“Hurry!” He nudged her in the back, practically running with her to the last golden drum.
Gretchen folded it in half as she raced. At the last minute, she tore off her Just Desserts sticker she always kept on her hat brim and stuck it on the two edges, sealing it in place. For good luck!
“Countdown! Five, four…”
Blocking out the woman’s loud voice, Gretchen cradled Lola’s head with one hand, bolted the last few steps, and then tossed the application toward the drum. It missed, floating to the floor. “Noooooo!” She dropped to her knees, sliding to the form.
Lola giggled. Gretchen cursed—silently.
Someone else got there at the same time. A man’s warm, strong hand latched on her wrist as she grabbed the page. Electricity shot through her. Not now, for crying out loud! He lifted her hand and, once it was through the opening of the golden drum, he shook her wrist, finally dislodging the slip from her frigid fingers.
“One!” The woman made the sound of a buzzer going off. “Time’s up!”
With dots of perspiration dribbling down her hairline, mixing with the remnants of the applesauce goo, Gretchen breathed a sigh of relief. “Th…thanks…” She glanced up at the man still clutching her. She encountered her reflection in mirrored sunglasses tucked in the front of his black shirt. Glops of Lola’s snack streamed down her cheek.
Mirrored sunglasses?!
A dull roar began in her ears. Jerking her head back, she found his intense stare. Green eyes with those brown irises, flaring out to a golden brown blast-shape, captured hers. His gaze, so dang familiar, slammed into her like a punch to her gut. Her gasp, loud and sharp, echoed around her. “You? John You’re Lying Doe?!”
Chapter 4
“Holy Fudgsicles and fiddlesticks!” The woman issuing the countdown slid to a halt beside them and smacked Gretchen on the back. “Phew! In the nick of time!”
Gretchen sensed the others behind her and her John. “You can let go of my hand now.” The words barely escaped between her gritted teeth. Couldn’t he at least have only one eye, missing teeth, grotesque features, and reek of something? No, he had to have perfect everything and his touch sent arrows of awareness straight to, well, everywhere!
“I’ll help you.” His voice, lower and raspier, poured over her like maple syrup.
Swallowing hard, she allowed him to run his hand up her arm and then gingerly assist her to her unsteady feet. “Thanks,” she murmured, feeling as if she were a speck under a scope as his gaze burned into her. “Nothing broken.” She tossed that out to the rest of the milling half-dozen people around her. “Only bruises.” This time she drilled him with a sharp stare.
“Do you two know each other?” A tall, broad-shouldered man nudged the countdown lady aside. He shot her a deep, dark frown.
“Yeah, like know, know, if you get the drift.” Another man, wearing a blue silky scarf, peeked around the bigger man’s muscled arm.
“Geez Louise, Rico, why don’t you just ask them if they’re kicking boots?” The lady stuck out her hand, grabbed Gretchen’s, and then shook it up and down. “Peg here. Boss 3, aka Griffin James there.” She nodded. “Rico—can’t keep his mind outta the gutter—there.”
“Moi? You are so in trouble, Pegster. See if I make you apple martinis next girls’ night.”
She snorted.
“Enough,” Danny cut in. “Gretchen’s my friend. And Max’s.”
“Thanks, buddy,” she whispered as her voice stuck. All eyes were on her, but it was his from the bakery this morning that unnerved her. His direct stare, searching and seeking, sent a river of liquid warmth—and not from Lola’s applesauce either—over her and a shiver down her spine. What are you doing, Gretch?! He lied. He nearly stole away with your order.
“Miss, since Noah’s a judge in the baking contest it would be a conflict of interest if you two were more than just friends.”
Noah? Hmm…nice enough name.
“We just met. Here.” Noah lied. “I saw her trying to get her application in and,” he shrugged, “naturally, when it fell and she dropped to get it, I rushed to help.”
“Is that true?” The Griffin guy swung his gaze from Noah to her.
Pinned on the spot, Gretchen plastered on a tight smile. “Him? I just found out his name a few seconds ago. Noah, what?” She shook her head. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
“Noah Blackstock.” He held out his hand.
Blackstock? Why did that name sound familiar?
Rico chuckled. “Blackstock’s his name and wine’s his game!”
Gretchen raised her eyebrows. “Of the winery fame?” Who in their right mind hadn’t heard of the famous family and their generations-old vineyards and delicate wines?
“See, she doesn’t know him,” Danny piped up.
A collective sigh siphoned out the tense air.
Lola gurgled. All eyes fastened on the baby’s head.
“Ah, a…what? Boy or girl?” Rico scrunched up his face. “You’ll fit right in around here, girl! There’s babies all over the place and tons more to come. Half the women are on maternity leave—even Evelyn, our events coordinator. Preggers galore!”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there something in the water?”
Didn’t he like babies? He seemed fine with Lola this morning.
Peg smacked his arm. “Hey, buddy, if we could bottle that potion, we’d be gabillionaires. Like fertility gods meets retail! Holy Toledo! That would be something, now wouldn’t it?”
Griffin groaned. “No, Peg. Don’t even go there. Dex would jump on that one and start mixing up batches in his lab.” He grimaced.
“What’s so wrong with that?”
“You have to ask?” Griffin nodded to them and then turned to Noah. “Blackstock, you and I need to finish up some business. You have a contract to sign. Peg will add on the baking contest terms.”
He hesitated, capturing Gretchen’s stare.
Heat reached out and fanned her like a warm, tropical breeze. A deep craving poked to life. No, not that! She had a business to pull back from the brink, a niece to care for, and her little family to save. He would not be a distraction!
“Good luck.”
You mean good-bye, don’t you?
***
Noah’s body hummed. His nerves jumped. Still, he drove by the bakery shop, yearning to catch a glimpse of her. The temptation to stop and see her one more time gathered steam and nearly consumed him. He made up excuses why he needed to drive down her street. Then more excuses to feed her as to why he would suddenly drop by her place.
Chocolate cupcakes?
He laughed at himself and his schoolboy antics.
One more drive-by and that’s it!
The lights on the big outside sign went out. A cold sensation dropped in the pit of his belly. The front bakery lights flickered off, one by one. “She’s closing up…” Dread pooled in his chest. He’d missed out. Surely there was a back door and she’d leave that way.
He slammed on the brakes of his black SUV. Thankfully there wasn’t anyone following him. Noah found an empty spot and parallel parked. A few seconds later, he hopped out and jogged the few feet to her door.
Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered in the darkened shop. There in the back, a beam of light still shone. Without thinking it through, he rapped his knuckles on the glass. Her head poked out around the half wall.
“Sorry! We’re closed.”
“Gretchen, it’s me.”
“Who me?”
“Noah. Blackstock.”
Silence descended; however, in the semi-dark, shadowy interior, he watched her slowly walk out and toward him.
She stopped on the other side of the glass door, hands on hips, which made her pink shirt pull tight over her sexy, compact body. Wow! He swallowed hard.
“Oh, strange. I thought it was John Doe.”
Noah groaned. “You called me John.”
“And you didn’t correct me.”<
br />
“It was easier.”
“Doe? Seriously?”
“You’re holding that against me?”
“Of course. You lied.” She jerked her head to the side, as if tuning in to hear something. “Gotta go.” Looking back briefly, she said, “Bye, John or Noah or whoever else you decide to be.”
“Wait! Let me in and I’ll explain.” Why are you doing this? Why do you care? Walk away!
Gretchen shook her head and turned on her heel.
“I made good and delivered them, didn’t I?”
She stopped in her tracks.
“Yes, you checked. Who wouldn’t?”
Turning, she asked, “Why did you?”
“Open the door and I’ll tell you.”
In shadow, he couldn’t read her features and especially not those gorgeous ocean-blue, expressive eyes of hers. His heart thumped. “You’ve got great cupcakes.” He grinned, hoping his charm might do the trick.
Her laughter surprised and delighted him. Quickly, she unlocked the door and shoved it open. “Lock up behind you. I have a cake to rescue!”
The heavenly scent of vanilla doused him as Noah stepped in the bakery. He took in a deep breath, detecting a hint of raspberries. Chuckling at his sharp skills from his days making wine, he secured the door, and then traced her steps.
Coming into the big, inviting, pink and white baking area, he raised his eyebrows. Bowls of various shapes and sizes—mostly filled—littered the long center counter. “I thought you were closing up. Looks like you’re just getting started.”
With flowered mitts to her elbows, she pulled the two large round cake pans from the oven, one at a time, and gingerly set them to cool. Only after she got three smaller ones nestled deep in their place did she address him. “Special order.”
“And you do this how often?” Concern at her long, grueling hours began to grow. He glanced around in a wide circle, discovering adorable baby Lola—wispy blonde hair standing on end, blush on her round cheeks, thumb stuck in her mouth, and laying on her belly— napping in a playpen outside Gretchen’s minuscule office. Something cold went through him. Where’s the father?
“Nights. Mostly every one.” She shrugged.
However, the stiffness in her shoulders spoke volumes. She stood a little taller and raised her chin.
His gaze lingered over her beautiful features, yet a weariness clung to the defiant stare she returned. The sharp tug behind his ribs sucked the breath out of him.
“So,” he spread his arms to encompass the big area, “where do you want me to start?”
Her brows drew together. “You’re not staying?” The mixture of fight and denial warred in her eyes.
“Why not? It’s better than some boring night alone at the hotel, right?” You had to emphasize alone, didn’t you?
Hesitation, yet her need seemed at battle within her. “My part-time help, Jana, is sick…”
“Call it my penance for fibbing to you this morning. I’ll help tonight and we wipe the slate clean.”
“The contest? You’re a judge.” Her caution didn’t begin or end with the bake-off.
“My official duties don’t start until tomorrow.” He lowered his voice. “I’m all yours.” Something delicious and tantalizing zinged through him at the underlying offer and her pink cheeks, wide eyes, and her delicate lips formed in a soft O. There’s those damn fizzy bubbles racing through my body again!
A beat of time ticked.
“On one condition.”
“Not that! Why does everyone set conditions?”
“Protection.”
She answered without thinking, he realized, when she refused to meet his stare. “Only one?”
Her lips twitched. “For the moment.”
God, he liked when she let down her guard and allowed him a glimpse of her softer, gentler side. Why hide it? And why are you so damned intrigued with this woman, Blackstock?
“You’ll answer my questions.”
“Oh, that’s plural.” He rubbed his jaw. “That means painful interrogation.”
Gretchen chuckled. “That, Noah Blackstock, is what you get for lying to me.”
“Hey, the punishment is worse than the crime!”
“You do the crime; you do the time.” Then she giggled.
Noah sucked in a sharp breath, reeling as if he’d just jumped out of a plane without a parachute.
Run, don’t walk, to the nearest exit! Now!
Chapter 5
Gretchen Hart frosted the cooled raspberry-filled, lemon cake with her special white buttercream. She twirled the pedestal, applying and smoothing.
“Looks like this isn’t your first rodeo.” Noah scraped batter into the greased and floured pan nearby.
“I’ve been doing this practically my whole life. Someone had to figure out how to get the horrid taste of my aunt’s cooking out of our mouths.”
“Ours?”
“Hey, don’t think I don’t know you’re dodging here.”
“Caught. Red-handed.” His grin came easy.
A shaky breath fizzled out of her lungs. Easy, girl! Back off! He’s so out of your league, that’s if you were looking. No way, Jose! She nodded to his empty bowl. “You’re not a newbie to this, I can see.”
“The oldest. But the only boy. My sisters put me to work.”
“Sisters? How many?”
“Three. Bethany, Brittany, and Brianna. Bethany is the bossiest one of all. She made certain we did our chores.”
“But, you’re rich. Didn’t you have cooks and maids to do the menial stuff?” There it is again. Speaking before thinking. Not good!
His chuckle soothed her worries. “That didn’t change having to learn it all. Self-sufficiency is paramount in my family. We were taught to work hard and know every job on the vineyard and in the house.”
“You clean toilets, too?!” Oops!
“All eleven of them.”
Gretchen gulped. Hard. Eleven bathrooms?! “That’s a palace,” she choked out, eyeing him closely. He was supposed to be her John, delivery guy, not some fancy schmancy vineyard owner.
“Hardly.”
“In my world it is.” Her voice, soft and laced with awe, came out shaky. She’d never lived anywhere that had more than one bathroom.
Somehow he grew aware of her distress. “It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. All those chemicals. Goes to your head. Keeling over from the vapors.” He shrugged.
She giggled at the image of Noah as a little boy, with half his body hanging over the windowsill, gasping for air.
He laughed; his green eyes sparkling as he captured her stare.
Did the room just shift? Or was that her head. Vertigo, hopefully!
Gathering up his bowl, wooden spoon, and spatula, he came around to her side of the counter. He loaded up the deep sink behind her.
“Just leave them. I’ll take care of it.”
Noah came up beside her, wiping his hands on a towel and watching as she held the decorating bag in one hand and applied the slight pressure to deliver dollops and swirls of frosting to the bottom edge of the cake.
“You’re an artist.”
His voice, soft and dreamy, washed over her. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I love this part.” Finishing, she went to add the design to the top edge.
“So is this it? Your dream?”
“Baking pastries?” She shook her head. Little bubbles, like champagne, danced in her middle. “Wedding cakes.” Her confession leapt out of her, like an age-old secret needing to be told.
“You don’t do that now?”
“Not often enough.” Once or twice a month just didn’t cut it anymore.
“Why not? You’re good. Although, I’d miss your chocolate cupcakes.”
She stilled, turning swiftly to him, bag of frosting poised in mid-air. “You liked them?” His face was right there. And his eyes traveled over her features, taking his sweet time.
“Best I’ve ever had.”
His raspy voice plucked at her unsteady nerves even more. “Noah…”
“Gretchen.”
The air crackled. “Which one?” Her whispery voice rushed out. The tiny shiver of his didn’t go unnoticed. Wonder ignited. She’d done that to him?
“Coffee flavored.”
“A customer favorite.” Her parched throat barely worked. “Why? The John part…” His lips were just mere inches away.
“I wanted to help. You looked panicky. And gorgeous.” He leaned down. “Your eyes mesmerized me.”
“Oh…the eyes again.” A nibble of disappointment bit at her. How often did a guy throw her that line?
“And your mouth. I want to taste you.”
She gasped. No one had ever mentioned that before. “What’s stopping you?” Did you really just say that? Why don’t you just beg for it?
His hand touched her face, his fingertips caressing her cheek and jaw. Ever so gently, he moved his thumb so now he traced her slightly opened lips and tugged down her bottom one. Tiny thrills rushed over her. The calluses did not detract. In fact, the delicate roughness teased and tempted her even more.
Finally, he lowered his mouth and covered hers. It was nothing like she’d expected. Gentle. Soft. Enticing. An ache began, low and deep. Gretchen succumbed, giving back. “Noah.” He tasted divine, like the lightest of heat and sweet mixed in a unique blend.
Cupping the back of her head, he drew her into him.
She went willingly, sinking into the warmth of his body and parting her lips even more for his hot, wet kiss. A blast of fire whooshed through her veins. Ecstasy and agony at the same time. Please, don’t stop. Don’t put out these flames!
“Noah? What the hell is going on here? And in front of my daughter?” The very familiar male voice crashed her back down to earth.
***
Noah stared at Gretchen as she reared away—her eyebrows raised and shock flooded her eyes, much the way he looked at the moment, he imagined—at the same time she squeezed the frosting bag. Glops of her buttercream hit his new black dress shirt and slid down.
Baking From The Hart Page 3