Her Sweet Temptation

by Nina Crespo

  Rina walked outside the front door of the cafe and breathed in the semicool air of a pleasant summer night.

  Live music drifted from the wine bar farther down. Across the street, eight or nine high school kids were laughing and teasing each other in front of the ice cream parlor. A few doors down, a worker was setting up a new window display at the floral shop.

  Instead of going upstairs, she turned to join the few pedestrians strolling the sidewalks and ran into a human wall.

  He grasped her arms and warmth along with a familiar spicy woodsy scent surrounded her. She looked up. “Scott. You came.”

  The boisterous teens from the ice cream parlor swarmed past.

  She moved forward to get out of the way and her palm accidently landed on Scott’s solid white fabric-covered chest.

  He held her more securely. “Sorry I’m late. Something unexpected happened and I was held up. I would have called you, but things got hectic.”

  “It’s okay. My day didn’t go as planned either.”

  “What’s going on?” He adjusted his stance.

  His muscles shifting under Rina’s palm woke her up to the fact that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, he was still holding her and she was touching him for no reason. Other than it felt comforting. With his size and solid strength, it was tempting to just stand there and lean into him.

  Rina slipped back from his grasp and pushed out a breezy laugh. “I’m sure your day was a lot more interesting.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because working on a movie set seems like it would be much more exciting than events at the cafe.”

  He huffed a chuckle. “Some days more than others. Were you going someplace?”

  “A short walk, but I have the parts for the sink. They’re in my office.”

  “Do you mind if we don’t go in yet?” He rolled his shoulders. “That walk actually sounds good. If you’d like some company.”

  His expression was easy to read. He needed some air just like she did. “Sure.” She headed up the street away from the wine bar, walking toward the center of town.

  As he matched his stride to hers, his movements were smooth and economical. Her jeans swished loudly as she walked while even with his heavy boots, he hardly made a sound.

  In her mind’s eye, she catalogued her face and the T-zone that was always an oil slick by the end of the day. And she’d forgotten to take off her apron. It was slightly rumpled and there was flour on her tennis shoes. Ugh! She looked terrible.

  Her arm bumping his pulled her out of her thoughts. Or had he nudged her on purpose?

  Scott smiled. “So tell me what happened?”

  She waved him off. “Like I said, compared to your life, it’s boring. Let’s talk about your day instead.”

  They crossed the street to the bricked sidewalk surrounding the town square, a well-lit grassy area with a fountain in the center of it and park benches.

  “How about a bet?” he asked. “You tell me about your day. I’ll tell you about mine. Whoever’s had the most intriguing day buys the ice cream.”

  “Sorry. I don’t gamble.”

  “Not even for ice cream? Come on. Either way things shake out, it’s a win.”

  The way he wiggled his eyebrows made Rina laugh. It was just a bet for ice cream not a wager on a race or a high-stakes poker game, and talking with him had already started to ease her headache. The possibility of complete relief from the pain loosed her words. “A few weeks ago, I was approached by a local natural foods store chain about providing pies for their stores.”

  “That’s great. Congrats.” He took a seat beside her on the park bench.

  “Thank you.” He’d been the first to congratulate her. Up until that moment, she hadn’t really thought of just being approached by Gwen’s Garden as an achievement. “But it’s not as great as I thought it would be. I set up a tasting this morning. They like my pies but they want me to create a new dessert line for them.”

  “And the problem is?”

  “The recipes for my pies have been in my family for decades.” As she lifted her hands with a slight shrug, she searched for the words to explain. “They’ve been perfected over time. I just can’t whip up a whole new line of different desserts in a few weeks.”

  “I don’t know. To me, it sounds like can’t isn’t your problem. Certainty is.”

  “You lost me.”

  “Let me give you an example from my world.” He turned slightly toward her. “During my career, I’ve executed a thirty-foot-high jump from a stationary object several times. When I do it, I know exactly what I have to consider—height, speed, rate of impact. Those elements are a trusted part of the equation that will never change for me to make the perfect jump. In the same way, your family recipes have elements or ingredients combined in a certain way that you trust will make the perfect pie. Are you with me so far?”

  “I guess. Truthfully, I’m still trying to imagine why anyone would willingly leap off a high stationary object.”

  His deep laugh was like a first sip of wine. Welcoming, relaxing and prompting her to sit back and enjoy the moment. “It’s easy with the right safety equipment and precautions. But here’s my point. If a director were to change the jump to forty or even fifty feet, the basic elements wouldn’t change. Once the equipment and safety aspects are figured out, it comes down to me and how certain I am.”

  “And certainty comes with practice. And that’s my problem with creating this new line. I don’t have years, not even months to perfect things, just weeks.”

  “The first time I did a jump over thirty feet, I got one shot to get it right. And you know what?”

  “You nailed it?” She couldn’t stop a teasing smile as she tossed out what he’d said after nearly running her over in front of the barn,

  “Good one.” He chuckled. “But no. It wasn’t perfect. It was ninety percent of what I wanted it to be but it was good enough for the director to keep in the film.” Scott leaned in and interest along with an invisible tether wrapped round Rina and made her lean in, too. “Those pear bars you made yesterday, I’m guessing from your point of view, they’re about ninety-five percent of what you’d like them to be.”

  “Try eighty.”

  “Personally, I thought they were on the money.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely.” Scott looked into her eyes. “But I’m sure once you get them where you want them to be or create this new line, they’ll be the right combination of sweetness and perfection.”

  “Thank you.”

  Perfection was the intensity in his gaze and the low-wattage version of his charming smile. It made her want to agree to anything he said just to keep looking at him and prolong the headiness and warmth expanding inside of her.

  Yes, she understood what Scott was trying to tell her—that if she created the new line, what she deemed as almost good enough could actually be viewed as great in Max’s and Linda’s eyes. But why spend time creating desserts that they might not consider good enough? It wasn’t like she needed the contract. No. Tomorrow, she was calling Linda and telling her she was taking a pass on creating the new line.

  “Okay,” Rina eased back a little. “I told you about my day. Now it’s your turn.” As she sat back, Scott stretched his arm behind her.

  “My day was great until this afternoon. Then it turned into chaos. Nash injured himself on set today. He tripped and ended up twisting his ankle and chipping a tooth.”

  “What? No way.” She’d heard someone compare Nash to being a ten on the eye candy scale. It was hard to imagine him banged up, not that she’d really imagined him at all. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Probably. But the media and gossip from the set are his biggest worries now. Somebody tipped off the local paparazzi about what happened, and they showed up at the ho
spital. He and his publicist didn’t feel comfortable with anyone seeing him injured so I got called in to act as a decoy. I pretended to be him coming out the front of the hospital so they could sneak him out the back.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Yes. He’s on his way to New York to see a specialist about his ankle and a cosmetic dentist to fix his tooth. I saw him at the hospital. He didn’t look all that bad considering what happened, but his pride took a hit. He’s embarrassed that he tripped running to get on a horse.”

  “Maybe it’s a big deal for him because he’s a celebrity, but everybody falls. My dad used to say falling was one of life’s greatest lessons. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. When you fall, you learn how to push past adversity and get up.”

  “That’s exactly how I see it.”

  Great minds think alike. Rina stopped short of saying it aloud. The only reason she’d thought about it was because of the strong connection she felt with him. He probably didn’t feel anything. She stood. “It’s getting late. We should get back.”

  A look crossed his face as if he’d just remembered something. “Right, the sink.” He rose to his feet. “The repair won’t take long.”

  Feeling re-energized from her talk with Scott, she went back to her office instead of going to her apartment. While he worked, Rina began clearing files and recipe books from her desk. Linda had mentioned she was out of the office for the next few days. Sending a text declining the contract offer skirted the lines of unprofessional. She’d wait and give her a call on Monday.

  Just as she tucked the last book on the shelf behind her desk, Scott rapped on the doorjamb. “I’m all done. Do you want to take a look?”

  She followed him to the ladies’ room and tried out the faucet. Water was flowing from where it should, and there were no leaks. And no reason for Scott to come back by.

  Disappointment grew as Rina faced him. “Thank you for taking care of this, and thank you for listening to me earlier.”

  “No problem. And you won by the way. I owe you ice cream tomorrow.”

  “No. I owe you ice cream tomorrow. You having to act as a decoy for Nash is a lot more intriguing than my situation.”

  He picked up the toolbox from the floor. “As a rule, I don’t argue over ice cream so it’s a date.”

  Giddy anticipation emerged, but Rina squashed it. They’d made a bet, she’d lost and was paying up in ice cream. That’s all. It wasn’t a date.

  Chapter Nine

  Philippa rapidly sliced a cucumber on a cutting board with a chef’s knife. She paused a moment to look at Rina standing next to her at the silver prep table. “I hate to bust your bubble, but going out for ice cream—that’s a date.”

  Between all of the happenings with the cafe and the situation with Gwen’s Garden, of course, the topic Philippa was most interested in that morning was Scott. When Rina had mentioned she and Scott were going out for ice cream, Philippa had asked what she’d planned to wear and she’d said nothing special. After that, the date versus un-date debate kicked off.

  In the midst of lunch service, cooks and kitchen helpers bustled around performing their tasks like clockwork in Pasture Lane Restaurant’s red-tiled commercial kitchen.

  Rina raised her voice over the cacophony, making sure Philippa heard her reply. “Scott and I made a bet, and I lost. Now I’m paying up in ice cream. That’s not a date. It’s a transaction.”

  “Let’s see. A social engagement between two people, involving food, and the two people are attracted to each other.” In one swift movement, Philippa gathered up the slices using the side of the knife and dropped them into a nearby bowl. “Definitely a date.”

  “Hold on. Who said Scott and I are attracted to each other?”

  Philippa stared at her. “Do I really have to explain it to you? He made that bet, knowing either way he’d get to go out with you. A guy doesn’t do that unless he’s interested. I’ll give him points for originality. But you get a side-eye for denying you didn’t see it.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  Philippa delivered the promised side-eye.

  Rina stuck her hands in the front pocket of her purple apron stopping herself from throwing a cucumber at Philippa. “The point is, it’s not a date because I don’t consider it to be one.”

  “There are people in town who would be thrilled to be in your so-called un-date situation. Honestly, I don’t understand why it’s such a problem for you to go out with him.”

  “I didn’t say it was a problem just a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  Last night on the park bench with Scott, the way they’d gotten along so easily and how she’d confided in him so quickly—she’d experienced that only one other time. Falling hard and fast for Xavier had been her first mistake, and she wouldn’t repeat it with Scott. But if she admitted that, Philippa would want to dive deeper into it. Something she didn’t want to do in public and didn’t have time for since she was meeting Zurie soon.

  Rina checked the time on her phone. “Dating requires energy and commitment, and I’m a hundred percent committed to Brewed Haven.”

  “One date isn’t a long-term commitment. Unless it’s so good and you decide to indulge. Then it might be longer.”

  Rina could feel the glances from some of the staff, now curious about her and Philippa’s discussion while others were seemingly engrossed in finding pots or utensils on a nearby rack. “Again, it’s not a date, and can we not talk about indulging right now in front of everyone?”

  “Yes, but it shouldn’t matter what we’re talking about,” Philippa spoke louder. “Because instead of ear-hustling our conversation, my capable staff should be busy making sure we have enough baked potatoes prepped for dinner so we don’t run out of them like we did last night.”

  Someone standing near the rack dropped a metal pan and like a horn at a starting line, everyone around them reanimated, fully interested in their work.

  Philippa went back to her cucumbers. “Would it be so hard not to overcomplicate the situation and just go out with him?”

  “I’m not overcomplicating the situation. There are plenty of good reasons why I shouldn’t.” Her phoned buzzed in with a text. “It’s Zurie. She wants to meet earlier. I have to go.”

  “See you later. And for the record, when it comes to the whole dating thing, I’m a hundred percent team Scott.”

  “Gee, bestie, thanks for the support.”

  Philippa shrugged off the sarcasm. “You’re welcome.”

  As Rina headed for the double doors leading to the dining room of Pasture Lane, she put the date versus un-date debate to rest. Aside from the issue of Scott being a little too easy to like, dating, having a good time, indulging, whatever Philippa wanted to call it, all took effort. If she was going to put effort into anything, her choice was Brewed Haven. After five years in business, she was finally reaping some rewards for her hard work. This was the time to keep building, not to get sidetracked by distractions. Listen to me, sounding like a seasoned boss. Rina laughed silently.

  Her first year in business, she’d practically worn herself out trying to get the cafe off the ground. She’d also learned what it took to be a business owner. Year two, she’d had a couple of bad breaks and struggled financially but she’d made it through. Years three and four, she’d kept building Brewed Haven to where it was now—a thriving business with a strong foothold in the community.

  Rina stepped into the half-full dining area.

  Guests and local customers sat at wood tables with green padded chairs enjoying a leisurely breakfast. Zurie walked in on the other side of the room near the hostess station, and her presence drew several people’s attention away from the lush green scenery outside the wall of glass.

  Compared to Rina’s casual attire of a Brewed Haven T-shirt, apron and jeans, Zurie looked the part of an efficient office executive in
a white blouse, navy skirt and matching pumps. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders.

  Rina met her in the center of the restaurant. Despite their almost nine year age difference, Zurie looked younger. Years ago, when they were both in their twenties, more than a few people had assumed Zurie was her more serious fraternal twin. Many people had also viewed Zurie as the more responsible one back then. Sometimes it felt like Zurie still did.

  “Good, you’re here.” Zurie glanced down and tapped into her phone. “Let’s talk in my office.”

  Rina opened her mouth to ask if she could grab a coffee first, but Zurie was already halfway to the entrance. She followed her out.

  In the corridor behind the lobby of the guesthouse, staff in blue uniform coveralls cleaned the restrooms and straightened the gold-tiered literature stand filled with tourist brochures.

  A little farther down, a shorter hallway to the right led to the business center, a meeting space and the fitness room.

  Just as they walked past the hallway, someone called out, “Rina!”

  She stepped back to see who it was.

  Halfway down, Scott looked in her direction, smiling as he filled a gray bottle at the water fountain. “Wait up.” He screwed the top on the bottle.

  As Scott jogged toward her, a blond woman heading into the business center paused to take in the view.

  In a black tank top, his chest and shoulders seemed wider and his arms more defined. Loose gray shorts revealed his muscular legs.

  Noticing the woman’s mouth remained opened as she stared, Rina shut hers.

  Scott stopped in front of her. Wisps of damp hair stuck to his forehead. “Hey. How are you?”

  Up close, the view was even more impressive. “Hi. Were you in the gym? Of course you were.” Did she just do the answering her own questions thing? But she’d outgrown that nervous habit years ago.

  “Yeah, had to get in a workout.” He moved closer and the clean scent of soap and the faint hint of sweat, the good kind, wafted in her direction. “Are we still on for tonight?”