Baking From The Hart

by Laurie LeClair

  In the time he waited for her, he took more than a cursory look at the place. Location— good. Taste—excellent. Atmosphere—perfect. Something was lacking and it wasn’t her or her treats. “You have a gift, Gretchen Hart. With your desserts and with people.”

  “Oh my gosh! Does that line work on every girl you try to pick up?” She stilled. Her hand held a wooden spoon over the mixing bowl. Sneaking a peek at him, she said, “That didn’t come out like I wanted it to.”

  “I’m wounded. You think so lowly of me.” But he grinned.

  Noah had his fair share of short-term affairs. Until now, he hadn’t seen it as a bad thing. Gretchen made him question too much of his personal life. He figured being with her wouldn’t be carefree or brief. Hot. Messy. Intense. Sweaty bodies and tangled sheets came to mind. A craving, low and deep, curled inside him. He shook free of those titillating thoughts. Business talk seemed a safer avenue to pursue.

  He leaned his hip against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve been thinking. About the contest. King’s is about family.” One of the reasons they wanted to team up with Blackstock Winery. If they only knew the real story behind his shattered family! He nodded to the outer area where a few customers lingered over their coffee and a newspaper. “This is the place they would want to partner with.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She scowled at him. “Why are you here anyway? You walked away.”

  “How bad do you want this?” He waited a heartbeat. “Not bad enough, I guess.” There, he saw the fire lit in her eyes.

  A well of pride beat in him at her fierce determination.

  He shoved away. But before he left, he leaned close to her, needing to confess. Delicious wafts of vanilla and raspberry on her skin near her neck—like a heady and tantalizing perfume—hit him. Noah suppressed a bubbling groan. “My bad. I did think you were someone you’re not. Okay? I’m sorry, Gretchen. That’s what I came back to tell you.”

  Chapter 7

  Gretchen plowed by Noah and, grabbing several large pink bakery boxes along the way, headed to the pastry display cases.

  In ten seconds flat, she had the boxes put together and waiting for treats.

  “What’s going on? Big order?” Her brother stood back with his hands raised. “You’re on a mission for some reason.”

  She grabbed the bakery tissues and with a mental list, began to fill the boxes—assorted Danishes, muffins, cookies, chocolate treats, and lastly her cinnamon rolls. “Phew!” That should impress even the most hardened executives at King’s.

  “Gretch?”

  Patting him on the shoulder, she said, “Brother dear, I’m going to earn my way into that contest.” At his quizzical look, she pointed to the nearby flyer under the counter.

  His whistle rent the air. “Ten g’s? That would get you the equipment you need for your wedding cakes and then some.”

  “And for Lola.”

  “No, that’s my responsibility.”

  “So you pay me back later.” Gretchen cut him off. “No arguing, little bro. I take care of my family.”

  “Always have.”

  “Always will.”

  Turning around, she faced Noah. Her resolve faltered slightly at what she had to ask. “Mr. Blackstock, I need a ride. You ready to play delivery guy again?” Her voice quivered. She did not like to rely on anyone, never mind the very sexy man who may be standing between her and a chance at a bright future for her loved ones.

  Noah’s grin grew slow and wide. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Look away. Now! Save yourself from that hotness. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come on, step to it!”

  “Bossy, too.”

  “And how!” Harrison agreed and then laughed. “Oh, the stories I could tell.”

  “Where’s your loyalty, anyway?” She threw a scowl at her brother. “Hands up, Mr. Blackstock.”

  “Robbing me?” His megawatt smile sent delicious prickles of anticipation through her veins.

  “Have you forgotten so soon?” She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Or was she clearing it because he’d left her parched and tongue-tied? Gretch reached out and angled his warm, strong arms. The buzz grew in her blood. “You carry these.” She placed one box in his arms and then another on top. “And I’ll carry this.” Gretchen hefted one big box and several smaller boxes on top.

  “My tip? Pretty please.”

  It caught her off guard and she began to giggle. This superhot guy begging for her treats? Wait! Do not go there. Images of him looking like that at her naked—and only her—swam in her head. Her breath caught and her cheeks warmed. Groan! You went there!

  Her brother coughed.

  A drum of silence rent the air. Of course, her twin would detect her jumpy emotions. “Ready? Let’s shake a leg!”

  “Ah, sis…”

  “No worries, bro. I got this.” Code for I’m not going there.

  Out on the sidewalk, Noah helped her load the boxes in his black SUV. “Something I should know about?” He tilted his head toward the shop, where her brother stood at the door, watching them.

  “Nope.” She climbed in the backseat and slammed the door shut. Her hands shook as she reached over and secured the boxes next to her.

  The vehicle shifted as he got in the driver’s seat. She waited. He didn’t start the engine. Looking up, she met his stare in the rearview mirror.

  Those eyes! They were watching and reading her. Heat blasted between them. Why did you have to go and sit behind him?

  “Gretchen… I’m only doing you a favor. Nothing more.”

  “Did I say otherwise?” She forced herself to frown, hiding the dash of hurt. His apology a few minutes ago had blunted the jagged edges of his painful assumption about her. However, she needed to remain aloof and intact around the very sexy Mr. Blackstock from now on. She couldn’t afford to lose her head over some incredible hot guy whose kisses sent heat whooshing through her veins.

  “Just so we’re on the same page here.”

  “Business. I understand.” Her lips were numb now. She licked them to moisten them. His searing gaze lingered there.

  Blowing out a breath, Noah proceeded to turn the key. The engine roared to life.

  A loud knock on his window gave them both a start. Noah powered it down. “Harrison, nice to see you again. And so soon.”

  “What are you here for anyway?”

  “Look, buddy. I came to see if you’re still building furniture. Blackstock’s needs an amazing table for the tasting room. I was hoping you could help me out.”

  She held her breath. This was right up her brother’s alley.

  “Maybe.” Harrison shot her a questioning look.

  “Don’t let me stop you, bro.” Her fingers curled together, now in her lap.

  “Swing by later and we’ll talk, Blackstock.”

  “Will do.”

  ***

  Minutes later, Noah was in the midst of snarled traffic, horns honking. “There’s a last- minute meeting in less than a half hour at King’s. I’m joining them since I’m a judge.”

  She gulped hard. “What’s on the agenda, as if I didn’t know?”

  Holding up his phone, he showed her the text that buzzed a few seconds ago. “Legitimacy of submissions, for one.”

  “Why, Noah?” His name caught. How could she feel so connected to him when she barely even knew him?

  He shrugged. “Damn if I know.”

  “If they found out you're helping me…”

  “I can drop out.”

  “No. That’s not right or fair…is this fair?” Her thoughts tumbled out of her mouth.

  “Gretchen.” His soothing voice poured over her like honey.

  Yeah, melting here! Liquid bones, coming right up!

  “You deserve a chance.”

  Something tugged at her. “Why does it sound like you know what that means? Not getting a chance, that is?”

  A full minute ticked by before h
e spoke. “Look, I know what it feels like to be good at what you do yet no one believes in you.”

  “You?”

  “Partly. The vineyard. Blackstock winery, more specifically. There’s a battle of sorts going on.”

  Each word seemed tight and measured as if he struggled with them, with himself.

  “Ah hell! Very few people know the entire truth. My parents are divorced. Have been for years. That’s a huge secret no one outside the family knows. Everyone believes it’s just a strained relationship since they still live under the same roof. My mother’s lawyers urged her to return to the house and claim her stake. It’s been a standoff ever since. They’re in the throes of another money-wrangling go-round. It’s nasty. It’s a nightmare. And the business and our reputation is suffering for it.”

  Placing a hand on his shoulder, she felt the current of strain ripple through him. “Noah, I’m so sorry.” When he stiffened even more, she yanked her hand away.

  “No sympathy, all right? It is what it is. However, it’s damaging to the entire operation. Who wants to partner with a company who’s got a bickering couple at the helm? There’s a lack of stability, to say the least. I took over. Still there’s doubts. Not about the product, but about the family. My mother is out for blood, extracted slowly and painfully, and to ruin the generations-old business just to strike back at my dad.”

  “That’s so, so…” Words failed her.

  “Vengeful. I know. I’m trying to bring in more contracts as she nit-picks and slices and dices the company. My father is beside himself at the whole mess. He didn’t want the divorce. In some strange way, he still loves her. But the things she’s doing now is waking him up to her true colors.”

  Gretchen gulped hard. “Not a pretty sight, I imagine.”

  Noah stepped on the brakes to allow another car to come into his lane. He glanced at her and did a double take. “Promise me you won’t repeat any of this to anyone.”

  “Seriously?” Who did he think she was anyway? “I’m not a blabber mouth, for crying out loud.”

  “Why did I say anything in the first place?”

  A fusion of alarm bolted through her. In his own way, Noah was warning her to stay back. “You don’t want a family, do you?”

  “Not the one I have right now. My folks are at each other’s throats. My three sisters worry and plot and plan. One married a guy she can control. Now she is bound and determined for me, the only male child, to have a kid to be certain the Blackstock name continues.”

  “And I thought I had issues!”

  He chuckled then.

  The tense air siphoned out between them. “I’ve got nothing on you, Noah. So, let’s just forget this ever happened, for both our sakes, all right? Just drop me off in front of King’s. I’ll jump out, snatch up the boxes, and proceed in and hopefully bribe and beg my way to the meeting. And can stroll in a few minutes later like we didn’t even have this ride over.”

  Noah eased in to a parking space a few doors away from the famous department store. He turned the wheel, shifted the gear to park, and shut down the engine.

  “We’re good to go.” She went to open the door.

  “Are we?” He captured her gaze in the mirror. “I wanted to hire Harrison. Now?”

  She swallowed. Hard. Tiny thrills raced up and down her spine at the intense stare. Also, guilt pricked her at how her brother’s opportunity may slip through his fingers because of her. “Can you hold off until after the contest to talk to Harrison?” At his murmur of agreement, she nodded. “You got your life. I’ve got mine. You don’t tell about how you helped me. I won’t tell what you told me.” She reached over the seat, holding out her little finger. “Even Steven.”

  “Pinkie swear?”

  “You know it then. Good. Because you know it’s your word.”

  “And your honor.” Noah hooked his with hers.

  Warm skin against hers. Fan—I need a fan to cool down!

  “Deal,” they said in unison.

  It sealed their fate. In more ways than one. You go your way, I’ll go mine. Never shall we cross the line again. No way, no how would Gretchen ever breach that sacred vow.

  Regret, sharp and quick, sliced through her. Dang, some pacts were too high a price to pay!

  Chapter 8

  Gretchen bluffed. No, flat out lied her way to the executive offices. Okay, bribed, too. The new guard may not know her worth a fig, but he knew Just Desserts. Her coffee cake did the trick in letting her through.

  She soothed her overactive guilty conscience by telling herself she’d inform Max of the breach right after she delivered her goodies to the conference room.

  The empty and whisper-quiet elevator unnerved her. Either she’d face her doom or win their approval. Somehow it felt as though disaster awaited.

  The bell dinged and the doors slid open to reveal the tall lady with the clipboard. Caught! Gulp!

  “What? You think this is our first rodeo?” Peg snorted. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the bakery boxes. “Whattcha got there, anyway?”

  “A little of this. A little of that.” She anchored the boxes with her chin, keeping the top one in place as her arms ached.

  “Come on, shake a leg. You think I got all day to babysit people trying to sneak in this place?” She ushered Gretchen through the glass doors. Nodding to the stacks of boxes littering the reception area, she pointed out several opened containers. “Stale! Too sweet! Too bland.”

  “You forgot greasy,” some woman said from behind the desk with piles of packages hiding her.

  “Ain’t that the truth! Yep, that’s what we get for holding a baking contest. Poor Rico is gonna have to pop antacids for a week after all the sampling he’s done.”

  Gretchen swallowed back a wave of nausea. So she wasn’t the first to think of presenting her treats. Would they lump her in with the others?

  Peg smacked her on the back. “Don’t worry, kiddo! You’re the first to make it past the guard. Once Bruno found out the newbie let you up, he sent an SOS. Thus you got me, in your face.”

  Hope faded. Fast. “So, you're telling me I can’t see…” Who exactly was she coming to see anyway? If she mentioned the meeting, then she’d reveal her insider info. Not a good thing to do when you just made a deal with him. Noah. She groaned inwardly.

  “Here, let me have them. I’ll sneak them in.”

  Blinking at the tall, cheery lady, Gretchen wondered how she’d gotten so lucky. “You will? Why?” Don’t ask questions, Gretch!

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, pal! See, I remember you. Covered in goo. Cute baby. Hottie helped you get your entry form in the gold drum.” She tilted her head down the hall. “Seems like I’m not the only one to recall that, either.” She lifted off the top two tiers of boxes from Gretchen’s sore arms.

  “What do you mean?” Looking around, she realized the entire reception area was lined with treats. Hers would be stuck on another pile if she didn’t do something quick. And any minute, that said hottie would stroll in here and mess up her chances.

  Peg, somehow clutching her clipboard and the boxes at the same time, leaned down and sniffed. “Holy moly! Is that cinnamon I smell? As in rolls?”

  “Among others.” She directed the woman with a nudge. “Down there? You can’t possibly carry it all. Let me help.”

  “Huh? I didn’t fall off a turnip truck yesterday, you know.”

  “Look. Peg, right? Give me one shot. In there. With them. I’m either going to tick them off or win them over. But shouldn’t it be mine to lose?”

  She blew out a breath, sending her bangs upward to float back down again. “Just between you and me, they’re leaning toward dropping you altogether. Pile on the right of Boss 3 are the yeses. Pile on the left of Boss 3 are no way, Jose. You’re in the middle, heading to the no stack.”

  The muscle in her cheek quivered. “If you were me, would you just walk away and give up now?” Fire pulsed through her veins. She’d faced plenty of walls in her lif
e. This time she wouldn’t back down.

  “Ah, geez Louise, you got me.”

  Walking around her, Gretchen led the way. “The story is, you tried to stop me. I refused.”

  “Closed door on the right.”

  “Now, I barge in—” She did. The volley of voices stopped abruptly. All eyes were focused on her. “Hello.”

  Stunned silence greeted her.

  She gulped hard. “Hey…I’m Gretchen Hart from Just Desserts.”

  The intense-looking man from yesterday cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Boss 3, down, boy!”

  Peg bumped into her, pitching Gretch forward. Gretchen nearly dumped the boxes, but someone kept them upright, depositing them on the long wooden conference table. She sucked in a sharp breath and then slowly straightened.

  “For moi?” Rico reached out and flipped the lid. “Oh yummy! The girl knows her way around a cream puff. So delicate.”

  “Miss Hart, I presume. I’m Griffin James.”

  A hand, with a clipboard attached, tapped her arm. “Otherwise known as Boss 3.” Peg scooted her aside and handed over the rest of the goodies to Rico.

  “I’ve died and gone to heaven!” His squeal rent the room.

  “Priscilla, here.” The nice lady with short, strawberry blonde hair who had helped her waved. “One of the King sisters.” She tilted her head. “And Griff’s wife.”

  “You’re married to him?!” Gretchen’s voice squeaked.

  “Hard to believe, right?” She giggled.

  “Pixie.” He nearly growled.

  “McGruff.” She gazed at him sweetly, making him shake his head.

  A pretty, blonde-haired woman raised her hand halfway. “Another King sister. Francine. Married to Marcus.” She touched the man’s arm and he shot her a grin.

  The lovely woman at the other end of the long table jumped in. “I’m Charlotte King Royale—”

  “Boss 1,” Peg confirmed Gretchen’s suspicions. “Aka. Charlie.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Gretchen moved to her, noting the very pregnant lady. She shook hands, realizing the hidden strength in her grip and in her direct gaze.