She quirked her brows, genuinely looking baffled. “But this place is yours! You said that you loved it here, didn’t you? That was only a month ago! What happened now?”
Ah, yes, one month ago, I did love my small bakery. That was when I was still with Nathan, that disgusting piece of rotten egg excuse for a man. But now I was alone, and the prospect of spending Christmas by myself daunted me. Not something that I looked forward to.
I laughed, even though I felt like hiding out for a week or so—until everyone else was done being happy. It wasn’t fair for me to turn Scrooge and ruin everyone’s holiday. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, you know how some days just don’t feel very nice, and I’m guessing that this is one of those days…”
Tania snuck a glance at the cheerful Mickey Mouse clock mounted above the display of house-made chocolate bonbons and then pulled off her apron and hat, apparently relieved to be off work. As if by second nature, my eyes went to the front doors, and yep, there he was. Tania’s boyfriend, a college freshman with drool-worthy blue eyes, once again stood outside, waiting for her. He’d been waiting for her every day, regular as clockwork, at exactly five o’clock. I could’ve set my watch by him, if I so chose.
“Must be nice. Having your boyfriend wait for you,” I said trying to be nonchalant. The weather couldn’t be more than thirty degrees Fahrenheit out there, and I had to hand it to the guy. He either had balls of steel to stand out in weather like this, or else he really, really liked my young protégé. It was probably both.
She giggled and wrapped a thick red scarf around her slim neck. She looked as pretty as those watercolor paintings with shepherdesses gallivanting around on swings. I came to the very depressing conclusion that she looked like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, while I strongly resembled the Witch of the West, especially with my straggly, mud-brown hair.
“Oh, it’s the best. Jason is definitely one of a kind.”
My God, I was actually starting to envy her.
But, I wasn’t about to admit, even to myself, that I was jealous of a girl who was twelve years younger than me.
“Bye, Julia! See you tomorrow!”
Then she was off, leaving me with the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon extract. Dratted girl thought the spice rack was her own private perfume collection. I took a deep breath and massaged the furrow forming between my brows. I could hardly begrudge her its use, though. After all, she was the one who had to deal with my rapidly disintegrating temperament. Besides, I couldn’t get mad at her because she had her honey-bun and I didn’t have anyone. I wasn’t bitter like that, at least not yet.
Sales were slow, seeing as how there were still five days before Christmas Eve. People generally didn’t bother with their cakes and treats until one or two days before Christmas. During those few days the small bakery that I was normally proud to call my own, Deveraux Bakery, was a battleground. But, until then, I had to amuse myself with catching the flies that occasionally came in following a customer.
Fun.
Was I doomed to stay here? Forever in this small town, never knowing what it’d feel like to really live? It was more than discouraging to think that I’d probably be the old crone of the town who didn’t have any teeth and was always sucking on a lemon slice.
I could see myself growing older and older; knotted, arthritic fingers fighting to knead dough that refused to be kneaded; hair gone completely white under the ridiculously huge chef hat; back bent over like a croissant, while trying to stuff a tray of cookies into an oven. The image of myself, fifty years in the future, was so vivid that I almost didn’t see the man standing just inside of the store, the door closing behind him.
“He…llo.”
The pen I’d been twirling idly in one hand clattered to the floor, but I barely noticed. Hard to pay attention to such trivial things like pens slipping away, when someone who reminds you of an Angel stands around looking as if he’d lost his way back to Heaven.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d seen my fair share of good-looking men before, even had the good fortune, or should I say, misfortune, of dating a model back in Paris. But this man…there was something different, something that was out of the ordinary with him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though.
Maybe it was his eyes.
Green, shot through with cerulean, they brought to mind storm-tossed seas. Slightly tip-tilted at the corners, they gave him an exotic air that I wouldn’t have thought to have seen in a mundane, all-American town like Camden. I couldn’t help but wonder what a man like him was doing in such a boring place as this.
“Hi.”
He smiled at me, and I had to hold on to the edge of the counter, so I wouldn’t melt into a pile of goo. His voice was rich, low, and seductive. Better than chocolate syrup and a lot more dangerous to the heart than clotted cream. If people could gain weight by hearing, I was sure that, from his one word, I’d gained three pounds, right off the bat.
I had to remind myself that he was in here looking for…whatever it was that he was looking for…and there was no use getting my hopes up. Besides, it was Christmas. Men like him had significant others at this time of year. Beautiful significant others. Significant others who did not have mousy brown hair. Significant others who were not dumpy. Significant others who were daughters of CEOs and politicians, not owners of tiny bakeries in the middle of Nowheresville.
Hoping that I did not have the “Desperately Searching for the One” sign practically pasted to my forehead, I adjusted my hat to a more “jaunty” angle, and gave him my best professional smile.
“May I help you with anything, sir?”
Sauntering towards me, he exuded so much sexual charm that my legs started to feel suspiciously like melting custard. Well, there went my professionalism. Right out the window, it did.
“I’m new to town,” he said.
I had to stop myself from saying, “Yes, I know.” That would have been too weird and stalker-ish, even for me.
“And I’m told that you’ve got the best cakes in town.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that this was the only stand-alone bakery in town. The only place to get cakes, if you didn’t want your Christmas desserts to be made cheaply and cholesterol-laden from the local supermarket. “Of course, sir. We use only the finest ingredients and believe that only the best can make the best.”
I couldn’t believe the mumbo-jumbo I was spitting out. It was a good thing Tania had left. If she was still here, she probably would’ve laughed her head off.
He extended his hand out to me—strong with long, elegant fingers. “My name’s Dominic Marlow. I’m from Los Angeles.”
Amazing how an entire month’s worth of winter blues could go away with just the sight of a gorgeous man. Was I superficial or what?
His hand was warm to the touch, and I liked the strength in his grip. Most men, afraid that they were going to hurt a woman, would sort of let their hands hang loose, but Mr. Marlow was clearly different.
“Welcome to Camden, Mr. Marlow.” Was it my imagination or did his hand clench just a bit before releasing mine? As though he was reluctant to let go…but no, I doubted it. Men like him were in a separate league from me. “I’m Julia Alston. Has anyone here given you an official welcome yet?”
He grinned, and I decided that I liked his smile, with the single dimple digging deep into his left cheek. Of course, I liked everything about him, from the bottoms of his sensible sneakers, to the top of his shoulder-length jet-black hair which glimmered almost navy blue in the lights. I had a sneaky suspicion that Mr. Dominic Marlow had at least a tiny pinch of Asiatic blood in him.
“No, Mrs. Alston. I’m afraid I’ve just arrived here last night, so you’re the first person I’ve seen besides my landlady.”
Whoever his landlady was, she was probably going to die happy. I knew I would.
Ducking behind the refrigerated counter, I pulled out the slice of Tiramisu I’d been saving for my closing time treat. Eh, what the hell. I could do wit
h reining in my sweet tooth, if only for one night.
I placed it before him, along with the shiny silver spoon that I always kept in my apron pocket. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome you to Camden, Mr. Marlow.”
The expression on his face was priceless, and I wished that I had a camera handy so that I would never forget it. Surprise and joy…I couldn’t remember the last time seeing someone’s unbridled pleasure at receiving such a small thing like a slice of cake. Unfortunately, it made me fall a little bit in love with him. But, I barely knew him! Clearly there had to be something wrong with me, if I was going to go gaga-eyed over the first handsome man I’d met since the disastrous breakup with Nathan.
“This is for me, Mrs. Alston?”
For the first time in weeks, the laughter came easily to me. “All for you, Mr. Marlow.” I felt the old stirring of something within my body, something coming back to life, after being comatose for so long. “But only if you promise to call me Julia. I’m not married.”
Did I sound nonchalant enough? I wasn’t coming off too desperate, was I? I tried to make myself feel better by thinking that I was just correcting him. No problem. Just a minor correction.
He smiled. It was just the slightest tilt of the corners of his lips, but I felt the effect like a sack of flour tossed on the top of my head.
“Yet. You mean, you’re not married yet,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and I shrugged, feigning a complete lack of interest in his statement.
I watched with baited breath as he took the first bite of the cake. For a moment his body went completely still, eyes closed shut, and my heart threatened to jump all the way up my throat.
His eyes opened slowly, and I received the sort of smile that could warm a woman, even in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Of course I’ll call you Julia. I think it’s a beautiful name.”
“Tha-thank you.” I stammered, at a loss of words to say.
I could’ve jumped up on the counter and punched my fists up in the air, like guys do all the time when their team wins the championship. But I restrained myself, mostly because I didn’t want to come across as completely off my rocker.
Then his smile turned deeper.
“But in exchange, how about calling me Dominic?”
Suddenly Christmas seemed a whole lot brighter and much, much warmer.
Chapter Two
He’d left with an order for a deluxe “Mistletoe Emerald” cake and a promise to pick it up the day before Christmas.
Dominic probably didn’t know it, but he left with something else.
My heart.
Okay, maybe not something so clichéd and cheesy as that.
“Julia…Julia…Julia!”
My elbow slipped off the edge of the counter, and I ended up sprawled on the floor, apron over my face. Maybe the apron over the face was a good thing. I was probably drooling or doing something equally as embarrassing.
“Yes, yes, I’m here, don’t worry, I’m totally fine, and no, there’s nothing wrong with me,” I babbled, getting back up on my feet.
It had been too long since I’d been with a man…only one month, and already I had turned into a blithering idiot. Go figure.
Tania grinned at me as she adjusted the display of boxed chocolates next to the cash register.
“I heard about that new guy. Moved in last night, didn’t he? Katie said that she saw him leaving here.”
“New guy? There’s a new guy here? Last night?” I tried to hide my face while rubbing at an invisible smear on the glass countertop. “Heavens, I must have missed him. By the way, Tania, can you go and check to see if the muffins are done yet? They’re in the second oven, first shelf.”
At that point, I would have said anything as long as it got her far, far away from me. Personally, I thought that Tania was a cute little booger with wonderful creativity, but she also had a habit of asking annoying questions, and asking them at the wrong time.
Unfortunately, she did not take the bait and apparently decided that she’d much rather pester me than check to make sure that the muffins weren’t on fire. It was probably because I’d used that avoidance tactic one too many times. Definitely time to look for another.
“Julia…” She had this way of stretching out the last part of my name, and it made me want to plug my ears so that I wouldn’t have to hear my name being butchered. “Are you going to spill it, or am I going to have to listen in, not so covertly?”
“What are you ta—”
Nodding to the entrance, she whispered, “Because, there he is now.”
Oh.
Funny how he showed up just as we were talking about him. Coincidence? Or was it fate? Neither. I was definitely thinking too much.
Ignoring the way my heart did a funny two-step toward the lower regions of my stomach, I tried my best to elbow Tania aside. She could have her hubba-hubba college boy, but now it was my turn in the limelight.
“Dominic, hi!”
That dimple was going to be the death of me, I just knew it. Add to that the rays of the sun setting in behind him, and it was all I could do to keep myself upright.
Next to me, Tania let out a low whistle. “Oh, Lord. Strip me naked and call me a buffet if he’s coming around for dinner.”
Whoa now, that was a bit too risqué for a girl not even out of high school. But sadly enough, she had voiced my sentiment exactly. I was at an age where I should’ve stopped placing such importance in a man’s appearance…but damn it all, Dominic Marlow made that pretty darn difficult.
“Go away now, and I promise I’ll make you a Sachertorte that will knock you brainless,” I hissed and then added, “I’m sorry, I meant, knock your brains back in, wherever the hell they went.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not talking just a slice? With the homemade apricot jam, right? One big enough for me and Jase?”
Not only was she an annoying little booger, she was also a greedy one. And I’d been counting on that.
“Big enough for you, Jase, and his family.”
Jackpot. She’d been having problems with his parents, because she was still in high school. We both knew that my chocolate cake was good enough to redeem psychotically insane criminals. Two disapproving parents wouldn’t even stand a chance.
“Deal.”
She scuttled to the storage closet and left me alone to deal with Mr-I’m-Too-Sexy-for-my-Leather-Jacket.
“Julia.”
Amazing. When Tania said my name, I wanted to throw a towel over my head and scream. When he said it I wanted to do the same thing, only for a much different reason.
I had to be careful. I couldn’t come off too desperate. I’d learned my lesson. There wasn’t anything more pathetic than a woman of my age practically begging for a date with the first good-looking guy she saw. But on the flip side, I couldn’t act too standoffish. That would put him off.
“How’re you settling in?” Must not pry. Not too much. “Everything all right?”
Uh oh. There went that flash of dimple again.
He laughed, tucking a wayward lock of black hair behind one perfectly formed ear, from which one small, discreet silver stud winked at me. “Everything’s all right. Everyone’s great, and I’m really glad I moved here. It’s perfect. Quiet…clean…” The corners of his ocean eyes crinkled. “And it’s got the prettiest pastry chef I’ve ever met. How can I possibly complain?”
I snuck a glance at his hands, which were lightly placed on the edge of the counter. Except for a thin silver band on his right forefinger, I saw no evidence of a wedding ring, or anything that might have pointed to his current marital status. Not even a tan line. It wasn’t that I was counting my chickens before they even hatched, but it never hurt to be cautious, did it?
I pretended like I didn’t hear his comment about me being the prettiest pastry chef, mostly because if I acknowledged it, I was probably going to start giggling. And once I started, there probably wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d stop wit
hin a reasonable amount of time. In my opinion, there was nothing more stupid than a giggling woman. Giggling was for little girls of seven, not women about to turn thirty.
At that point, it occurred to me that if a man could say a line like that so easily, then he was probably a professional when it came to getting women to strip down to nothing. Of course, with a face and body like that, he didn’t really need to say anything. I had to admit, I was slightly ashamed at getting so giddy because someone paid me a compliment.
“So, what can I do for you?” I assumed my “expert pastry chef from France” persona and led him to a display of golden shell-like cakes. “If I may recommend…”
“Madeleines,” he said, and I nodded, surprised that a man was able to tell the difference between a madeleine and a macaroon.
“Yes. Madeleines. They only came out of the oven thirty minutes ago.”
He brought one to his mouth and took a small bite. “Petite Madeleine de Commercy.”
I had to lean against a shelf, although I wasn’t sure if it was just astonishment that he knew the full name of the rather common Madeleine, or if it was from watching him lick the corner of his mouth.
A glimpse of white teeth—the sight of his tongue—I had to look away before I crawled all over him.
“Yes. That’s right.” I decided that the shock was from his knowledge of an art that most males scorned as girly. “How did you know that? Not that many people do.”
He finished off the last of the madeleine and licked the edge of his thumb.
Oh Lord…deliver us from temptation, indeed…
A corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any limeflower tea, do you?”
Could this man surprise me anymore? “To dip your madeleine in, I suppose?”
“If Marcel Proust can eat one of these dipped in tea and remember things he’d forgotten, then why can’t I?”
I gave up trying to look away from his gaze. It held me immobile, ensnared, and all I wanted to do was get closer to him. To see if he was affected as much by me as I was by him. It didn’t seem fair if I was the only one who felt like this…and if it were true, then God, whoever he was, had the strangest sense of humor.
Dream by the Fire: Winter Magic Page 15