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The audience chuckled.
Okay, so she was here as an alleged cooking expert to judge Jordan’s kitchen skills against those of two Razors teammates he’d cajoled, charmed or blackmailed into appearing as contestants today.
Jordan was so in trouble. And frankly, so was she. When she’d agreed to this, she’d thought she was volunteering for some sedate affair. She should have known better with the Serenghettis.
“Jordan, let’s start with you,” Camilla said in a drill-sergeant tone as she stopped at his counter station.
“Playing favorites, Mom?” Jordan asked, and then winked at the camera. “I always knew I was first.”
Camilla ignored him. “What will you be making?”
“Pasta alla chitarra with fresh mackerel ragù, capers, tomatoes and Taggiasca olives.”
Sera couldn’t help a look of surprise. She was shocked Jordan even knew what a Taggiasca olive was.
Jordan winked at the audience. “You can call this dish The Jordan Serenghetti Pasta Special.”
Sera raised an eyebrow because Jordan seemed not the least bit nervous about his ambitious recipe. Fine, let him try. Shouldn’t she have known by now that he was always up for a challenge?
Marc Bellitti volunteered that he’d be making a ravioli dish with a secret family recipe for vodka sauce. And Vince Tedeschi said he’d prepare pollo alla cacciatore with mussels.
“Thank you, Vinny.” Sera tossed the Razors’ goalie an encouraging smile because he seemed the most nervous of the contestants.
Jordan’s brows drew into a straight line. “That’s Vince.”
“She can call me whatever she wants,” Jordan’s teammate responded with an easy grin.
Sera tossed him a beatific smile. “I’m a fan of turf and surf.”
“It’s surf and turf, not turf and surf,” Jordan said.
Sera ignored him. “Apparently, the only one who is allowed to make up names is Jordan himself.”
“Oh, yeah?” Marc asked interestedly. “What does he call you?”
Sera and Jordan stared at each other for a moment, their gazes clashing.
The entire studio audience—including, heaven help her, Marisa, Cole and Camilla Serenghetti—seemed to lean in for the answer.
“Angel,” she and Jordan said in unison to much laughter.
“Hey, I think this contest is rigged,” Vince protested.
“Yes, but not in the way you think,” Sera cooed. “I don’t like the name.”
“Great, we’ve neutralized the famous Serenghetti charm,” Marc put in.
“We’ll see,” Jordan remarked drily.
Camilla Serenghetti hurried forward. “Let’s get down to cooking.”
“Before this show degenerates into slapstick comedy,” Sera added.
When Vince groaned, Jordan arched a brow. “Don’t you mean hockey stick?”
“There’s no puck,” Sera replied crisply.
“We’re slapping the joke into the goal for the winning shot.”
