After eleven years of marriage, Léa Laurier knew her husband. Knew how he could take on responsibility for a world-famous restaurant, a wife, and her two teenage siblings at nineteen years old and never falter, never tire. Knew his drive and his ambition, that took him to the stars. Knew how briliant his gray eyes looked when they met hers for just one moment across a host of cameras. She didn't know why she was so tired. She didn't know why she needed to just get away. For a while. Maybe a week or two. A month. She'd be back. After eleven years of marriage, international superstar chef Daniel Laurier knew his wife. Knew how she could lavish caring on everyone, her siblings, his staff, and most especially him. Knew the way her face lit up when he won yet another television contest, and the way she hugged him for it. Knew how her hair smelled when he sank into bed exhausted at one in the morning. He didn't know what to do when he came home from a consulting trip to find she'd disappeared to remote South Pacific island: I just needed to get away for a little while. A week or two. I'll call you. As the whole solid world under his feet turned into a sandcastle in the tide, Daniel knew only one thing: whatever was wrong with his marriage or his wife, he wasn't losing her. So as a top chef, he did the one thing he always knew how to do: turn up the heat.