Sweet Surprise: Romance Collection

by Wanda E. Brunstetter, Kristin Billerbeck, Kristy Dykes, Aisha Ford, Birdie L. Etchison, Pamela Griffin, Joyce Livingston, Tamela Hancock Murray

  “Settle down, boy!” Gwendolyn coaxed.

  “Where’s Hal?” Sebastian wondered.

  “He went out for a latte. He’ll be back before we get started.”

  “He’d better be. Hal’s the only one who can keep Pansy under control.”

  Gwendolyn picked up a petit four and began applying petroleum jelly to the outside with a miniature paintbrush.

  “Now what?”

  “You’ve never seen your other photographers at work, have you?” Her voice held an edge that revealed her suspicion.

  What could he say? He had always trusted Ebba. “The last photographer we had was in place before I was even born.”

  “Oh. She just retired, huh?”

  “After a long career, yes. And I never once heard her say the first thing about petroleum jelly.”

  “I’m sure she used it. She just didn’t tell you, that’s all. It’s nothing sinister. Petroleum jelly will make the chocolate coating on your petit fours look even more scrumptious, especially under the right lighting. You’ll see.”

  Sebastian pointed to an oversized fan. “What is that for?”

  “For the shots of falling snow, of course.” Gwendolyn nodded toward a set depicting a ski slope. “When the time is right, we’ll turn the fan on low and use artificial flakes to create a gentle snowfall.”

  Sebastian pictured the campaign Gwendolyn had explained to his mom. Mom had okayed the idea and then passed on the info to Sebastian without getting his approval first. So what else was new?

  Still, he had to admit, he liked the idea. The model would be positioned, half sitting and half lying, as if she had just fallen in the snow. Pansy would be in the background, taking in the whole situation with her big brown cow eyes. Wearing a barrel around his neck replicating the ones on the stuffed dogs, Bernie would look at the model as if he were her best friend. A few petroleum jelly-painted petit fours would be placed in the snow, as if they had fallen from Bernie’s barrel. Gwendolyn had suggested this as a way to show the consumer the product itself.

  He pictured the caption, in red script:

  Want to win her over?

  Let DairyBaked Delights come to the rescue.

  P.S. Bring the dog.

  “I’m sure I’ll be pleased,” Sebastian said with a nod.

  “Good. I think this ad will get everyone’s attention and convince people to buy your goods for holiday entertaining.”

  Just then, the model appeared. She was wearing ski garb the color of raspberry jelly. Her face was made up in a flamboyant style. Her lips were the color of raspberries, and her dark hair was streaked with the same color. She did remind him of a bonbon.

  “Here she is,” Gwendolyn said. “What do you think?”

  Fernando didn’t hold back his opinion. “She is beautiful, is she not?” He brought his fingertips to his thumb, then touched them to his lips. Making a kissing noise, he drew his hand back toward the model in an exaggerated gesture. “Bella!”

  Sebastian felt his breakfast threaten to make an encore appearance. Fernando’s character seemed to be a guise, not the true persona of a full-blooded Italian male.

  Sebastian looked at the model but visualized Gwendolyn instead. “Bella,” he whispered.

  “Is anything wrong?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “No. Nothing.” Actually, everything. Sebastian realized he had been staring not at the model or anything else in the room he was supposed to be observing. Ever since he stepped into the room, he could only concentrate on Gwendolyn. He had to leave. He had to, before he made a complete and utter fool of himself.

  “Everything looks as though it’s going smoothly,” he managed. “I see no need to stay and watch the entire shoot. But I shall expect exceptional results.” With a curt nod, Sebastian set out to make his exit. In his haste, his knee tripped the latch to Bernie’s cage. Enthralled by unexpected freedom, the dog bounded for the set.

  “Stop, Bernie!” shouted Gwendolyn. “You’ll ruin everything!”

  Chapter 4

  T he dog wasn’t listening. Jumping on the fan’s pedestal, he pressed the switch with his massive right paw. A second thump with his left paw sent the fan’s blades from a gentle spin to full speed. Mighty gusts of wind filled the room.

  Picking up white plastic bits from an open container in its path, the wind swirled them into a frenzy until the inside of the studio resembled a blinding blizzard.

  Before the unexpected burst of wind, Fernando had set a few petit fours in the artificial snow that had been placed on the make-believe ski slope. But the platter of petit fours that Fernando held proved to be the dog’s goal. Bernie bounded for the treats. His slobbering mouth made contact with the edge of the thick china, knocking it to the floor. Unprepared, Fernando lost his balance and landed on the floor, jelly-covered candies cascading all over his indigo shirt and black pants.

  The petit fours that flew from the platter onto the model landed on her hair. Gravity taking them downward, they left trails of jelly clinging to her smooth locks. Flying artificial snow adhered to the gunk. The final effect gave the impression her hair had been visited by snails that left behind slimy, snowflake-filled trails. Gooey treats spiraled downward and landed on her outfit, leaving greasy brown blotches wherever they hit before making their final free fall to the floor.

  Having vanquished his enemies, Bernie bounded for the petit fours and engulfed a mouthful of treats. The pause in the dog’s leaping seemed to bring Fernando to his senses, propelling him to shut off the fan. The blizzard ceased.

  “You brute!” Fernando screamed as he got up and assessed the spots of jelly and chocolate on his clothing. “Now my beautiful silk shirt and best pants are a disaster!” His dark eyes narrowed as he looked in Gwendolyn’s direction. “Someone will have to pay me every last cent it costs to replace this!”

  By this time, Gwendolyn had helped the model recover and was ready to put a consoling hand on the assistant’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Fernando. It’s only a shirt.”

  “Only a shirt! But it is my favorite shirt!”

  Sebastian interrupted with a more immediate concern. “Don’t let Bernie eat the treats. He could die!”

  “He could?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “Yes. My dog, Cookie, got into an open box of truffles last Christmas and became violently ill,” Sebastian said as he attempted to corner Bernie. “His vet said dogs don’t have the enzyme needed to digest chocolate.”

  “Not to mention, no creature should be eating petroleum jelly,” Gwendolyn added, trying to grab Bernie’s collar. “Those are props, Bernie.”

  “Now, now, Bernie. You don’t want to eat that.” Sebastian’s coaxing failed to convince the animal. The dog’s response was to lunge onto Sebastian, the surprise impact knocking him to the floor. Bernie’s front paws held him down by his shoulders and his back paws rested on Sebastian’s legs.

  “Get off my knees! That hurts!”

  Wagging his tail, Bernie complied, but not before drooling chocolate, raspberry jelly, bits of chocolate cake and vanilla cake, mauled cherries, coconut, caramel, and petroleum jelly all over Sebastian’s suit and hair. Only a quick turn of his head saved Sebastian’s face.

  “What’s going on here?” Hal interrupted.

  “Get your dog!” Fernando commanded.

  Hal set his latte in an empty corner on the floor and rushed to calm the excited animal before confining him to his cage. Hal’s cooing words to assuage the animal seemed to have a soothing effect on the humans as well.

  Looking about the trashed studio, Gwendolyn seemed to be making mental calculations as to the amount of damage caused.

  “How did he get out of his cage? I had it locked,” Hal said as Bernie entered his portable kennel.

  “My knee hit the latch,” Sebastian admitted. “I’m just glad you got here when you did, Hal.”

  “So am I,” Gwendolyn agreed. “But Hal’s arrival was too little, too late, I’m afraid. This place is such a mess, I don’t think
we’ll be able to shoot today.”

  Her edict resulted in a collective groan.

  “When will we be able to reschedule?” Sebastian wanted to know.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to reschedule a shoot now until next week. First, the studio must be cleaned. Then I’m booked with other jobs from tomorrow until next Tuesday.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sebastian said. “Please reschedule whenever you can.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I know I promised your mom—”

  “Never mind. It was mostly my fault. I’ll explain everything to her.” He looked at the disaster that the studio had become. “Hire a cleaning crew. DairyBaked Delights will cover the expense.”

  “That is very generous of you, Mr. Emerson,” Fernando said.

  “Yes, thank you. That will save Fernando and me a lot of valuable time, and allow us to reschedule your shoot sooner,” Gwendolyn added.

  Fernando cleared his throat. “About my shirt…”

  Though he felt no special generosity toward the young man, Sebastian knew he had to make amends. He took out his wallet, withdrew five twenty-dollar bills, and handed it to Fernando. “Will that buy you another silk shirt?”

  He nodded several times in rapid succession. “Yes! Thank you!”

  “Good. I’m glad to have at least one person happy today. I’ll see the rest of you later.” Humiliated by his error and disgusted by the mess the dog had slobbered on him, Sebastian rushed out the door, determined nothing would stop him this time.

  He hadn’t even gotten to the elevator when he heard Gwendolyn calling him.

  “Sebastian! Wait!”

  He pretended not to hear. Not even Gwendolyn can console me now.

  “Sebastian!”

  He was cornered. “What is it?”

  Her eyes bespoke her sympathy. “Look, I’m really sorry about today.”

  “Sorry? Why are you sorry?” he snapped. “You and your staff will be paid for today even though you didn’t snap the first picture, and you’ll collect your fee for your work next week.”

  Her mouth opened as if she were about to deliver a rebuttal, but she didn’t speak. The hurt look on her face, still smeared endearingly with chocolate, was too much for him to resist.

  “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know. At least, I think I know.” From Sebastian’s perspective, her smile lit up the entire building.

  “I’m just kicking myself for being such a klutz that I’ve thrown off the whole day.” Sebastian looked at his ruined suit and let out an audible sigh. “I just want to go home and forget this morning ever happened.”

  Gwendolyn cocked her head toward the model, who had begun wiping off her face. “You could be her.” She lifted a strand of her own dark hair, which had become saturated during the effort to calm Bernie. “Or me. Want to help me clean this out of my hair?” To his surprise, rather than being angered as Fernando had been, Gwendolyn giggled like a young girl flush with the excitement of her first slumber party.

  “You think this is funny?” he asked.

  She stopped laughing long enough to ask, “Don’t you?”

  Gwendolyn’s resilient spirit was difficult to resist. “I suppose we do look pretty amusing. And we probably smell even worse. At least I’m sure I do. Clothes can be replaced, and we humans are washable, aren’t we?”

  “As far as I know.” He grinned in spite of himself.

  “Fernando is a player, and he wants to be ready for his next impromptu date,” Gwendolyn told him. “He always carries more than one change of clothes. Maybe he has a pair of pants and a shirt you can borrow.”

  He looked down at his long legs. “I don’t know. He’s a lot shorter than I am.”

  “Who cares what the clothes look like? As soon as you get home, you can change and enjoy your day off.”

  “Enjoy my day off ?” he scoffed. “Not when I’ve got to face Mother and tell her I’ve run up a huge bill with no pictures to show for it.”

  “That’s all right. You don’t have to pay me.”

  “No. I insist.” Sebastian tipped his head to one side and shrugged. “You shouldn’t have to pay for a lost day and a cleaning bill when the accident wasn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe you’ll feel better after eating my dessert,” she suggested.

  “Dessert?”

  “Don’t you remember? I promised to make you dessert.”

  “Oh, that.” Embarrassment covered him as he remembered how rudely he had challenged her. “You didn’t really have to do that.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “All right, I suppose I did seem pretty serious about the whole thing last week. If there’s enough dessert, maybe we can share it with Fernando and Hal later. A good dessert should put us all in a better mood.”

  After cleaning the goo from her face and hair and sponging off her soft white sweater and black pants as best as she could, Gwendolyn was ready to serve her dessert. She retrieved the pie and a container of whipped cream from the compact refrigerator and headed toward the table where everyone sat, awaiting a treat.

  When she noticed Sebastian, she nearly dropped the pie. Following her suggestion, he had borrowed a shirt and a pair of pants from Fernando. Since the wild floral-patterned shirt was three sizes too small, Sebastian was forced to keep the buttons on the front and cuffs undone. Gwendolyn had to admit her new boss possessed a chest her male friends in the modeling business would envy. She summoned her willpower to keep from staring.

  Fernando’s blue jeans constricted Sebastian’s taut abdomen and full thighs so that he shifted in his seat every few minutes. Their ill fit wouldn’t have been noticeable to the casual observer, except that the jeans were hemmed well above his ankles. If Gwendolyn had seen Sebastian without knowing why he was wearing such a getup, she would have guessed he had been stranded alone on a desert island since he was twelve years old and had been wearing the same outfit since his ship wrecked.

  Trying to maintain her composure, Gwendolyn placed the dessert on a table where it wouldn’t be visible to the rest of the group. Only the model had excused herself. Gwendolyn wasn’t surprised that she passed on dessert.

  The burned piecrust hadn’t improved in appearance overnight. The color looked bluer than ever. She tried to cover her mistake with whipped topping, but some of the color was still visible from the gaps in the top. Giving up, she brought the dessert to the table.

  Sebastian was the first to speak. “Uh, what kind of pie is that?”

  “Key lime, of course!” Gwendolyn smiled so broadly she could almost feel the corners of her lips touch the sides of her ears. She looked around the table and noticed that everyone’s expressions looked as though they were watching a circus performer rather than anticipating a piece of delicious pie. “Why? Is something the matter?”

  Fernando answered. “It is a most…interesting…shade of…teal.”

  Gwendolyn examined the pie. “Teal?”

  Sebastian nodded. “I’d have to say he’s right. Sort of a teal green.”

  “Oh. It must be the food coloring. Yes, I was hoping for a more true green, but it turned out a bit odd. But it will still taste wonderful, I’m sure.” She knew she sounded like a television commercial.

  “You added food coloring?” Fernando asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t like the way it looked after I made it. I thought it looked anemic. More like a really, really pale lemon than a nice fresh lime. I was hoping to make it the color of the limes you see in the stores. You know, a nice, pretty shade of green.” She shrugged. “Oh, well.”

  “Oh, well?” Hal grunted. “Sorry, but I think I’ll pass. Say, Sebastian, got any more of those petit fours left?”

  “I used them all,” Gwendolyn snapped.

  “Oh.” Disappointment colored Hal’s tone. “I saw some pumpkin cake in the coffee shop. I think I’ll grab me a piece of that before I head on out to the farm.”

  Fernando’s eyes darted from side to side,
and he squirmed in his seat.

  “You don’t have to eat it, Fernando,” Gwendolyn said, swallowing to overcome her hurt feelings.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind? Uh, lime never was my favorite flavor, anyway. I never even liked those lime lollipops they give away at the bank.” He grinned. “I always asked for grape. Still do, as a matter of fact.”

  “Care to go next door with me?” Hal offered.

  Fernando gave Gwendolyn a pleading look before he answered. “If it’s all right with everyone…”

  “Cowards!” Sebastian teased.

  Funny. That’s what I used to think about you. To her surprise, Sebastian seemed almost likable.

  “But we will be cowards eating pumpkin cake!” Fernando countered as he and Hal headed out the door.

  After their exit, Sebastian turned to Gwendolyn, a smile lighting his handsome features. “Looks like we’ve been deserted, pun intended.”

  “Cute.” Gwendolyn screwed her mouth into a wry grin.

  “I thought so.”

  She looked at the door. “Go ahead.” She tried not to choke on her words. “I suppose you want to go with them.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” The light in his gray-blue eyes showed her that he meant it. “I want to try your pie. After all, you promised to make the dessert, the least I can do is eat it.” He winked. “Who knows? Maybe you’ve invented a new product for DairyBaked Delights!”

  Relieved that the troll had permanently retreated to his lair beneath the bridge, Gwendolyn placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Perhaps not about the new product. But I do want to try the dessert.”

  “Well, I don’t want to try it,” Gwendolyn admitted.

  “Why not?” Sebastian challenged. “What happened to your spirit of adventure?”

  “It doesn’t extend to food gone wrong.”

  “Aw, come on. I can look at this pie and tell you put a lot of work into it. We’ve got to try it.”

  “Well, okay.” She cut into the pie. The knife slid through the filling without a problem, but the crust was another matter. In her attempts to cut through it, she ended up stabbing it in frustration.