by Tara Sheets
Sam nudged him with his empty glass. “I see you’ve noticed Ms. Holloway. As sweet as her cupcakes, that girl.” He leaned forward and said with a hiccup, “The Holloways are special, you know.”
“Are they?” Anyone could see by looking at her that she was special. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, although objectively speaking, no one could argue that. It was something else. She glowed with a warmth and vitality that made others around her fade in comparison.
“Yes, yes,” Sam said, nodding. “They’ve always been special. Most people don’t believe it.” He tapped his temple with one gnarled finger. “But I know better. I knew her mother and grandmother. The Holloway women. They have talents.”
Hunter glanced back at Emma. If rocking a little black dress was a talent, then she had it in spades.
“Magical talents.” Sam hiccupped again. “You know, spells and the like.”
Hunter stared at him in surprise. The man was deeper in his cups than he realized. “I see.” But he really didn’t see. What was Sam getting at? Visions of the old shows Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie floated through his mind. He could just imagine her in some sexy sixties getup, and his mouth kicked into a wicked grin. “Are you saying she’s a witch?”
Sam pursed his lips and frowned into his empty cup. “Well, not exactly. At least not the kind who do bad things.”
“What a shame.” He could think of a few naughty things he might like to—
“Eh?”
Hunter cleared his throat. “What’s her name?”
“Emma. Emma Holloway. She has a way with charms, that one. Her grandmother had kitchen magic, rest her soul, and Emma takes after her with the baking. All the Holloway women have some kind of gift. Just born that way.”
Hunter’s curiosity peaked. A family of beautiful, magical women sounded like something out of a storybook. Impossible. But if anyone could make you believe in fairy tales, it was Goldilocks over there. “Are there many of them?”
Sam looked surprised. “Well, no. Not anymore. Aside from her cousin, Juliette, Emma is all that’s left. Her grandmother died a while ago and now Emma takes care of the Holloway house and runs the cupcake shop by herself.”
Hunter blinked at the vision before him. She was the incarnation of warmth and light, from her genuine smile to the way she touched people when she talked. He had never seen a woman who radiated that much kindness. It seemed wrong, somehow, that she would be so alone. No wonder she was so distraught about his new restaurant opening up. That shop was her legacy; all she had left.
He shifted uncomfortably as the upbeat tempo changed to a softer, slow song.
Sam grabbed him by the elbow. “Come, let me introduce you.”
Before Hunter could respond, Sam hollered across the crowd, “Emma! There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She glanced up, her smile faltering. For a moment she looked as though she wanted to bolt, then thought better of it. Lifting her chin, she stood her ground as they approached.
“Emma Holloway, meet Hunter Kane,” Sam said jovially.
She crossed her arms. “We’ve met.”
“Wonderful.” Sam seemed oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. “I’d wager the two of you have a lot to talk about. Hunter’s building the new restaurant, you know. Say, have you tried one of her cupcakes yet?”
“I have,” Hunter said carefully. He still remembered how angry she had been when she found out he actually ate them.
“Oh, splendid! Which one did you give him, Emma? It’s very important, you understand.” Sam nudged Hunter with his elbow. “Was it ‘Sweet Dreams’?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Emma. “Or ‘Raspberry Kiss’?”
A shadow passed across Emma’s face. “I gave him ‘Sweet Success.’” She looked suddenly tired and resigned. It was a terrible thing to see on such a vivacious face, and Hunter wanted to make it go away.
Sam let out a booming laugh and slapped him on the back. “You couldn’t ask for a better welcome to Pine Cove Island than that. ‘Sweet Success,’ indeed. How perfect. Especially since you two will be sharing the contract for the summer festival kickoff.”
Hunter watched the color drain from Emma’s face as Sam mumbled something about refills and teetered off in search of another drink.
* * *
Emma felt like a fish that had just been yanked out of the water and tossed into a frying pan. Hunter eyed her with what seemed like genuine concern, except how could it be? He was singlehandedly ruining her business, and her life.
She forced her voice to sound casual. “Did Sam just say we would be working the summer festival together?”
“Yes, Haven will have its grand opening on the day of the festival.”
Haven. Even the name of his restaurant sounded egotistical.
“So they decided it would be good for publicity if I was part of the planning,” he continued. “The board made a unanimous decision a few days ago. Didn’t you get the letter in the mail?”
Emma thought of the small stack of unopened mail she had on her kitchen table. For the past couple of days she had been like an ostrich with its head in the sand. She wouldn’t open anything that looked like a bill or an official document. She just needed a break from all the bad news.
“I must have missed it,” she said as breezily as she could manage. God, how could it get any worse? She and Hunter, planning and coordinating a full day of catering for hundreds of people.
He shrugged. “They wanted to try something new this year. Said it would be a good idea to have us co-cater the event, since we have somewhat complementary venues. You could sell your cupcakes, and my place would offer French croissants and pastries, espresso, that sort of thing.”
A dull ache began spiraling through Emma’s head. She needed a glass of water. Make that one-hundred-proof whiskey. She didn’t want to try something new. The summer festival was one of her largest money-making events of the year. Sharing the contract with him meant sharing the profits. If she didn’t make her sales quota, then she could just kiss her beloved home good-bye.
She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be home in her house, where she could wallow in misery alone. She pasted a grin on her face. There was no way in hell he was going to see her break down.
“Hey, do you want a drink or something?” he asked.
She nodded mechanically. Smile and pretend. “That would be great.”
He turned away, weaving through the crowd toward the concessions table. When he was far enough, she whirled and bolted toward the door, not slowing down until she reached her car outside.
The misty night air cooled her overheated cheeks, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes for just a brief moment. What was she going to do? Another obstacle in her path. Ever since Hunter Kane had come to town, her problems seemed increasingly insurmountable. And now this.
She pushed back her frustration and took a deep breath. No, it would be okay; she would figure something out. She had to. If only he would leave and take his fancy new place with him. Juliette’s “Go Away” cupcake idea seemed more and more appealing by the second.
Emma rummaged through her purse for her keys.
“I don’t think you’ll find any drinks in there.”
She spun around to see Hunter standing behind her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Typical. Rats were sneaky like that. “I changed my mind. Not thirsty.”
“Look, Emma,” he said softly. There was that voice again, all smooth melted chocolate and honey. “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot here. I don’t want that, and I’m sorry I disrupted your lunch yesterday.”
Yeah, right. He wasn’t sorry. The only reason he was being nice now was because they were being forced to work together and he needed her.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I was dealing with a major issue at work and I wasn’t at my best.”
Excuses. Excuses.
“But that’s no excuse.”
Whatever.
He pl
aced a hand on the roof of her car. “Why don’t you meet me tomorrow around eleven and we can discuss the details about catering for the summer festival? It’s only one month away and I could use your expertise. I hear you did it on your own last year.”
So now he wanted her expertise, did he? Well he’d be ice skating in hell before that ever happened. “Yup,” Emma said as she slid into her car, “I sure did.”
Hunter stood back as she started the engine. “So, tomorrow then?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Your plan. Too bad I won’t be a part of it.
He gave her a slow, devastating smile and she forced herself to look away.
* * *
On the highway, she sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The memory of his sexy smile still lingered in her mind. She yanked out her cell phone and dialed Juliette’s number. He wouldn’t be smiling for long.
“Hello?” Juliette’s voice sounded muffled from sleep.
“Let’s do it,” Emma said in a rush.
“Um, whoever you are, I’m flattered, but I prefer men.”
“Not funny,” Emma said impatiently. “Come on, Jules, it’s me.”
“Oh, good,” she said through a yawn. “Cuz that would’ve been an awkward conversation.”
“Listen up. Summer solstice, you and I are combining our magic.” She gripped the steering wheel tightly. “We’re making that cupcake.”
Juliette squealed in delight and Emma had to hold the phone away from her ear. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.
Game on. Hunter Kane was leaving town, and never coming back.
Chapter Six
Hunter groaned and cracked open one eye. He blinked against the floral pillowcase wedged under his face. Where was he? Head pounding, tongue like sandpaper, he groped on the nightstand for water. The plastic bottle bounced off his fingertips and landed on the floor with a hollow thunk. Empty. He was in hell.
This had to be one of the worst hangovers he’d ever had. He dragged himself to a sitting position and flinched. The rented room was like a heavyweight punch to the face. Dusty florals and crocheted ruffles were splashed across every surface. The corner table held a vase of fake roses, and the only chair was covered in some kind of lace doily thing. It all needed to die. First chance he got, he was searching for a furnished rental house close to the waterfront. Preferably something not decorated by Norman Bates’s mother.
For several minutes, he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. How much did he drink last night? After Emma left the party, he had gone back inside to mingle with Sam Norton and several of Pine Cove Island’s business owners. This meant drinks, small talk, and more drinks. By the time Mrs. Mooney introduced him to a snarling little dog with pink painted toenails, his head was swimming in a lake of Jack Daniel’s.
The phone rang and he slammed his hand over the receiver, fumbling for it. Anything to make it stop. “Yes.”
“Good morning, Mr. Kane.” The lobby receptionist’s voice felt like cymbals crashing against his temples. “Ms. Andrews would like to see you in her office when you come down to the lobby.”
“Who?” He didn’t know any locals well enough for them to call. Not for the first time, he was reminded how cozy everyone on Pine Cove Island was with everyone else’s business. The small-town lifestyle was nothing like he was used to. In Seattle, you could be truly anonymous if you wanted. And right now, he really wanted.
“It’s Bethany Andrews,” the cymbals crashed. “The owner.”
Hunter remembered the woman from when he checked in to the B&B. Impressive cleavage, attractive, a little too eager to please.
“She says she wants to discuss island tours with you.”
“Not at this hour.” What the hell time was it, anyway?
A slight pause. “Ms. Andrews says she’ll be available whenever you’re ready.”
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and swore under his breath. It was already ten and he was supposed to meet Emma Holloway at eleven. By nature he was an early riser. He never slept in this late. “Tell Ms. Andrews no, thank you.”
He hung up and gripped his skull with both hands. An hour wasn’t nearly enough time for this hangover to disappear. He was tempted to cancel, but he had to play his cards right with the locals. Emma wasn’t happy about sharing the summer festival contract. If he backed off now, there was no telling how she’d react, and he needed her on his side. Small-town people were quirky and unpredictable, and he had to make a good impression. His future business plans depended on it.
Swallowing hard, he picked up the phone and endured the crashing cymbals one more time. After the receptionist had called Emma’s shop to confirm their meeting, Hunter swallowed some Tylenol and dragged himself into the shower.
Forty-five minutes later, he stood in the B&B’s shared kitchen downstairs, searching the cupboards for a water glass.
“Good morning, Mr. Kane,” someone purred. He had heard that voice before when he checked in. It had to be Ms. Andrews-of-the-Impressive-Cleavage. No one spoke like that for real. Not unless they were on the other end of a questionable 1-900 number.
He turned and wished he hadn’t. Bethany Andrews, owner of the B&B, was wearing a leopard-print top in an unforgiving shade of fluorescent pink. It was so bright that it made the backs of his retinas burn. She had to be in her late twenties, but the spackled-on makeup and overdone hair made her appear older than she was.
“Ms. Andrews,” he managed.
She waved a perfectly manicured hand and laughed as if they shared a private joke. “Please, call me Bethany.”
Hunter didn’t want to call her anything. What he wanted was to go back to bed and sleep for another fifty hours. Once he finished his meeting with Emma Holloway, he was planning to do just that. He filled a water glass and drank.
Bethany watched.
He kept drinking. When he was finished, he set the glass on the counter and asked, “Did you need something?”
She put a hand on her waist and ran it slowly down her hip. “Oh, I just wanted to touch base with you. See how you were liking the place.”
“It’s fine, thanks.”
“That’s good.” She flicked a lock of hair off her shoulder and beamed up at him.
Even with a roaring hangover, Hunter recognized a lure when he saw one. Bethany Andrews was dangling a carrot right in front of his face. Just the thought of getting involved with someone like her made his head ache even more than it already did. He braced against the counter and leaned away.
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” She stepped a little closer but didn’t look him in the eye, just ran her hand lightly over the granite counter next to him. Stroking it. “Or if you want someone to show you around, I’d be happy to do it.”
Hunter swallowed. Subtle as a billy club, this one. He considered what she was offering. She was attractive enough, and obviously willing, which had always been a perfect combination for him. But he knew from experience exactly what was at stake if he jumped into something with a person like her. It would be fast and furious, and maybe even fun. For a while. At one point not long ago, that type of relationship was fine with him. He had reveled in it. But it was always empty. And after everything that had happened this last year in Seattle, Hunter wanted something different. He didn’t know exactly what, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.
“I’ve got everything, thanks,” he said.
“I’m sure you do.” She flicked her eyes briefly to his groin, then back up to his face. “But I’ve lived here my whole life, so I’m a really good tour guide if you change your mind.”
She turned to go and “accidentally” dropped a napkin off the counter. Slowly she bent at the waist to pick it up. The jeans strained over her curvy backside as she rose, smiling over her shoulder. “Think about it.”
Hunter refilled the water glass, shaking his head. The woman had mastered her act. That sashay out of the kitchen was Hollywood gold, baby. But for the f
irst time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t buying.
* * *
“Okay, he’ll be here any minute.” Juliette pushed a strand of hair away from Emma’s face. The morning rush had finally died down and the shop was empty except for the two of them.
For the past ten minutes, Emma had felt like a prized cow going to slaughter. “Remind me again why I’m doing this.” She was wearing a navy sundress and silver sandals. Juliette had insisted she wear her hair down, and Emma felt more like she was dressed for a date rather than a simple business meeting. Just the thought of going on a date with him made her heart do a slow somersault in her chest. She shoved the inexplicable feeling aside. No matter how good-looking he was, no matter how charming, she couldn’t forget he was the enemy.
“We’re doing this because you need to soften him up. He has to think you two are friends, or he’s never going to go for it when you walk up to him on summer solstice with a mysterious cupcake and say, ‘Hey, what’s up? Eat this.’” Juliette whipped a huge blush brush out of her bag and began swiping it across Emma’s cheeks. “Remember the last time you gave him cupcakes?”
“Like I could forget.” Total disaster.
“You stomped after him and practically bit his head off. He’s not going to trust you, Em, and you have to change that. Everything will go much easier in the next few weeks if you just act civil. No, better than civil. Friendly. Flirty, even. Besides, with the summer festival contract you now have to share, this will make it easier for you. You can keep an eye on him. You know, keep your enemies close, and all that.” Juliette finished and stood back, eyeing Emma critically. “Needs pixie dust.”
“Pixie what?”
Juliette took a pot of sparkly pink powder out of her makeup case with a flourish.
“Oh, absolutely not.” Emma backed away. “I’m not going to a rave, here, Tinker Bell. It’s just a business meeting. No glitter.”
