Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel)

by Nina Lane

  Polly snapped something again, and there were muffled noises. Were they tussling for control of the phone?

  “Julia!” Luke shouted.

  “Luke, I’m calling the cops if she doesn’t leave right this instant,” Polly said into the phone.

  A Julia-ache pounded at his skull. “Don’t call the cops. I’m on my way.”

  “You’d better get here soon before I throw chocolate ganache on her stupid designer suit.”

  The line went silent. Evan was staring at him.

  “Julia is having it out with Polly?” he asked. “Why?”

  “I’ll explain later. I gotta go.” Luke headed toward the door. “Tell Kate to cancel my meetings for the next couple of hours.”

  He was halfway out the door when he heard Evan’s muttered, “Man, you must have it worse than I thought.”

  Luke ran down the hall to the elevator and stabbed the button impatiently. When it opened, Evan called for him to hold the door. His brother followed him into the elevator.

  “I’d better go with you,” Evan said. “We might have to kill one Julia with two Stones.”

  Five minutes later, they were in the car, careening down the interstate and wondering if they’d make it in time to prevent homicide-by-baked-goods. Luke parked illegally in front of the warehouse, and he and Evan ran across the street to Wild Child.

  The air inside crackled with hostility. Julia stood by the window, arms crossed and stilettoed foot tapping impatiently. Polly swept the floor vigorously while casting lethal glares in Julia’s direction.

  “What the hell is going on?” Luke snapped at Julia.

  Both his aunt and Polly swung around to glower at him.

  “Luke,” Polly said, her voice icy and controlled. “Please remind Poison Ivy here that this is my bakery.”

  “It’s also his, if he invested in it,” Julia scoffed.

  “He didn’t invest in it! He’s helping me with a business strategy.”

  “You can’t afford to pay him for his consulting services,” Julia replied. “Which means he’s had to take a percentage of your equity to make it worth his while to do business with you.”

  “Julia, you don’t know anything about what Luke has done,” Evan put in.

  “And he hasn’t taken a percentage of anything,” Polly said angrily. “We have another agreement that is none of your damned business.”

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “Oh, do you? What kind of agreement?”

  “Stop.” A wave of protectiveness toward Polly flooded Luke. “Julia, Polly is right. It’s none of your damned business. This is her bakery.”

  “Bakery?” Julia arched an eyebrow so high it almost reached her hairline. “This is an old hippie’s wet dream, not a bakery.”

  Polly stalked to the door and yanked it open. “Get out. This was my mother’s bakery, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let someone like you insult her.”

  “And this,” Julia swept her hand out to indicate Luke, “is my nephew who has worked his ass off for his family’s company. And I will see you in hell, little girl, before I let you gold-dig your way into his life.”

  “Watch it, Julia,” Luke warned.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Luke, wake up,” Julia said. “Look at this place. You think consulting is all she wants from you? I hope you have the lawyers involved and plenty of condoms on hand, or you’re going to end up with another paternity suit and a serious case of really bad press.”

  Polly’s mouth dropped open. Luke’s heart pounded.

  “Julia,” he said through clenched teeth. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  Evan strode forward to grab Julia’s arm. She pulled away from him and stalked to the door, her heels clicking sharply on the wooden floor.

  “Luke, Evan,” she said. “You’d both better come along.”

  “And you’d better walk out that door right now.” Luke pointed to the door. “I’ll speak with you later, Julia.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but when their eyes clashed in challenge, Julia backed down. She gave Polly a condescending sniff and walked out.

  “I’ll go back with her.” Evan followed Julia out to the street, stepping in her path and delivering what looked like a harsh lecture before directing her to her car.

  “Oh my God.” Polly pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “What godforsaken swamp did she crawl out of?”

  Luke forced his fists to unclench.

  “I’m really sorry.” New anger filled his throat. “For what she said.”

  “How did she know about me?” Polly asked. “I didn’t think you were the kind of man to kiss and tell.”

  “I’m not.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his tight neck. “Julia is a head case about my dating life, and she was mad because I dumped her friend’s daughter. So I told her I was seeing a culinary student who owns a bakery. Obviously she found it necessary to seek you out.”

  “You mean hunt me down,” Polly said bitterly.

  “Her bark is worse than her bite,” Luke offered.

  “Oh, please. Her bark gave me shell shock. And what was that business about Wild Child having anything to do with the Sugar Rush brand?”

  “Nothing. I told Julia I was helping you out, and she thought that meant I was cutting a deal or a merger. Because she knows I don’t do anything without work in mind. Usually,” he added. “And I told her just to get her off my case.”

  “Well, she jumped right onto mine,” Polly said with an irritated sniff. “Roach clips, indeed.”

  “She won’t come back. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Polly didn’t look terribly convinced of his ability to keep Julia under control. She went back behind the counter and started rearranging the doughnut baskets.

  “What was she talking about?” She moved a basket of chocolate doughnuts to another shelf. “You had a paternity lawsuit?”

  Resentment clawed at his chest. He hadn’t intentionally kept it a secret from Polly, but he hated that Julia had been the one to tell her.

  “About a year ago,” he admitted. “A woman claimed I was the father of her two-year-old kid and sued me for child support and other expenses.”

  Polly looked at him warily. “What happened?”

  “Her lawyer stalled on the DNA test because he wanted to pressure me into acknowledging I was the father. He thought I’d agree to a hefty payoff to avoid court.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I wanted the truth, but it turned out that was a mistake.”

  “Wanting the truth is a mistake?”

  “In this case it was.” Luke smothered a rush of old anger. “We ended up in a court case that went on too long. The press was all over it because of the Stone legacy and the immorality of the claim. They even dug up the reports about my mother’s death. Reporters started hounding my brothers and my little sister, friends, anyone who knew us. Finally the DNA test cleared me, but the damage had already been done.”

  “To your family?”

  “And the company,” Luke said. “Sugar Rush profits took a nosedive. Three of our top executives jumped ship. And the board considered forcing me to resign for my fiscal performance and violation of the company’s code of conduct.”

  “They could do that?”

  “No one in the company is exempt from termination.”

  “But you didn’t resign.”

  He shook his head. “I seriously considered it since I was the reason the company had taken such a hit. But I wanted to stay and repair the damage. My father stepped in to negotiate on my behalf.”

  “And have you repaired the damage?”

  “I’m trying.”

  Polly was quiet for a long minute, studying him with those brown eyes that looked as if they could see right to his core.

  “Is that also why you’re usually so strict about the women you date?” she asked.

  He nodded. “A few other women tried making similar claims, but my lawyers were able to shut them down quickly with DNA proof. I’v
e had to be careful ever since.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  Her concern and sympathy hit a soft spot inside him. She watched him with a gentle expression, her dark eyebrows drawn slightly together.

  “No wonder you work so hard,” she murmured, gesturing to a table. “Sit down, and I’ll bring you some tea.”

  Luke sat and checked his phone as Polly poured a cup of tea and set two pastries on a plate. She brought the plate to the table and put it in front of him.

  “This is the new creation I told you about,” she said. “Declairs, a hybrid doughnut and éclair. Gavin Knight and his team are my new fans, and they’ve been instrumental in bringing in new customers.”

  Luke picked up one of the round, chocolate-covered pastries and took a bite. His teeth sank through layers of crispy pastry and creamy chocolate custard that filled his taste buds with enjoyment.

  “Wow,” he remarked around the mouthful.

  “Right?” Polly grinned as she sat down opposite him. “I fried the wrong dough by mistake, and after tweaking the recipe, I came up with the Declair. As Ramona said, it was a happy accident.”

  Kind of like us.

  Some of Luke’s anger drained as he finished the Declair. He remembered that night at the Troll’s House when he’d been ready to take a shot at pool but stopped because he’d felt something. He’d turned and looked toward the bar, only to find this curly-haired young woman staring at him with an open, unabashed fascination that flooded him with responding heat. Like a magnet, his gaze had locked to hers. He hadn’t wanted to look away.

  He still didn’t. He was beginning to think he’d never want to—a thought that was as unsettling as it was pleasurable. Because the idea of looking at Polly every day for the rest of his life—

  He concentrated on picking the crumbs off the plate. “So where are we going on our next date?”

  “Oh, it’s a good one, but I have a few conditions.”

  She lifted her eyebrows at him, and she was so damned adorable with her hair falling in ringlets around her face and her brown eyes all bright with anticipation and eagerness. He wanted to wrap her up and keep her in the breast pocket of his shirt, right next to his heart.

  Christ. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Apparently he was not only an idiot, he was a sap too. His brothers would give him hell if they knew he was thinking things like that. He was about to give himself hell.

  He shook his head and forced himself to focus on what Polly was saying.

  “ . . . just about an hour south,” she continued. “And I really want to be alone with you. Thirty-six hours straight. We’ll leave Saturday morning at six a.m. and return Sunday evening.”

  Luke had a feeling he’d missed something while he was thinking his sappy thoughts.

  “Okay,” he said warily.

  “So you agree?” Polly asked.

  His CEO brain kicked in. “What are the conditions?”

  “You leave your cell phone, laptop, tablet, and all other communicative devices at home,” Polly said. “You don’t call, text, or email anyone at any time. Even if you wanted to, you probably couldn’t since connections there aren’t good at all. In other words, for a full weekend, Mr. Stone, you are completely off the grid.”

  “I can’t do that, Peach.”

  She blinked and sat back, a crestfallen look descending over her features.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t be out of reach for that long.”

  “A weekend isn’t that long,” Polly urged. “I want you alone. Just you and me. No one and nothing else to interfere. And I guarantee we’ll have fun.”

  He didn’t doubt that last part. Turned out that every minute he spent in Polly’s company was fun.

  But though the thought of having her all to himself for thirty-six hours straight was a nearly irresistible pull, Luke had been immersed in Sugar Rush for so long that he couldn’t wrap his brain around the idea of being off the grid.

  “Hannah’s still here, and Clementine said she’ll ask her to help at the bakery,” Polly explained. “Hannah might agree, if Clementine is the one who asks. And if not, Mia’s available on Sunday. All you need to do is say yes.”

  There she went with the bright-eyed expectation again. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him believing in leprechauns and elves.

  “I’ll try,” he said.

  “Promise?”

  “I can’t promise anything.” A knot tangled in his chest. He wished he could make her promises that he could keep. She was the kind of girl who deserved promises. She believed in them.

  Polly nodded, faint resignation appearing in her eyes as if she’d been expecting that very response.

  “Okay,” she said. “But will you say yes?”

  “Peach.” Luke dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can ever say no to you.”

  “Well.” She leaned across the table and pressed her lips gently against his. “That’s a start.”

  “YOU’RE SURE CODSWALLOP WON’T SCARE him away?” Hannah pushed her messy hair off her forehead. She was curled up on the sofa with a cup of coffee, wearing an overlarge T-shirt and a pair of Polly’s knee socks.

  “I’m sure.” Polly sighed. The only thing that could scare Luke was a threat to his family. And a long-lasting relationship. And making promises.

  She put her toiletries kit in her travel bag. While her discovery of Luke’s paternity suit had explained a great deal about both his workaholic nature and his approach to relationships, she felt sad rather than enlightened.

  Sad that Luke had had to go through such pain when he’d already worked so hard to protect Sugar Rush after his mother’s death. Sad that one vindictive woman had scarred him so deeply. Sad that he’d thrown himself back into the company with such force that everything else was obliterated.

  Except . . .

  He’d agreed to go with her this weekend. Even though Polly didn’t like leaving while her sister was in town, Codswallop only happened once a year and she wasn’t about to miss the chance to take CEO Stone.

  “Do you know yet when you’re leaving?” she asked Hannah.

  “I’m still waiting to hear from Dave. He’s in Arizona now, I think.”

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  Hannah chuckled. “He would like to be, but no. I’ve found out that it’s easier in general not to have boyfriends.”

  She took another sip of coffee and looked at Polly speculatively. “And, Polliwog, I know you like Luke, but I hope you don’t think he’s going to whisk you off to his castle on the cliff forever and ever.”

  Polly’s heart clenched. She turned away to fold a couple pairs of panties, stuffing them beneath the rolled blanket in her travel bag.

  “Of course I don’t think that,” she said, hoping she sounded as if she were scoffing a little. “Luke and I are just having a good time. Besides, what business is it of yours anyway?”

  Hannah shrugged. “None. Just making sure you know that men like him don’t do that with girls like us.”

  “Please.” Polly shoved two pairs of socks into her bag. “This isn’t the eighteenth century. Luke’s family hasn’t arranged some marriage to a wealthy heiress for him.”

  But the words rang hollow in her ears as she remembered her encounter with Luke’s Aunt Julia who, even if she didn’t have her sights set on a wealthy heiress, had some very definite ideas about the type of woman her nephew deserved to be with.

  Polly shook her head. None of that mattered anyway because even though her emotions were getting involved, both she and Luke had established that neither one of them was in this for the long-term.

  “We’re having a good time,” she repeated, which was certainly the truth. “After three years of helping Mom and trying to save Wild Child, I deserve to have a good time.”

  Hannah shot her a faintly irritated glance. “You were the one who chose to come back here.”

  “I know.”
Polly’s chest tightened. “I’m not saying I was a martyr. There was nothing I wanted to do more than help Mom and the bakery.”

  “And now?”

  “Now the only thing that’s changed is that Mom isn’t here anymore.”

  “So you really want to run Wild Child for the rest of your life?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Polly zipped her bag and set it on the floor. “Mom worked so hard for it. Remember how she was the town baker at Twelve Oaks? She baked something for every meal—bread, muffins, biscuits, and of course tons of desserts. She once told me she’d wanted to open a bakery since she was a teenager, but never had the chance. So when we moved to Rainsville, she was finally able to make her dream come true.”

  “Yeah,” Hannah said. “Her dream.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just what I said. Wild Child was Mom’s dream. Not yours. Certainly not mine.”

  “So?” Polly spread her hands out, suppressing a crack threading through her heart. “I promised her I wouldn’t let Wild Child fail.”

  “And you think she’d expect you, her beloved Polly at the age of twenty-three, to dedicate the rest of your life to running an ancient hippie bakery that was never your dream in the first place?” Hannah asked.

  Polly pressed a hand to her aching chest. Though Hannah had envied her and Jessie’s close bond, she was confused by the sudden frustration radiating from her sister.

  “What do you care if I want to run Wild Child for the rest of my life?” she asked, her voice sharpening. “It’s not as if you were ever around to help out.”

  “Because I’ve been out living my life the way I want to,” Hannah replied. “And contrary to what you might think, that is exactly what Mom and Dad both would have wanted.”

  “And you didn’t stop once to think I might need you? That maybe it was hard for me to read about all your travels on your blog while I was here the whole time, taking care of Mom and the bakery the best I could?”

  “I never asked you to do that,” Hannah said, though a flash of remorse crossed her features.

  “You didn’t have to. I wanted to be with Mom, but it was so hard to watch her dying while knowing the bakery was failing at the same time. That bakery was her favorite thing in the world, and I couldn’t save it for her.”