“On file and can be picked up between ten AM and seven PM. We’re staying open an hour later that day.”
Jules’ stomach growled reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch. Tantalizing aromas beckoned. Perhaps a taste of the wares before he engaged in business made sense. Would give him a way to push for the magazine feature. He strode to the glass-covered cases and stared at the cupcakes. Which one should he choose when all looked so good?
The blonde turned from the register. “Can I help you?”
“Coffee and I don’t know which one to choose. They look great. Do you have a recommendation?”
She smiled. “I do. Cinnamon Bun is my favorite.” She lifted one from the case. “If you want something designed for the season we have Candy Cane, Gingerbread House and Winter Snow. They’re terrific.”
Jules studied the offerings. “The cinnamon one and the winter snow.” He paid and carried his selections to a table near the window. After filling a cup with coffee, he sipped the brew. Smooth and rich with no bitter aftertaste. He needed to learn where the shop purchased the coffee.
At the table he took a bite of the cinnamon cupcake. The spice mellowed by the icing told him why Allie had wanted to feature the shop. After finishing the first one, he tasted the second. A blast of wintergreen hit his palate. “Brilliant.”
“I agree.”
“Then why have you turned down the chance for a feature in Good Cookin’?”
The blonde’s mouth gaped. “She never told me.”
He frowned. “Guess you’re not the owner.”
“Just the clerk. I’m going to yell at the boss. How could she turn down the offer? That mag is very cool.”
Jules raised his coffee cup. He had an ally. Now to figure how to use her. He listened to her chatter and honed in on what she said about her boss’s plans. Slow growth. Quality products. Five year plan. Finally she ran down.
“Where is the owner? I really need to speak to her.”
The young woman leaned on the counter. “She’s busy creating a new recipe.”
“Is she here or at home?”
“In the back.” She pointed to a door in the rear wall. “I’ll let her know you’re here but if she’s working you’ll have to wait.” She stepped away from the cash register. The bell above the door chimed.
The arrival of several customers distracted the clerk. Jules wasn’t about to wait. He made a snap decision. On Monday morning he intended to see the signed contract delivered to Allie.
"You can’t go back there.”
He ignored the young woman and opened the door. Heat, a touch of vanilla and rum hit him. The aromas formed a collage with the other scents with no single one stronger than the others.
The baker stood beside a marble-topped counter. She wore a long apron tied at her slender waist. Temptation to see if his hands could span her waist nearly made him forget his reason for being here. A white net covered hair as dark as his. Would her face match the delectable rear view? She held a plastic bag and swirled icing on a cupcake. The door closed with a loud snap.
Without turning, she held one of the confections. “Try this and let me know what you think.”
Jules accepted and smiled. The voice belonged to the woman of the brief phone calls. During those moments he’d conjured a face to match the husky tone. The image belonged to the only girl who had turned him down.
What if? Such an occurrence would be beyond belief. The thought stirred his dick.
Cool it, dude.
Jules bit into the pastry. The spice, rum, pineapple, dates and cherries blended to perfection with the cake.
“What do you think?”
Her question pulled him from a sexual haze. What about sex with me licking icing from your breasts? Had he said that aloud?
“Well?” She turned.
He nearly dropped the rest of the cupcake. Here was the face from his memories and the star of his teenage fantasies. Alarms clanged. Trouble. He drew a deep breath and smiled. This time he intended to reach his goal.
“Actually it’s great. Fruitcake flavor but light. The spices and fruit blend perfectly.”
* * * *
A frown creased Grace’s forehead. Did she know this man? Something resonated in her memories but a name didn’t bob to the surface. He resembled the faceless man of her fantasies. Had the same hair color, not long but short and styled. Was he someone she’d seen on TV, except she usually watched cooking shows, not sports or movies?
“How did you get in here?”
“Via the door.”
His crooked grin brought a name closer to the surface. Did he look like someone she should recognize? “And Bonnie let you come back?”
“The arrival of some customers diverted her.”
Grace sucked in a breath. Who was he? He was too young to be one of the men her mother had dragged home. “Do you really think the cupcake is good?”
“I do.” He finished the last bite and crumpled the paper. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the small wad into the trash bin across the room.
His smooth voice flowed over her skin like a swatch of velvet. Whoever he was, he’d talked about her treat like a man who knew food. Was he a rival? Had he come to steal her recipes? He certainly hadn’t come to ask for a job. Not when what he wore looked custom made.
“What will you call this one?”
Grace stepped back. The cold marble of the worktable edge pressed against her back. “Fruitcake.”
“Not like any I’ve ever tasted.” He grimaced. “Hate holiday parties when the hostess presses dark dense stuff she’s ordered by mail or baked.”
Grace laughed. “I’ve eaten some of them. For me, this is trial sixteen.”
He stepped closer. “Persistent. You’ve created a light cake with the traditional flavoring. The touch of rum in the frosting is perfect.” He raked his fingers messing his perfectly styled dark hair. “Is it legal?”
“Just a flavor essence.” Definitely the competition. Warmth shone in his brown eyes. When he took another step in her direction she grasped the pastry bag. “Who are you?”
His crooked grin appeared again. The dimple in his left cheek made her want to touch.
“Don’t you remember me? I’ve never forgotten you.”
Seduction heated his voice. A whiff of evergreen rose from beneath the aromas of the bakery. He oozed the kind of danger she had no time to allow into her life. The suggestions in his dark eyes raised a need to run. Only, she was trapped.
He clasped her arm. Though the touch was light, she felt as though he burned her. “Think back, Grace.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“Sure you have.”
“Really.”
“I certainly remember you. Years ago I made a suggestion and you turned me down. When I said you would be sorry, you told me I’d be the one to regret.”
With warp speed her thoughts honed over the years to the yard of the group home. Could he be? He looked so different from the boy she’d known. The features of the boy altered and became the face of the man in her space.
“Jules Grayson, what are you doing here?”
“Representing Good Cookin’. Since you refused to sign for a feature article about Cupcakes Sweet and Spicy I thought the personal touch might work. I didn’t realize who you were until you turned.”
A smile broke her somber mood. “Most of my communication was with Allie Blakefield.”
“You and I talked twice but the moment I mentioned the mag, you hung up. Just listen to my spiel. I’m sure I’ll do a better job of making my case than I did years ago.”
Though knowing he didn’t plan to steal her recipes her tension remained on high alert. Her thoughts raced from what had been into what ifs. That wasn’t a good place to be.
“I sent the proposal back. The feature doesn’t fit with the way I plan to grow my business. A year or two from now and I might consider taking the plunge. I’ve seen too many in my field move too fast and fail.”
/>
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t read the proposal very carefully. All expenses are covered by the magazine.”
“That’s not why. You’ve seen my entire staff. I’m baker, decorator, bookkeeper and sometimes sales person.” She scowled. “I’m even the cleaning crew with Bonnie’s help.’
A buzzer sounded. “Move. I need to pull the pans out.” One by one she transferred the tray from the oven to the cooling rack.
“Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg," he said. “What are they?”
“Pumpkin pie.”
He inhaled. “I could be tempted to try every flavor.”
Grace laughed. “Think of the calories.”
He arched a brow. “Think of the ways to work them off.”
Grace removed the last tray. She had no intention of asking for his suggestions. “Since you’ve come for no reason, why don’t you leave? I’ll give you a box with today’s flavors. Share them with your significant other.”
“There’s only me.”
She returned to the worktable and assembled the dry ingredients for another batch. She placed flour and a sack of powdered chocolate with the eggs and butter. “You should leave.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be mixing the triple fudge variety. Wouldn’t want a cleaning bill for your suit.” She studied the fit of the light gray jacket and slacks. He had definitely succeeded in the ten years since he left the group home.
"We need to talk about the offer.” He crossed his arms.
Grace scooted past him to pull butter, eggs and milk from the refrigerator. “I know the opportunity could be great. I’m just not ready to take the risk.”
“Your cupcakes impressed Allie Blakefield. That’s hard to do. Have dinner with me and we can discuss pros and cons.”
Again the temperature raising grin appeared. The room grew a hundred degrees hotter. Temptation crooked a finger. “When?”
“Tonight. You pick the place.”
Grace remembered to breathe. “Can’t. We’re open until nine. Then there’s clean-up, planning for tomorrow and a run to the bank.”
“What time do you close tomorrow?”
“Six.”
“I’ll be by then.” He closed the distance between them. His lips brushed her ear. “Years ago you said no. I was a fool and crude. Won’t happen again.”
Grace froze. Her knees locked to keep her upright. His whispered words and his hot breath swirled over her. She felt as if she’d been sucked into a whirlpool flowing into an abyss with no escape. He’d been trouble as a teenager. As an adult he’d become dangerous.
Chapter Three
Jules strode past the counter and stared at the blonde. “Be seeing you.” Ideas bubbled like champagne in his thoughts. He had until dinner tomorrow to find the perfect plan to achieve his goals, a night with Grace and her signature on the contract for the Good Cookin’ spread.
He slipped into the lightly falling snow. What an asshole he’d been years ago. Something about Grace had made him want to grab her and run. His usually smooth line had vanished the moment they’d kissed. Beneath his present studied tactics he feared the other self lurked.
This time called for finesse so neither of them would be sorry.
He started the Jeep. Step one, dinner. Did he really want to take her to a restaurant? He tossed a mental coin. Business or pleasure?
By a slim margin, business won. Grace had a list of reasons the feature was wrong for her. He needed answers for her every objection.
His thoughts turned to pleasure. If he had kissed her he might have won both objectives this afternoon. He’d caught a trace of desire beneath the aromas in the bakery kitchen. If she hadn’t opened that sack of chocolate powder he would have been more aggressive. No need to ruin his clothes while conducting a seduction.
He tapped the steering wheel and dragged his thoughts back to dinner. Her place would be perfect. To take her to his city apartment would involve a battle of wills and not the one he wanted. He pulled from the parking space and drove down Main Street. A sign beckoned. Five Cuisines. Allie’s husband was the owner and he’d heard the food was fabulous. He parked and walked half a block past antique shops to reach the door of the restaurant. Inside he read the menu and checked off a number of appetizers. He placed the order to be picked up at five forty-five the next day.
More plans formed. His dick throbbed.
Patience, dude. Anticipation is good.
As he strode toward the Jeep, he stopped short. Sashaying in his direction he saw a bleached blonde who looked familiar. Was it? He hoped not. He turned and stared into the window of an antique shop. As the woman passed he knew who she was. He studied her reflection in the many mirrors displayed.
She glanced toward him. Charlene Patterson. Tight jeans and a fuzzy jacket that emphasized her breasts. Turtle-like he hunched his shoulders.
Keep walking.
She sauntered past, paused and continued away. There went the girl he’d refused a hundred times. This visit continued to drop bombs.
Once she vanished around the corner, he relaxed. At least she hadn’t drawled her usual ‘hello.”
His response had always been “Hell no.” Still was.
During his two years at the group home, Charlene had stalked him. He’d used every evasion tactic to avoid being lured by the “I’m ready and willing” odor she exuded.
Anger simmered like a geyser preparing to erupt in a shower of mud. Two days before he aged out, Charlene’s lies had nearly sent him to jail for theft. A call to Tony’s father had brought Jules’ father’s old friend to the rescue.
What was the name of Charlene dupe? Eric, no Derek. Another inmate of the boy’s home. He’d envied Jules’ computer, clothes and the few other things Jules had managed to bring from home after his mother’s suicide.
Jules started the Jeep. For a time he drove randomly from the village heading away from Tony’s house. When he reached the lake his jangling nerves and the shadows of the past were tucked away. He turned around. Snow swirled in the air covering the ground with a skim of white.
At the door Lauren let him in. She cocked her head. “Why the glare? Business not going well?”
“Just taking longer than I hoped.”
“Why do you look so angry?”
“Nearly ran into Charlene Patterson.”
“Ugh. Was she with Derek? I hear he’s back in town.”
Jules shook his head. “She was alone parading in those tight jeans she always wore. Tony home?”
"In the family room amusing Jamie. He thought you’d fled back to the city.”
“Just drove to clear my head.”
“Go release him so he can start dinner.” She walked to a door at the end of the hall. “What are you planning for tomorrow?”
“Watching my alma mater thrash Tony’s.”
“We’re going to a play in the evening. Want me to get a ticket for you?”
“Don’t bother. I’m having dinner with an old friend.”
“Who?” She arched a brow.
“That would be telling.”
She opened the door. “Some female you wooed in high school?”
Jules ignored the question and dashed downstairs. Tony sat on the carpet building a tower of blocks for Jamie to knock down.
“This is a sight I never believed I’d see. From playboy to daddy in weeks.”
Tony added a block. “Your time is coming. You might find you like the life.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
Tony rose and clapped Jules’ shoulder. “Glad you came. Why the trip to the village? Never thought you suffered from nostalgia.”
“You’ve got that. Business for Good Cookin’. Lauren sent me to relieve you for chef duties. When do we eat?”
“An hour or so. Have fun with Jamie.”
Jules held up his hand. “Wait. What do I do if, you know, he makes a mess?”
Tony pointed to a box. “Press the button and yell for Lauren. That’s what I do.”
>
Jules took Tony’s place on the carpet and built towers Jamie knocked down. When the child lost interest in the game he crawled across the floor. Jules gathered the blocks and put them in a toy chest. He caught Jamie before he reached the steps. “No, you don’t.”
“No, no,” Jamie yelled.
Jules laughed. “They are going to kill me.”
“Up, up.”
Jules scooped the small boy and sat on the couch. He thought of how much his friend had changed since Lauren and Jamie entered his life.
A question wound the way to the surface. Did he want a family? He patted Jamie’s back. Would finding the perfect woman fill the empty hole in his life? The answer eluded him. Jules switched on the TV. Now wasn’t the time for making that kind of decision.
The door at the top of the stairs clicked. Lauren appeared. “You look comfortable but I need to get Jamie ready for dinner.” She lifted the child.
Jules followed her upstairs. She pointed to a door. “Rather than heading upstairs you can wash in there. Tony’s in the kitchen.”
The aroma of onions and cumin led Jules to the state of the art kitchen. Tony flipped tortillas on a griddle and put them in a container on the warming table section of the central island.
“Smells good.”
Tony raised a glass. “Margaritas are in a pitcher in the fridge. Help yourself. You can also bring out the soup.”
Jules followed the directions and sipped the drink. “Nice.” He ladled gazpacho into three bowls and topped each with sour cream.
Lauren popped Jamie into the highchair and fed him between spoonfuls of soup. She handed the baby a biscuit. Jules chuckled at Jamie’s attempt to capture the spoon.
Tony turned to Jules. “So tell me about your business in the village. What went wrong?”
“Stubborn woman.” Jules tasted the soup and smiled. “Terrific. How go the wedding plans?”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Like a tornado. I’m handling Christmas. The wedding is his. On Sunday part of the meet and greet includes a cupcake tasting.”
“From Cupcakes Sweet and Spicy, I hope.”
“Where else,” Tony said. “We like to help local businesses, especially when the owner is Lauren’s best friend. How do you know about the bakery?”
Spicy Seduction Page 2
