As a marketing professional, Jasmine knew advertising was expensive, but word-of-mouth was free and the most trusted among customers. Her grandmother had worked too hard, and too long to lose her rightful place among Bay Point’s original small businesses. Today, she would set in motion her plan to help solidify the future of Lucy’s Bar and Grille.
After checking in on Lucy, who was fast asleep, she went back downstairs and picked up the pie boxes.
On her way out, she glanced across the street as she headed toward Carousel Park. She hadn’t dared to peek inside the building again, even though, day after day, her curiosity grew. No work had been done on the exterior of the building, although she did see a couple of contractors up on the roof several days ago.
But she hadn’t heard from Micah, nor had he stopped in, and it surprised her how much that bothered her.
The day after their conversation, she felt she was walking a tightrope of suspense. Waiting for him to come in for breakfast, then for lunch. When he didn’t show for either, she held out some hope for dinner, but all she got was disappointment.
She’d enjoyed their conversation immensely, yet the whole experience had shaken her up a bit. It scared her that she was so intent on finding out what was going on in the space that she hadn’t noticed him walking up behind her.
The same thing had happened at her job, except she was sitting at a table, completely focused on a task, unaware that her boss who was next to her, was slowly reaching his hand under the table to paw at her thigh.
Jasmine shuddered at the memory. Her reasons for peeking into the building were completely innocent, but she wondered what Micah really thought about her.
Perhaps he’d gotten called out of town, she reasoned to herself. She’d neglected to ask him how often he came back because she didn’t want to appear too nosy. Most of all, she regretted not accepting his dinner invite in the first place. This time, playing it coy had backfired big time. Making the final tweaks to her recipe the rest of the week had helped to keep him off her mind for the most part, but he still lurked there, making her yearn to be in his presence.
Would she ever see him again?
She tripped on a raised crack in the sidewalk and yelped, almost losing her precious pies and her dignity. Thank goodness no one seemed to notice. She decided not to spend one more second thinking about a man who could make her lose her heart just as easily.
Cars jostled for the few remaining parking spaces on Ocean Avenue, and she could see that the ones that jutted out like spokes on a bicycle wheel in front of the carousel were filled.
The line to ride the carousel was long and filled with smiling children and adults. She waved to Mariella Vency, who was manning the little wooden ticket booth, painted periwinkle blue.
Mariella worked at City Hall in the mayor’s office, but Jasmine wasn’t clear on her role. She would often call the restaurant and order a big platter of sandwiches, cole slaw and assorted sodas for meetings. Jasmine smiled and wondered how many decisions, both good and bad, were made while consuming her grandmother’s delicious food.
She rounded the carousel, greeting some familiar faces along the way and arrived at the main gazebo a few minutes later.
“Hey Maisie!” she called, going up the stairs.
“Hello, Jasmine. Where’s Lucy? Is she feeling better?”
Jasmine frowned inwardly, wondering how Maisie knew her grandmother was challenged with health issues, but she supposed word got around town. Lucy was under the impression that everyone thought she made every meal personally. Maybe she had when she first started the restaurant, but not anymore.
“She’s not feeling well today, so I’m here in her place.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, but it’s best that she stay home and rest. Lucy is quite a mainstay at this event and I hope she’ll feel better soon.”
Jasmine set the pies down on the table. “Thanks, I’ll tell her.”
“Are you entering both of those in the bake-off?”
“No, just one. The other is for the bake sale.”
Maisie nodded and handed her a form and a pen. “Fill this out and you’re all set.”
Jasmine wrote down her name and cell phone number on the paper. “I’ve never entered a bake-off contest. How does it work?”
“You haven’t? Oh my dear, you are in for a treat, no pun intended.” Maisie laughed, clasping her hands together. “The first thing you need to know is that the contest is double-blind.”
“What does that mean?”
Maisie leaned closer to the table. “The judges won’t know who made the recipe. That’s to avoid any potential conflicts of interest. Whether a person wins or loses, the baker will never know who judged their entry. Even I won’t have that information,” she finished with a sniff, as if she were offended.
Maisie cut two numbers from a sheet of paper. She slipped one in the first pie box and handed the other number to Jasmine.
“Keep this somewhere safe, and don’t display it on your person. At the end of the afternoon, you’ll know if you’ve won something when they call your number and name.”
Jasmine nodded and stuck the paper in the back pocket of her shorts. She watched as Maisie set her pie box on a long table filled with other competitor’s treats.
“What about this pie?”
“Take it inside, to the rotunda and set it on the table there.”
She picked up the second pie box. “I’m so nervous.”
Maisie gave her a smile. “Honestly, so am I. Normally, this is a very casual event, but everyone is on pins and needles this year. Not because of who has entered, but who will be judging.”
Jasmine arched a brow. “I thought it was just women from the church who are part of the event committee.”
“No, this year we are joined by a very special, and very handsome, I might add, celebrity guest.”
Though she had no idea who it was, Jasmine felt her heart begin to squeeze in her chest.
“And who might that be?”
Maisie glanced around, before motioning Jasmine with her index finger, to lean over the table. She could hardly contain her excitement.
“Chef Micah Langston. Can you believe it?”
Hearing his name from someone else’s lips made her heart beat faster, and then drop just as quick. The carnival music in the air seemed to collapse around her in a hellish heap of offbeat notes.
She said goodbye to Maisie and as she walked down the gazebo steps toward City Hall, her feet felt like they were molded of lead.
The knowledge that he was in town and had never stopped into the restaurant left her more confused than ever. Nothing like being rejected out right and not even knowing it, but Jasmine decided she wouldn’t let him ruin her day. The one thousand dollar grand prize would go a long way toward helping her save for her own place, and she intended to emerge the winner.
* * *
“What was I thinking when I signed up for this?”
Micah ignored the shocked, openmouthed stares of the other bake-off judges in the room, none of whom he knew by name. What were they going to do? Fire him? He was the one who’d made the mistake of accepting the event in the first place.
Besides, he was a celebrity, not that he would ever pull rank. This was just another favor for Gregory gone wrong. Maybe he should take this as a clue and get the heck out of Bay Point.
He leaned back, hands folded across his stomach.
“Obviously, I wasn’t thinking at all,” he muttered, earning a few more side-eyes.
While some of his fellow compadres only had what seemed like a fingernail scratch of their individual serving, he had to take enough of a taste to get the full flavor, otherwise, he knew he’d be doing the cook a disservice.
It was a good thing he didn’t know who made the desserts, some of which were positively atrocious and a
lmost unpalatable. A few times he had to restrain himself from blurting out that a particular dish was not fit for human consumption. Judges were forbidden from talking out loud or amongst each other during the judging process.
He leaned back more in his chair, a little too far and managed to grab the edge of the table just in time. Righting himself, he grabbed his head with both hands, swooning because he was so dizzy.
Prentice, the City Hall security guard peeked his head into the room, where for the last ninety minutes, he’d been wheeling a cart filled with entries for the judges to sample.
“You’ll be glad to hear that last batch was the last of ’em, judges!”
Micah stood up so fast that his chair crashed to the floor and pointed to him. “That man, ladies and gentlemen, deserves a round of applause.”
The stern atmosphere in the room disappeared and everyone broke out into smiles and cheers. Maisie hip-bumped Prentice out of the way and entered the room.
“We’re not done yet, gang. Please give me your sheets so I can tally the scores.” She gathered the paperwork from all the judges. “Micah, you will be handing out the awards, so please meet me at the gazebo in about twenty minutes. Everyone else is invited to stick around to see who our lucky winners are this year. Thank you so much for judging our contest!”
Micah sat down and remained as still as a bullfrog on a rock. He didn’t even move when the floor was swept and the table was folded up in front of him. Finally, Prentice needed to put his chair away so he was forced to get up.
He placed the chair in the rollaway cart with the others. “I feel the same way you do every Sunday night, when Maisie practically forces another helping of mashed potatoes down my throat. That woman can’t take no for an answer!”
“What we do for our girls, eh?” Micah commented.
“You want my advice? Stay single.”
Micah laughed and checked his phone. It was time for the awards presentation.
There was a large crowd gathered when he arrived at the gazebo. Gregory was at the podium about to make an announcement. He jogged up to the stairs to a scattering of enthusiastic applause and put one hand over the microphone.
“Bro, you owe me big time.”
“What are you—”
Gregory stopped when Micah stepped away from the podium, a huge smile on his face. He shook his head and adjusted the mic back into position.
“Ladies and gentlemen. We are about to announce the lucky winners of the twenty-fifth annual Bay Point Bake-off Competition!” He waited until the cheers died down. “But first, I would like to introduce you to our celebrity judge, host of High Stakes Chef and my little brother, Micah Langston!”
Micah stepped to the edge of the platform and bowed.
Gregory glanced around. “Can I have the envelope, please?”
Maisie emerged from the side of the crowd, raising her arm, and waving the envelope in the air. “Here it is, Mayor! Sorry, I had to double-check my math.”
Gregory reached down and took it from her. “Thank you, Maisie.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Micah, you’ll find the ribbons on the table just behind me.”
All of the awards, except one, were honorable mentions, and none had names on them. All he had to do was hand them out, but he must have been too slow because by the time he turned around, there was a line of women, and a few men, snaking up the stairs of the gazebo. He gave each of them a smile, a nod and a ribbon as they passed by.
“And last but not least, for her Triple Berry Crumb Crust Pie, the grand prize winner is number 17... Jasmine Kennedy!”
The crowd erupted in applause. Micah heard a few people say “who?” Others craned their heads around in confusion. But he was the most confused of all.
Moments later, she stepped up to the platform. He gave her a smile and slipped the large, blue-ribboned medal around her slender neck.
“I didn’t know you baked.”
“I didn’t know you were still in town.”
Then he gave her something he hadn’t given anyone else. A kiss on the cheek.
Though the gesture was polite on the outside, he felt his heart hammer with desire. The electricity of attraction between them was palpable, and he briefly wondered if anyone in the audience had noticed.
“Disappointed I didn’t stop by?”
She grabbed the medal and held it up. “Not anymore.”
Before he could say anything, Gregory pulled them aside for a photo op for the Bay Point Courier. A crowd swarmed around him waving pens and phones, and out of the corner of his eye, Micah saw Jasmine back away.
He shook hands, signed autographs and took selfies. By the time he was finished, she was long gone and he knew he wasn’t going to let her get away again. So he did the only thing he could do. He took his phone out of his pocket and called her.
* * *
“We need to talk.”
At the sound of Micah’s sexy voice, Jasmine’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected to hear from him, but she couldn’t deny their chemistry when he slipped the medal around her neck. It was a moment before she could respond.
“I feel like we’ve talked enough.”
Her thumb was on the end call button when she heard him shout through the phone. “Don’t hang up, please!”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because I have an additional prize that you won, besides being Best in Show.”
Jasmine narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious. “I know I’ve won a thousand dollars, which is awesome enough. Are you telling me there’s something else?”
“Yes, there is. Meet me at the pier in half an hour and I’ll give you more details.”
The line went dead. Her lips lifted at the corners, and she couldn’t help but be intrigued.
What was the man up to now?
She put her phone on the bureau and glanced up in the mirror. She felt grimy all over from being around the crowds at the bake-off. If she hurried, she could take a quick shower and change.
Lucy was awake when she got home, and was overjoyed when she showed her the award. Afterward, she brought her into the living room, heated some soup and put on Lucy’s favorite television program. Jasmine checked in on her again, and then continued down the hallway to the bathroom.
Hot water pattered on her shower cap as she lathered her body with her favorite lilac-scented soap. She tried to think of reasons why she should not meet Micah.
Other than the fact that he could break her heart, there were none. Curiosity had trampled her fears. She wanted to hear what he had to say, and at that moment, was confident she would be able to resist his advances.
She dried off and slathered on some body oil. Back in her room, she selected her favorite sundress. It was cherry red, hit about midthigh and had a corset bodice, so no bra was required. Arranging her hair so her short cut had just enough spike, she slipped on a pair of pink pearl drop earrings and was ready to go.
She walked into the living room in her silver flip-flops. “Lucy, I’m going down to the pier for a little while. Will you be okay?”
Her grandmother put down a magazine and smiled. “You look beautiful. I’ll be fine. When you come back, we’ll have a little talk.”
Once outside, Jasmine shook her head at Lucy’s cryptic comment, wondering what she might want to discuss. Though she’d never talked about selling the restaurant, Jasmine often wondered what her plans were, once they got out of debt. Would she retire here or back in her native Louisiana?
The beach was about ten minutes walking distance from downtown. She made her way down the steep stairs built into the side of the cliff.
Walking barefoot now, she spotted Micah waiting for her on the pier. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel them on her body. Enjoying the heat from the afternoon sun and the feel of the sand squishing through her to
es, she deliberately slowed her pace so he could take a nice, long look.
A few minutes later, she reached the pier, and waited until she was right in front of him to wriggle her red-painted toes into her flip-flops.
He was dressed in a white cotton shirt, half-unbuttoned in the heat, giving her a slivered preview of his hairless chest. His sky blue chino shorts accentuated his muscular thighs and rounded ass.
The waves slapped against the pier and seagulls cackled in the sky above them, but the noises faded into the background. Some people were fishing; others were scattered about sitting on benches and talking. No one was really near them so she felt like they were totally alone.
Though she was surrounded on three sides by water, her throat and lips felt dry as toast. Micah’s body was an open call to a good time. He was the most gorgeous man she’d seen in a very long time, and the first she wanted to immediately sleep with, just based on his looks alone. If it was night, and they were alone, she would fall into his arms willingly.
Yet, she had to be careful. Though he never promised to call her, he’d already proven himself unreliable. What can you expect from a celebrity, she thought as he took her hand.
Before she could say anything, he ran one finger down the side of her neck, stopping just above her collarbone.
“Where’s your medal?”
She shivered. “I left it at home,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “Lucy was so proud of me, says she’s going to display it near the bar.”
“It looks way prettier on you.” He whistled low, and the sound curled in her ear like a song. “You look gorgeous. Going to a party?”
“You made it seem on the phone like I had more to celebrate.”
He took her other hand and held it. “Indeed you do, and you’ll be wise to accept it.”
“I’d like to know what it is first,” she said, wetting her lower lip with her tongue, well aware that his eyes were tracing her movements.
Winning Her Heart Page 5
