by Heidi Betts
Which just went to prove that small town life wasn’t quite as dull or restrictive as he’d once believed. In fact, he kind of liked it.
Of course, he didn’t think his current happiness had as much to do with where he was living as it did with how he was living…and with whom.
Hiking Danny higher on his hip, he continued to whistle—the theme from Thomas the Tank Engine, no less—and grinned at his son’s hearty chuckle. He was wearing a pair of denim trousers with an official Sugar Shack infant tee and tiny yellow sneakers.
The Sugar Shack merchandise had been Marc’s idea and had been an immediate success. In addition to baked goods, they now sold T-shirts, sweatshirts, baby clothes, coffee and travel mugs, and even key chains. In his opinion, it was the best advertising Vanessa could get other than plain old word of mouth.
The sneakers were because Danny was walking now…well, toddling, was more like it…and because he was starting to want to dress more like his daddy. Marc’s heart gave a lurch at the thought and he squeezed his son even tighter against his side.
“We’re going to see Mommy,” he told the little boy, then added, “Maybe she’ll give you a cookie.”
“Cookie!” Danny yelled at the top of his lungs, lifting his arms and clapping over his head.
Marc laughed, wondering how much trouble he would get in when Vanessa found out he was plying their son with promises of sugar first thing in the morning. But then, she ran a bakery, so she shouldn’t be surprised. “Cookie” had been Danny’s first word…followed by “mama,” “dada” and “cake.” He was working on “baklava,” but at the moment it came out more like “bababa.”
Reaching The Sugar Shack’s wide glass storefront, he pulled open the door to the distribution side of the business. An elderly woman was just shuffling out, so he held it for her and wished her a good day before slipping inside.
Vanessa was behind the counter, but as soon as she saw them, she smiled and started around. Her copper curls—longer now than when Danny had been an infant—were pulled back in a loose ponytail, and a pristine white Sugar Shack apron covered the front of her short-sleeve blouse and shorts.
“Cookie!” Danny cried, wiggling to be put down.
Vanessa arched a brow. “His idea, I’m sure,” she murmured half under her breath.
“Of course,” Marc replied. “But then, what can you expect when his mother owns the best bakery in the state? You’re lucky he isn’t asking for pastries morning, noon and night.”
“He is, but that doesn’t mean he’ll get them,” she answered primly.
Leaning in, she bussed Danny on the cheek, running her fingers through his toffee-brown hair, which was rather in need of a trim. They’d been talking lately about having it cut and Marc was inordinately excited about taking his son for his first visit to the barber shop. An honest-to-goodness barber shop!
When she lifted up on tiptoe to kiss him, too, he slipped his free arm around her back and pulled her in for something much longer and deeper. Trapped between them, Danny giggled when they stayed locked at the lips a bit too long and started slapping their cheeks with his small hands.
They pulled apart, and Vanessa chuckled, her face flushing a becoming shade of pink. Marc, however, was far from embarrassed; he was busy calculating how many hours were left before she closed up shop and he could convince her to go to bed early.
Too damn many, that was for sure.
“I have a surprise for you,” he told her as she moved back behind the counter.
He watched her loosen the ties of her apron and slip it over her head, then dig inside a small plastic container that she kept filled with cookies just for Danny. Their son’s love of sweets had prompted her to experiment with a few recipes for healthier cookies and desserts. Ones with less fat and sugar, and substitutions such as applesauce and raisin paste for the oils.
Coming around again, she handed Danny the cookie, and Marc set him on one of the high countertops to eat it, remaining close enough to keep him from toppling off.
Without the apron, Vanessa’s four months of pregnancy were much more noticeable. And just like every time he saw that tiny baby bump, Marc’s chest constricted with love and pride and the overwhelming relief of knowing that—even though they’d cut it damn close—he hadn’t let her get away.
As much as they’d suspected it for a while, she hadn’t been pregnant when they’d walked away from his family’s home. Instead, they’d had some time to settle in Summerville and adjust to once again being together. Not that there had been a lot of adjustment needed, at least not on his part.
They’d bought a large, very nice house on the outskirts of town. One that had been built years before by a wealthy businessman who’d decided to move closer to the city after he and his wife divorced.
It was smaller than Marc was used to, but exceptionally large and impressive for the area. It also had plenty of room for their growing family, and came with enough acreage to afford complete privacy, as well as room for Danny and his future siblings to play.
They had also gotten remarried. At the courthouse this time, with a minimum of fuss and muss. Only Helen had been in attendance as their witness, as well as Vanessa’s matron-of-honor and Danny’s stand-in-nanny. He actually thought she might be coming around to liking him, but he knew he would have to prove himself all over again to be worthy of her niece’s affections before he could truly win back the woman’s favor.
After everything they’d been through, it had been easy to agree that another big wedding wasn’t necessary. They just wanted to be together again, undoing the divorce that they both wished had never taken place in the first place.
Then they’d discussed having another child. One he would know about and be involved with from the very beginning.
“So,” Vanessa prompted. “What’s my surprise?” She tilted her head and shot him an impish grin, one he couldn’t resist kissing off her lips.
Breaking away much sooner than he would have liked, he reached into the back pocket of his khaki chinos and pulled out a folded-over, full-color catalog. He let it fall open and held it up for her to see.
“Oh, my God!” She gave a squeal of pleasure and grabbed it up, studying the front and back covers first, then flipping through each individual page. “I can’t believe it’s finally ready. It’s wonderful!”
It was The Sugar Shack’s very first mail-order catalog, but Marc sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Since leaving Pittsburgh, he’d thrown himself wholeheartedly into helping Vanessa build her business. He still drove into the city occasionally to take care of Keller Corp affairs, but was content to allow his brother to deal with the daily running of that company and the family’s other major holdings.
In addition to designing the catalog, he’d set up a website for the bakery and was looking into rental spaces in other surrounding towns with an eye toward opening more Sugar Shack bakeries in multiple locations.
“I have more good news,” he said while she continued to admire the pages of the catalog.
“What?” she asked, lifting her head and looking positively giddy.
He smiled in return, because he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Adam and I finalized an agreement this morning to open a Sugar Shack bakery in the lobby of the Keller Corp building.”
Marc expected her to shriek with joy and throw her arms around her neck, but instead she grew quiet and simply studied him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, cocking his head in confusion. “I thought you would be happy about this.”
She nodded. “I am. Everything you’ve done has been wonderful—more than Aunt Helen and I ever could have imagined.”
“But…?”
Her mouth twisted, her eyes growing concerned. “But I worry about what your mother will think of you and Adam working together to put my business in the lobby of your family’s company headquarters. And if we really do move back to the city one of these days the way we’ve discussed…”
S
he trailed off and he could see every one of her doubts playing across her face.
“She already knows,” he told her.
Her mouth went slack with shock.
“According to Adam, she’s asked about us several times, and he’s been updating her. I don’t want to get your hopes up—” he grinned as she rolled her eyes at the possibility “—but he seems to think she might be coming around.”
Vanessa gave a disbelieving snort and he chuckled. “All right. So she’ll never be the cookie-baking, story-telling sort of mother or grandmother we might wish she were, but I think walking away and cutting her out of our lives for a while showed her that I’m serious in my devotion to you. You’re my wife and I won’t allow anyone or anything to ever hurt you or come between us again. Not even the woman who gave birth to me.”
Stepping forward, she rested her hands and then her head on his chest. “Are you sorry?” she murmured against his shirt.
Framing her face with his hands, he tipped her chin up and met her storm blue gaze. “Not even a little bit. I don’t ever want you to think that, okay? You and Danny—” he tipped his head toward their crumb-covered son “—and this tiny tyke here—” he pressed a hand flat to her growing belly “—are all that matter to me. I haven’t closed the door on rebuilding a relationship with my mother, but I wouldn’t trade my life now with the three of you for anything in the world. Do you understand?”
It took her a second, but she nodded slowly, and he stared into her eyes until he was sure she believed him.
“Good. Then I’ll get our little Cookie Monster cleaned up while you go show your aunt the new catalog. Hopefully it will put her in a good enough mood that we can ask her to watch Danny for a while this afternoon.”
“Why?” Vanessa asked.
His mouth spread in a wolfish grin and he leaned in to brush his lips across hers. “Because I’m in the mood for something sweet.”
Cocking her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes, giving him a sultry, seductive look. “Well, this is a bakery. Sweets are what we’re all about.”
He gave a low growl at her wicked flirtation and nearly told her how lucky she was that Danny was with them and the bakery was fronted by floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. Otherwise, he would be lifting her onto one of the countertops and divesting her of her clothes already.
“What I want isn’t on the menu.”
“So you have a special order?” she asked, batting those lashes until he felt his insides start to boil.
He nodded, mouth gone too dry to respond.
“Lucky for you, and thanks to my very business-savvy husband, we’re set up to take special orders now. You may have to pay extra for shipping and handling, though.”
Lips twitching, he said in a low voice, “That shouldn’t be a problem. In case you haven’t heard, I’m rich.”
She smiled softly and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “So am I,” she whispered.
And neither of them were talking about their bank accounts.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0562-8
HER LITTLE SECRET, HIS HIDDEN HEIR
Copyright © 2011 by Heidi Betts
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