“I think you and me will go back there and get it together,” he said, his voice slurring a little. As if he’d been drinking or something.
Then Calla heard a noise in the alley behind the store, a door slamming and voices. Someone was out there, maybe someone from one of the neighboring businesses or apartments.
No way could she walk back into the dark recess of her office with this guy. There no one could see them. She’d be helpless.
“Help!” she yelled as loud as she could, tripping as she pulled sharply away, falling forward and scrambling across the floor toward the back door. “Help! I’m being robbed!”
Please, let someone hear me, she thought desperately as her attacker cursed and came forward after her. She spun around to see where he was. He was tall, young—maybe in his mid-twenties, she guessed, seeing his face as he rushed toward her.
No gun, she also noted with relief—until she saw the gleaming knife in his hands. She was close to the door, and the only thing between her and the intruder was the cake.
She scurried behind the cart and pushed hard, rolling the metal cart toward the thief. The dangerous-looking blade he’d been carrying slid across the floor as the cart—and her gorgeous cake—slammed into him.
“Hey, what’s going on in there?” someone called from outside. Jack Samosa, the dry cleaner from two doors down, stepped inside, shocked as he took in the scene before him.
Before Calla could warn Mr. Samosa, who was an older man, he was almost knocked over as the robber ran out the door into the alley.
“What the... Calla, are you all right?” he asked as he rushed to her and helped Calla pick herself up from the floor.
She was still shaking as she nodded, unable to speak yet. Then she took in the scene before her.
The cake she’d just spent four days working on was now decorating her back-room floor. She stared at the mess, not answering Mr. Samosa though she heard him, in the distance, calling the police.
“Merry Christmas to me,” she whispered, sliding back down to the floor to sit among the mess until the police arrived.
* * *
FOUR DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, Gideon Stone walked along the streets of Chelsea, scanning the Christmas decorations and crowds as he searched for the storefront of Calla’s Cakes. It had to be here somewhere. Finally he spotted the small silver sign with black script hanging high above the entry a few yards in front of him. People were gathered in front, watching something.
As soon as he joined them, he realized what they were watching: Calla.
It had been a few years since he’d seen her, but she was even lovelier than he remembered. Her dark brown hair was longer now, though pulled back in a severe braid at the moment. That only emphasized her ivory skin even more so—not tanned like it used to be in Texas—and huge green eyes.
The bakery window wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before, either. There weren’t glass cases with rows of goodies, but a single, bright room with ovens, refrigerators at the back and worktables poised in front of the large windows where Calla apparently worked in front of an audience.
Then he remembered Nathan, her older brother and Gideon’s friend, mentioning that. She called it performance baking—it was some new thing in the city. He hadn’t had any idea what it meant at the time.
Calla seemed completely unaware of her onlookers as she sat sculpting a row of different-size bells from golden blocks of cake. As she finished one perfect bell, she looked up, showing it off to the group as they expressed their admiration. Calla smiled back and held up her finger in a gesture to wait. She gathered the scraps of cake from her carving and put them in small white cups, topping them with a dollop of something white and creamy before carrying them outside to her company.
The crowd cheered lightly as she emerged from the wrought iron door at the entrance and started passing out the cups of cake. Murmurs of appreciation rose from those gathered. Gideon waited until she handed a cup to him. He took it and didn’t let go for a second as he waited for her to look up.
When she did, her lovely lips parted slightly and her eyes widened in surprise.
“Gideon? What are you doing here?”
She smiled, and he started to speak, but stopped when her smile faded.
“Nathan sent you, didn’t he?”
She pulled away her hand before he could confirm or deny, though she’d hit the nail on the head the first time. He hadn’t planned on lying about it, but he’d hoped she would be more receptive. Her family was simply worried, and he was doing them a favor.
At least he got some of the cake, topped with a fragrant whipped cream. As he put the small chunk to his lips, the aroma hit him first, the wafting scent of rum and nuts. Then the light, buttery texture floated over his tongue and took over his senses. It was the only time a piece of cake ever made him close his eyes in pleasure.
“Wow,” he managed, wanting to enjoy it for as long as possible.
“Glad you like it.”
He opened his eyes again to find Calla’s cat-green gaze on him, her tone as chilly as the weather.
He almost said “wow” a second time, but swallowed it down with the last of the cake.
“You should have been here for the chocolate mocha she made the other day,” a guy next to him said with a sigh of appreciation.
He’d met Calla once when Nathan had invited him over to their family ranch. That was eight years ago. She’d just graduated culinary school and had been home for a month over the summer, only twenty-two. Very pretty and very kissable.
Gideon had discovered that fact at a barbecue at the family ranch after they’d both had a little too much to drink. Though she had given him the green light for more than a kiss, he’d backed off. She was young, and she was his friend’s sister. Moreover, she was his training officer’s sister.
Definitely off-limits.
His eyes fell to her mouth. That hadn’t changed at all.
“That might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he said and watched color rise in the perfectly smooth, porcelain skin of her cheeks. His heart beat a little faster, and he had to get hold of his response.
She was still Nathan’s sister. He had to remember that, though he wanted to take back his comment that the cake was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“I suppose it’s no coincidence that you’re here? That you aren’t on a Christmas vacation and happened by?”
He shook his head. She glared.
The people around them watched with increased interest.
“You can tell Nathan I’m fine and go back to Texas. There was no reason to come all this way,” she said as she turned and walked into her bakery. She sat at the front table, going back to work as if he didn’t even exist.
Gideon had been dismissed, and he paused for a beat out on the sidewalk.
“Well, are you just going to stand there? Go on in there after her,” said the man who liked the chocolate cake. He winked at Gideon, nudging him with his elbow, obviously misinterpreting the whole thing.
But the guy was right. Gideon couldn’t just walk away and leave it at that. He went inside, too, and closed the door behind him, aware they still had an audience.
“Calla. Can we talk? Maybe have lunch? My treat.”
“It’s past lunch, and I have work to do. I’m running behind.”
She picked up a long spatula, fumbled it, dropped it to the floor with a clatter and cursed.
“He only wanted to make sure you were okay,” Gideon offered.
“I’m fine. I don’t have time for this nonsense right now.”
“It’s nonsense that Nathan was concerned about you being attacked and robbed? Especially when he had to find out about it through the police sheets? You never even called home.”
Calla glared. “I spoke with my mother just a week or so ago.”
“But you never told her what happened.”
“Why? To worry them for no reason? I’m fine. And Nathan should keep his nos
e out of my business. You, too.” She pointed the spatula at him with a few sharp jabs that punctuated her words. “I can take care of myself, in spite of what my family thinks. For goodness’ sake, I’m an adult. I don’t need my brothers sending their friends to check up on me.” Over the top of the spatula she leveled him a look. “You did your duty. Go home.”
With that, she went to the large sink in the corner of the room and turned on the hot water, scrubbing the spatula and then drying her hands, putting on new gloves.
When she stretched to reach something on an upper shelf, Gideon was distracted by how the chef’s coat lifted and hinted at her curves underneath. Eight years had turned Calla from a girl into a woman, and he wasn’t immune to that fact.
“Have they caught him?”
“I have no idea.”
She went to her table and started working on more bells, ignoring him completely.
Gideon stood there and watched. Part of him felt ridiculous, because she was right. She was a thirty-year-old woman with her own business, who had lived in this city almost as long as she’d lived back in Texas. He could see that she was fine. Better than fine.
But he’d promised Nathan, and he didn’t take that promise lightly. Gideon owed Nathan, big-time.
She stopped working again, smiling at the people outside as she winked and closed the window. Then she turned on him.
“Gideon, you’re distracting me, and I can’t afford—literally—to be distracted right now. You can tell Nathan I’m fine, I carry pepper spray and I’m as careful as I can be. I have a business to run, and people counting on me. I’m behind schedule after having to redo the cake that was destroyed the other night—which took two twenty-four-hour days to finish, by the way. I barely made it. Now I’m behind on this one, too, and you’re not helping.”
Gideon backed off a little, seeing the strain and the exhaustion that he hadn’t caught before. She was stressed, probably afraid, but like the other members of the Michaels clan, she wasn’t one to back down.
“When is this one supposed to be done?”
“Three days. I need to deliver it Christmas Eve, for a Christmas Day wedding, and it’s not going as well as I’d hoped. I guess I’m distracted, but I keep messing up the carvings, and the first batch of batter didn’t come out right.”
“There was nothing wrong with that sample you just handed out, believe me.”
“This one was good. I need to do it three more times now. I need forty-eight bells, and then I need to bake the base they will rest on. Then decorate.”
Gideon looked at the bells on the counter. There were eight.
“It took me the last six hours to do these.”
“You need to spend thirty more hours at this?”
“I should be able to make it, but it will be close, assuming no more goofs. Or distractions.” She looked at him pointedly.
Gideon considered for a moment and stepped forward. “Maybe I could help.”
Her eyebrows lifted, and she coughed out a laugh. “Are you hiding a culinary degree up your sleeve?”
“I do a lot of wood carving. How different can it be?”
Her lips fell apart, her expression shocked. “Are you kidding?”
“No. I mean, why not? If I can help you carve bells, that will speed things up for you, right? You can bake more cake while I do the carving. Consider it my apology for bugging you.”
“These have to be done just so. It’s cake, not wood.”
“Let me try one. You might be surprised.”
“No. You’re just trying to find a way to stick around watching over me.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Is this because we kissed once? Do you think you have some kind of special influence over me or something?”
“Do I?”
She crossed her arms over her front. “It was a long time ago, and it was only one kiss. I’ve kissed a lot of other guys since then.”
Gideon wasn’t sure he liked that idea, but shrugged.
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal. Let me try one bell, and if I botch it, I go home, tell your family you’re fine and leave you be. If I do okay, I’ll stick around and help. At least for today.”
“They can’t be okay, they have to be perfect.”
“Okay. Then if I do perfect, I can stick around.”
“Why are you pushing this? Why not just go?”
She sounded exasperated, but he knew he had her on the ropes.
“Because I owe Nathan. He saved my hide a few months ago, and frankly, I wouldn’t even be standing here if it weren’t for him. He asked me to do a simple favor for him, and I agreed. I’d like to keep my promise, even though it’s clear that you’re okay.”
She stared at him for several long moments, her shoulders dropping as she pushed a block of cake across the table, relenting.
“Fine. It’s a deal. You suck, you leave. Wash your hands, put on some gloves and let’s see what you can do.”
Copyright © 2014 by Samantha Hunter
ISBN-13: 9781460343463
Bring Me to Life
Copyright © 2014 by Kira Bazzel
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