by Carrie Elks
“I’ve made bread.”
“Yeast needs sugar,” Van pointed out.
“You know a lot about baking for somebody who hates going near an oven,” Becca said, shaking the flour from her hands. “And I thought food made you feel sick.”
“Your food doesn’t.” Van smiled sweetly at her. “Your cakes always make me feel better.”
“Have you already finished the carrot cake I made you?” Becca knew when she was being flattered for a reason.
“I might have. It’s the only thing I can keep down, so I’ve been eating it for lunch and dinner. I figure it’s got grains and vegetables in it, so it has to be good for me, right?”
Van was sitting on an easy chair on her porch. The setting sun was tinting her face with an orange hue, her golden hair glistening beneath its dying rays.
“How are you feeling?” Becca asked softly, running her hands under the tap.
“Tired. Sick as a dog. And I hate your brother.”
Becca laughed. “Which one?”
“All of them. But especially Tanner. If it wasn’t for his killer sperm I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
“Can we avoid any talk of how you got into this situation, please?” Becca wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to have nightmares tonight.” Her face softened as she looked at her tablet screen. “And it’ll be worth it in the end. You should talk to Maddie or Courtney; they both have experience with pregnancy after all.”
“I will. I just want to wait a few more weeks. Tanner and I agreed not to tell anybody until the second trimester.”
“He told me,” Becca pointed out.
“Ah, but we always let you into our secrets,” Van said warmly. “Remember when we used to drag you along on our adventures?”
Van and Tanner had been best friends as kids. The two of them had been known in Hartson’s Creek for being practical jokers, always pulling off antics that drove the townsfolk crazy. Sometimes they’d let Becca tag along, her tiny stick legs struggling to keep up with them as they ran away from the scenes of their crimes.
“I remember. And I was always the first to be caught.”
“Yeah, but you used to charm whoever caught you. One little cheeky Becca smile and all was forgiven. You could talk yourself out of anything.”
Becca let out a lungful of air. “I wish I still could.” The memory of Daniel Carter’s stupidly pretty mouth twisted into a scowl flashed through her mind. She’d spent the afternoon ruminating on their meeting. And as soon as she’d gotten home she’d poured herself another glass of the GSC International Blend and let the earthy liquid swill around her tongue. It still tasted good. More than good. But the annoying man was right, the flavor held a little too much smoke.
It wasn’t perfect. And that knowledge felt like a dagger stabbing at her chest.
That’s why she was baking now. She’d tried sitting in front of her TV watching Netflix, but her mind kept wandering back to their meeting. Baking always made her feel more zen. The combination of measuring the right quantities, along with mixing everything together, helped her to zone out.
“What’s up?” Van asked, her voice low. “You look sad.”
“I had a meeting with my new boss today. He hates the new blend.”
Van’s eyes widened. “Nathan’s brother? Mia told me about him.”
It wasn’t unusual for everybody in the family to talk about everybody else. Becca guessed that’s why Van and Tanner had sworn her to secrecy about their pregnancy.
“He doesn’t like me. Said I had a sweet tooth.”
Van looked like she was biting down a grin. “Of course he likes you. Everybody likes you.”
“Who doesn’t like Becca?” Tanner asked, leaning over Van so his face was looming large on the screen.
“Nobody,” Becca muttered. The last thing she needed was for her brothers to get wind of her meeting with Daniel. She wouldn’t put it past them to go to the distillery heavy handed and strong arm him into apologizing. The thought of it was mortifying.
“This is girl talk,” Van said, snatching her phone back from Tanner. “I thought you were watching football.”
“End of the second quarter.” Tanner smirked. “Come on, who’ve you upset, Bec? Want me to beat them up?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Van said, rolling her eyes at her husband. “And if she did, she’d ask Cam first. He’s got way more muscles than you.”
“Hey, I resent that.” Tanner pouted.
“You’re the brains of the family,” Van murmured, inclining her head to kiss Tanner’s lips. “That’s why I love you.” She looked back at Becca. “And you’re the heart. Don’t let this get you down. You’ll have him eating out of your hands in no time, I promise.”
“Who’ll be eating out of her hands?” Tanner frowned. “I don’t want any guy touching Becca’s hands. Especially not with his mouth.”
“One of the engineers at work asked me to make him a cake for his wife,” Becca said quickly. “I forgot to confirm it with him. It’s all good.”
“Oh.” Tanner looked bored. “Okay. I thought it might be juicier than that.”
Becca shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint.”
The timer pinged, telling her that the first batch of scones were ready. “I gotta go. My scones are ready.”
“If there’s any of those left tomorrow evening, I could probably stomach one,” Van said, giving Becca a hopeful smile.
“I’ll drop some around on my way home from work.” Becca blew her a kiss. “I’ll speak to you later. Take care of growing that baby.”
“Love you.” Van ended the call, and Becca slid her hands into her oven mitts, pulling the golden brown drop scones out of the oven. The smell of mature cheese and pastry filled her nostrils and made her stomach growl, reminding her she’d not eaten tonight.
Pulling off a chunk, she blew on it, before putting it in her mouth. It was fluffy on her tongue, but also deep and savory. It made her stomach growl with delight.
Sweet tongue? Ha! She’d show Daniel. Maybe she’d even leave one of these little babies on his desk. What guy didn’t like being baked for?
Miserable ones, with faces like thunder, that’s who. Ugh, she really wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.
Chapter Five
She hadn’t even gotten to work yet, but it was already turning out to be a very bad day. It started with sleeping through her alarm. She’d set it thirty minutes earlier than usual, determined that today would be the day when she actually did some YouTube yoga before work. She’d arrive all relaxed and limber and Daniel Carter’s jibes would bounce off her like a tennis ball on a trampoline.
Great plan. Except her body decided that six-thirty was way too early to do anything but turn over and keep snoring, as she drooled onto her pillowcase. So when she finally opened her eyes, she had to make a breathless dash to the shower. Then, with one towel wrapped around her hair and the other around her body, she yanked open the closet door to discover she didn’t have a clean polo shirt to wear.
Monday night was laundry night. Yet she’d spent yesterday evening covered in flour and fuming about Daniel’s description of her sweet tongue.
Yanking clothes to the floor, she eventually found a clean white blouse. She had no white lingerie to go with it, but at the bottom of her drawer she found a black lace bra that would have to do. The blouse was thick enough for the undergarment not to show through too much.
The parking lot was half full when she’d arrived. She pulled into a space near the front entrance and rushed around to the trunk, sighing when she saw the scone box had turned over and slid to the back. It was her fault – she’d taken a couple of corners way too fast in her haste to get to work on time. Gritting her teeth, she rolled onto her tiptoes, her fingers outstretched to gain purchase on the box.
And then she heard a pop.
She froze in place and looked down at her blouse. The top button had flown off, landing on the black interior of her trunk. The fabric gaped o
pen, revealing the scalloped lace edge of her bra as it barely covered the swell of her breasts.
Dammit!
Taking a deep breath in, she attempted to center herself. Okay, so she’d arrived at work with her half-dry hair flowing wildly around her shoulders and her blouse practically open to her breasts. But it was salvageable. Sandy would have a sewing kit. Like a Girl Scout, she was always prepared.
It’d take five minutes to sew the button back on in the bathroom and tame her hair into submission. Then she could start today all over again with the zen mindset her morning yoga was supposed to give her.
In the meantime, she’d use the box of scones to cover herself up. Sure, she had to squeeze her arms against her side and lift her hands to a stupid height, but it was better than flashing the entire workforce of GSC.
The double glass doors swished open and she stepped into reception, opening her mouth to ask Sandy for a needle and thread.
And then she shut it again, because Sandy wasn’t alone.
Lounging on the reception desk, his dark tailored pant-clad legs stretched out to the floor, was Daniel Carter.
And he was laughing. Actually laughing. Not grimacing or glowering or shaking his head. Instead, there was a weird noise that sounded almost like a chuckle as his eyes sparkled and he said something to Sandy, who giggled back.
Becca hugged the box closer to her chest. She’d make a run for the bathroom and message Sandy from there. But as she moved her feet to the left to head for the still room door, two heads turned to look at her.
“Becca. What have you got there?” Sandy asked, a smile still lifting her painted lips. She turned to look at Daniel. “Did you know our Becca is an amazing baker? We call her the sugar queen.”
Thanks, Sandy.
Daniel wasn’t smiling any more. Instead, he was staring straight at her with those killer blue eyes. “I’d heard.”
“Come over here and show us what you have,” Sandy said. “I swear every time you bring food in I put on another pound. But it’s worth it.”
“That’ll be the sugar,” Daniel said. He looked Becca up and down and she tried not to react. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Actually, I need to go and do someth—”
Daniel reached for the cake box, his long fingers wrapping around the lid. Becca tightened her grasp and tried to take a step back, but his hold was surprisingly tight, stopping her movement.
Panicked, she tried to yank the box back again, but there was no give at all. Daniel’s brows knitted, his grasp on the box loosening, right as her own fingers slipped on the plastic and the box tumbled to the floor.
“Oh my!” Sandy called out, standing up behind the desk.
Becca didn’t need to look down to know another button had flown off her blouse. She could feel the rush of cool air against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she somehow brought her gaze to Daniel’s.
And he was staring straight at her chest.
“Fu—” His eyes were dark. “Sorry.” He blinked, thick lashes sweeping down. His cheeks were as pink as Becca’s. But then his gaze locked on hers, holding it for a long, silent moment.
And she felt something weird. Her skin was all warm and tingly. Still, she couldn’t look away. It felt like the world had narrowed to the size of a pin, containing only the two of them.
He ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, and the movement made her heart clammer against her ribcage. Every nerve ending she had stirred and tingled, her body so aware of his.
His jaw was set, as though he was gritting his teeth, but their connection held strong. As though neither of them wanted to look away. Maybe they couldn’t.
Why did he have to be so attractive? And so angry?
Slowly, he reached out, pulling the gaping edges of her blouse together, covering her exposed flesh, his fingers burning against her skin. Her flush deepened as she felt her nipples harden in reaction.
Daniel’s eyes flashed with recognition. As if he knew the affect he was having on her.
With one hand still holding her blouse closed, he reached for her own, lifting it until her fingers could take his place. Then he stepped back, inhaling sharply before dipping down to pick up the box of scones, turning to put them on the counter as Sandy leaned down and searched through the desk drawers for her emergency kit.
What the hell just happened? Becca blinked, because she felt like she was floating. She had to look down to make sure her feet were still firmly touching the ground.
“I found it!” Sandy called out. Her expression held no clues as to whether she could sense the tension between Becca and Daniel. “Ooh, are they cheese scones?” She’d lifted the lid off the plastic box.
“Yeah. No sugar.” She raised a brow at Daniel.
Was that a smirk on his lips? It was hard to tell. It could have been a new version of his scowl. He was so aggravating. How could he be so calm when she felt like she’d just been hit by a truck?
“Can I take another one for break time?” Sandy asked.
“Sure.” Becca nodded tightly. The tension was slowly draining out of her. “Take one home for Marty, too, if you’d like.”
“He’d love that. He’s always asking me what you’ve been baking. That man has a hollow leg.” Sandy smiled over at Daniel. “You should try one. They smell amazing.”
“I’m watching what I eat.” His voice was low.
Against her will, Becca’s gaze moved to him again. He was all lean lines and thick muscles. Not an ounce of fat to be seen.
“Don’t be silly.” Sandy laughed. “Here, take one.”
Daniel glanced at Sandy affectionately, taking a napkin-wrapped scone from her hand. Becca’s brows pinched together. He was affectionate now? Did he even know that emotion?
Then he turned on his heel and walked toward the still room, his gait easy and smooth, unlike Becca’s heart rate.
“There you go,” Sandy said, walking around the reception desk to hand Becca the sewing kit. “Why don’t you go tidy yourself up and I’ll take the scones to the kitchen for you? We don’t want to give anybody else an eyeful.” Her eyes crinkled. “Though it’s a very pretty eyeful. That bra is to die for.”
“Thanks.” Becca managed a grimace as Sandy handed her the kit. With a sigh, she hurried to the bathroom.
She’d already managed to flash her boss and she hadn’t even started her work day. One thing was for sure – it was going to be a long day.
There was something wrong with him. A bug or a virus he’d picked up on the flight back from the UK. It was the only explanation for the way he’d behaved in reception.
Daniel leaned on his desk, staring at the cheese scone like it was the holy grail. He’d set it there ten minutes earlier when he’d basically ran away from Becca Hartson like he was in the playground and thought she had cooties. Jesus Christ, he needed to pull himself together.
It would help if every time he blinked he didn’t see the soft curve of her breast beneath the lacy fabric of her bra. Or think of how warm and inviting her skin looked.
Damn. He needed to stop this. She was his employee.
He was a damn hypocrite, lusting after a woman who was too young and too wrong and who clearly thought he was an asshole. He dropped his head into his hands and breathed out heavily. Coming back here was a bad idea. He’d known it even when he’d agreed with his mom that Nathan deserved an adventure, and that he’d cover for Nathan the same way his brother had covered for him.
He should have stayed in Scotland. Life was easy there. Predictable. And he didn’t go around getting hard-ons at the sight of the female body.
His stomach turned at the memory. He hated himself right now. Had she noticed the effect she had on him? For a moment, she’d stared right back at him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted, her chest heaving in a way he was trying really hard not to think about. And he’d wondered if she could feel the spark he’d been feeling.
No she couldn’t because there wa
s no damn spark. It was just jet lag. That was all. Next time he’d be on his guard. Walk away without even looking.
Next time? Dream on, man.
Grunting with irritation at his own damn thoughts, he pulled the cheese scone toward him, lifting it and inspecting the pastry as though it was something precious. It was lighter than he’d expected. When he tore a piece of the golden crust between his fingers he could see how fluffy it was inside.
Fluffy and fragrant. The aroma of cheese wafted over him, making his stomach gurgle in a reminder that he hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning, having chosen to take a run instead.
Parting his lips, he pressed the morsel onto his tongue and had to stop himself from moaning. Soft and savory, it filled his senses, and before he even realized he’d finished half the scone.
Opening his eyes, he pushed the rest of the pastry away, disgusted with himself. He’d eaten it like he’d stared at her. With a hunger that couldn’t be sated.
Shaking his head, he picked up the remaining portion of the scone and threw it in the trashcan. He wasn’t going to eat the rest no matter how good it tasted. And he wasn’t going to stare at Becca Hartson and wonder what her warm skin would feel like against his fingertips.
He was better than this. He’d be aloof and calm. He knew how to separate work and pleasure.
Standing, he caught a reflection of himself in the glass of his drinks cabinet. His hair was messed up, thanks to the raking of his fingers. He smoothed it back and straightened his collar, pushing his shoulders back.
She was a distraction, that was all. Like an annoying fly he could easily bat away. He had a business to run. To save, even. And it was going to take all his concentration to do it.
Chapter Six
“This is going to involve a lot of investment,” his mom said, reading the figures Daniel had printed off for her.
“I know. But we can’t afford not to. Either we move forward or we die. You know that. The International Blend was always going to be a Band-Aid. A short-term fix. We need to plan a new product, and start working on it now. Using only the very best ingredients.” Daniel had spent all week planning this out. Investigating the options, stalking the competition, all the while knowing that cashflow was tight thanks to the overspend on marketing. He loved his brother, but damn the man wasn’t great at figures.
