Jules sat in
the Jeep until the remnants of his past vanished. Why had he given into the
urge to drive past the group home? Not one of his better ideas and certainly
not part of his weekend plans. He reviewed the steps. There was a contract to be
signed. Failure would taste bitter. Coming to grips with the betrayal of his
trust wasn’t part of his plans for today either. Hard work and trusting few
people had given him all he’d lost and more.
Sometimes he
wondered what had happened to the people who had invested with his father’s
Ponze scheme. Why had people thrown money into investments seeming too good to
be real? Had they been greedy or fools?
He’d been torn
from a comfortable life. Shame oozed from hidden places. Why did tingles of
guilt smear his life? He’d been a teenager and hadn’t done anything wrong.
Shame had driven his parents to death and he’d ended up in that place.
He gulped deep
breaths of air and rubbed his hands in an attempt to warm them. The action
failed to heat the past he feared would remain eternally chilled.
Cut the crap. Can’t go back. Forward is the
only direction.
He’d come to
the Hudson River village for two reasons.
Business and a meet and greet. He wasn’t here to think of what could never be. Gnawing old bones impeded progress.
Jules slid from
the Jeep. He dragged the briefcase from the passenger’s seat. With quick steps
he dashed across the street and paused to study the bakery shop window. Sweet
and Spicy Cupcakes. Above the ‘sweet’ a bee buzzed and above ‘spicy’ a red pepper
hovered. He opened the door. Myriad scents swirled in the air. Spices,
chocolate, coffee. The aromas of baking. For a moment he drowned in the
delicious aromas.
The blonde
behind the counter filled a box with an assortment of cupcakes for a customer.
A second woman held a similar box. Moments later money changed hands and the
middle-aged women filed to the door. Jules stepped aside and held the door.
One of the
ladies turned. “Bonnie, are you sure you’ll have my order ready on Christmas
Eve?”
“On file and
can be picked up between nine AM and seven PM. We’re staying open an hour later
that day.”
Jules stomach
growled reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch. The aromas swirling in the air
tempted. Perhaps a taste of the wares before he engaged in business made sense
and would give him a way to push for the magazine feature. He strode to the
glass covered cases and read the names of the flavors. How could he choose when
they all looked great?
The blonde
turned from the register. “Can I help you?”
“Coffee and I
don’t know which one to choose. They’re all tempting. Do you have a
recommendation?”
She tapped the
counter. “I do. Cinnamon Bun is my favorite. If you want something designed for
the season, there’s Candy Cane, Ginger House or Winter Snow.”
Jules studied
the offerings. “The cinnamon and the snow.” He paid and carried his selections
to a table near the window. After filling a cup with coffee he sipped. The
beverage was smooth and rich with no bitter aftertaste. He needed to learn
where the shop purchased the beans.
At the table he
bit into the cinnamon cupcake. The spice mellowed by the icing told him why
Allie wanted to feature the shop. After finishing the first cupcake he tasted
the second. A blast of wintergreen hit his palate. “Brilliant. Brings the surprise
of a sudden snow storm to mind.”
The clerk
grinned. “I agree.”
“Why did you
turn down the chance for a feature in Good Eatin’?”
The woman’s
mouth gaped. “She never told me. Not that I’m a partner or anything.”
He frowned. “So
you’re not the owner.”
“Just the
clerk. I’ll yell at the boss. How could she turn down the offer? That mag is
rad cool.”
Jules raised
his coffee cup. He had an ally. Time to find a way to use her enthusiasm. He
listened to her chatter about her boss’ plan. A five year goal. Slow growth.
Quality products. He waited for the clerk to run down.
“Where is the
owner? I must speak to her.”
The blonde
leaned on the counter. “She’s busy creating a new cupcake.”
“Is she here or
at home?”
“In the back.”
She pointed to a door behind the counter. “I’ll let her know you’re here but if
she’s working you’ll have to wait.”
She stepped
from the counter. The bell above the door chimed.
The arrival of
several customers distracted the clerk. Jules couldn’t wait. He made a snap
decision. On Monday morning he intended to have the signed contract delivered
to Allie.
“You can’t go
back there.”
Ignoring the
young woman’s shout he slipped around the end of the display case and opened
the door. Heat, a touch of vanilla and a jolt of rum and lemon hit him. The
aromas gathered in a collage of scent.
The baker stood
beside a marble topped table. She wore a long apron tied at her slender waist.
Temptation to discover if his hands could span her waist nearly caused him to
forget why he’d come into this room. A white hairnet covered hair as dark as
his. Would her face match the delectable rear view? She held a plastic bag and
swirled icing on a cupcake. The door closed with a loud snap.
Without turning
she held out one of the confections. “Try this one and let me know if I’ve
mastered the flavor.”
Jules accepted.
The voice belonged to the woman of his brief phone conversations. During those
moments he’d conjured a face to match the throaty voice. The image belonged to
the only girl who had turned him down.
What if? Such
an occurrence would be beyond belief. Still the thought stirred his desire.
Cool it, dude.
Jules bit into
the cupcake. Rum and lemon, spices and small bits of fruit blended into
perfection.
“What do you
think?”
The question
pulled him from a haze of tastes and desire. What about me licking this icing from your breasts? Had he said
that aloud?
“Well?” She
turned.
He nearly
dropped the rest of the cupcake. Her face belonged to his memories of the star
of his teenage fantasies. Alarms clanged. Trouble.
He drew a deep breath. This time he intended to succeed.
“Actually the
flavor’s great. Fruitcake but light. The spices, fruit and icing blend
perfectly.”
Chapter Two
A frown creased
Grace’s forehead. Did she know this man? Something resonated in her memories
but no name bobbed to the surface. He resembled the faceless man of her
fantasies. The hair, short and styles instead of long and shaggy. Was he
someone she’d seen on TV, except she watched cooking shows, not sports, prime
time or movies?
“How did you get
in here?”
“By the door.”
His crooked
grin brought a name closer to the surface. Did he look like someone she should
know? “Why did Bonnie let you come into the kitchen?”
“The arrival of
a flock of customers derailed her.”
Grace sucked in
a breath. Who was he? He was too young and too well-dressed to be one of the
men her mother had dragged home years ago. “Do you really think the cupcake is
good?”
“I do.” He
finished the last bite and crumpled the paper. With a flick of his wrist he
tossed the small wad into the trash bin across the room. “You’ve achieved a
miracle. Edible fruitcake.”
His smooth
words spread over her skin like a swatch of velvet. Whoever he was he talked
about the treat like a man who knew food. Was he a rival? Had he come to steal
her recipes? He certainly hadn’t appeared to ask for a job. Not when he wore
what looked like custom-made clothes.
“What will you
call this one?”
Grace stepped
back. The cold marble of the worktable edge pressed against her back.
“Fruitcake.”
“Not like any
I’ve ever tasted.” He grinned. “I hate holiday parties where the hostess pushed
dark dense stuff she’d ordered by mail or baked.”
Grace laughed.
“I’ve eaten some of that kind. This was my sixteenth try to make an edible
one.”
He stepped
closer. “Persistence pays. You’ve created a light cake with the traditional
flavors and the right amount of fruit. The touch of rum in the frosting is
perfect.” He raked his fingers messing his perfectly stylish dark hair. “Is it
legal?”
“Just a flavor
essence.” Definitely the competition.
Warmth shone in his deep brown eyes. When he stepped in her direction she
grasped the pastry bag. “Who are you?”
“Don’t you
remember me? I’ve never forgotten you.”
The dimple in
his left cheek made her want to touch. Seduction filled his voice. A whiff of
evergreen beneath the aroma of the bakers reached her. He oozed the kind of
danger she had to time to allow in her life. The suggestive gleam in his eyes
raised a need to run. Only, she was trapped.
He placed his
hand on her arm. Though the touch was light she felt as though his fingers
branded her. “Think back, Grace.”
“I’ve never
seen you before.”
“Sure you
have.”
“Really?”
“I sure
remember you. Years a go I made a play and you turned me down. When I said you
would be sorry, you said I would be the one to regret.”
With warp speed
her thoughts flew to the fence between the group homes. Was he really? He looked so different from the boy she’d known. The
features of the face in her thoughts matured and became the man crowding her
space.
“Jules Grayson,
what are you doing here?”
“Representing
Good Eatin’. Since you refused to sign the contract for a future feature
article I thought the personal touch might work. I didn’t realize who you were
until you turned.”
A smile broke
her somber mood. “Most of my communication was with Allie Blakefield.”
“You and I
spoke twice but the moment I mentioned the magazine you hung up. Just listen to
my spiel. I’m sure I’ll do a better job of making the case than I did years
ago.”
Though knowing
he didn’t plan to steal her recipes her instincts remained on high alert. Her
thoughts raced from what had been to what ifs. Not a good place to be.
“I sent the
proposal back unsigned. The feature doesn’t fit with my plans for growing the
business. A year from now or maybe two I might take a chance. I’ve seen too
many in this field move to fast and fail.”
His eyes
narrowed. “You didn’t read the proposal carefully. All expenses are covered by
Good Eatin’ and you’ll be paid for the recipes the magazine prints.”
“That’s not
why. You’ve seen my entire staff. I’m baker, decorator, bookkeeper and
sometimes salesperson.” She scowled. “I’m even the cleaning crew with Bonnie’s
help.”
A buzzer
sounded. “Move. I need to pull the pans.” She pulled on gloves and went to the
oven. One by one she transferred the trays from the oven to the cooling rack.
“Cinnamon,
cloves, nutmeg,” he said. “What are they?”
“Add a touch of
vanilla and you have Pumpkin Pie.”
He inhaled. “I
could be tempted to try every flavor.”
“Think of the
calories.”
He arched a brow.
“I can think of ways to work them off.”
Grace removed
the last tray from the oven. She had no intention of asking how. “Since you’ve
come for that reason why don’t you leave? I’ll give you a box of today’s
favorites. Share them with your significant other.”
“There’s no
one.”
She returned to
the work table and assembled the dry ingredients for another batch. She placed
flour and a sack of chocolate powder with the eggs and butter. “You should
leave.”
“Why?”
She pulled
cayenne and powered jalapenos from the spice shelf along with vanilla beans.
“I’m making Chocolate Fire and I don’t want a cleaning bill for your light gray
jacket and trousers.” He had definitely succeeded in the ten years since he’d
left the group home.
“We need to
talk about the offer.” He crossed his arms.
Grace slid past
him for the baking powder, salt and milk. “I know the opportunity would be
great. I’m just not ready to take the risk.”
“Your cupcakes
impressed Allie Blakefield. That’s hard to do. Besides restaurants Good Eatin’
features small establishments producing good food. Have dinner with me and we
can discuss the pros and cons.”
Again his
temperature-raising grin appeared. “I can’t. We’re open until nine tonight.
Then there’s clean up, planning for tomorrow and a run to the bank.”
“What time do
you close tomorrow?”
“At six.”
“I’ll be by
then. We’ll go to dinner. You choose the place.” He closed the distance between
them. His lips brushed hers. “Years ago you said no. I was a fool and crude.
Won’t happen again.”
Grace froze. Her
knees locked and kept her upright. His whispered words and hot breath swirled
over her. She felt as if she’d been sucked into a whirlpool with no escape.
He’d been trouble as a teenager. As an adult he’d become dangerous.
*
* *
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