by Kate Pearce
“Not really.”
This time, her smile was meant to put a distance between them, but he’d never been one to worry about jumping a few hard fences.
“Why not?”
“The usual reasons.” She stood and handed him his shirt. “You should stop with all this macho black stuff, and buy some summer clothes. You must be cooking alive in there.”
“And you would know about cooking.” He rubbed an absent hand over his T-shirt, which clung to the outline of his abs. Her gaze dropped to the motion of his fingers, and a bolt of pure lust struck him right in the gut. Time to change the subject before he did something insane like take her in his arms and kiss her until she was plastered against him and begging him to—
He hastily cleared his throat. “I was planning on visiting Maureen’s store tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” She started back toward the house, and he followed her like a lamb. She was moving fast, her long, slim legs in denim capris eating up the ground. Maybe she’d seen something in his eyes that had betrayed his sudden flare of interest. Maybe he’d imagined the reciprocal heat in hers. It wasn’t like him to get so . . . poetical with a woman so fast, but the words had tumbled out of him because, when she turned that bright green gaze on him, she deserved that—deserved his honesty.
“How’s my cake coming along?” He went for the most neutral subject he could think of.
“I haven’t even started it yet.”
“Oh, that’s right. You said the end of the week.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. “I don’t like this.”
“This what?”
She poked him in the chest. “This thing between us.”
“That we’re attracted to each other? We don’t have to do anything about it, do we?” He attempted a shrug even as he rejoiced that she was feeling it too. “We’re both adults.”
“I don’t have time for any complications right now.”
“I’m a complication?” Rio nodded. “But you have time for Matt? I totally don’t get it.”
Her eyes flashed. “Matt is . . . different.”
“From me?” He knew he should stop talking, but somehow he couldn’t stop. “He’s a nice guy, yeah, but he sure is different.”
Yvonne raised her chin. “Matt is all I can handle right now. You, on the other hand, strike me as extremely high-maintenance.”
“Me?” Rio blinked at her. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
She folded her arms across her chest—never a good sign. “You’re an athlete. A successful one.”
“So?”
“You’re used to women throwing themselves at you.”
“I never suggested you throw yourself at me,” Rio protested.
“No, because you assume that, with that killer smile and amazing body, any woman you meet will immediately fall into your arms, no shoving required.”
He allowed himself a slow victorious smile. “You think I’m hot.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “That’s all you got out of everything I just said to you? Typical!”
“I think you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met,” he said quietly.
“Don’t.” She glared at him. “Don’t do that, go all sincere on me, and what do my looks have to do with anything anyway?”
“Hey, you started it,” Rio protested.
“What?”
He ran a hand down over his chest and stomach. “You said I was hot. I just reciprocated in kind.”
“I did not say—” She stopped talking, and sighed. “Okay, I did say you were hot.”
He batted his eyelashes at her. “And maybe you hurt my feelings by treating me like an object rather than a person?”
“Oh, good Lord, I certainly didn’t mean to do that.” She reached for his hand. “I—”
“Just kidding.” He took her fingers and brought them to his lips to kiss. “I’m totally fine with you thinking I’m hot.”
“You are infuriating.”
“I know.” He pretended to look modest. “It’s an integral part of my hotness.”
She rolled her eyes and eased her hand out of his. “Look, can we just be friends?”
“We can certainly try.” Rio nodded.
“Okay, then.”
“Okay.”
She started walking again, and this time Rio made no effort to keep up with her. She did have a point. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend at this point in his life. He had a career to maintain, and a lifestyle that looked glamorous from the outside but mainly consisted of endlessly moving from city to city and hotel to hotel between events. Not many women wanted to join their men on tour, and not many long-distance relationships survived without someone being unfaithful.
Yvonne was settled in Morgantown, she had a successful business, and she was happy with her life. He got that. He craved that settled normality like a drug sometimes. Coming from a separated family, he’d had to balance not only living in two countries but two parents who hated each other. He’d never had that kind of security. He’d always been the bridge between them, a bridge they’d both wanted to cleave in half so they could claim him for their own.
Rio shrugged off the memories and turned toward the ranch house, where he was staying. He had nothing of value to offer Yvonne—nothing she would value anyway—so maybe it would be better if they could try and be friends. He let his gaze drift upward to the horse barn where she was talking to January, her expressive face wreathed in smiles as she gesticulated with her hands in a very French way.
Yeah, friends it would have to be because, right now, he didn’t think he had the ability to turn his back and walk away from her completely.
* * *
“So how did it go with Matt?” January asked in her most casual voice, which didn’t fool Yvonne one bit. “Are you two seeing each other now?”
Yvonne followed her friend into the kitchen of the ranch house, forcing herself not to look back and see where Rio had gone. She couldn’t quite believe she’d sat there and had such a personal conversation with him when she barely even knew the guy. But there was something about his quiet, elegant confidence that appealed to her senses. And seeing him on the back of the bull, his body arched in the fluid motion of an athlete at the top of his game, had made everything female in her perk up. Pathetic, but true. Her only excuse was that she hadn’t had sex for a very long time.
“Yvonne?” She looked up to see January watching her curiously. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sorry.” She took a seat at the table and accepted a glass of homemade lemonade. “Were you asking about Matt? We had a very nice dinner together at the hotel, and we’ve been in touch since.”
“Awesome.” January beamed. “He really is a nice guy.”
Nice . . . there was that word again. Yvonne smiled. “So everyone keeps telling me.”
Matt was everything she thought she wanted. Independently wealthy, intelligent, respectful, and pleasant on the eye. He even made her laugh. Did he only seem lacking beside the dark-haired, quick-tongued cowboy who stirred her senses in a way Matt could probably never do? But instant lust was never a good thing. She’d fallen into that trap once before and lived to regret it.
It was definitely time to try something new, and Matt checked all the boxes.
“He said he’d be back at the weekend,” January chimed in. “He’s bringing Jake, and Chase’s cat, Jobs, out for a visit.”
“Chase has a cat?” Yvonne was momentarily jerked out of the morass of her own problems. “Your Chase? The man who hates chickens and is terrified of spiders?”
“He likes cats. He thinks they are independent thinkers, and we could always do with another mouser in the barn.”
Yvonne tried to picture super nerd Chase Morgan cuddling a cat and failed miserably. “How is Jake doing since his car accident?”
January made a face. “Not so good. He’s needed months of rehab and he’s fed up living with his parents. Chase thought he might do bette
r out here with some fresh air and company. Sam can help him with his exercise program and provide moral support.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“So you’ll come for dinner Saturday night when everyone is here?”
Yvonne studied her friend. “You really are obnoxiously persistent sometimes, you know?”
January grinned. “I know, but will you come anyway?”
Yvonne thought about the cake she was due to deliver to Rio and made up her mind. “Sure. I’ll bring dessert.”
After another glass of lemonade, and some good local gossip, Yvonne reluctantly turned to business. “It’s been lovely visiting with you, but I need to get back to the store. I forgot that Lizzie has to leave at four, and we’ll be shorthanded.”
She fished in her purse and brought out her notebook. “I need your order for next week.”
“I have it right here.” January grabbed her tablet and flipped through the tabs. “You know, I could save you a trip and email it to you, but then I’d hardly get to see you at all.” She chuckled. “You and your notebooks. Chase would kill me if I didn’t adapt to all the latest technology.”
“I like writing things down,” Yvonne protested. “I remember them better, and I like to talk to my clients. You know? That personal touch thing?”
“Not Chase’s strength,” January said. “I bet he’d employ robots if he could.” She consulted her spreadsheet. “We have no special requests this week, just three times the usual quantities so we can keep feeding the new guests.”
Yvonne looked up. “Of everything?”
“Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course it is,” In her head, Yvonne was frantically rescheduling. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“You need to expand your business,” January said.
“I need more staff. I can barely manage what I have without giving myself more financial headaches.”
“Do you want me to talk to Chase about—”
Yvonne placed a finger on January’s lips. “Nope, not now, not ever. I won’t take money from friends. It’s a recipe for disaster.”
“But it wouldn’t just be from a friend. Chase is my husband, and he’s a businessman who lends money to all kinds of start-ups.”
“I know what he does, January, but I still don’t want to risk it.” Yvonne put her notebook away. “I love you for offering, but I’ll work it out myself, okay?”
January sighed. “Okay. But we’ll see you Saturday regardless?”
“Yes.” Yvonne rose and kissed the top of January’s head. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
Chapter Four
Yvonne sank into a chair at one of the small tables squeezed up against the countertop, and took off her apron. She’d barely sat down all morning. Even now, she couldn’t escape to her apartment upstairs for a proper lunch and had to hang around in case her staff became overwhelmed again. Popularity was great, but it brought a few headaches with it as well.
What with the increased orders from the ranch, and the three cakes to be finished off, boxed up, and collected, she scarcely had time to breathe.
“Here you go.” Lizzie came by with her grilled goat cheese and tomato panini, and a large carafe of coffee. “Eat up. We should be fine now the lunch rush is over. Antonio says he’s got things up to date.”
“Thanks.”
Antonio was a fantastic find and a great lunchtime cook. The goat’s cheese was strong and worked well with the local heirloom tomatoes the Morgans had started to grow on the ranch. There was also a hint of the basil she kept on the windowsills of her kitchen. Yvonne mentally catalogued what else she had to do before she could seek her bed and groaned. She also had to squeeze in an interview for two new waitstaff in about half an hour.
“Hey.”
She looked up as Rio slid into the seat opposite and almost swallowed her tongue as he smiled at her. The glob of cheese stuck to the roof of her mouth didn’t help, and she started to cough. Reaching over, he patted her back until she managed to stop.
“Better now?”
She waved an irritable hand at him, and concentrated on taking a sip of coffee. A glass of water appeared at her elbow and she took a hasty swig.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you here again?”
“I told you. I’m getting some summer gear at Maureen’s.” His innocent brown gaze was definitely too good to be true.
“This isn’t Maureen’s.”
“You’re right.” He took a lengthy look around and then returned the full glare of his amused gaze back on her. “Sometimes I get confused, and I forget my English.”
“Hmmph. I don’t believe that for a second.”
He grinned, displaying that distracting dimple. “I don’t suppose you have time to come shopping with me?”
“Nope. It’s too busy.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You probably need more staff.”
“Really? Wow, I’ve never thought about that.” She shook her head. “Silly old me.”
“I guess it’s difficult to get good people out here. HW says they have the same problem up at the ranch. There’s not a lot of housing if you don’t want to live in the bunkhouse, the pay is low, and there’s nothing to do on a Saturday night.”
“That pretty much sums it up.” Yvonne sighed. “I also spend a lot of time training kids from the local community college, and as soon as they’re proficient, they up and leave.”
“That sucks. My father—” He paused and shook his head. “That’s not really important right now.”
“Your father what?”
Rio raised his eyebrows. “Now who’s being inquisitive?”
“Just following your lead. Is your father in the restaurant business?”
“You could say that’s where he got his start.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’d better be off. I’ve got a class at two, and I borrowed HW’s truck.”
Before he could get up, a shadow loomed over the table, and someone spoke.
“Hi, are you the Yvonne who owns this café?”
She looked up. “Yes. Are you here for the interview?”
“Not quite.” The woman beamed at her and handed over a card with a familiar logo. “I’m Priscilla Chang from Tasty Treats Productions.”
“Should I know you?” Yvonne asked cautiously.
“That probably depends if you watch TV. I was here yesterday and sampled your amazing baking. I wanted to talk to you about an idea I had.”
Yvonne flicked her gaze to Rio, who smiled as he vacated his chair and offered it to Priscilla with a flourish. She almost asked him to stick around just so that she’d know it wasn’t a weird dream, but decided he’d think she was nuts.
“I’ll leave you both to it, then,” Rio said.
“Okay. I’ll see you Saturday at the ranch with the cake,” Yvonne said.
“Great.” He tipped his hat and, with a wink, headed out of the store.
“That is a very attractive man,” Priscilla breathed. “Do you know him well?”
“We’re just friends.”
“Shame he isn’t your boyfriend,” Priscilla said. “He’d certainly encourage a certain segment of our viewing population to tune in.” She took out her cell, and looked expectantly at Yvonne. “You don’t mind if I take a few notes, do you?”
“About what exactly?” Yvonne hated feeling all at sea.
“You and this amazing, out-of-this-world little café of yours.” Priscilla lowered her voice and leaned in. “A little goldmine in gold country. I like that! It would make a great tagline.”
“For what?” Yvonne didn’t often feel at sea, and she really wasn’t catching on.
“Your TV show.” Priscilla shot her an appraising stare. “I see it like this. . . .”
* * *
Two days later, and Yvonne still wasn’t sure what to think of her extraordinary meeting in the café with Priscilla. S
he’d got through the rest of the week, delivered all her orders on time, and slept very little while she pondered the opportunity that had opened up for her.
She parked in front of the Morgan ranch house, and retrieved the cake box from the floor of the back seat. The kitchen door opened, and Rio came out. For once, his hat was missing, and the sun caught glints of blue in his crow-black hair. He wore his usual jeans and cowboy boots, but had swapped out his black shirt for a red and white checkered one.
She gave him the once-over as he approached, and he rotated in a slow circle in front of her.
“What do you think?”
“You look like a tablecloth in my favorite Italian restaurant.”
“Good enough to eat off then?” His grin made her stomach somersault with pure lust.
“Maybe.”
He moved closer, and she held the cake box in front of her like a shield. “Here’s the cake.”
“Awesome. Can I take a look?”
She opened her car again, and placed the box on the seat. “Sure. It’s a dark chocolate and coffee flourless torte, otherwise known as sin cake.”
“Sin cake?”
He was suddenly way too near as he stood beside her in the shelter of the car door. Up close, he smelled like sandalwood and saddle leather. He rested one hand on the roof of the car, caging her in.
“That’s fantastic.” His words vibrated against her throat as he leaned in to take a closer look at the cake, and she shivered slightly. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispered, and shut the box.
In her efforts to straighten up, she inadvertently put her hand on his arm. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt, and it suddenly got hard to breathe. His face was an inch from hers, his intent brown eyes staring right into hers. This was so not good. She licked her lips.
“Yvonne . . .”
God, she wanted to kiss him so badly. . . . Just a little taste, just—
“Hey!”
They both jumped and moved away from each other, Rio smacking his shoulder on the door in his haste to disengage as she ducked down to retrieve the cake.
HW Morgan came striding toward them. “What’s the big secret?”
Yvonne practically threw the cake at Rio. “Ask him.”