She slips into a clean pair of black work pants and notices they don’t seem as tight. Is it possible that I’ve already lost weight?
The idea startles her. She’s been snacking a lot less and trying to go to bed hungry every night. Plus, she uses the elliptical every day when she comes home.
When she looks at herself in the closet’s full-length mirror though, she still sees the same plain overweight Natalie. For a moment, she feels let down by the lack of change, but then she pushes the thought aside. If that bitch Lena can do it, so can I. I’m every bit as disciplined as she is. She even thinks of Justine, the ditzy blonde with Anthony. Granted, I’m ten years older than her, but so what? Lena is at least that much older than me.
She rubs lip balm on her mouth from the small container she keeps on her nightstand. Her lips are on the full side and have a tendency to get dry.
When she’s finally dressed and ready to leave, she takes one last look at herself. It’s ridiculous that she cares what Anthony thinks. From everything she can tell about him, he’s just like her father—a too handsome for his own good womanizer. She suddenly remembers the birthday cake for Serena he’d picked up recently. Yet, he wasn’t with her yesterday. Yesterday it was Justine. He probably has a half-dozen women at his beck and call. The thought annoys her so much that she purposely rips out her messy ponytail and brushes it back into her usual tightly controlled style.
I don’t care what that Lothario thinks of me. All I care about is that he lets us expand our bakery.
By the time seven o’clock rolls around, Natalie and Blair have set up a table in front with an assortment of pastries. At two minutes after seven, a guy wearing a light gray suit is knocking on their front door, but it’s not Anthony.
“Sorry, we’re not open yet,” Natalie tells him through the glass.
“I’m Anthony’s lawyer.” He holds up his briefcase as if that explains everything.
Blair comes over to investigate as Natalie unlocks the door.
“Hi, I’m Graham Spence,” he says, holding out his hand to shake each of theirs. “I’m the attorney who manages Anthony’s property.”
Natalie recognizes his name immediately from the paperwork on their lease and lets him inside. “Thank you for coming.”
“How did you know we were meeting this morning?” Blair asks.
“Anthony called me yesterday afternoon and asked if I could stop by. He said you had a problem with your lease and wanted to discuss it.”
“It was nice of you to come on such short notice,” she says, smiling, and Natalie thinks she detects a note of flirtation in Blair’s voice.
He pushes his glasses up his long nose and grins enthusiastically. Between the grin and the blue bow tie, he reminds Natalie of a preppy college student, though he’s obviously in his thirties.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Blair asks him sweetly.
“No, thanks, I don’t drink coffee.”
“How about some freshly baked pastries? We just pulled them out of the oven.” And now Natalie is certain she’s flirting, since Blair is rarely this accommodating with anyone.
“That sounds great. It smells fantastic in here.”
Blair guides him over to the table while Natalie goes in back to grab her nonfat latte. The back kitchen is busy, with everyone scrambling before they open. Natalie stops to look at the list of cake orders that need to be filled today. Most of them are the usual restaurant orders. She sees a local catering company hired them to supply the cakes for a dinner party they’re putting together tonight.
“Zoe, did you see the list here? We need to have these cakes done by two o’clock.”
“I’m on it. I’ve got two hazelnuts in the oven and I’m almost done with the Mexican chocolate. The white ones are cooling.”
Natalie nods and sips her coffee. “Okay, I’ll take care of the rest when I’m done with my meeting.”
Natalie inspects a few of the items on the cooling racks. There are some golden cherry tarts that look delicious. Natalie can feel her stomach rumbling. She and Chloe had fruit salad and non-fat yogurt for breakfast, but a cherry tart would really hit the spot.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out.
I’m hungry for more than food.
Pushing her tart craving aside, she goes back out to where Blair and Graham are chatting cozily. There’s still no sign of Anthony.
She looks at the clock and sees it’s almost quarter after seven.
Apparently, his time is more important than ours. So typical of men like that.
She sits down at the table with Blair and Graham, listening with half an ear to their conversation about Santosa Bistro up the street. Her fingers drum on her mug as she gets angrier by the second over Anthony’s tardiness.
“Isn’t that the bistro you bake rosemary bread for, Natalie?” Blair asks.
“Yes, it is. I know the chef from when we used to work together at a hotel downtown.”
Santosa Bistro is in a lovely old brick building. The owner and head chef, Austin Santosa, is temperamental, but overall a good guy. They worked together long before he was a chef, back when he was a line cook and she was a pastry apprentice. He really got lucky with that space. It has a large kitchen with every upgrade imaginable. She imagines what she and Blair could do with a space like that. They’d add a few savory items to their menu, plus a small assortment of artisan breads. Not to mention the increase in cakes and other pastries they could sell. No more turning away customers.
She glances at the clock. It’s nearly twenty after seven now, and there’s still no sign of Anthony.
“Is he always this late?” Natalie asks Graham.
He gives her a lawyerly smile. “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”
“I hope so, because I have work to do.”
“I understand.” He looks over her shoulder and his face registers relief. “Actually, here’s the man right now.”
Natalie hears the front door jingle and, when she turns, sure enough Anthony is coming through, wearing navy jeans and a green sweater that contrasts nicely with his dark hair. The sight of him makes her pulse jump.
I’m not attracted to him. I don’t like gorgeous men who can’t bother to show up on time.
Anthony pulls the strap of his crossbody satchel over his head, removing it as he walks to their table and sits down across from her. Natalie gets a whiff of sandalwood and something else—something purely male that’s all his own. He smells so good she wonders what it would be like to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.
I don’t care how good he smells.
“Hope I didn’t miss anything,” Anthony says. He flashes that boyish grin and Natalie is momentarily disarmed. She imagines him as a child, winning everybody over with that smile.
She’s nervous, but concentrates on how annoyed she is instead.
“We were just talking about how late you are,” Natalie tells him.
“Oh?” Anthony’s grin falters as he looks around the table at the others to see if she’s joking.
“We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” she continues in a stern voice. “I really don’t appreciate that. Maybe you don’t run on an actual schedule, but I do.”
His boyish grin is completely gone now, and Natalie feels a pang of regret for having been the one to remove it.
“I didn’t realize I was that late,” he says stiffly. “I had a short meeting before this one.”
Yeah, right, I wonder what her name is? “Well, maybe if you looked at a clock—”
“Would you like some coffee, Anthony?” Blair asks, interrupting her.
“That would be great. An espresso breve, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll be right back,” Blair says, and as she stands up, her eyes drill into Natalie. Shut up! she mouths.
Natalie knows Blair is right. She needs to be nice. No matter how much she may dislike Anthony, they still need to convince him to lease them that space.
She puts a fake smile on an
d watches the two men across from her.
Blair comes back with Anthony’s espresso breve. “Thanks.” He sees the plate of pastries and using a napkin takes one of the chocolate chunk cookies.
My cookies, Natalie notices. Apparently, those aren’t too sweet for him. “Shall we finally get started now?” she says, leaning forward impatiently. Blair kicks her under the table, but she ignores it.
Anthony glances up. “Sure, although I’m a little confused. I think maybe we need to go over introductions again. Obviously, I’m Anthony and you both met Graham here.” He looks at Blair. “I know you’re the owner, it’s Blair, right?”
“Yes,” Blair nods. “And this—”
“But why are you here?” Anthony cuts her off, looking directly at Natalie.
“Me? I’m one of the owners, too. Blair and I are business partners.”
Anthony raises his eyebrows in surprise. “What’s your name?”
“Natalie Anderson.”
“You’re one of the owners?”
“Yes, I said that already, didn’t I?”
“But, I thought . . . are you a baker?”
Natalie tries not to let her irritation show. “Of course I’m a baker.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I baked that cookie you’re eating,” she snaps. “In fact, it’s my recipe.”
He still has a perplexed expression. “But you didn’t even know how to fill out a cake order that time I came in.”
Oh, no.
A tidal wave of embarrassment washes over her, and if she could drown herself in it she would. Why did he have to remember that? Even Blair is eyeing her curiously.
“You caught me on a bad day. That’s all,” she says tightly.
For a long moment Anthony doesn’t reply, but she can feel his eyes on her. When he speaks, his voice has a bemused quality. “Is that right?”
Natalie’s head is down, but she glances up at his tone. When she meets his gaze she can see the perceptiveness in his brown eyes. She lets out her breath. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she recognizes as humiliation.
“SO YOU’RE THE one who makes these cookies?” Anthony takes a bite. “They’re good.”
He watches Natalie swallow as her face grows a brighter shade of red. Even her ears are red. He’d chuckle if her embarrassment didn’t look so painful.
The truth is, she was busting his balls about running a few minutes late today, and so maybe he’s enjoying her embarrassment.
Just a little.
“We’re scratch bakers and Natalie creates most of our master recipes,” Blair tells him. “She’s one of the few bakers I consider talented enough to work with.”
Blair grins over at Natalie, who still looks like she’d commit hara-kiri if he so much as handed her a butter knife.
He suspects Natalie isn’t the kind of woman used to feeling embarrassment about anything. Ball-busters seldom are.
Anthony takes another bite of his cookie and chews thoughtfully. Decides to cut her some slack. “I have to agree with your partner here, Natalie. These are the best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever tasted.”
“Chocolate chunk—” she starts to correct him, but then stops herself. “Thank you,” she replies, not quite meeting his eyes. “It took me a while to get them just right.” She picks up her coffee and takes a sip and he can see she’s on more comfortable ground now.
Anthony leans back in his chair and studies her. Women usually like him. Although it’s clear Natalie doesn’t. She’s attracted to him though, and her attraction is pissing her off. He’s tempted to get a rise out of her again, but decides not to bother.
Plain, plump, and persnickety.
Anthony knows the type and they’re typically humorless. Best to just get on with the meeting.
“I know you sent me all your financial information,” he says, speaking to both women. “Let me show you what I did with it.” He reaches for his bag and pulls out his laptop, moving his coffee aside so he can place the computer on the table in front of him. “Basically, I have financial software I use for all my tenants. It’s a program I wrote myself called A Conti Fatti.” His laptop is in sleep mode, so it only takes a few seconds to bring up his business software and find their file. “Graham is already familiar with it, but let me show you two how it works.”
After opening the file for La Dolce Vita, Anthony brings up the page that shows the financial overview of the bakery. He then turns the laptop toward Natalie and Blair.
They both lean forward in their chairs, focusing on his computer.
“What I’ve done is create this software that takes in all the financial variables involved in running a small business,” Anthony explains. “It tells me whether or not you can afford your lease.”
He brings up some pie charts to show them what he’s talking about. “I created this to help screen my tenants, and then I let Graham here handle the paperwork and all the rest of it.”
Natalie looks perplexed. “But I still don’t understand why you won’t lease us the space next door.”
Anthony turns the computer around and brings up their profit and loss page. “According to this, you can’t afford it. In order to inhabit that space you’d need to first remodel, plus your monthly lease would double.”
“We’ve already gotten bank approval for the remodeling loan, though,” Blair puts in. “And we have savings, too.”
“I know,” says Anthony. “But it would still be a bad investment on my part.”
Natalie frowns. “That space next door is empty and has been for months. Aren’t you losing money?”
“Yes, but all that information is accounted for. My software tells me it’s safer to find a new tenant than allow you to rent that space and have to abandon it. Believe me, I’ve included every variable, and it isn’t a good idea.”
He watches the women as they study the computer screen. Blair, the redhead, is leaning on one elbow as she reads. The ball-buster is facing forward with a scowl on her face. She licks her lips in what appears to be frustration and picks up her coffee mug.
The movement catches his eye and when she puts the mug down, he’s still watching.
Anthony’s eyes widen as he focuses on her mouth. It’s shockingly sensual. Even with the scowl. What’s a mouth like that doing on a stern woman like this? Full lips with a natural pout and a pink flush that clearly isn’t makeup. From what he can tell, she isn’t wearing any makeup at all. Her skin is pretty and he decides she doesn’t really need it. Her hair is light brown and pulled back in a severe ponytail.
He scans her body quickly, but there isn’t much to see. She’s sitting, but even standing he suspects he couldn’t see much. Her clothes are black and baggy and he figures she’s trying to hide that she’s overweight.
Natalie suddenly looks at him, sensing his perusal.
He grins and surprisingly her scowl goes away. That erotic mouth looks even better. Such perfect cherry lips. He wonders what she looks like when she smiles. A real smile, not the fake ones she’s been giving.
“So if I begged a little, do you think you’d give me your cookie recipe?” he asks.
He continues to smile, but she doesn’t smile back. In fact, the scowl has returned and is deeper than ever.
Dude, she probably never smiles.
Natalie frowns. Did he really just ask me for my cookie recipe? Like I’d hand it out?
She knew he was looking her over, too. He’s probably comparing me to his harem of women who all look like variations of Justine—a cake pop with breasts and gold earrings.
If that’s the measure he’s using then she knows she falls short. Very short. Not that I care anyway.
Her eyes go back to his computer and the pie charts and graphs he’s showing them. It all seems like a bunch of nonsense. And to think, this nonsense is the reason they can’t expand La Dolce Vita.
“What about all the business we turn away? How is that factored into your program
?” Natalie asks.
Anthony meets her eyes. Was he just looking at my mouth? She licks her lips, hoping she doesn’t have food on her face.
It takes him a moment to process her question. “I didn’t know you turned business away. How often does that happen?”
Natalie looks over at Blair, who shrugs. “Every day. I have a waiting list for my wedding cakes,” Blair explains.
“We’ve been approached by various caterers and restaurants to supply desserts, but I’ve had to turn many of them down, since we don’t have the baking capacity.” Natalie sighs. “It’s frustrating.”
Anthony’s brows knit together as he chews on this. “Very interesting. Did you know about this, Graham?”
“No, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
Anthony reaches down into his satchel and pulls out a black case. When he opens it, Natalie sees it contains glasses. Thick black ones, like Clark Kent. He turns the computer back toward himself, squinting a little before putting on the glasses.
She finishes the last of her latte, trying not to stare at Anthony as he clicks on his keyboard and then starts typing rapidly.
Graham is asking them if they’ve kept track of any of the business they’ve had to turn down. “Do you have numbers we can look at?”
“I can show you the waiting list for my wedding cakes, if that helps. I’m not sure if Natalie has written anything down, have you?” Blair turns to Natalie.
“No, though I could probably come up with an estimate.” She’s still watching Anthony.
The glasses slip down from his nose and he pushes them up a few times. He looks like a geek. The only thing missing from those oversize black glasses is a piece of duct tape holding them together.
As she watches him squinting at his computer, she has a revelation.
My God. He is a geek.
Granted, an absurdly handsome one.
“What do you do for a living, Anthony?” Natalie finds herself asking curiously.
“I’m an astronomer,” he says, still typing, not bothering to look up.
Natalie opens her mouth. It wasn’t at all what she expected him to say. Although, now that she sees him with his geek paraphernalia, it doesn’t seem that far-fetched.
Year of Living Blonde (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 1) Page 8
