The Sweetest Temptation (The Whisper Lake Series Book 2)

by Anna Argent

  Scary, but good.

  They showered and dressed, lingered over a late breakfast of eggs and coffee, and then loaded his truck with another round of treats for tickets. They made it to the festival as kids were winding up their happy shrieks and excited giggles, ready for another afternoon of fun.

  Gemma had just finished handing out cupcakes to a group of pre-teens when Edmond Jessup and his family marched up to her table.

  "Are these the pies?" Jessup asked his wife Wanda, his tone accusatory.

  "Yes." She pointed to the tiny pies in neat rows on Flora's table. "I think it was the cherry one that made people sick, though it could have been any of them."

  "Sick?" Gemma asked, confused.

  "What's going on?" Saxon asked.

  Lulu hovered nearby, avoiding his gaze.

  Jessup ignored him. "Miss," he said as if he didn't know Gemma's name, "were these pies baked in an approved kitchen?"

  "Approved?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

  "The facilities used to make this food, did they pass a mandatory health inspection?"

  Gemma hesitated. "I don't know. I made them at Aunt Beth's house."

  Jessup nodded. "It's just as I feared. We've had a report that your pies are making people sick. This is why we need more inspections."

  "That's ridiculous," Saxon said, his tone derisive.

  "Not so ridiculous to the three people who are vomiting their guts up as we speak—not to mention the horror I endured after consuming your tainted food."

  "I don't understand," Gemma said. "I would never do anything to make anyone sick. I'm professionally trained. I'm always careful. And Aunt Beth's kitchen is spotless."

  "Apparently not spotless enough." Jessup said. "I'm the one who does health inspections around here—"

  "Of course you are," Saxon muttered.

  Jessup sneered. "And I don't remember inspecting Beth Fortier's kitchen for health code violations. There could be any number of toxins or foodborne diseases in her kitchen." He raised his voice to a shout, addressing the crowd. "Step away from the table, ladies and gentlemen. We have a serious situation here involving illegally baked goods that are making people severely ill. I repeat, step away from the illegal pies and cupcakes."

  Several people who'd just picked up treats from the table stared at them. Two young girls dumped the cupcakes they'd just picked up in the nearest trash can.

  Gemma seemed to shrink into herself as if looking for a place to hide. Her cheeks blazed a humiliated red as she stared at the faces surrounding her.

  "Who reported these illnesses?" Saxon asked.

  "I'm sorry, but that information is confidential. We can't have concerned citizens fearing for their safety if they make a valid report."

  "That's what I'm saying," Saxon snapped, eyeing Wanda and Lulu, who still wouldn't lift her guilty gaze. "I don't believe they are valid."

  "Are you saying I made this up?" Jessup said, his tone one of warning.

  Saxon stared pointedly at Lulu. "I'm saying someone did—perhaps someone who is upset that I'm with Gemma instead of her."

  Lulu's pretty face crumpled with tears. "I told you, Daddy. I told you they were together."

  "He's not good enough for you, anyway," Jessup said. "An honorable man doesn't accuse another of lying in front of the whole town. Especially an honest, upstanding citizen like myself, who does so much for this community."

  Saxon moved around the table and got right in Jessup's face. The round man only came up to his chin, but Saxon didn't care. "An honorable man doesn't stop progress for no reason other than to feel like he's got some sliver of power in his otherwise powerless life. An honorable man doesn't lie and say he's busy when he's sitting on his ass in his office playing solitaire. An honorable man doesn't take out his frustrations over his crappy life on the good people of the town that pays his salary. As far as I'm concern, Jessup, you wouldn't know an honorable man if you sat on one."

  Gemma's hand curled around Saxon's biceps. "Let it go. We'll throw the pies away."

  "I'm not wasting all of your hard work just because this asshole is lying."

  Jessup's face turned an angry, mottled red. His words came out harsh and furious, spittle flying everywhere. "I don't lie."

  "Then do what you said you'd do and finish the inspections on the bakery."

  "It's my day off."

  "It will only take a minute," Saxon said. "And you putting it off is keeping the Rise and Shine from opening next weekend."

  The crowd that gathered started to murmur.

  "The Rise and Shine isn't going to open?" asked one man.

  "What about my birthday cake?" asked a little boy.

  "My grandkids are coming to town. That's their favorite place."

  "What about Aunt Beth?" The last voice hung in the air, lingering. "That place is her life."

  Gemma lowered her head in shame, as if it were somehow her fault that the repairs weren't going to be done in time.

  Saxon wanted to pound his fist into Jessup's narrow nose until he agreed to do his damn job.

  Jessup looked around as if just now realizing that the town was not on his side. "It's my day off," he explained.

  Gilbert Humphrey, one of the members of the Coffee Council piped up. He was a pudgy old man with mottled patches on his head where he'd had cancerous spots removed. "I've worked plenty of overtime through the years, even on my day off. I promise it won't kill you."

  Orson Wolfmier stood at Gilbert's side, nodding. His body was hunched as if he were still sitting in his favorite recliner. "Besides, you're on salary, which means you do the job until it's done, rather than clocking out when it's quitting time. I'm pretty sure the good people of this town pay your salary, and I think we all want the Rise and Shine back open again."

  "Chez Bourgeois is open," Wanda Jessup said, her voice too cheerful for the situation. "I'm happy to serve you there."

  "Sorry, Wanda," Orson said. "It's just not the same. Your coffee is good, but your muffins taste like they're made from sawdust and cat food."

  "Not anymore," she said. "Gemma has been baking for us. Everything is delicious now."

  Lulu crossed her arms and sulked.

  Jessup glared at his wife. Under his breath he said, "She's not baking for you anymore. I just shut her down like you wanted."

  Wanda's eyes brightened with feverish intensity. "I need muffins, Edmond. Fix it!"

  Jessup shook his balding head in exasperation and let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Come with me, you two," he said, looking between Gemma and Saxon. "Let's get this tragedy of an inspection over with right now. You can bake again when the Rise and Shine reopens."

  "I think we'll come with you," Orson said.

  "Yeah," Gilbert agreed with a nod of his mottled head. "We want to make sure you're doing a good job for the town. Promoting business, expediting projects, cutting red tape, encouraging a robust economy—you know, the things that you should do if you don't want to get fired."

  Jessup glared at the older men, clearly realizing that he wasn't going to get away with his usual nitpicky demands. If he wanted a power trip, he was going to have to take it somewhere else.

  "Can I come, too?" asked Phillip from the edge of the crowd. His surgery had been a success, but he was still in a wheelchair, unable to work. "I'm always happy to learn how a fellow inspector does the job."

  Saxon grinned at the man and mouthed, "Thank you."

  If Phillip was there, Jessup wasn't going to be able to make up new building codes simply because he thought they should exist.

  "The more, the merrier," Saxon said.

  As the group walked away, people started snatching cupcakes from Gemma's table—proof that they didn't believe her food was tainted any more than Saxon had.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Gemma felt giddy.

  Not only had Jessup signed off on the repairs Saxon had done, the man also said there was no need to come back and do a final inspection. The quality of the work
completed was sufficient to waive a second pass. The whole group cheered as he'd made that declaration, and Gemma was certain that the man's chest puffed up just a bit at the town's praise.

  Saxon started repairs that afternoon. Once his crew found out what he was doing, they left the festival and joined him. There was no one in Whisper Lake whose life hadn't been touched in some small way by Aunt Beth's kindness over the years, and they were all eager to repay the favor.

  People in the town chipped in where they could, hauling off debris and carrying in materials. By the end of the day, the progress made was staggering.

  Gemma loaded a plate with food from the barbeque and walked it over to Saxon. The sky was almost dark, and the men were working under a set of powerful lights someone had brought in.

  When he saw her, he seemed to notice the time. "That's it, men. I'm calling it a day. Go get some food."

  "We're coming back first thing in the morning, right?" asked one of the crew—a young, gangly man who still hadn't grown out of his pimples yet.

  "I'll be here," Saxon said. "None of you have to show, but I'd definitely appreciate whatever help I can get."

  Every one of them agreed to come back again tomorrow and every day after that until the job was done.

  Gemma thanked them, willing the tears stinging her eyes not to fall.

  A few minutes later, she was alone in the bakery with Saxon. Sawdust particles floated in the beams of the work lights, twirling and dancing an intricate waltz. She could hear music playing faintly in the distance as partygoers enjoyed their final evening of celebration.

  "Thank you," she told him as she handed him the paper plate loaded with ribs and all the sides.

  He wiped his hands and then dug in like a man starving to death. "I'm just glad that Jessup finally pulled his head out of his ass."

  "He wouldn't have done that without you confronting him publicly."

  "The man needed to be taken down a peg. I'm glad it all worked out."

  She looked around at the visible progress they'd made today. All the floorboards were in place. She heard one of the workers say they'd sand and stain them tomorrow, using some special product that would dry fast. When they were done, no one would ever be able to tell which boards were new and which were original.

  "You've got a good crew," she said.

  "The best. Not one of them even asked if they were getting paid for the work." He shook his head in disbelief, looking humbled. "I'm going to make sure they get a nice bonus for all the extra effort."

  "Once I get back to work myself, I'll send you some more money to help cover it."

  "No need. I've got it." And then after a pause. "Do you know when you're leaving?" His tone was even, but there was a tension in his words that hadn't been there before.

  "I don't know yet. Aunt Beth is getting better all the time, but my boss won't hold my job forever. I asked him if I could work every other week for a while to come check on her, but he wouldn't go for it. I get the feeling that if I don't get back in another week or two, he's going to fill my spot permanently."

  "Ouch."

  "Yeah," she agreed. "Very ouch. Aunt Beth says she's fine without me, but until she's off her walker, I just don't feel good about leaving, you know?"

  "We'll take care of her, Gemma. The town pitched in before you knew she'd been hurt. We'll keep pitching in until she's made a full recovery."

  She smiled and nudged his arm with her shoulder. "You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?"

  He caught her gaze and held it transfixed. She couldn't have looked away from his Grace green eyes if the room had caught on fire.

  "The very last thing I want is for you to leave," he said.

  That statement, given with such stark honesty caught her off guard. The breath left her lungs in a sudden rush, and she found herself struggling to get enough air.

  "I want you to stay, Gemma, but I know how important your career is to you. I'd rather you be happy in St. Louis than miserable in Whisper Lake."

  In that moment, she didn't want to leave, either. She wanted to stay here, soaking up his warmth and leaning on his strength. She wanted to enjoy laughing with him and languishing inside the physical pleasure he gave her. But mostly, she wanted to be near him, able to reach out and touch him whenever she liked, being certain he was safe and happy.

  "I could come back and visit," she offered. "We could pick up where we left off."

  He toyed with a piece of cornbread. "I want a relationship with you, Gemma, but not a long-distance one. I've thought about it for days, and I just don't think it would work. I'd always want more than you could give. You would, too. We'd end up resenting each other. And even if we didn't, is there any hope that our situation would ever change? Would you ever miraculously find work at some high-end restaurant in the area?"

  "No, they don't even have those here."

  "Exactly. And while I could start my own construction firm in St. Louis, I could never leave my dad here to run Grace Construction. He deserves some time off now, and I'm the reason he's able to take it and not worry about how the business is being run. I can't take that away from him."

  "I would never ask you to," Gemma said.

  He cupped her cheek. "Of course not. That's one of the things I love about you."

  Love. The L-word. The big guns.

  She hadn't expected him to use the word, even peripherally. But hearing it on his lips made something small and needy leap in her chest, hungry for more.

  Gemma shoved that pitiful creature back into its cage and pretended that no L-word had been uttered.

  Her voice shook when she spoke. "So there's no hope. For us."

  He closed his eyes and let his hand fall. "If there is, I can't see any. We could try a long-distance thing…"

  "No," she said too quickly. He deserved happiness, and she could never be the one who would give it to him. If they tried to stay committed, he'd never cheat, never stray. Saxon Grace was far too honorable to do anything that low. No, he'd hold himself back from the world, missing every chance he might have to meet the perfect woman—one who could make him happy.

  Gemma loved him too much to do that to him.

  She cleared her throat, which was knotted and tight. "It's better to just end things now, while we're still friends. Aunt Beth needs you, and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that."

  "Which means you think it would end badly—that we'd wind up angry with each other."

  Gemma nodded, unable to voice the words even though she owed him an honest response.

  Saxon stood, pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. When he pulled back, his expression was sad, but resigned. "I guess this is good-bye then."

  He kissed her cheek once, then turned and walked away.

  Gemma crumpled to the floor and cried. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd just lost, but she knew it hurt worse than anything she'd ever felt before.

  Chapter Thirty

  Aunt Beth was waiting for Gemma when she walked in the door.

  "You should have told me how bad the damage was," she scolded the second Gemma stepped inside. "Instead, I had to hear it from several people who witnessed that little run-in you had with Edmond Jessup." She sighed, sounding angrier than Gemma had ever seen her before—worse than the night she'd thrown her walker through the living room window. "I'm not an invalid. I could have helped. And it's my property. I had a right to know what was going on."

  Gemma's eyes were still hot and puffy. Her insides felt like they'd been ripped out through her navel and put in backward. Her arms and legs were stiff and heavy, and every step she took was a chore.

  She and Saxon were over. He was never going to hold her again or kiss her. She was back to being alone, and it hurt so bad she didn't know how she was going to draw in her next breath, much less face Aunt Beth's wrath.

  "I didn't want to worry you," Gemma said, but her voice was flat and lifeless.

  "Did it ever occur to you that I could have smoothed
things over with Edmond? That I could have pulled some strings at town hall to get him to do the inspections? Or that maybe, I would have liked to discuss the insurance claim you filed with my agent? You acted like I was a child, incapable of dealing with even the smallest problems." Her voice rose in a great swell of frustration and anger. "Well I'm not!"

  "I'm sorry, Aunt Beth," Gemma said, wishing that she could just go up to her room and fall into bed. Maybe if she slept, things would seem less bleak in the morning. "I didn't mean to upset you. What I did was out of love. I wanted you completely focused on your recovery."

  Aunt Beth shook her head. Her silvery hair, usually worn in a knot, was loose around her frail shoulders. The pale strands swayed so vigorously they tangled. "You and Cotton are just alike—assuming that my fall rattled my brains as well as my hip. As good as your intentions may be, I'm not the kind of woman who needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool and put on a high shelf. I've been alone a long time and done quite well. Sure, I'm not yet able to go up stairs and some things are harder than they used to be, but I'm still the same intelligent, capable woman I've always been."

  "That's why I wanted to get the bakery open so desperately. I know you'd need something to keep you busy—that you aren't yet ready to retire. Whether or not it pisses you off, everything I've done has been with the goal of getting you back on your feet and able to function without me."

  Aunt Beth closed her eyes and pushed out a long breath. When she opened her eyes again, there was less rage there and more of her usual sweetness. "I'm sorry if I sounded harsh. I am grateful for all you've done. I just wish you would have talked to me about what was going on. I don't like it when you shut me out."

  Gemma thought about all of the things she wanted to say—how her heart was breaking and her world was no longer the bright, shiny place it once had been. Coming here had changed everything. She knew now that Aunt Beth would not always be around, and that loving and losing was definitely worse than not loving at all.

  She wished she'd never met Saxon, much less fallen for him. She didn't know how she was going to get through each day without seeing him. His absence had carved out this great big void in her chest, and she had no idea what she was going to do to fill it.