Baking From The Hart

by Laurie LeClair

  Sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips, she met his in a wicked dance of desire and need. Long. Wet. Wild.

  “Gretchen… We have to stop. Soon. No, I mean now.” His reluctance echoed hers. He pulled back, breathing heavy.

  His warm breath fanned her face and the flames inside her. She bit down on a moan. Staring at him, she watched the painful withdrawal in his eyes and the shadows chasing over his features. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” she choked out. “But how do you deny yourself that kind of pleasure?”

  “You, Gretchen Hart, are addictive.” No smile lit his face.

  Her heart drummed behind her ribs. “Not in a good way, I take it.”

  “I want to be in control of my life. Not swept up in some tidal wave of emotion that throws me up against the rocks time and time again.”

  “No initials in the sand for you?” She tried to joke, but a flood of disappointment washed over her.

  “Hardly.” He must have witnessed something in her eyes; he added, “I’m not the guy who will ever be head over heels. Not like my dad still is.”

  She frowned. “If you’re married, what’s wrong with that?”

  “He’s not. That’s the problem. He’s still in love with the wife who dragged him through a nasty divorce and over hot coals to continue to suck out every last dime from him and the winery. My mother.”

  The chill in his voice made her shiver. Physically they still may be linked; however, he withdrew. “Not such good examples.”

  “You are very smart.” The clipped words dropped like pellets between them.

  Gretchen disengaged, pulling away and swinging her legs to the ground. Her body shook, like in aftershocks from an earthquake. Yeah, Noah had that effect on her! “So, it’s business first for you. Family first for me.” Realization hit.

  “Look, Gretch—”

  “Please don’t call me that.” She wiped her hands down her brand-new pants legs.

  “I’m not in the hunt. Or on it.”

  Glancing at him, she shook her head. “Say again?”

  “For a girlfriend.”

  “Did I miss something here?” A cold, hard knot formed in her gut.

  “I didn’t want you to assume I was.”

  “Why would you even think I was?” She made a noise in the back of her throat. Part shock. Part despair. “For your information, I don’t do one-night stands.”

  “What? I never thought that of you.”

  “Really? Because I assumed you did.” With that, she shoved herself to her feet, stabilized the wobble in her knees, and finally turned to him. She swiped her long sleeve across her cheeks, hopefully erasing the last signs of her tears. “Noah Blackstock, thank you for the education lesson.”

  He jerked back.

  “Kiss the girls and make them cry? Is that how you operate?” How could she hold it together when he did the strangest of things to her by just looking at him?

  “For your information, you were crying before.”

  Yeah, I’m crying on the inside, Noah. She shrugged. “Semantics.” Gretchen turned on her heel and marched across the beautiful setting and toward the elevator tucked in a little niche.

  He stood outside the elevator now, facing her fully with a clenched jaw and his hands on his hips, as the doors closed.

  Yep, just like one of those clapboards they were using for shooting the TV spots, only this one proclaimed the show’s over.

  In the tiny enclosure, Gretchen clamped her eyes shut and bit back on a tiny sob. Could her day get any worse? First her major wipeout in front of the camera and then being dumped—when there’s some serious sparks and flares shooting inside her—by the hottest guy she’d ever met.

  The doors dinged open. The noise level rose. She blinked at the bright lights in front of her. The cameras were rolling and the mic—held by none other than the news woman—was shoved in her face. “Miss Hart, care to tell us where you ran off to in the middle of filming?”

  I answered my own question. Oh, yeah, the day can get worse!

  Chapter 13

  Over an hour later, having dodged many a probing question and finally losing the crew, Gretchen found who she’d been searching for. “I need help!”

  “Gretch, what’s up?” Danny shifted items on the shelves in the large stock room. “Hand me that box, will ya?”

  She did so automatically. Her glance drifted to the big, wide label on the white box and she nearly dropped it. Noah! His sinful smile and gorgeous green eyes stared back at her. Blackstock wine glasses! How commercial!

  Danny prompted her. “Come on. I can’t stand like this all day.”

  Handing it over, she asked, “He’s doing wine glasses now?” Somehow she didn’t see him stooping to that level. He and the elegant winery seemed above it all.

  “Exclusive. Limited editions. We’ll roll these out the day his wine is featured in the baking contest. Good idea, huh?”

  “Very.”

  “Yep, that and some others. Helps King’s and his business.”

  She gulped hard. “It’s all about business, right?”

  “Why do I hear sarcasm?” He finished up and climbed down from the small ladder.

  Facing her friend, her doubts grew. “Maybe I’m not good enough.”

  “For the contest? The baking part you are.”

  “The rest, not so much, right?”

  “You said it.” But he grinned, taking the sting out of his words.

  “Who do you think has the whole package? The baking skills—well, that’s to be determined. But the charm, presence to win it all.”

  He scratched his head and then folded up the ladder. “You sure you want me to answer that?”

  “Positive.”

  She followed him as he carried the bulky equipment to the rear wall.

  “Well?”

  With a great deal of care, he placed it in the spot, hooking it into place. “Two that I’ve seen. Your assistant, Jana. Great baker, thanks to you. She gushes about how you taught her everything she knows. Young, bubbly, comes across as the girl next door…”

  Her heart squeezed hard. She couldn’t fault the things he said and the very things she didn’t want to face. “Number two?” It stuck in her throat, but she needed to know.

  “That Caroline woman. She connects. Knows the right things to say and when.” He raised his eyebrow as he glanced at her.

  “And I don’t.”

  “Not so much, Gretch.”

  “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Danny?”

  “You asked for it.”

  “Yep, I did. Can I salvage this?”

  “Hmm…” He rubbed his chin. “Let me see. I wonder if…”

  “Don’t keep me hanging here.”

  “You sure you really want to do this? No turning back once he gets his hands on you.”

  “His? Hands?” Why did her mind race immediately to Noah? Big, square, callused…

  “Only if you’re serious about this.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Look, Danny…” She hesitated, swallowing back her pride. “My lease is up. I need more money to re-sign. Harrison lost his big bucks job. Lola’s day care just raised its rates. And all I have is the bakery to save us, which I may not have much longer since sales are down and steadily sinking.” And Noah Blackstock thinks I want a boyfriend?! Yeah, right! More headaches, I can do without!

  “Got troubles in River City, as Peg would say.” He grinned.

  Her chuckle came out in a puff. “I’ll say. So count me in.” Whatever it was, she didn’t have anything else to lose. A sliver of unease wormed through her at the glee written all over Danny’s face and the way he rubbed his hands together. “Oh, boy!”

  ***

  Noah, still reeling from his incredible encounter with Gretchen, headed to the hotel. His mind pounded with recriminations, but his lips wanted to taste her again. Sweet. Addictive.

  Traffic snarled. Lights flashed ahead. His phone buzzed.
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br />   He groaned. Nope, not going to answer it. Let Bethany wait.

  The insistent ringing combined with the numerous horn honking, including his own, added to his rising temper.

  On the third round of calling, he finally stabbed the screen with a finger and put her on speakerphone. “Yes…”

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling like forever.”

  “Two times means forever?”

  “So you were ignoring me? Again?”

  “I hate to tell you this, Bethy, but the world does not revolve around you. I have my own things to deal with.”

  “Like?”

  Oh no! Opening a can of worms with her was not his idea of fun. “Dallas. Traffic.” Nip this in the bud.

  “Yeah, right. There’s something else going on with you, brother dear.”

  Ignoring her could work, well, for a while, at least. “How’s things at the winery?” He missed the quiet peace of the land, the entire operation, but not his bickering family.

  “Calm. Can you believe it?”

  “No. What’s Mom up to now?” Years of experience and her unreasonable demands made him suspicious. “She doesn’t do calm.”

  “Weird, huh? Not like her at all. Maybe we’re just always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “You, too?” He lived the past ten years like that with his family.

  “Yep. And the little ones.”

  His smile came quick and easy. They’d dubbed the younger two sisters, Brittany and Brianna, as the little ones when they were babies and never broke the habit. “And you’re calling because?”

  “I love you. Why else?”

  “Come on. Fess up.”

  “Drag it out of me, why don’t you?” She chuckled. “I’m rounding up the entire fam and bringing them to the big night at King’s.”

  His heart sank. Nooooooo! “Not cool, sis. How are we going to keep Mom and Dad’s divorce a secret? Scrimmages will happen, no doubt. It’s just a matter of time for them. We separate business from family, remember?”

  She snorted. “Like, it’s a family business, Noah. We’re going to represent.”

  “No need. I’m doing that.”

  “One Blackstock does not make a family, understand?”

  Her days of trying to hammer that into his head were not over, obviously. “And our dear mother?”

  “Is invited. United front.”

  “Or divided we fall apart. On camera. Seriously, sis? This is your idea of a good time? It could ruin the business.” Fear gathered low and spread wide. It had taken every last ounce of strength to plow through his parents’ bitter divorce proceedings, keep his dad and sisters intact, and focus on rebuilding the winery after their mother saw to it she’d gotten an overgenerous piece of the pie. And continued to chip away at the reserves to this very day. She’d gotten extremely talented at blackmailing all of them by not revealing the ugly truth to the public. Enough was enough.

  “She’ll behave.”

  “Guarantee?” This time he snorted.

  “Bribe.”

  A bubbling sensation rippled behind his ribcage. “What now?” How much more could she take away from them?

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe, seeing her little boy in all his magnificent action?”

  “Bethany Beatrice Blackstock, what the hell did you promise?”

  “You forget my married name.” He heard the loud gulp. “Uh…a spot on camera…”

  His cursing drowned out the noisy traffic. “Over my dead body!”

  “Would you like to be cremated or buried?”

  “When?”

  “We arrive day after tomorrow.”

  Keeping his distance from his dysfunctional family didn’t seem an option in this matter. His thoughts whirled, the edges of sanity blurring, until Gretchen’s face appeared. God, no! He did not want her to meet his crazy family—lovesick dad, headstrong sister, the timid little ones, and the fierce, destructive woman who birthed him. And he sure as hell didn’t want Bethany to see him with Gretchen. What would she do if she caught on to the blistering chemistry?

  ***

  Noah walked into Whitfield’s Bar. He didn’t drink anything but wine usually, but this occasion deserved something much, much stronger.

  At this early hour, there were only a few people at the tables, eating big burgers and an unhealthy amount of fries, or some oversized appetizer that looked delicious. If only he had an appetite.

  Somewhere from mid-conversation with Bethany to now, he’d grown nauseous. His mom and dad in the same room? They didn’t know the word civil any longer.

  If he’d had his wits about him, he’d take in more than a cursory glance at the row after row of sports memorabilia and friendly atmosphere. Noah headed straight to the gleaming bar, took a seat, and then did a double take at the guy facing him. “You?”

  “Max is my name. Tending is my game.” His wide grin put him at ease.

  “Aren’t you part of security at King’s?” And Gretchen’s friend?

  “That’s my real job.” He shrugged. “Filling in before a shift change. I’m helping out my big brother, Jay.” He pointed to several framed pictures and a football jersey.

  “Him?” The sports hero was none other than Max’s kin. Impressive!

  “Great guy, too. He and Paige, that’s his fiancée, took her folks to this renowned golf resort. Her dad’s over the moon. Paige will be Paige and sit and draw to her heart’s content—wedding dresses for my beloved and for King’s will be involved—while Jay and future dad-in-law play. Mom? Hmm…in the spa probably.”

  “King’s?” He realized this guy, his brothers Danny and Jay—who did ads for the store— and the woman he spoke of all worked for them. “All in the family or as close to it as possible?”

  “Yeah,” he shook his head, “still haven’t gotten brother Jonathan on board, yet. But, hey, he’s studying to be a doctor, so there’s little to no hope there.”

  “And you all get along.”

  “Swimmingly. Or is it famously. Not sure. But, yes we do.” He nodded toward the pull beers. “What’ll you have?”

  He recalled Gretchen’s favorite food, whiskey cake. “A shot of your best.”

  Max whistled between his teeth. “Problems?” He grabbed the bottle of amber liquid off the shelf behind him, snagged a shot glass, set it down, and then poured.

  Noah’s mind worked overtime. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “So it’s true? Bartenders are better than shrinks?”

  “Of course. And you only pay for the drinks, not the scrutiny.”

  Tossing back the whiskey, Noah felt the tingle on his lips and the burn chase a path down his throat and hit his gut. “Good stuff,” he choked out. “I’ll have another.”

  “You driving?”

  His nod was met with a raised eyebrow.

  “Tell you what. I’ll get you another if you grab a bite with me after my replacement comes in.” He glanced at his watch. “In say, ten minutes.”

  “Don’t think I can hold my liquor?”

  “Wine. Yes. The hard stuff—not so sure. What do you say?”

  The thought of asking him about Gretchen popped to mind. That titillating prospect zinged through his veins. “Sure, why not?”

  “Good to go.” Max tipped the bottle and filled the glass.

  Noah stared into the fiery liquid, but didn’t partake.

  “Hey, Samson! You’re early, man.” Max talked to the big, broad guy coming around the end of the bar.

  “Why not, right? Nothing better to do.” His wide grin lit up his face.

  “I thought you were helping Annabelle at the site today.” Max glanced at Noah and filled him in. “My beloved betrothed. She owns Mermaid Landscapes And Waterworks. In fact, she did the rooftop garden at King’s. Amazing.”

  Blowing out a breath, Noah made the connection. The place where he’d left only a short time ago after that mind-numbing kiss with Gretchen was one and the same as t
his guy’s future wife designed. “Wow!”

  “Right?”

  No, the kiss, but the place was pretty spectacular, too.

  “On hold. Waiting for the backorder of supplies.” Samson pitched in and wiped down the already sparkling clean area with a white towel.

  Max groaned. “She’s been itching to start that job for weeks now, too.”

  “A day or two and we should be good to go.” Samson whistled a soft tune.

  “Thanks, buddy, for agreeing to work for her. She tries to be mightier than her size.”

  Samson flexed his muscles. “A piece of cake.”

  “Cake? That reminds me. Annabelle and I have to settle on a choice. Sooner rather than later.”

  Noah stilled. “Just Desserts, by any chance.”

  “Are you kidding? Is there any other? It’s our family go-to place for anything sweet.” He halted. “Hey, drink up. Remember, your promise. Shot. Dinner. In the meantime, I’ve got a call to make.”

  Downing it this time proved smoother and warmer.

  “Samson, I forgot. Can you help out with security at King’s this next week for the baking contest?”

  “Sure thing. Need all the work I can get, Max.”

  “Great. I’ll text you the schedule later.”

  Noah basked in the glow of the whiskey as Max directed him out the door. “That burger looked good.”

  “It is. But I’ve got a better place. Oh, and I’m driving.”

  “I guess it won’t do any good for me to protest, will it?”

  “Nope.”

  The traffic seemed worse than before. So much for dodging the hectic pace and dropping in for a drink to cool off his thoughts.

  “Ride’s this way.” He nodded to the curb a few spots down where a cream-colored SUV waited.

  In the confines of the car, Noah leaned back against the headrest. “Where we headed?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Why am I along again?”

  “You need a dose.”

  “Of what?” This guy didn’t make sense. Or was it the whiskey hitting hard?

  “Hey, you never did tell me what’s going on? Is it the gig at King’s?” He mastered the traffic as though it were child’s play.