"Something interesting come in the mail?" Scott asked, hearing Jo exclaim as she opened the day's business letters. He had been busy baking in the small Rize kitchen since the early hours of the morning and was pleased to have Jo's company. He still looked forward to those times before opening when they were alone together. Even since she had so bluntly rejected him at that disastrous wedding. It was probably pathetic but he couldn't help it. He looked up from the batch of icing he was mixing as Jo held out the letter.

"It's for you," she told him, avoiding direct eye contact.

Scott brushed the icing sugar off his hands and took the letter scanning it quickly. "Our network's hit show 'Hottest Baker'," he read. "Invites you to audition for the new season beginning soon…" Scott frowned, leaving his work and walking to the doorway of Jo's tiny office. "Jo, what is this?"

"Hottest Baker? Isn't it that reality baking show all about pastry chefs strutting their stuff on that popular cooking channel?" Jo played innocent, pretending to be more engaged with tallying the previous day's receipts.

"Jo, I've heard of the show. It's a third rate bake-off show that's more interested in suspense and melodrama than any actual quality baking."

"They sure feature some hot bakers though," Jo commented, without looking up. "Not bad publicity-wise either."

"You think this would be good publicity for Rize?"

"Well…" Jo swivelled her chair to face him. "Yeah." She looked him up and down. "Why the hell not?"

"You're assuming I would do well on the show," Scott pointed out cautiously.

"Of course," Jo scoffed. "Come on Scott, you're exactly what they're looking for on this type of show!"

"I'm not sure how complimentary that is, Jo," Scott frowned. "Given most reality shows seem to rely on wacky, nut-job contestants to create drama for the ratings."

Jo pursed her lips. "Hey, there's no such thing as bad publicity, right?"

"Are you sure about that? Do you think your friend Abby would agree?"

Jo laughed. "You're right. Abby would probably disagree. And yet look how well she's doing now! Despite the bad publicity she got last year - or maybe because of it. Hmmm. I wonder."

Scott scanned the letter again. "See, I'm confused…do they send these audition letters out to just anyone?" Scott asked suspiciously. "That seems a lot of effort for the audition process. There's something a little suspicious going on here…"

"Okay, okay!" Jo admitted. "So I filled in an application on your behalf!"

Scott gave her a withering look of disapproval.

Jo tried to defend her actions. "Apparently they received over a thousand applicants and they're only auditioning a handful. You should be flattered! You're the cream of the crop!"

"The cream of the crop of a bunch of deluded wanna-be TV stars more concerned with securing themselves the questionable honour of B-grade celebrity status than having any serious ambitions in hospitality," Scott ranted. "Jo, I'm a chef," he tried to explain, "not a television personality!"

"Well," Jo crossed her arms. "Now it's possible for you to be both."

"But Jo," Scott was exasperated. "I don't want to be on TV!"

"Jesus, Scott," Jo rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "We're in LA now, okay?" she explained, leaning in as though she was imparting some revelatory wisdom. "Everyone wants to be on TV. That's what it's all about!" Scott only crossed his arms more determinately so Jo took a different tactic of persuasion. "You know I didn't sign you up for this show just because it would be good for the bakery," she admitted, walking out into the kitchen surveying Scott's mouth-watering freshly baked produce. "Don't you realise how great this opportunity is for you Scott?"

"How?" Scott argued. "I'd have to go and live in a house full of idiot chefs who think they can 'make it big on tv' and are guaranteed to get on my nerves, to mention nothing of my allergies. And compete in a lot of stupid baking challenges. And have my creations judged by those ridiculous showy food critics."

"You scared Scott? Think you won't measure up?" Jo ribbed.

"Measure up? It's all a set-up! A travesty! And more than likely rigged I'll wager. The people who create these shows probably have it all laid out from the start!"

"So? Who cares?" Jo shrugged. "As long as it works for you!"

"How would it work? I'd have to be gone for a month and a half of filming. You'd have to hire another chef to fill in while I'm gone and then…"

Jo shrugged. "I can do that. It's not a problem."

"Wait. Oh no. Is that what this is about, Jo?" Scott became genuinely hurt and upset. "Is this your way of getting rid of me? Because I'd rather you had the balls to look me in the face Jo, and fire me straight up!"

"Scott, honey," Jo grabbed his arm and looked him into his eyes. He was definitely taking this the wrong way. "Of course I don't want to fire you. You're the… the soul of Rize bakery! Rize could never do without you – well, not for longer than a month and a half. But… look I really think this is a great opportunity for you - to expand your horizons, explore new possibilities! And maybe take your mind off… some things…" Jo faltered.

"…off you," Scott finished. Now he understood what Jo was getting at. "Take my mind off you."

"Exactly," Jo agreed pulling away from him awkwardly.

Scott turned away, back to his work bench and Jo couldn't see if he was still offended or not. "Alright." Scott said with a shrug.

"Alright as in… you understand, or as in you'll actually go to the audition?" Jo asked, uncertainly.

"Both. If it's what you want." Scott replied, fussing over his icing mixture.

"Really?" Jo asked. "Are you sure? I mean I think you should. I honestly think it's a great opportunity. But of course it's up to you. I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to do."

Scott turned to her defiantly. "I'll go. And not only that. I'll walk in there and I'll nail that audition, give them exactly what they want, and then I'll ace the goddam show and out-bake each and every other insipid try-hard contestant. I'll do whatever it takes, Jo, whatever I have to do to win that goddam trophy!"

"Er, I don't think there's an actual trophy," Jo didn't quite know what to make of Scott's sudden passionate change of heart, "Although I read there might be a book deal or…"

"But I want you to know this," Scott continued. "I'm not doing any of it for the publicity, or the prize money, or the exposure. I'm doing it for you, Josephine," Scott swore. "Because you want me to," he grabbed her shoulders ardently. "You needn't force me to do anything, ever. I'm more than willing, Jo. Anything you want. Anything at all. So if this is what you want, Jo, it's yours. The glory, the riches, and all that your heart desires. I'll give you all of that."

Scott's oven timer beeped, interrupting the momentary silence.

"Jesus, for Christ's sake Scott," Jo brought him back to earth. "You think you're my goddam knight in shining fucking armour?" she looked him up and down, "or apron?" Jo snorted wryly. "I don't want you to get all macho over cupcakes and meringues for me." She pulled away again, brushing at the fragrant vanilla icing sugar prints Scott had left on her arms. "Forget about it, okay. It was a dumb idea. It's just a third-rate reality show, right? A glorified baking contest put on for cheap entertainment. Not worth you busting your balls over like it's some kind of life or death tournament!" She looked at her cell phone. "Jesus, only five minutes 'til opening. Boy, time really flies when you're…" She looked up at Scott, "professing your undying devotion to me… again. Please, just stop with the crazy-ass chivalry Scott and get back to work. That's what I want from you." Jo stormed out of the kitchen. Once out of his sight she leaned against the wall and couldn't resist licking her fingers. The fresh vanilla tasted so good. She hated to admit, even to herself that Scott was getting to her. She didn't think she could resist him for much longer. Which was why she had thought it might be good to have him gone for a while. So she could clear her head of all this romantic nonsense and get back to business as usual. That's what she wanted, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. That's all she wanted.