The Baker's Touch

by W. Lynn Chantale

  She stood frozen, lost in a kiss that melted her soul, stirred her desire and mended her heart. He coaxed her lips apart, his tongue darting along the seam. She curled her fingers in the lapels of his jacket as she opened for him, their tongues dueled for supremacy until she finally submitted.

  Time stood still, the chorus of voices singing Auld Lang Syne faded as he cinched her tighter. His mouth never stopped moving on hers, becoming the very air she breathed. To stay in this stranger’s embrace would be just what she needed, but a dance and a kiss did not a relationship make. Still, she wanted the passion and acceptance he offered.

  “Happy New Year,” he muttered against her lips.

  “Same to you. What’s your name?”

  He kissed her again. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Before she could protest, she was alone in the crowd. She touched her lips. If she didn’t do anything this year, she would at least find out who she just kissed.

  Chapter Two

  Penelope allowed her head to fall forward as softness swept her skin in a caress. Each deliberate stroke sent a trickle of desire down her thighs. She squeezed her legs together in an effort to relieve the ache building. The small movement earned her a sharp slap on her bare behind. She bit back a gasp as the pleasure/pain rolled through her.

  “Be still.” His whispered command left her wanton, while his warm breath tickled her ear. He soothed away the sting with the palm of his hand and she fought her body’s urge to press against him. “Tell me what you want.”

  She bit her lip as he rubbed his chest to her back. The cotton of his shirt scraped across her sensitized flesh. One hand drifted up, over her ribcage to cup her breast. The other went south and dipped a skillful finger into her damp heat. Her head fell against his shoulder. She widened her stance to give him better access. He lingered for a moment. Rolling her nipple between his index finger and thumb, plunging a finger in and out of her slick heat and his lips grazed the spot just below her ear. A whimper left her lips.

  “My beautiful Penelope, you are so sexy to me,” he murmured against her skin. The rasp of his tongue sent more delicious tingles racing down her spine. She tugged on the fur-lined cuffs binding her wrists over her head. Abruptly, he stepped away.

  She tensed. Her heart skipping a beat as she realized, she’d moved.

  “You’re learning.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. He brought his hand down on the rounded portion of her behind. The momentary sting rolled into pleasure. He spanked her, each smack a little harder than the one before.

  A gasp escaped as her butt warmed. She wanted more. Relished the bit of pain with passion. He pressed his front to her back and cupped her breasts. His erection wedged between the crack of her behind, while the coarse material of his slacks rubbed her tender cheeks just right. She couldn’t stop from curving into the heat of his body.

  “Please.” She needed release, needed to feel his hands everywhere, bringing her to ecstasy and beyond.

  He palmed her mons, before plunging two fingers into her heat. “Is that what you want?”

  She moved against his hand, a moan stuck in the back of her throat. “Yes.”

  He tapped her clit with his thumb. “Or more of this?”

  Pleasure rippled through her veins and pulsed between her legs. “Yes.”

  Slowly he thrust in and out, while he teased her nipple. His mouth found hers. His lips cool and commanding as they coaxed hers apart. Their tongues dueled, fighting for dominance. He released her breast to drift up her torso and rest at her throat.

  Muffled ringing filtered through the silence. No. Now was not the time for interruptions. Already his touch was fading. The shrill noise grew louder. “Damn!” Penelope sat upright, snatching the intrusive object from her nightstand. “This better be good.” It never failed. The same dream. For the last few weeks, ever since that New Year’s Eve kiss, she’d had the same sexy dream. Whenever she got to the good part with her dream lover, she was always interrupted before she climaxed. Even now her body hummed for release.

  “This is your security company. An alarm has been triggered at your place of business. Would you like me to dispatch the police?” the calm efficient voice purred in her ear.

  Her shop? “Yes. Do that and I’ll meet them there. Thank you.” She kicked the covers off, the erotic dream momentarily forgotten. Penelope fumbled for the clock. Her fingers finding the button.

  “2:47,” the mechanical voice blurted.

  “Ugh.” She pushed to her feet. This was not how she wanted to spend her morning. First her sex dream with the mystery man from New Year’s Eve and now her shop. She moved to the phone, felt for the tiny raised bumps and pushed one. The phone on the other end rang several times before it was answered.

  “Did you mean to call me this early, Miss Penelope?” the gravelly voice on the other end mumbled.

  “Yes, James, I did. I’m sorry to wake you, but the alarm went off in the shop. I need to be there.”

  “I’ll be out front in ten minutes.” He sounded more alert now.

  “Thank you.” She hung up the phone.

  Head held high, she slowly made her way from her bedroom down the hall to the bathroom. Showered and dressed, she met James on the front porch. Early morning cold permeated her still damp hair. She shivered as she struggled into her coat.

  “Miss Penelope, you’ll catch your death walking out here in the dead of cold with wet hair and no coat on.” James grabbed the collar of her heavy jacket and draped it on her shoulders. “Has Mrs. Tilman seen you?” He sighed. “Probably not if you’re out here like this.”

  She stifled a chuckle. “I didn’t want to wake her for this. I left her a message that I had an emergency at the shop.” She allowed James to lead her down the slippery walk. Salt crunched beneath her booted feet. She misstepped on a slick spot and would’ve fallen if not for the gentleman’s strong grip.

  “Careful.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. Once inside the vehicle, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was just too damn cold in the middle of February. Winters in Michigan were the worst for early morning bakery hours. The shop would be stone cold until the ovens warmed the kitchen.

  By the time she arrived at the shop she’d warmed considerably.

  “There are a couple of police cars sitting out front. The glass on the door is busted,” James said as he pulled the vehicle to the curb.

  Tension gripped her. They kept very little cash on the premises. The previous day’s deposit had been dropped in the night drop at the bank, so she wasn’t concerned about that, but there were other things. Equipment, heavy and expensive, or the smaller items which were just as valuable. And product. What if any of the cakes or other candy creations had been damaged. Some of the pieces could not be duplicated in a matter of hours.

  “Can you tell if someone has been in the shop, James?” She couldn’t keep the anxiety from her voice.

  “Not from here, Miss. Did you call Avery?” James turned off the car, exited and came around to her.

  Penelope shivered in the sudden blast of air, but was ready for it when James opened her door. “He’ll probably be upset that I’m here and didn’t wait.”

  “He takes his responsibility seriously. He knows how much this shop means to you.” James gripped her elbow as she stepped from the vehicle. “Hold tight to my arm Miss Penelope. Doesn’t look like they’ve gotten out to shovel and salt the walks yet.”

  She gripped his arm as they carefully moved forward. Snow crunched and skittered over her feet. A gust of arctic air cut through her thick layers and she ducked her head.

  “This is the worst part about being a baker. Getting up in the middle of the night to get bombarded by frigid air,” she muttered.

  James chuckled beside her. “Yes, ma’am, much agreed.” He paused. “There’s a bit of glass here. Don’t touch anything.”

  “Okay.” She allowed herself to be maneuvered around the trouble area and into relative warmth
. The hum of refrigeration units was loud in the silent shop. A hand gripped hers.

  “Miss Bishop. Officer Rogers here,” a soft almost feminine voice said.

  “Oh. Hello.”

  “My partner is with your assistant. It appears most of the damage was to the door and no one actually entered the shop, but they’re checking to make sure.”

  “Okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” Penelope said.

  “Other businesses have been vandalized in the area over the last several weeks and we’re not quite sure as to why.”

  She could only nod at the information. Her shop wasn’t in a bad part of town; on the contrary, it was in downtown Ann Arbor. The bakery drew patrons from the surrounding office buildings as well as the few hotels and local college. Lots of people to keep the businesses going.

  “I thought I heard you out here.”

  Penelope sucked in a gasp. Every time she heard her assistant’s voice she was reminded of aged whiskey, smooth and mellow. And a man with that type of dulcet tone had to have a body to go with it. For a moment she squashed the fantasy of running her hands over his sinewy flesh.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “I was telling Officer Buck we’re missing a couple of blocks of chocolate and, of course, the door.”

  She scratched her head. “Did you say chocolate?”

  “Yeah. One dark, one milk and two white.”

  “Give us a moment to get you a claim number and we’ll get out of your way.” That had to be the other officer. His voice was gravelly, like he was a heavy smoker.

  Clothes rustled and static crackled as the officers moved around the shop. Wind whipped against her ankles as they exited. Throat clearing had her turning to her left.

  “If you don’t mind, Miss Penelope, I’ll help clean things a bit and make them safer for you to navigate,” James said. “Everything else looks good around here.”

  A smile creased her lips. “Thank you, James.”

  “I’ve already called our insurance and someone to fix the door.” Avery grasped her hand and threaded it through the crook of his arm.

  She hesitated, unused to the jolt of awareness sizzling up her arm.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I, uh…no.” She allowed him to lead her forward. Their footsteps echoed and were muffled on carpet. Only one place in the building contained carpet and that was the corridor leading to the consultation rooms. “Any particular reason you’re dumping me in a consult room?”

  “It’s warmer up here and you don’t have to walk through a bunch of glass,” Avery said. There was a catch in his voice.

  She clutched his sleeve. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “You’re entirely too perceptive at times.” He blew out a sigh. “I received a phone call the other day, asking if the shop was for sale.”

  “And you said?”

  “The shop isn’t for sale. What did you expect me to say? This is your family’s business and everyone knows it’s not for sale.”

  She trailed her fingers along the smooth walls until they came to an opening. “But why would anyone think this business is for sale? We’ve been here for over a hundred years. We’re not going anywhere.”

  “Right.”

  “So you’re thinking the call and the break-in are related?”

  “Maybe someone trying to scare you into selling.”

  She snorted. “Like that would ever happen.” She shrugged out of her coat. Before she could find the coat tree to hang it on, Avery removed it from her fingers. Awareness zipped up her arm. Heat crept into her cheeks as once more desire sidled through her veins. “Thank you.”

  He halted in front of her. “You’re not upset that I’m leaving you in here while we clean up the mess out there?”

  She rested a hand on his chest. Warmth seeped through her palm. For a moment she considered what it would be like to have it pressed to his skin. Would he have coarse or downy soft hair or perhaps none at all? Damn her dream. Swallowing hard, she dropped her hand. “I would be more of a liability out there. No sense in distracting you from what needs to be done.”

  “You keep things interesting.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Your hair is wet.”

  “I know.”

  “You didn’t have to come out. I could’ve handled this.” Disapproval hung in his voice.

  She lifted her chin in defiance. “It’s not your responsibility.”

  “But you are,” came the quiet reply. “I’ll be back to get you when we’re done.”

  Stunned, Penelope could only nod. When he said things like that, she got the impression she meant more to him than just his co-worker, but he couldn’t be interested in her. At least she didn’t think he was, but then why should he?

  The faint thud of his footfalls signaled his departure. Carefully, she made her way to one of the chairs and sat. On any other day, she’d be elbow deep in a bowl of cake batter or rolling out pie crust dough. Everything in the shop was made from scratch. Everything from cookies to frosting.

  She dragged agitated fingers through her tangle of damp hair. If something more had been taken then maybe she could see the rationale, but a few blocks of chocolate and a broken door were not enough to intimidate her.

  And speaking of the door... She stood and made her way to the entrance of the room. With one hand on the door jamb, she stepped into the hall and listened to the sounds of the bakery.

  The murmur of voices along with the tinkle of glass and slight drag of straw strands against linoleum drifted to her ears. Beyond that, diesel engines grumbled while air brakes squealed. Downtown would awaken and though she wanted to open the shop for business, she had to be certain it was safe to do so.

  She stepped back, her fingers fell on smooth cool paper. She stepped back in the room and peeled the page from its mooring on the wall. She slid her hand across the missive, surprised to find tiny raised dots—Braille. This couldn’t be right. She skimmed her fingers over the bumps again.

  You are my everything.

  Why would someone send this to her? Could it be her mystery man? Hope surge anew, but how did he know where she worked? She stepped into the hall again, this time walking until she stood at the edge of the hallway.

  “Avery?” Cool air swirled around her ankles.

  Footsteps shuffled, the squeak of hinges and his soft tread. “Yes?”

  “Have you seen this?” She held out the sheet of paper.

  “It’s in Braille, honey,” he said. “Where’d you find it?”

  “Taped to the wall in the office.”

  “Maybe your parents had one of the employees put it up.”

  She shook her head. “This sounds like a love note or something.”

  “A love note?”

  She could practically hear the smile vibrating in his voice. “Don’t get any ideas. I have no one to send me love notes.” The man she was going steady with dumped her or rather she dumped him New Year’s Eve.

  “What does it say?”

  She huffed.

  “C’mon, P. What’s it say?”

  “As much as you type up notes for me, you still haven’t learned?”

  He laughed, a warm throaty chuckle which reminded her of tempered chocolate. She wanted to hear that wonderful sound all day. He threaded her hand through the crook of his arm and led her back the way she came.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking to see if there are any more notes hanging on the walls. So spill. What does it say?”

  “You are my everything.”

  “That’s a lovely sentiment.”

  “It is, but from whom?”

  Avery paused. Paper rattled. “There’s a rather crude drawing of a sandwich on the bottom.” He grabbed her hand and placed it over the lines. “Looks like peanut butter and jelly.”

  She giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “That’s a nickname my grandfather gave me as a kid and shortened it to P.” She shoo
k her head. A smile twisted her lips while her heart softened at the memory. She loved that gruff old man, now sitting on an island somewhere ordering his nurse to bring him whatever the local flavor was. “He’s way past retirement and urged my parents to turn the shop over to me. I know he didn’t leave this note.”

  “Then you have a secret admirer.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Why? It’s the perfect time of year for it.”

  She shook her head and pursed her lips. There was no secret admirer for her. After the way things ended with Sam, she didn’t want to think about anyone wooing her. Her ego hadn’t quite recovered from the dent, even if her heart had.

  “C’mon, P. You’re the first one of us to celebrate the holiday. You love the idea of love.”

  “Didn’t you get the memo? Valentine’s is canceled this year due to a missing heart.”

  He chuckled. “That’s funny. I’ll have to use that sometime.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know.” He pressed the paper into her hand. “Someone thinks you’re everything to them. That’s all that matters.” A soft click filled the silence. “I don’t see anything else. Maybe I should check the other rooms.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.” She turned, reached out and grasped only air.

  “Nothing here, P.” His voice was farther away and the three other doors opened and closed. A moment later he returned to her side.

  She shook her head. “After everything that’s happened, it’s just strange to find it in here.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for any other love notes and alert the staff.”

  She could just imagine what her employees would say about a secret admirer. At least she wouldn’t catch any speculative looks. Being blind did have its perks. “Maybe not the staff.” She touched his sleeve. “They don’t need to know.”

  “Whatever you say, P.”

  She went still as he leaned close. The subtle scent of his cologne enveloped her as easily as his heat.

  “You’re cute when you blush.”

  A faint breeze brushed her cheek, followed by fading footfalls. He was gone. Was he flirting with her? She had half a mind to call him back, but then what? If she were wrong, she’d make a total fool of herself and she’d had enough of that for the year.