulders, Spence shifted into intimidation mode. His smile didn’t change.