“Are you trying to seduce me with food?”
“Only if it’s working.”
Emma added pasta to her fork. She closed her eyes and chewed, letting the Worcestershire sauce and pasta dressing wash over her taste buds. Seduced, completely and utterly seduced. So she asked after swallowing, “What’s your obsession with black?”
“It matches with everything. Despite its reputation, black represents all color. You don’t get black out of nothing. You get it once you add everything. I like the symmetry of it. It doesn’t stain. I could go on.”
“The red?”
His mouth quirked. “I have a thing for red. It’s the color of life.”
“You don’t strike me as an…” Emma pursed her lips as she searched for the right word. “Expressive man.”
“Doesn’t mean I lack emotions or that they don’t run deep.”
“How is someone supposed to know how you feel? You rarely smile or laugh. Your eyes are extremely expressive, but that could be wishful thinking.”
“If you are ever unsure of how I feel, ask.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Actions, Emmaline, are what tell you how someone feels. More wine?”
He didn’t miss a beat and it relaxed her more than the wine he offered. “I’m fine for now. So what exactly is Step?”
“Don’t you want to be reassured of something?”
There was no question of how he was feeling. He perfected emotions in his gaze. There was attraction, endless and dark. But there was warmth and something so welcoming she smiled.
“I’m fine for now.” She wiped her mouth, full, but wouldn’t have minded another piece of that beef. “I don’t recall ever getting the story of how you got into coffee.”
“It’s a boring story.” He shrugged. “I was a cop who got calls at odd hours of the day. I didn’t have a Starbucks budget. Cheaper to make myself a pot. Way more practical to buy the beans and grind them myself. Then I got hit with a random thought or rather an idea that I couldn’t let go.”
“Random thought?” She played with the stem of her wine glass.
“Have you ever tried to remember an actress’ name in a movie?” His hands were still, but his eyes were animated as he spoke. “It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and you know if you don’t figure it out it’s going to bug you. An hour later you’ve got the name, but you’re watching a clip of the movie on Youtube.”
She chuckled. “Yes.”
“It was the same with coffee. Once I had some good stuff I couldn’t settle for brown-colored octane that burns a hole in your gut. And then I had to know how to make good coffee.”
“And that’s better than hunting down murderers?”
He stabbed at the food on his plate. “I lost someone and I lost the taste for it.”
It was someone important from the way he said it, voice thick with grief. She wanted to know who, but first dates for friendships, no matter the outcome, didn’t need that kind of weight.
She said instead, “And gained a taste for coffee-making. I’d say looks are deceiving with you, but you still move like a cop.”
He shook his head. “Cops don’t move in a certain way.”
“You’re telling me if you entered a room you couldn’t pick out the cop?”
He crossed his arms. “Have you felt you needed to pick out the cop?”
“For some of our dares, yes.” She stole another glance at the roast beef between them and her empty plate. Her mouth watered, but she swallowed it down with more wine. “It’s best to have a look out.”
Tobias shook his head. “I have to know the whole story behind these dares.”
She let him skirt the question. “Started ten years ago. Abigail broke up with some guy she was really into. I—” A laugh bubbled out as the memory came to her. “I came up with the idea to do something stupid that would have us in hysterics and make her feel marginally better. We came up with rules. You had to be with the guy for at least six months.”
“That’s it?” His brows rose.
“We were in college,” she explained. “Freshman.”
“Ah.” He nodded.
“We had to pick straws and the one with the shortest would have to do the dare. No chickening out.”
He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “No one has ever chickened out?”
“Nope. I even had to kiss a bartender.”
He moved his head from right to left as though considering the dare. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“You didn’t know me in college. I sputtered, hemmed, hawed and begged to get out of it, but they kept saying it was my idea. I leaned over and kissed him. His face was priceless.” She shrugged. “It escalated to me being naked.”
He went quiet for a really long time. Long enough that Emma thought he wouldn’t speak anymore. She frowned because suddenly his gaze filled with…grief. He opened and closed his fist on the napkin, but finally cleared his throat. “Does it work?”
“It does.” She worried her lip, wanting to ask what was wrong.
Tobias wiped his mouth with the napkin again. “I’m putting in a rain check for your dance lesson.”
The abrupt ending to the date left her disappointed, but Emma didn’t protest. Something had happened and she wasn’t sure what or why. Probably for the best the date ended while she was still sated from the meal and conversation.
She said her bye at the door; he didn’t even try for a kiss. He looked…off anyway and to Emma’s surprise she didn’t want to dissect every moment of the date just yet. If she went home, everything would be questioned. There would be theories for why he suddenly clammed up. Nothing would be left a mystery. Everything about them and the date would be on the table.
So…Emma headed to the bakery instead, but to her shame, hours later she finally crept into her own home. Emma’s body, both languid and tight, slid onto the couch. She fell asleep fully dressed. She should have known the stay of dissection had only been delayed.
Chapter Nine
“She’s still got her shoes on.” Sasha’s voice filtered through dreams of Tobias, naked, hot and over her. “I don’t know what to make of that.”
“Two things, really.” Abigail’s stringent tone was close. “She couldn’t move after being so thoroughly ravished. Because of that, she used her last bits of strength to drive home. Or, after being thoroughly bored to death, like she predicted, died of it here on the couch.”
“I didn’t want to wake y’all,” Emma said with her eyes still closed. She didn’t have to guess the time to know it was barely five in the morning. Her body was limp from not enough sleep. “I wasn’t ravished. Who uses that word?”
“Romance authors,” Abigail said. “So?”
“I need coffee first. A gallon of it and even then I can’t be sure.” The cell phone on the table rang, making her groan. Sasha took pity and gave it to her before sitting by Emma’s head. Abigail stayed on the coffee table.
Without checking the ID she answered. “Hello?”
“You sound like you need coffee, Emmaline.”
She flushed at his voice, at the way he said her name, at…him. “Very true. Are you offering?”
Sasha gasped, her eyes widening at what the conversation sounded like. Maybe more so that Emma was participating in what the conversation sounded like. Emma's smile was sly because they had no idea.
“I’ll take blame for keeping you up late,” Tobias said.
She let out a quiet sigh. He thought ten was a late night. Considering her friends’ outright eavesdropping, Emma went for the gusto. “Caramel. I want it drizzled all over.”
He went quiet and then he let out a bark of laughter. “Ah, an audience. How unfair of you to tease your friends.”
“I wouldn’t normally do it, but I’m feeling sooooo open to new experiences.”
“I’m gaining too much pleasure from the sound of your voice. It’s husky in the morning, but I was calling to let you know I’ll make you something special to get you t
hrough the day.”
“Can’t wait,” she purred into the phone.
Tobias tsked and it seemed to reverberate through her body. “That first day, I lied. I gave away the cherry éclair because I couldn’t help but think of the cherry syrup and imagine smearing it from your neck all the way down to that four-leaf clover. And licking off every drop of it.” He paused. “See you when you get here.”
Dead silence and then the dial tone.
She pulled the phone from her ear and gaped at it. That woke her up.
“What he said isn’t as important as how you are looking right this second.” Abigail blinked. “Wow.”
“Every detail,” Sasha said.
“He cooked.” Emma stretched and yawned. “No, grilled, some roast beef. Matter of fact, some is in the ’fridge. I—I came home, passed out on the couch.”
“Details?” Sasha asked for again. “That’s not details.”
“Oh,” Abigail said knowingly. “You really like him.”
“I’ve already said that.” Emma frowned.
“No, like him.”
“Oh,” Sasha preened.
“I’m lost.” Emma shook her head. “I need to get ready. I will let you guys debate the meaning of oh.”
“Testy when we point it out, too.” Abigail stood. “How I would love to call into work late so I could watch you two. I’ll put two and two together myself when I meet him this afternoon.”
“Wait.” Emma blinked this time. “You’re what?”
“We made an appointment to go over the advertisement. I’ll fill you in since you’ll be part of my presentation.”
“That makes sense.” Emma relaxed.
“And it’s my second morning in a row being up this early. I’m going home to sleep. Our cab should be here any moment.” Sasha stood too, but shared a look with Abigail.
Emma said, “It breaks the very fabric of our friendship when we talk about each other like this.”
“If,” Abigail emphasized the word, “you really believed that, I’d stay and have this conversation with you as part of the peanut gallery.”
“But, you don’t,” Sasha agreed. “If you want, I can e-mail you the transcript.”
Emma shooed them out, because she didn’t mean it. Plus, she wanted to taste what Tobias had made especially for her.
*****
Tobias acknowledged the emotion for what it was—disappointment. Though he had been busy most of the morning, he’d kept an eye on the front door of the coffee shop. She hadn’t showed up. If he had another employee he would have been tempted to cross the street. The cherry syrup line had scared her away. He’d come on too strong, and she backpedaled. Emmaline had been receptive of his advances the night before. He thought they had ventured into a new level that they were both comfortable―
“Can you make it low fat?” A twenty-something asked. Blonde hair―dyed—about average height and below average weight.
“I can give it to you plain,” he said.
She scrunched up her face. “Do you sell water?”
He gave himself a moment. “I don’t.”
She sighed with irritation. “I’ll have a plain almond.”
Why did she come into a coffee shop and not want coffee? He quelled the thought. She was paying. He prepared it and took the money. His mind would have wound back to his problem, but Abigail swept through the door, alone. Tobias frowned for a moment, and then remembered he’d called her. He checked his watch and saw that it was a quarter to noon. Josh would be here soon to cover the front.
“Afternoon, Tobias.”
“You’re early,” he said.
“Decided to check in on Emma. She’s been invaded. Half a wedding party is over there trying to wrangle a three-tiered cake and little ones for all the guests. She forgot about the appointment even though she’d been up all night triple checking everything. A testament to you, I can say. She never forgets things like that.” Finally Abigail took a breath. “So where will this meeting happen?”
She shifted, and it drew his eye to the large briefcase in her left hand.
“When my brother gets here we can—”
Josh stepped into the shop, barely making the meeting time. He didn’t complain since his brother had stayed out of the house the entire night.
“I know,” Josh said. “I’m late.”
Abigail frowned at his brother. “I thought he worked for Emma?”
“He does, but he covers for me when I need him.”
She went quiet, but followed him once he left the shop in Josh’s hands. The office was small but functional. Artificial light failed to fully illuminate the room because the architect figured no window was necessary. He managed to squeeze behind the large wooden desk, which swallowed most of the space. The gray file cabinets ate up the rest. Before he could get a word in, Abigail had opened the briefcase and was placing an array of papers and props on the uncluttered desk.
“You’re working with a tight budget so I’ll be honest with you; there is no surefire way to success. The key to promotion is getting your name out there. People can’t come to the Caff-aholic if they don’t know it exists. You had a simple and smart idea to put up fliers, but that’s not enough. People put up a million fliers up at the college. You’d get lost in the white noise.”
She closed the briefcase and put it down beside her. “You also must know promotion never truly ends. If that was the case, we’d no longer see commercials with happy faces cutting prices.”
“I didn’t have to do this for my other store. Word of mouth was golden.”
She must have read something in his expression because she said, “And this time you don’t want it to be known you’re an ex-cop?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “No.”
“Good, because I would have needed another day to tweak what I already have for you.”
Abigail kept up that pace for the next hour, explaining the method and the purpose of everything she’d placed on his desk.
Emmaline had said they’d been friends for ten years. He had a newfound respect for her. In all that time, Emmaline hadn’t lost her identity to Abigail’s will. Friends—no, loved ones who loved you back were the hardest to deal with, because you knew their intentions held no malice.
He could also see why Emmaline loved her friend. The woman sitting in front of him didn’t hold back an inch. She was detail-oriented and logical. From what he could see, reckless and Abigail had never resided in the same sentence. In another life the woman could have been an attorney. By the end of the hour he wanted to both slap duct tape over her mouth to staunch the steady stream of words and sit back in awe.
“So what do you think?” Her shoulders tensed underneath the tailored suit jacket.
He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “I see no flaw in the plan of action. I can also see why you and Emmaline are friends.”
“I wasn’t sure you were buying into it.” Her soft laugh held nerves. “You just listened and only asked a few questions.”
“You were clear and concise and had me convinced mid-way through.”
Something calculating flitted behind her gaze. “Why’d you say you could see Emma and I as friends?”
Tobias didn’t hesitate to answer the question. “You’re self-assured. Loyal. Outspoken. Maybe a little slow on compassion, but it’s there. Emmaline’s only slow on the outspoken.”
Abigail rubbed at her chin. “You got this all from a sales pitch?”
“I’m paying you for your opinion, but you put everything forth as if my opinion wasn’t needed. You haven’t mentioned Emmaline. You have no problem telling me what I should think. A little heavy-handed, but I stand by my observation. And, yes, all that from a sales pitch.”
Lips pursed in distaste, she ran a steady hand down the lapel of her suit jacket. “Shouldn’t you be trying to get on my good side?”
“You wouldn’t be friends with Emmaline if she was easily swayed by what other people thought.”
/> She smirked at that. “If I asked, would you tell me your intentions?”
He didn’t break the eye contact. “But you wouldn’t believe my answer anyway.”
“Yeah,” she said slowly as if surprised by his insight. “I’m more interested in your stoic calm and whether or not you’ll tell Emma your intentions. Would you?”
“If she has to know in words.”
Abigail nodded. “When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible.” He couldn’t stop the grin.
“We’ll start next week and you’ll have a re-grand opening in a month when school starts.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She left copies of the prototypes on his desk. At the door, she stopped and turned. “You hurt her, I’ll—”
“Bust my balls. Understood,” Tobias said.
She left, probably reassured. Tobias thought about his words. He meant it. To know a woman you had to know her friends. Another piece of Emmaline came together for him, and he knew there were many pieces left to add.
What would their next meeting reveal? Would it be personal or professional? He didn’t know since she hadn’t come to him yet. He pushed down the spurt of impatience. Going over there would probably make him seem pushy. So would calling her again. The next move was hers. Ah. Her approach would be the next piece. He went back to the counter and knew the waiting would be easier now.
Chapter Ten
Fate had to be co-conspiring against Emma. In the morning, customers loitered outside the door waiting for her to open. It had been tempting to close once that rush had been ushered out with sacks of treats and full stomachs.
The thought had been obliterated once she remembered the appointment with the Whitmen family. She’d barely finished prepping before they descended on the store. So, she did get to close, but for a completely different reason than she wanted. The Bride-to-be had brought her mother, her grandmother and great-grandmother. On the groom’s side there were his parents and both of his grandparents and a stray aunt.
Even if she’d remembered the appointment earlier, she wouldn’t have been prepared for the large, loud group. She’d taken them through the sample booklet and made sure everyone had a piece of the cakes she’d prepared. Like a democracy there was a vote and they made a clean choice. Four-tiers, butter cream filling, ivory fondant icing, no bride or groom on the top―too traditional―buried in vines and grapes―vino companies both sides―and specially decorated cake boxes.
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