stared at him in shock, unable to speak.
It had been almost a year and a half since she’d left him in Istanbul, this selfish, coldhearted man who hadn’t wanted either a wife or a child. He looked at her now with the exact same gray shade of eyes as her baby son, who was now almost eight months old. The baby who was right now sleeping in the tiny office behind the counter. The baby he didn’t know about.
Involuntarily she moved a little to the right, blocking his view of the office door. What was Rafael doing in Florida? Had he somehow found out about Noah?
“What are you doing here?” she choked out.
“You don’t look pleased to see me.” He rubbed the back of his dark hair and glanced up at her with a sheepish half smile. “I guess you’re not the one who sent the letter. I hoped you were.”
“Letter?” She hid her shock by leaning down behind the counter to pick up the tongs from the tile floor. She turned and dropped them into a sinkful of soapy water. Bracing her hands against the sink, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Not exactly a letter,” he clarified. “It was a flyer advertising your bakery. Someone sent it to my office in Paris.”
A chill went through her. She knew just who’d sent it. Damn Katie!
Fear pierced her heart.
Don’t be afraid, she told herself desperately. Why should Rafael Cruz frighten her? She was no longer his employee. No longer his lover. This was her bakery, hers and her sister’s, and if Louisa chose, she would throw him out onto the street!
He had no power over her, she told herself. None whatsoever.
But she knew that was a lie. She thought of her baby in the darkened room behind her. If he knew about Noah…
Could he possibly know?
Sucking in her breath, she turned to face him. Her eyes searched his face.
Then she exhaled. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. If he’d known, he wouldn’t be looking at her with an expression that was so open and friendly and warm. He would have come in here with all guns blazing.
“What do you want, Rafael?” she bit out. She would never call him Mr. Cruz, ever again.
“I’ve missed those caramel brownies of yours,” he said. “I’ll pay for them, of course.”
She heard the echo of his long-ago words. I would make you pay…and pay…and pay. She lifted her chin. “I thought I made it clear that I never wished to see you again.”
“You did,” he admitted. “But when I got that letter, I realized that I wanted to see you.” He smiled at her. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
The smile he gave her would have melted the heart of any woman.
But not hers. Never again. She glared at him, then turned with an elaborate smile to help a new customer who’d just come in her store. He waited with unusual patience as she served the other customer. After the tinkle of the bell as the customer went back onto the boardwalk with a bagful of doughnuts, Louisa finally turned to him coldly.
“I have nothing to say to you. Please leave.”
“I had to find you, Louisa. To tell you,” he said, “to tell you I’m…sorry.”
She stared at him.
He was sorry.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she said coldly. “I’m glad you forced me to quit. My life now is exactly what it should be.” After she’d fled Istanbul, she’d returned to Miami, where she’d been stunned to discover Katie was a widow, living in a mobile home and barely able to support her five-year-old daughter. They’d hugged and cried in each others’ arms. Now, they were sisters again. They were a family. Louisa lifted her chin. “You did me a favor.”
He looked at her ruefully. “I did?”
Louisa nodded coldly. She’d used her savings to start this bakery on Key West, a place she’d visited long ago. This bakery wasn’t just a family business, it was a labor of love. Even her little niece, who was now in first grade, helped out. The two sisters worked here during the day, and lived upstairs with their children in a small apartment above the bakery.
She had the perfect life now. She had her family, a successful business she loved and friends on this island. And if she still sometimes dreamed of Rafael, hot dreams of longing in the night—well, what of that? She didn’t want him. She was better off without him!
Rafael looked at her. His eyes were as deep and dark as the Caribbean at midnight. He shook his head. “Ever since you left Istanbul, I’ve regretted my behavior that day. I never should have let my suspicions get the better of me.”
“Forget it,” she said shortly.
“I cannot.” He looked at her regretfully, then with a sigh, he clawed back his dark hair. “I accused you of trying to get pregnant with my child. You! Of all women on earth, I should have known you would not do such a thing!”
She surreptitiously glanced back at the room where their baby was sleeping. She heard the soft snuffle of Noah’s heavy breath. He would be hungry and waking soon. Katie had gone to pick up her daughter from school, but any moment now she’d be back to take her turn working the counter.
Her interfering, well-meaning sister would no doubt be thrilled to see Rafael. Curse her.
“Forgive me,” Rafael said humbly, bowing his head. “I am sorry for how badly I treated you.”
She heard her baby shift in his playpen, heard his snuffle as he started to wake up.
“I forgive you,” she said abruptly.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” She had to get Rafael out of her bakery—fast. She moved behind the counter, using fresh tongs to pick up some of her caramel brownies, the most popular item at the bakery, and put them in a white bag. “Here,” she said. “Take these as a peace offering. On the house.”
“Thank you.” He took the bag, but he did not leave as she’d hoped. Instead he hesitated, propping the bag on the side counter as he slowly looked around the shop. “It’s a beautiful store.”
“Thanks,” she said unwillingly.
“How did you end up here? At this remote island?”
Not remote enough, she thought, looking at him. “My sister was still living in Miami with her daughter. Her husband had died the year before.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I just heard about that.”
“Right.” Matthias Spence, the handsome, wealthy older man the Grey sisters had once fought over, had died of a heart attack shortly after the government had seized his remaining fortune for milking his investors in a money-making scheme. “But we’re all doing fine now.”
“Really?”
