Fool for Love

by Beth Ciotta

  “What we need,” Rocky said, “is someone who can be objective. Someone who isn’t afraid to make a statement and stand by it. Someone with experience in the culinary world. If you ever feel like sitting in on a meeting, Chloe…”

  “I’m not an authority on cupcakes.”

  “Think about it,” Rocky said.

  “We’d love to have you,” Monica said.

  “I’m counting on it,” Daisy said. “I’ve decided to submit my special secret recipe. If Tasha turns up her reconstructed nose, I need you to convince everyone else she’s doesn’t know nutmeg from curry powder. I’ve been a member of the club for fifty years. I deserve to be in that book!”

  Chloe, who knew all about passion and the desire to succeed, couldn’t resist the woman’s heartfelt determination. Though Chloe wasn’t planning on creating a dessert herself anytime soon, she wasn’t opposed to being Daisy’s champion. “When you put it like that…”

  Monica and Rocky high-fived. Daisy pumped a scrawny fist. Luke winked his approval while Nash gave her a thumbs-up.

  Chloe smiled but fidgeted under Devlin’s quiet regard. What was he thinking? Typically she was pretty good at reading men, but not this man. It made her nuts.

  “Speaking of cupcakes,” Leo said. “What’s for dessert?”

  Monica punched him in the arm.

  “What?”

  Chloe cursed the fact that, once again, she was the center of attention. Half the table expected her to follow up with a fantastic dessert. The other half knew she’d dropped the ball. But even more disconcerting was the sexual energy rolling off of Devlin and crashing over her in erotic waves. She wanted to drown in it almost as much as she wanted to flee. There was something incredibly warped about being attracted to a man bent on finding fault with her every move. “As it happens…,” Chloe said, red faced.

  “As it happens,” Daisy said, “I made dessert. Needed to try my special secret recipe on someone.” She sprang from her seat with a smile. “Consider yourselves guinea pigs.” She shooed them up and away from the table. “Let’s not waste a beautiful sunset. Dessert and coffee on the back porch. It’s a little nippy out there, but you’ll live.”

  “I’ll brew the coffee.” Chloe hurried after Daisy with panic in her heart. “When,” she whispered with vehemence as they crossed the kitchen’s threshold, “did you bake cupcakes?”

  “Yesterday morning when you were at the library.”

  Chloe had made a habit of arriving at the library when the doors opened, snagging the first public Internet access appointment of the day. An hour to check e-mails and to surf her favorite cooking blogs, then she was good for the day. “You told me you’d been burning coconut and caramel candles!”

  “I lied.”

  Chloe nabbed a bag of coffee beans from the fridge as Daisy produced her secret stash of secret recipe cupcakes. “I can’t believe I fell for that. I can’t believe you duped me. You’re not supposed to bake or cook or … why didn’t you ask me to help?”

  “Because I didn’t want your help. Or Rocky’s. Or any other of my well-meaning relatives and friends. I needed to do this on my own.” Eyes glittering behind her metallic blue cat-eye glasses (the fourth set of funky glasses she’d worn this week), Daisy set the three-tiered cupcake carrier on the counter and unlatched the lid. “I’ve been baking cupcakes for decades. I remember sifting flour with my mom and grandma when I was five. Learning icing techniques from my aunt Pearl when I was seven. I owe it to them and the founding members of Cupcake Lovers to earn a place in this recipe book on my own.”

  Chloe was speechless. How could one argue with such divine motivation?

  Daisy pointed to the tall Shaker-style cabinet standing against the north wall. “Would you grab me that crystal serving platter on the third shelf, please?”

  “Sure.” Rising to her toes, she reached back and scored the dish. “I just wish you would have … Wow.” Her thoughts jumped track as Daisy lifted the lid to reveal two dozen edible works of art. “Those look incredible. What kind of frosting is that?”

  “Caramel Buttercream topped with toasted coconut.”

  “Rich?”

  “Unsalted butter. Heavy cream. Brown sugar. White sugar. Powdered sugar.”

  “Decadent.”

  “The chocolate ganache filling is decadent,” Daisy said while transferring cupcakes from Tupperware to crystal. “This calls for my favorite china. Cups, saucers, matching sugar bowl and creamer—same cabinet as the platter, top shelf.”

  “Right.” Chloe plucked a folding step stool from the corner, climbing to the third platform to search through the crammed and cluttered shelves. “I’m sure they’re delicious, Daisy, and I understand why you wanted to make them on your own. I just wish, please, don’t bake or cook without … an assistant. Someone, specifically me, to help if … well, if you need it. What if there was a kitchen fire? What if you slipped on a banana peel? I don’t want that on my conscience and I certainly don’t want Devlin up my … patooty.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Chloe winced at the male voice, nearly bobbling six china saucers and the sugar bowl as she slipped on the stool. Her heart skipped as strong hands caught her by the waist, then eased her to the ground. She didn’t have to turn to know it was Devlin. She knew his voice. His touch. His scent.

  “Came to help with the coffee.”

  “Don’t make it too strong,” Daisy said. “And don’t make the flavored stuff. I don’t want anything competing with the taste of my cupcakes.”

  Trapped between an immovable cabinet and a tall, hard man, Chloe cautiously turned just as Daisy whisked over the threshold with a tray of cupcakes. Damn. Before she could say anything, Devlin relieved her of the china.

  “What else do you need?”

  That’s a loaded question, she thought as her body hummed in response to his touch. “Two more saucers, eight cups, and the creamer.” She sidled past him and made a beeline for the coffeemaker. She filled the water tank, loaded a filter, and packed the grinder all the while waiting for a lecture. Surely he’d overheard enough to know Daisy had baked when Chloe wasn’t in the house. Instead, all she heard was the clink of dishes and the soft snick of the cabinet doors closing. Anxiety built as the silence stretched. She could feel him watching her. Could smell his cologne as he moved closer. On pins and needles, she jumped when the grinder jammed. “For cryin’ out…” She froze as Devlin pressed against her, reaching around to solve the problem with one easy maneuver. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Neither one of them moved. Caged between his arms, she focused on the grinding beans, her mind whirling with questions: What did you think of dinner? Why are you feuding with the Burkes? How was I supposed to know Daisy would bake behind my back? Instead, she blurted a demand: “Don’t confront Deputy Burke on my behalf.”

  “Don’t underestimate Daisy’s reckless mind-set. Not that she’s always been reckless. Rocky thinks she’s going through a crisis.”

  His mild and caring tone caught Chloe off guard. Turning, she looked up and met his earnest gaze. “I do, too. Not that she’s said anything specific. It’s just … a feeling.”

  “I’m worried about her. If she confides in you—”

  “I can’t make any promises. What if she swears me to secrecy? What if it’s something really personal and none of your business?”

  His mouth quirked. “I can respect that. On the other hand, I consider anything having to do with the emotional and physical well-being of my family my business.”

  No anger. No arrogance. Just a simple heartfelt decree … and a hint of the charming man she’d first bumped into at Oslow’s. “I can respect that,” she said, wary of the swift turnabout. “Still…”

  “That doesn’t give me leave to act like an overprotective, overbearing jackass.”

  That prompted a smile out of her. “You said it, not me.”

  He eased back and offered his hand. “Truce
?”

  She couldn’t imagine what had inspired this cordial attitude and she didn’t entirely trust it. But with the rest of her life in chaos, she welcomed one less headache. “Truce.” She grasped his big hand, willing herself not to blush as heat stole up her arm and flared throughout her body. “About Deputy Burke…”

  “I can’t make any promises, except that I won’t seek him out.”

  “That’s something, I guess.”

  “If you knew me, you’d know that’s a lot.”

  She realized then that he was still holding her hand. Or was it the other way around? When he brushed his thumb over her wrist she tingled from head to toe. “I’d like to,” she rasped. “Know you, I mean.” Don’t babble! “That is, I can’t figure you out.”

  “Same here. Maybe that’s the attraction.”

  “That was … direct.”

  “Not as direct as kissing you.”

  “You’re going to kiss me?”

  His eyes sparked with something she couldn’t read, damn him. Still stroking her wrist, he said, “That would be…”

  “Uncalled for?” she said, throwing back his previous summation. “Unwise?”

  “Dangerous.”

  How so? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. She snuffed every flirtatious volley that came to mind. She wasn’t prepared to follow through to whatever end. Not tonight. Not for a while. Too much was happening too fast. Too many changes. Too many unknowns.

  One challenge at a time.

  Instead of pushing the moment, she retreated. Severing their physical connection, she turned to check on the coffee. “I’ve had my fill of derring-do stunts for today.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” he said with a smile in his voice, then deftly changed the subject. “I can’t imagine Gram’s dessert trumping your dinner. Nevertheless, she’s waiting.”

  “We should get out there,” Chloe said, anxious to rejoin the others. She wasn’t sure she could withstand another five minutes alone with Devlin. Even though they’d cooled the flirtation, the air sizzled with awareness. Another five minutes and they could be doing horizontal mambo vertically in the broom closet. Java wasn’t the only thing brewing. “I’ll bring the coffee if you … Wait.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you just compliment my cooking?”

  “I did.” He smiled while arranging the coffee service on a large serving tray. “You realize of course that you’ve dazzled my family.”

  “With my cooking skill?”

  “With your people skills.”

  Another compliment? “Does that bother you?”

  “It intrigues me. You intrigue me.”

  That, she thought as he disappeared over the threshold, tray in hand, was the sexiest thing any man had ever said to her.

  Don’t go there, her wounded heart cautioned even as her inner Errol Flynn urged, Jump!

  “Let’s compromise,” Chloe told herself, heart racing as she snagged the pot of coffee and ventured into risky territory, “and live in the moment.”

  FIFTEEN

  The sun beamed over Thrush Mountain, yet the temperature had yet to break fifty. Rocky breathed in the brisk air as she jogged along Pikeman’s Trail. Instead of shorts, she’d opted for capri sweats. Instead of a tank, she’d slipped on a T-shirt and hoodie. Her ponytail slapped at her back, and her heart rate increased at a steady pace. A lot of joggers listened to music as they ran, but she preferred the sounds of nature. Leaves rustling, birds chirping. The distant rush of Sugar Creek.

  After a lousy night’s sleep, she’d dragged herself out of bed, dressed, swigged OJ from the carton, and dashed off to kick-start her day. She struggled to quiet her mind and lost. Mounting bills. Lack of business. Gram’s shenanigans. Rocky’s beef with Tasha. Her envy of Chloe. Two days after Sunday dinner and Rocky was still marveling at the woman’s culinary skills, not to mention her effect on Devlin. So much so that it dominated the conversation when Adam surprised her and joined her midway through her run.

  “I’m telling you, the chemistry between those two was palpable and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Luke, Nash, Gram, Monica, and Leo.” They’d burned up the phone lines later that night and again the next morning. “Everyone’s buzzing about what they observed and we all came to the same conclusion.”

  “They’re hot for one another.”

  “Not in an obvious way. I mean there wasn’t any flirting, not that we saw anyway, but there were lots of stolen looks and enough sexual tension to get a rise out of a eunuch.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Tell me about it.” Rocky had been torn between being thrilled for her brother and feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t felt that kind of searing attraction for a man since … It had been a long time.

  “Think they’ll act on it?”

  “I don’t know. Chloe’s fresh from a bad breakup and Dev is—”

  “Cautious.”

  “Suspicious.”

  “He has been burned a few times. First Janna—”

  “We don’t talk about her. Ever.” Rocky’s heart iced over at the mention of her ex-sister-in-law. Not that she was a bad person, just a person who’d behaved badly … and broken Rocky’s big brother’s heart.

  “Fine. Then there was Fiona and Cory and, at the risk of being punched, Tasha.”

  Each one more enamored with Dev’s wealth and prestige than Dev himself. Rocky sighed. “I know. But at least he approached those relationships with an open mind. Not this time. Thanks to Jayce.”

  “Jayce Bello? What’s he got to do with this?”

  Shit. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Rocky cursed her loose tongue and picked up her pace. They’d all grown up in the same small town. Adam knew Dev and Jayce were best friends. He knew Jayce lived and worked in New York.

  Undaunted, Adam jogged a few paces ahead, then turned to face her, jogging backward without missing a step. “Did Dev have Chloe investigated?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s cautious. Suspicious. Because he’d want to make sure that the woman living with his grandmother wasn’t a psycho or swindler.”

  Rocky didn’t know whether to confess or lie. Feeling the need to tread lightly, she straddled the fence. “I’m not saying he did, but if he did, he wouldn’t want anyone to know. So let’s just drop it.”

  “You’re the one who brought it up.”

  He fell in beside her and they jogged in silence for the next few minutes. Rocky’s brain, on the other hand, kept turning.

  “I just … I’d like to see them get together. She’s fun. Dev could use some fun in his life. All he does is work and talk about work. When he’s not doing that, he’s trying to micromanage everyone else’s life.”

  “Still trying to get you to sell the Red Clover?”

  “Says it’s a money pit.”

  Adam didn’t respond and she knew he agreed. When he’d helped her spackle the ceiling the other day, the repairman had arrived to work on her stove. While installing parts, the man had commented on her groaning fridge. In addition to the appliances, her back porch was also in need of repair. Even though Adam hadn’t said anything, she knew he thought the shed where she stored the recreational equipment for the guests was unsuitable. He’d merely raised a brow at the buckets she’d distributed to catch rain that dripped through the leaky roof.

  “You think I should sell it, too.” She knew she sounded surly. She couldn’t help it. She’d tossed and turned all night, and what should have been a stress-relieving run was now officially ruined.

  “No, but I do think these are tough times. For a lot of people. I think you could use some help.”

  “I’m not asking Daddy for money and I’m not taking money from Dev.” Every time he offered, she wanted to scream. It made her feel like a failure. Incapable. Even though she knew his intentions were good.

  “What about taking on a partner?”

  “Someone who’ll try to impose their ideas and will on me?” She snorted and ran faster. “No than
ks.”

  “Someone willing to invest time and money. Someone who shares your love of the land and appreciation for tourism.”

  The sounds of their Nikes hitting the worn dirt trail pounded in tandem. Her heart raced, and not just from exertion. Something in Adam’s voice jangled her nerves. “Just where would I find this perfect partner?”

  “You’re trying to outrun him.”

  To her credit she didn’t stumble or trip over her feet when she came to a knee-jarring halt. She did, however, walk in small circles, hands on hips, trying to avoid cramping up. Trying to avoid his gaze while she assembled her blown-to-bits thoughts.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Adam said. “I’ve spent the last two years freelancing, offering my services to three different tourist facilities. Which was fine. I built a reputation, socked away a lot of money. But now I want to get involved on a deeper level. I thought about investing in my own lodge, but given the economic climate, I’d be taking a hell of a risk on a start-up business. The Red Clover is an established regional bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Established, yes. Popular, no.”

  “We can make it popular.”

  The word “we” should have triggered a full-out run in the opposite direction. But she’d been maintaining the inn on her own for three years now, and despite her enthusiastic efforts to make a profit, she was miserably in the hole. With each passing day she could feel her dream slipping away. Heart pounding, she finally met his gaze. “Have some ideas, do you?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I do.”

  “I have to admit, I’m curious.”

  “Curious enough to listen to a proposed plan over breakfast?”

  A good judge of character, she sensed nothing but sincere enthusiasm at the prospect of uniting for a business venture. Adam was one of the most grounded, trustworthy men she knew. Competent, too. He was also sinfully good in bed. “You do realize that if we went into business together we’d have to stop sleeping together.”

  “Why? Aren’t you capable of separating business and pleasure?”

  “Are you?”

  “Sure.”