his dessert menu. She’d also considered the possibility that he’d found a more experienced, well-known company to handle the job instead of taking a risk with a small, up-and-coming bakery.
She’d finally come to terms with that probability, and now here he was, asking for her—and she was nowhere near prepared to see him again. Not mentally, anyway. She felt thrown off balance, and she didn’t care for the bit of hope scratching below the surface of her shock.
She took a deep breath in an attempt to regain her composure, and said to her employee, “Give me a minute, and I’ll be right out.”
Once Sarah was gone, Kayla stood and made a quick trip to the rest room. As she was washing her hands, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and cringed. Good Lord, she looked a mess. Then again, she had spent most of the day elbow-deep in flour and sugar.
She took off her stained apron, but there were a few smudges of chocolate on her baggy T-shirt that she couldn’t do much about. As for her hair, wispy strands had escaped her ponytail and there were sugar granules on her cheek. She wiped them away with her hand. She didn’t wear much makeup, but what she had put on that morning was nearly gone. She found herself opening the medicine cabinet over the sink and using the colored, flavored lip gloss she kept in there to keep her lips from getting dry and chapped.
She made a sound of disgust at herself for even primping that much for Jack Tremaine. He wasn’t there to seduce her, for crying out loud, and she had no desire to try and impress him. Okay, so that was a blatant lie, but what he saw was what he got—a woman who worked hard for a living and had no qualms about looking the part.
With a decisive nod, and determined to be all business this time with Jack Tremaine, she headed out to the front of the shop.
Broad-shouldered and a good six inches taller than any of her customers, all of which at the moment were female, she was able to spot him immediately. He was standing by one of the display cases, checking out the goods and conversing with a few of her customers who no doubt were drawn to his good looks and disarming grin.
He’d obviously asked about their favorite Pure Indulgence desserts, because the older, gray-haired woman next to him was raving about the Boston Cream pies and custard tarts, while another patron chimed in about how fantastic the lemon cheesecake bars were.
He thanked them for their opinions, and reached out to take a sample from the tray on the counter that she always kept filled with bite-size pieces of the previous day’s desserts so her customers could try something new before purchasing the item. It was amazing how many extra sales she generated due to that platter of tidbits, and those samples had become one of her best forms of advertising.
Jack tossed a generous chunk of baked apple crisp into his mouth, then turned around to find her standing behind him. He came to an abrupt stop, his vivid blue eyes widening ever so slightly, making him look like a little boy who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Except, other than the impish grin curving the corner of his sensual lips, there was nothing boyish about him.
She didn’t think it possible, but the man was even sexier and more gorgeous than she remembered, and she supposed his casual attire was partly responsible for making him look so damned tempting. Unlike the suit he’d worn the other night, the collared shirt he wore accentuated his wide chest and flat belly, and well-worn jeans gave her a perfect view of his narrow hips and long, powerful-looking legs. His body was athletically honed, strong and lean and all male, and built to make a woman entertain all kinds of lascivious, sinful thoughts. The man was dangerous, potent stuff.
“Hi, there,” he said once he had the chance to swallow his mouthful of apple crisp.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying the samples,” she said, more amused than she wanted to be by his natural, easygoing charm.
“I couldn’t help myself.” His sultry grin matched the deep, velvet-edge timbre of his voice. “I told you the other night that I have little willpower when it comes to anything sweet.”
So he had, though his words today sounded like a seductive warning directed toward her. His vibrant gaze drifted to her lips, as if contemplating just how sweet she’d taste, and a tremor of awareness rippled through her.
Damn her traitorous body, anyway, she thought, and crossed her arms over her chest to cover the telltale sign of her tight nipples pressing against the front of her shirt. “Be careful, you wouldn’t want to overdose on sugar.”
“I doubt that’s possible,” he murmured in bemusement. “But, man, what a way to go.”
She almost laughed, then caught herself. He was flirting with her again, and as much as she enjoyed being on the receiving end of his teasing banter, the last she’d seen he had a girlfriend and had no business swapping innuendoes with her.
Business, Kayla. Keep your mind on business, she reminded herself sternly. Since he was the one who’d come to her shop, she waited patiently for him to explain why.
But instead of stating the reason for his presence, he tipped his head and studied her with too much insight. “You look a little surprised to see me.”
“Pleasantly surprised, if that makes you feel any better,” she said, wondering how this man managed to see beyond her attempt to be professional and composed around him. “I’ll admit I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d hear from you again.”
His gaze caught and held hers steadily. “There’s one thing you ought to know about me right up front. I’m a man of my word, and I don’t ever say anything that I don’t mean or that I don’t follow through on.”
His tone was adamant, his eyes honest, and she believed him. “That’s good to know.”
He nodded succinctly. “I know I probably should have called first to let you know I was stopping by, but I was able to get away from the restaurant tonight and took a chance on you being here.”
He cast a quick glance around the shop, and while the initial rush had died down, there were still half a dozen customers waiting to place their orders. “Is this a bad time to talk? Because if it is, I can make an appointment and come back later.”
She appreciated his consideration, and her resistance toward him softened a notch. There was no reason to postpone the appointment. Besides, she was curious to find out what he wanted, and if he was still interested in her services. No sense postponing the inevitable.
“Now is fine,” she said, and could have sworn she heard him exhale a sigh of relief. “Come on back to my office where we can talk privately.”
He followed her through the kitchen, his gaze taking in the wall-to-wall convection ovens, the abundance of cooling racks and proof boxes, and the industrial-size dough-and batter-mixing machines.
“This is quite a setup you have,” he commented, seemingly intrigued by the high-tech equipment she used to create her desserts in mass quantities. “I had no idea you had such a production line back here.”
She tossed a smile over her shoulder at him. “It sure does beat doing it the old-fashioned way of mixing and baking one dessert at a time.”
He laughed, the low, husky sound touching her in intimate places. “I’m sure it does.”
They entered her office, and she took the comfortable tweed chair behind her desk and expected him to take one of the seats in front of her. Instead,
