The Curry Competition
"Food blogger Sadia enters a curry cooking competition to prove British Pakistani food deserves respect. Her biggest rival is handsome chef Jamal—whose family recipe might beat hers, but whose smile definitely wins her heart."
The Curry Competition
"Your karahi needs more heat."
Sadia turned to find the voice—and nearly dropped her spoon. The man at the station next to hers was disgustingly handsome in his chef's whites.
"Your opinion wasn't requested."
"Freely given." He grinned. "I'm Jamal. Your competition."
"Sadia. Your downfall."
"We'll see."
The competition stretched over three rounds.
They battled through challenges—best biryani, perfect naan, the ultimate dessert. And through it all, the tension between them crackled like hot oil.
"You're good," Jamal admitted after round two. "Better than I expected."
"I'm better than you expected? Charming."
"I meant—" He sighed. "I've been cooking professionally for a decade. You're a blogger. I underestimated you."
"Most people do." She stirred her pot aggressively. "I'm used to it."
"I'm sorry." His hand covered hers, stilling her spoon. "Your food is incredible. Your passion is... inspiring."
"Jamal..."
"May the best chef win. And after..." He swallowed. "Have dinner with me? Let me apologize properly."
She won. Barely.
The judges loved her grandmother's secret recipe—the one she'd never shared online. Jamal applauded genuinely, no bitterness in his eyes.
"You deserved it," he said afterward.
"I know." But she smiled. "Dinner still on?"
"If you'll have me."
Dinner became his restaurant kitchen after closing—cooking together, tasting, learning each other through food.
"You're remarkable," Jamal said, feeding her a bite.
"You're not bad yourself."
"I want to combine our techniques. Open something together." He set down his spoon. "But first..."
He kissed her. She tasted spices and wanting.
They made love on the prep counter—thoroughly cleaned first, because they were professionals.
"This is unsanitary," Sadia gasped.
"We'll clean again." He kissed down her body. "After."
His chef's hands were skilled, knowing exactly when to be gentle and when to add pressure. When he finally pushed inside her, she cried out at the sensation.
"Meri jaan," he breathed. "You're the best thing I've ever tasted."
"Food puns? Now?"
"Always." He grinned and moved deeper. "It's our love language."
"A joint restaurant is insane," Sadia said afterward. "We've known each other two weeks."
"We've competed, collaborated, and—" He gestured at their naked bodies. "Connected. That's better than most business partners."
"And the personal side?"
"The personal side is why I want forever." He pulled her close. "Say yes, Sadia. To the restaurant. To us."
The restaurant—Khan & Hussain—opened to rave reviews.
The wedding menu was designed by both chefs.
Best competition they ever lost.