by Debora Ryan
“I’m sorry,” he said, still fingering a lock of her hair. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
She stopped squirming and looked up at him. “I don’t want to fight with you either.”
He kissed her again, slowly and deeply. Unlike his earlier passionate kisses, this one was tender. Something inside Leah broke, furthering the paradox of her feelings for him. She wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss with equal tenderness.
The ringing of the phone interrupted them. Will pulled away regretfully. “I have to take this. It’s Jaden. She’ll keep calling.” He stood up, helping Leah into sitting position as he did so, and crossed the room to where he had left his phone on the kitchen counter.
Leah headed for the bathroom with the intention of freshening up. As she washed her face and adjusted her clothes, she banished from her head all the conflicting thoughts and feelings she had about Will. She desperately wanted to forget she was only there because he was blackmailing her. He seemed to have forgotten it. Leah sighed, defeated. There was no point in trying to analyze this thing that was or wasn’t between them. He would be gone in a month.
When she returned, she found him leaning over the island in the kitchen, frowning and tapping a pencil on a piece of paper. “What’s wrong?”
He exhaled loudly. “I have to make fifty cupcakes by four o’clock.”
“Why don’t you buy them? I mean, if you don’t want to make them.”
“They have to be homemade. It’s for a party her jazz dance troupe is putting on tonight. She told them her mom would make her famous cupcakes, but she didn’t tell Erika until this morning.” He looked up from the paper, turning his mournful eyes to Leah. “Erika is in Texas. Her flight doesn’t get in until three-fifteen.”
“That’s a problem.”
“Erika told Jaden that I know her recipe, so she called me.”
“And you agreed to do it.”
“I challenge anyone to say no to her. It can’t be done. At least, not by me.” He smiled wanly.
Leah sensed there was something more. “What’s the problem?”
He tapped the pencil on the paper a few more times. “I don’t know the recipe. It’s not the normal, out-of-the-box thing. Erika puts little minty things in there, but you can’t find them when you look for them. They’re sort of a surprise. She makes her own frosting. She has a special recipe for that, too. And then there’s the decorating.”
“Let me guess. She doesn’t pile frosting on top.”
“Nope. She makes them all look like little kittens. My mom got her some kitten cupcakes years ago and Erika flipped for them. She learned the trick to them and practiced and practiced until she was really, really good at them. Even if I could remember the cupcake recipe, there’s no way I can do the kitty thing with them.”
A memory percolated up through time. Every year, Leah and Cecelia did something special for each other during July, the only month school didn’t touch. The year Leah was eleven, Cece went through a kitten phase and Leah invented kitty cupcakes for her. She made a dozen. Each one had been different, unique, like the musical Cats that Cece loved. Their parents had taken them to see it for Cecelia’s twelfth birthday.
“Are the cupcakes chocolate?” Leah asked. “Rich? Moist?”
“They are.” He seemed surprised she knew them.
Leah took the pencil and paper from him. “I can make them.” She wrote quickly, listing the ingredients she needed and the amounts he needed to get. She glanced at the clock on the stove. “I may not be able to get them done by three, but I think I can have them ready by four.”
“Leah, are you sure about this.” His brow creased in trepidation. “Anne said the only thing you know how to make is macaroni and cheese. You’re talking about cooking from scratch.”
She leveled him with a scathing look. “I may not be able to cook food, but I can bake with the best of them. I just don’t do it because it’s time-consuming and fattening.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “My parents owned a bakery. Cece and I were forced into slave labor there from the age of six.”
Recognizing her olive branch, he smiled and kissed her affectionately. “Do you want to come with me?”
“No,” she said. “I’m going to go through your drawers and find all your secrets.” She laughed at the uncertainty in his face. Leah began opening cupboards, searching for a mixer and mixing bowls, spoons and spatulas.
“I don’t have anything to hide, Leah, so I don’t necessarily mind that. However, this is my brother’s condo and a lot of the things in the drawers are his. I don’t want you to come across something questionable and think it’s mine. I’d rather you went through things when I’m around to defend myself.”
She backed out of a low cupboard to look at Will. “This isn’t yours?”
“No. I live in Manhattan. I have a place there. This is my brother’s place. He spends a few months of every year in Michigan to make our dad happy. I didn’t want to buy a place when I knew I wasn’t staying, and I refuse to stay at my parent’s house.” He shook his head. “My father and I would kill each other within a week.”
She made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat. “Relax, Will. I meant the kitchen drawers.” She waved him away with one hand. “Hurry up and go so you can come back.”
By the time Will returned a half hour later, she had transformed the kitchen. The baking materials had been placed logically according to their intended use. She rushed to the door to greet him and take the bags. The prospect of baking made her feel much better.
Soon, the scent of baking cupcakes and simmering chocolate suffused the condo. Will fell immediately into line, following Leah’s orders without complaint, which she appreciated. Time flew.
Leah caught him staring at her, daydreaming with a grin on his face. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but she swallowed the question. “Do you need a break?”
His attention snapped back to the present. “No. I’m fine.” He set the mixing bowl down on the island. “What’s next?”
“Peel the ones that are cool and frost them.” She showed him how to frost them without leaving beginning and end marks, or unwanted ridges. It took him some time to master the technique, and even then, he frosted painstakingly slowly.
They worked in companionable silence for some time, though Leah was able to accomplish much more than Will. She lost herself in the artistry of the process as she made tiny candies for the eyes, nose and mouth, each one different from the others.
A buzzer sounded. Leah’s head snapped around, and she looked toward the oven. The timer there showed ten minutes left. She frowned, puzzled, and looked to Will for an explanation.
Will’s frown was more of a grimace. “It’s the doorbell,” he explained.
Leah glanced at the clock. “But Erika’s plane isn’t even scheduled to land for another hour. Nothing is ready.”
He shrugged. “I guess she’ll have to help. She’d be better at it than me.”
“You’re doing fine,” Leah assured him. She inspected his work. It was nothing her parents would have sold in their bakery, which catered to high-end clients, but it wasn’t bad.
The voices at the door, which Leah heard when Will opened it, were immediately recognizable. Well, one was, at least. She groaned inwardly at the sound of Thomas Dannaker’s voice. There was nowhere to hide.
“Will!” Mr. Dannaker’s voice boomed across the large room. “You don’t look like you’re ailing.”
A much softer, feminine voice spoke next. “I was worried about you, darling.”
The cupboards were in the way, so Leah could not see them, but she guessed the softer voice belonged to Mrs. Dannaker.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“See, Thomas, I told you that you were overworking William. He needs a day off every now and again.” Mrs. Dannaker’s tone was reproving.
For the first time, Leah heard contrition in Mr. Dannaker’s voice. “He has the weekends.”
Mrs. Dannaker
tsked at her husband a few times. “You know that’s not true. All those meetings that you try to pass off as social events don’t count as time off work.”
Leah worked as quietly as possible. She hoped Will would be able to satisfy his parents’ curiosity and that they wouldn’t want to stay for a visit. She was wrong.
“Is that Leah?” Mr. Dannaker asked. He appeared on the other end of the island far faster than Leah thought possible. “Leah, I thought you were in an accident. What are you doing here?”
“Decorating cupcakes.” She wiped the excess frosting from her spatula onto a towel. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“But you aren’t at work.”
“You’re observant, Mr. Dannaker. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” She smiled to soften the effects of her nervous sarcasm.
“Were you or were you not in an accident?”
She lifted a hand to indicate the bandage over her left eye. “My head is still officially split open. At least until Monday.”
Gruffly, he said, “Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”
Will joined them before she could answer. He came around the island to stand next to Leah. “Sorry,” he whispered into her ear. To his father, he said, “Leave Leah alone.”
“Where is your mother?”
Will pointed toward the bathroom.
“Good. Let’s keep her out of this.” He turned back to Leah and pointed an accusing finger. “You lied to me.”
Leah looked up from her pastries, surprised. “I did?”
“I asked you point-blank if there was something going on between the two of you and you told me there was not.”
Steel laced her voice. “I did no such thing.”
“I beg to differ. Shall I refresh your memory? You said—”
Leah held up a hand to cut him off. “Memory loss hasn’t accompanied this concussion. I know what I said.”
“Then you admit you lied.”
She beat powdered sugar into a mixing bowl in preparation for making more frosting. “Mr. Dannaker, I told you that if you wanted to know about your son’s personal life, then you needed to talk to him. I also told you I was not comfortable sharing the details of my personal life with you. You are my boss, not my father.”
“This is different.”
“It’s not different. This is none of your business until Will says it is. Even then, you don’t get to talk to me in the role of my boss and ask me personal questions.”
“There are policies in place to prevent inter-office dating. You are putting your job in jeopardy.”
A new obstinacy took root. Leah raised a brow. “I guess you’ll have to fire Will, too. How would that look to your shareholders?”
“I can find other reasons to fire you,” he threatened.
Will’s temper exploded. Leah was impressed. She’d never seen this side of him. “How dare you come into my home and threaten my girlfriend? Do you think I’m going to stand here and let you get away with this?”
Thomas Dannaker’s face turned a vivid shade of red. Leah had witnessed Mr. Dannaker’s outbursts of temper before, so this did not surprise her. What did surprise her was Will’s reaction. Her shock in hearing Will yell for the first time was tempered by a schoolgirl’s giddiness that rushed through her when he referred to her as his girlfriend. Perhaps this thing between them did mean something more to him. Then again, it was possible he was baiting his father. There was real enmity between the two of them.
“She isn’t the kind of girl you should be involved with. She isn’t our kind.”
Will exuded deadly calm. “Not everyone can marry an heiress.”
Mr. Dannaker’s false display of calm matched Will’s. “You know what I mean.”
The two men glared at each other. Leah looked from one to the other, struck by the similarities. Will and his father were the same height, both a little over six feet. They had the same lithe, muscular builds. Even their faces were similar in shape and proportion. Will was his father’s son. The only real difference was their coloring. Where Thomas Dannaker was pale and blond, his son was olive and brown.
Leah was distracted by the sudden entrance of one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Nearly as tall as her husband, Will’s mother’s voluptuous figure didn’t detract from the stateliness of her demeanor. Although she had to be over sixty, her olive skin stretched smoothly across her features, its only concession to age being small laugh lines around her mouth and eyes. Her eyes, which Leah realized were the same wide, warm, intelligent dark brown as Will’s, took in the tense situation, assessing it with the manner of someone who had seen it all before.
She smacked her husband on the arm. “We’re here less than ten minutes and already you’ve picked a fight.”
“Zorah, you don’t know what’s going on.” Mr. Dannaker’s words had to push past his teeth to get out.
Zorah looked around. “It looks like baking to me.”
“Mom, this is Leah,” Will said by way of introduction. He glanced quickly at his mother, and then he resumed glaring at his father. “Dad doesn’t approve of our relationship.”
Leah wanted to add that she didn’t exactly approve of their relationship, but she felt it was not the time to stir that pot. “Hello, Mrs. Dannaker. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but mine are a little messy right now.”
“That’s all right, dear. I understand.” She turned to her husband. “Thomas, what is the problem here? She seems perfectly lovely to me.”
“She—” He didn’t get very far before his wife interrupted him.
“Thomas, if you’re addressing me, then I would appreciate it if you looked at me as well.”
With great effort, he stopped glaring at Will. The transformation in his face when he looked at his wife was amazing. “Leah is one of my employees.”
Zorah tilted her head slightly to one side. “I fail to see the problem.”
“You would.”
She lifted a finely sculpted brow at him. “You don’t honestly want to start something like this with me.” She turned away from him and came to stand near Leah. She studied several of the completed kittens appreciatively. “Oh, these are darling!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dannaker,” Leah said.
“Oh, honey, you call me Zorah. Will and Thomas have both told me all about you. I feel like we’re old friends.”
“Have they?” Leah glanced questioningly at Will.
“I haven’t said a word.”
“Oh, William. You may not think I pay attention, but I do. Whenever you’ve mentioned her, your whole face lights up. I knew it was only a matter of time before you introduced us.”
Will looked at Leah apologetically. “I swear, I said nothing.”
“You didn’t say you were involved, darling, but I know you. When you set your heart on something, nothing stops you. Thomas,” she said, exchanging her easy tone for a stern one. “You would do well to accept it. After all, you do want William to be happy.”
“Yes, dear.” Leah could tell that, while Mr. Dannaker may have dropped the subject, he was not finished with it.
Zorah’s attention returned to the kittens. “They remind me of the ones I bought for Erika all those years ago. Do you remember, Will? She loved them so much. I got them from that wonderful bakery downtown. What was it called?” She tapped her finger on the counter as she tried to recall the name.
“Keen Creations,” Leah supplied.
“Yes!” Zorah pointed her finger at Leah. “You know it. I loved that place. I have never seen more talent in my life, and I’ve eaten pastries all over the world. You know, their recipes were secret. No one but the family knew them. They had the most wonderfully decadent things there. I had to go to the gym every time I passed by that place.”
“That’s because you never passed it by,” Mr. Dannaker grumbled.
Zorah shot Thomas a withering look. “Then it went out of business all of a sudden. There was a tragedy, I think. Th
e gentleman who owned it was driving drunk, I believe. His wife and daughter were killed in the accident, too.”
Mr. Dannaker’s phone rang, and he wandered off to take the call.
Leah carefully placed whiskers on another kitten. Her voice was even, emotionless when she spoke. “His wife was killed when the ambulance that was taking her to the hospital crashed. His daughter is still alive.”
Zorah walked around the island to see the finished cupcakes on the counter behind Leah. “But wasn’t there something more with that? Oh, yes! I remember now. The daughter was horribly damaged. The other family sued them and was awarded everything?”
Leah nodded absently. “They didn’t get much. Unfortunately, my parents were not very good at managing their finances, and most of it went to pay creditors first.” Leah was acutely conscious of Will standing next to her, his gaze glued to her face. He had stopped working altogether.
Almost too low to hear, Will asked, “These kitten cupcakes are the ones your parents used to make?”
“I made them,” she corrected. “I was messing around in the kitchen one day. My mom had made all these little candies for a couple of different projects she was working on. I took some of her rejected pieces and came up with these for Cecelia. She loved them so much she cried when I gave them to her. My dad liked them and put them in our catalogue. They were one of our biggest sellers for children’s parties.”
“Oh, no!”
Leah and Will whirled to find out why Zorah exclaimed so suddenly. She looked as if she was going to cry. “I am so sorry, Leah. First, my husband behaves like an utter ass toward you, and then I dredge up painful memories in the worst possible way.”
“It’s okay,” Leah said. “I like that you remember the good things about them. So few people do.”
Zorah wrapped her arms around Leah and hugged her tightly. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you making so many cupcakes?”
Will answered. “Jaden needs them for her jazz troupe party tonight. She called this morning crying because she forgot to tell Erika.”
“Is Gavin taking Jaden tonight?”
Will shrugged. “Someone is coming by in a couple of hours to pick these up. I assumed Erika would swing by on her way home from the airport.”