Kitabı oku: «Sugar Rush», sayfa 3

Chapter 4

Four hours later, and still no word from the agency. Eliot was beginning to suspect that Alberto Montagna had ditched his new job. Given the man’s reputation as a self-important womanizer, Eliot had no trouble imagining what type of distraction could’ve come up.

As he poured the ingredients into the mixer, he kind of hoped the man would show up. It had been years since he’d mixed dough, and he’d forgotten what hard work it was. He wiped sweat from his forehead, feeling ridiculous for working in his suit clothes. The only saving grace was that it was summer and he’d chosen a linen suit and lightweight silk tie. After this day of manual labor both would be ruined, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly leave to change. He might come back and find his cover blown. Although, in truth he didn’t really know why he was still there.

“Strange that a baker wouldn’t bring a set of work clothes with him on his first day on a new job,” Wayne commented behind him.

Eliot pretended to ignore the remark and started up the mixer. Mae was up front serving the walk-in customers, of which there were surprisingly many. The glass counters were constantly being refilled.

The teenagers had disappeared into the back somewhere after returning from their deliveries, and Eliot was starting to doubt the possible implementation of his original plan.

There was no way he could slip into the back office, not with Wayne watching him like a hawk. Then there was the problem of Mae. In just a couple of hours, she had him completely wrapped around her little finger.

Being in her presence had the strange but sweet sensation of being home again. Not his uncle’s mansion in Memphis, where he’d spent the majority of his growing years, but the little brick house in Nashville. The only real home he’d ever known. The one he’d shared with his parents until they were killed in an auto accident when he was ten.

Mae felt like his mother and the women of her breed. Strong, yet gentle. Loving yet stern. All four of his grandparents had died before he was born, and he’d been cut off from his father’s family from the time he was given over to Uncle Carl. He’d had a childhood filled with the luxuries of life but none of the warmth. Mae, or Mama Mae as everyone called her, was pure sunshine, and he enjoyed basking in it.

There was no getting around the fact that he’d come here for a reason, and that reason still existed, but Eliot was finding the idea of stealing that sweet old lady’s recipe book becoming more distasteful by the minute.

A loud banging noise came through the wall. Unable to resist, Eliot asked Wayne, “What are they doing in there?”

“Cleaning it up. Sophie is going to be staying here for a few weeks until her ankle heals.”

“You mean, here in the store?” Eliot suddenly had a bad feeling.

“No, the parking lot,” Wayne answered sarcastically.

Eliot ignored that remark. He did note with interest, however, the news about Sophie staying in the store. That sounded like something an owner would do. That type of dedication was unheard of in a paid manager.

If Sophie was an owner, why had her name not come up in any of his research, Eliot wondered. All his focus had been on Mae, and after what he’d seen today Eliot was almost certain he could custom-design a retirement package that would satisfy her. But what if selling the store is not her decision alone? What if she has a silent partner, one so determined to see the business grow she’s willing to dedicate herself twenty-four hours a day?

All the pieces began to click into place. Sophie was the one who’d been seducing his customers away. Sophie was the reason for all this new equipment. Sophie was the one who’d rejected his generous buyout offer. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.

That morning, as he was wiping down the mixer, Mae placed a perfect BLT on the countertop near him. “Thought you might be hungry.” She smiled, and Eliot had an eerie vision of his mother’s face superimposed over Mae’s. The thin lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, the sign of a woman who laughed a lot.

“Thank you,” he said, before pulling up a stool to the preparation table. “That was very thoughtful.”

“It’s no problem,” she said. “I love to cook.” They noticed Wayne carrying his sandwich out the back door.

“I’m going to pick up Sophie, Mama Mae. I’ll be back in about an hour.” He paused and glanced at Eliot, and Eliot could see how troubled the other man was about leaving her alone with him. It was hard not to like a man that concerned about a woman he wasn’t even related to, Eliot thought.

He concentrated on his sandwich, trying to appear as harmless as possible. It must have worked, because Wayne finally turned and went out the door. Eliot smiled at Mae to let her know how tasty the sandwich was. And it was indeed.

But, the smile was also an expression of his satisfaction that soon he would finally meet the mysterious Sophie. The woman behind the sultry voice. The powerhouse behind the new and improved Mayfield Bakery. And hopefully Eliot would be able to fill in the last few missing pieces of the puzzle.

Sophie was more than ready to go when Wayne arrived to pick her up. Despite the painkillers, her ankle still throbbed. But even the pain could not distract her attention from the call she’d received earlier that morning.

Her new baker sounded like something straight out of a wet dream. He had such a smooth, deep baritone voice. Just remembering it sent a chill down her spine. There was no way he could be as fine as he sounded, she thought.

Still, she was eager to get back to the bakery to confirm or deny the fantasy she’d built up in her mind. And then there was that subtle challenge—at least, it felt like a challenge. Eight simple words: I look forward to meeting you, as well. It felt like he was saying so much more. But then again, the whole thing—the voice, the supposed challenge—could all be the sum-total effects of being without a man too long. Sophie chuckled at her own ridiculousness. All this over a two-minute conversation.

Just then Wayne came through the door. “Hey girl, you ready to go?”

“In a minute. I have to wait for the orderly with a wheelchair. Hospital policy. So, what do you think of our new baker?”

As if he’d been waiting for the opening, Wayne exploded in frustration. “How the hell you gonna hire a baker without telling me or at the least Mama Mae?” He began pacing in front of the bed, where she lay with her leg propped up on a pillow. “This guy shows up looking like he stepped out of the pages of GQ—”

“Really?!”

Wayne suddenly stopped and turned slowly in her direction.

Sophie cleared her throat quickly and tried to tamp down her enthusiasm. “Really?”

Wayne just watched her with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, really.”

“But what do you think of him, Wayne?” she asked, leaning forward. “I trust your judgment.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Why? Did he do something?”

Wayne shrugged. “Nope. Just don’t like him.” He started pacing again. “Although, I must admit he knows his way around a kitchen.” He glanced at her shyly. “I’ve had him doing grunt work all day.”

“Wayne! This man is a premier chef and I have the offer letter to prove it. Please don’t tick him off.” She looked him directly in the eye. “Whether you like him or not, if we are going to compete with Fulton we need him.”

“I know.” Wayne pouted. “After I got over being mad that you didn’t even consult me, I thought about it. I know why you hired him. I just wish you had hired someone else.”

“There was no one else, and if he hadn’t been on hard times lately, we wouldn’t have gotten him. So play nice.”

He sank down in the big guest chair, frustration radiating from his pores. “He did fix the oven and help us get the Centerfield order out on time.”

“See? He’s already proven his worth. The old oven acting up again?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to get that taken care of, now that we are doing all these big orders.”

“I know,” Sophie answered, wondering where the money was going to come from. “Did Dante get that back room cleaned up and livable?”

“Yeah, he and Lonnie have been in there all morning. Have you noticed how closely Lonnie’s been sticking to Dante lately?”

She chuckled. “He’s about the only one of us with the patience to answer all her questions.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s more than that. I think you may need to say something to Dante, let him know that Lonnie’s not like other girls. He might misunderstand her attachment, know what I mean?”

Sophie hid a small smile. It always surprised her how protective Wayne had become of them over the past few years. When he’d shown up looking for a job four years ago he’d been a recently released convict, and the hardness of prison life still clung to him. After he got over the initial surprise that he’d been hired despite his background, he’d worked like a demon. At the time, it had been only Sophie and Mae. Wayne had filled in all the blanks. He was the deliveryman, the fix-it guy, the heavy lifter and whatever else the job required, and he did it all without complaint.

It hadn’t taken Sophie long to realize that there was an equally big brain to go along with that brawn, and she quickly put it to work, as well. Now, four years later, Wayne knew as much about the business as she did, and she knew he could easily go somewhere else and make more money. But still he stayed with them, loyal to a fault.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him,” she said, just as the orderly rolled the wheelchair into the room. As she was loaded into the chair and rolled along the corridor, her busy mind was racing. Sophie knew much about their new baker’s situation, and how he’d happened to become available at a price she could pay. So her mind kept telling her not to get excited. Of course he probably looked like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, and of course his arrogance in his skill would rub Wayne the wrong way.

But even though she knew there was no rational reason to get excited, her heart was still racing in anticipation, and she was more anxious to reach the store than she cared to admit.

Eliot wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at his watch. Apparently lunch had come with a price, because as soon as he’d taken the last bite, Mae had put him to work and stayed to supervise.

A delivery truck had arrived filled with huge bags of flour and sugar. He and Dante had been put to work unloading it. Lifting and moving the heavy bags made his expensive silk shirt cling to his torso.

He’d completely given up on the idea of stealing Mae’s recipe book. There was no way he could take a book that she’d spent a lifetime building and protecting. Now his attention was completely focused on Sophie. Eliot had a feeling that stealing her would be just as crippling as stealing the recipe book.

But what would happen when Wayne returned with her? Sophie would know, wouldn’t she? That he was not the man she’d hired? And then he would be exposed anyway. So why not just take the book and run?

As he watched Mae carry in a small box, he rushed to take it from her. “Here, Mama Mae, I got it,” he said, having already picked up on the nickname the small staff called her by.

She smiled up at him with gratitude and brown eyes full of trust. “Thank you, El, that was starting to get a little heavy.” She chuckled, reaching back to stroke her lower back. “These old bones can’t do what they used to.” She glanced down at his clinging shirt. “El, do you usually work in these kinda clothes?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t.” He laughed. “I just rushed off this morning without a change.”

Eliot realized this was the problem. This woman, who reminded him too much of his mother. Her blind trust and acceptance of him was like a fragile glass vase that he was contemplating smashing on the floor. He had to do it. Uncle Carl would expect him to do it. But somehow he could not bring himself to do it, he thought.

He was restocking the box racks in the front of the store when Eliot saw Wayne’s old pickup truck pull up. The moment of truth had arrived.

He climbed down from the racks and he waited inside the door, surprised by his own nervousness. It wasn’t like Sophie Mayfield was truly his employer, after all.

As Eliot watched Wayne open the passenger door and help the young woman inside position herself on her crutches, he was surprised by her youth. She was petite, with long, brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. At first glance, she didn’t seem to be much older than Dante and Lonnie. Listening to the others’ descriptions, he’d expected something akin to a force of nature.

Using the crutches, she limped toward the front door, and Wayne walked at her side before holding the door open for her. Glancing up, Wayne’s eyes met Eliot’s for a moment, and it was clear to Eliot that Wayne was expecting him to be instantly rebuked. Eliot’s mouth twisted, as he considered what the other man might have told her about him.

She limped to the entrance as the crutches bunched her shirt beneath her arms and Eliot found himself temporarily distracted by a smooth expanse of brown-skinned tummy revealed.

She stopped beside his car, looking at it for a long moment. Eliot would have paid anything to know what she was thinking. Then she continued limping toward the door.

In a way, she was almost as fragile as Mae, he thought, sighing heavily. These were no greedy moguls hungry for money and power. What had he wandered into here? he wondered.

As he was considering simply confessing the truth and reissuing his offer to buy them out, her eyes came up and met his, and all bets were off.

The sharp-witted soul that stared back at him from those eyes was no child. And Eliot knew in an instant that she was already considering the truth. That he was not who he said he was. He saw the questions in those amber brown depths, probing, and thinking. And Eliot knew this was his true adversary.

This was no sweet old lady who reminded him of his mother. His eyes roamed over her shapely form. No…nothing about her made him think of his mother. And despite her size and the crutches, she was about as helpless as a black widow.

She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Everything from her large, almond-shaped eyes and sharp little nose to full, shapely lips that had him licking his as he considered how soft hers would be. All covered in flawless mahogany skin that had the pads of his fingertips tingling with the need to touch her.

She looked as if she should be traipsing across the state in beauty pageants, not here running a small bakery and becoming a thorn in his side. And Eliot fought a smile, as he saw desire reflected in her dark brown eyes. They fairly twinkled with surprise and interest. Despite his grungy appearance after a day of working harder than he had in ten years, she liked what she saw, he thought. Eliot wasn’t a vain man, but he knew when a woman found him attractive.

Then she smiled, perfect white teeth so bright they could rival the sun. “Welcome to the Mayfield Bakery, Mr…”

“Montagna. Elberto Montagna, but my friends call me El.”

“Nice to meet you, El. I’m Sophie Mayfield.”

“Mayfield?” El frowned slightly.

“Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you this morning, but as you can see something came up.” She laughed. “The floor—when I hit it.”

Eliot smiled, liking her already.

“You’re back!” Lonnie came charging out of the back headed straight for Sophie, but Wayne quickly intercepted the girl and caught Lonnie up against him. The momentum knocked him back a step and Eliot realized the impact would’ve knocked Sophie down.

Two things occurred to him at once. The quickness with which Wayne stepped in to protect Sophie spoke of an intimate connection. Eliot didn’t want to dwell on that. And the second was that Lonnie had not realized she would knock Sophie down. Suddenly the blank look to her eyes made sense. She was apparently mentally challenged. It was fairly obvious at first meeting, and the people who loved her were aware of her shortcomings and compensated for them.

From Wayne’s arm, Lonnie’s enthusiasm did not diminish even slightly. “You’re back! You’re back!”

Eliot watched as Sophie braced her body and nodded to Wayne to release her, and Lonnie threw herself against her cousin. Sophie shifted for a moment before regaining her bearing.

“Yes, I’m back. See, I told you it was nothing.” Sophie smiled at the girl.

“Is the cast heavy?” Lonnie asked.

“A little, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Welcome back, Sophie.” Dante had come out of the kitchen behind Lonnie, and he was followed by Mae.

They all crowded around Sophie as if it were a family reunion and they had not seen each other in years. Eliot knew from earlier conversations she’d spent only one day away from them.

Mentally, he compared this small group of five to the hundreds of employees of Fulton Foods. The differences were like night and day, and yet this small group was now giving Fulton a run for its money.

It was amazing, really, and Eliot knew without a doubt the woman on the crutches was the reason why. She was the reason for all that new equipment in the back. She was the one who wanted to go after their contracts. She was the one with the ambition; she was the one who’d rejected their generous offer, not Mae. And therefore, as much as he might not want to, he knew she would have to be the one he brought down. And since he’d already decided he could not steal Mae’s recipes, he had no idea exactly how to go about his mission. Especially considering Sophie, unlike her trusting grandmother, seemed to have suspicions about him. He only hoped his earlier phone calls worked.

“I was meeting our new baker.” She gestured to Eliot.

“El here has been working his little heart out this morning.” Mae came to his side, making herself his advocate. “Even though he was hired to bake, he has been a real sweetheart about helping me with the inventory all afternoon.”

He nodded, his mind on the way Wayne stood protectively close to Sophie. It was becoming apparent that the two were close, and irrationally, Eliot found he didn’t care for their relationship.

“That’s good to hear, we like go-getters around here.” Sophie smiled at him again, and Eliot felt his heart skip a beat. The woman really was too gorgeous.

“We got the back room all fixed up for you, Sophie,” Lonnie said happily. “Wanna see?”

“Right now all I want to do is find somewhere to sit down.” She smiled and winked at Eliot. “And of course, get to know our newest addition.”

Sophie repositioned herself on her crutches and headed toward the back, the small group following patiently behind her, each giving her reports of what had happened in her absence. Soon Eliot was left alone.

Slowly, Eliot turned and followed the group as he replayed that smile and wink, and the possible implications of what she’d meant by getting to know him. He smiled to himself. This day was getting more interesting by the minute.

Chapter 5

Wow. As she settled into her desk chair, and placed her crutches against the wall, Sophie released a pent-up breath. Wow. Her new baker had completely lived up to the sexy voice she’d heard on the phone that morning.

She tried to focus on the conversation around her as Lonnie and Dante filled her in on every moment she’d missed. Her grandmother had said something about being hungry and left the room already. Wayne was standing in the door, half watching her and half watching someone in the kitchen; she could only assume he was spying on El. Wayne had made his feelings about the man perfectly clear, although she’d already decided to take his assessment with a grain of salt. After all, Wayne had a lot of alpha dog in him, and the thought of another grown man in what he considered his kitchen would have never sat well. Which was part of why she hadn’t warned him ahead of time.

Despite his bias, he’d been dead on regarding appearance. Despite the dirt and dust, El did look like he’d stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine like Wayne said, and although she thoroughly enjoyed the whole package, the pieces didn’t completely make sense.

For instance, she expected him to be arrogant and a bit of a prima donna. After all, he was one of the breed of chefs that considered themselves more artist than cook. Many of his type managed large staffs, as he probably did in his previous employment. So self-assuredness was expected, although this man radiated authority.

He looked as if he should be sitting at the head of a corporate board, not tossing dough in someone’s kitchen. And he dressed like it, as well. What the hell was up with the business suit and slacks, she wondered. Maybe at Catalan’s—the restaurant he’d last worked in—he’d been in a strictly supervisory position. That would explain his unpreparedness for labor. But, thankfully, he didn’t seem to have a problem with hard work.

Then there was that sexy way he looked at her. Spending so much time in the bakery, Sophie rarely had time to date. But some things you never forgot. Like that flirty look he’d given her. And like the sex-starved woman she was, she’d reacted from the gut, instantly flirting back.

Then there was the smallest, yet oddest thing about him. His name. Elberto? She was almost certain the résumé had read Alberto Montagana. But, a one-letter difference could simply be a typo, she thought. Either way, he didn’t look like either an Elberto or an Alberto. Strangely enough, “El” fit him. And she found herself eager to be rid of Dante and Lonnie, so she could talk to him…and in private.

Lonnie was giggling and smiling at Dante, as he accused her of being the reason it took them so long to clean up the back room.

The bell at the front of the store rang, announcing a walk-in customer. “I’ll get it,” Wayne announced. He gave Sophie an I-told-you-so look and headed to the front of the store.

“No, it was your fault!” Lonnie laughed loudly, her attention still completely focused on Dante. “You kept playing around, throwing that box of packing peanuts at me.”

“What packing peanuts?” Sophie asked.

“We found a big box almost filled to the top,” Dante answered, stealing glances at Lonnie. “Looks like it was used to ship something here.”

Sophie shrugged off the issue, discreetly watching the interaction between the pair. Wayne maybe on to something, she thought, because surprisingly Dante definitely looked infatuated with Lonnie, and Lonnie looked just as interested in Dante. Could it be the girl was sending signals she was not aware of? Maybe she would have to talk to Dante. She thought he understood that despite their being the same age and physical development, Lonnie’s mental development was not where his was. Maybe she’d have to remind him.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, handing it off to Dante. “My doctor called in a prescription for a wheelchair. Can you go pick it up for me? Here’s the address.”

“Sure,” he said, pocketing the paper. “Wanna come?” he asked Lonnie.

“Okay.” With a wave, she followed him out of the store. “See ya, Sophie.”

Sophie frowned, watching the pair leave. They were too close. How had she not seen the relationship growing? But she hadn’t. Not until Wayne mentioned it. But, truth be told, she didn’t pay much attention to Lonnie—not nearly as much as she should, she thought guiltily.

Lonnie had been a victim of circumstance almost from the moment she’d been conceived. She was the daughter of Mae’s firstborn, Sharyn, who’d been into one thing or another since her teen years, according to family gossip.

Sophie didn’t know her mother’s older sister very well, because she’d been banned from their home most of Sophie’s life. But when Sharyn came up pregnant at the age of forty-one, everyone in the family was concerned, given her track record. And eventually, the concern was proven valid when Lonnie had been diagnosed with Down syndrome.

When Lonnie was born, Sharyn apparently did try to be a good mother for a while, but soon the responsibility of caring for a mentally challenged child became too much for her. Somehow—no one really remembered—Lonnie ended up in the collective hands of the family, eventually landing at the door of her grandmother, with whom she’d lived the past six years.

As far back as Sophie could remember, Lonnie had tagged after her like a little sister, desperate for attention and approval. And, although no one ever said it, Sophie did feel a certain responsibility for the girl.

Mae reappeared in the door with a plate laden with so much food Sophie’s eyes widened in concern. “Grandma! What am I suppose to do with all that food?”

Mae gave a look that seemed to question Sophie’s sanity. “What anybody would do. Eat it.”

Sophie shook her head. “I will never understand why you and Granddad opened a bakery instead of a restaurant. The way you like to cook…”

Mae’s age-worn face took on a softer look as she remembered her long-dead husband. “That bakery was your granddaddy’s idea—and it wasn’t his first, let me tell you! We tried a laundry service at one time, and we even tried a grocer’s store. None of it ever amounted to much.” She chuckled to herself. Sophie listened patiently with a smile, thinking of the man she had only the vaguest memories of. She’d heard all the stories of her grandparents’ failed business ventures a dozen times. Sophie also knew it was part of what kept her parents, aunts and uncles from stepping in to help when the bakery started going under.

“Your granddaddy never had much of a head for business, but he had ideas and more ideas!” She looked at Sophie with a playful grin. “And I loved him so much, he could’ve wanted to sell sand in a desert and I would’ve been right there beside him.”

She reached out and touched her granddaughter’s face. “You remind me so much of him, always with ideas.” She bent and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now you just have to find a man you can sell sand to.” With a chuckle, she turned and walked out, wiping her hands on her apron, the habit of a lifetime.

And for the first time since she’d limped into the front door, Sophie found herself completely alone with her thoughts. Once again they wandered back to her handsome new baker.

With his copper golden skin and eyes that matched, he could’ve been the love child of Apollo, the sun god. He wore his hair in short locks, which were an unusual sandy brown. With his skin tone the color was likely natural. El did not look like the hair-dye kind of brother.

He was tall, maybe six feet plus, and tended toward lean except in the shoulders, which were bunched with muscles visible even beneath the thin material of his shirt. Another factor that would rankle Wayne. The ex-convict was built like a bulldog, short and stocky.

At first glance, she’d thought El was younger, closer to her age. But one look in his eyes, and there she found a man who knew something of life. Top all that lusciousness off with beautiful, perfect, bubble-gum-pink lips and he was scrumptious enough to go in the counter next to any of the confectionary treats there.

She heard a light rap on the door and jumped, slightly startled to see El standing there smiling at her, as if summoned by her thoughts.

He glanced at the plate of food. “I see Mama Mae’s struck already.”

Sophie laughed. “Yeah. You’d think after a lifetime of her cooking, I’d be as big as a house.”

His eyes roamed over her body appreciatively, as he said, “No but it looks like you filled out in all the right places.”

Sophie decided to ignore the remark. They were already getting off to a less-than-professional start. She reached over and pulled up a chair. “Got a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”

“Sure.” He took a seat, leaning forward slightly. “You sure you should be here? Just getting out of the hospital and all?”

“‘Should’ is not the issue. I need to be here. We have just taken on a lot of big contracts including Morningside. We even outbid our competition—”

“Your competition?”

“Fulton Foods, out of Memphis. Heard of them?”

“Yeah, I think I have. But they’re a really big operation.” He frowned. “No offense, but are you really capable of competing with them?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Honestly—no. But we are going to give it a hell of a try. How else can we grow? The market we’re in is saturated. There are dozens of small neighborhood bakeries in this area. But Fulton has a monopoly on all the larger contracts.” She counted off on her fingers. “The schools, hospitals, municipalities. If we can just get these first few contracts fulfilled to each client’s satisfaction, we can start building some reputation equity. Does that make any sense?”

His eyes had narrowed on her face as he listened intently. “Yes, sorta like a fighter training to move into a different weight category. Light to middle, middle to heavy.”

She laughed. “Exactly! That’s a terrific analogy. And that’s where you come in.” She looked directly at him. “If we are going to be a premier bakery, we need a premier chef.”

He nodded, looking down at the floor. “I’m flattered, but I must admit that I don’t see the need. Mama Mae’s pastries are exceptional. The quality and taste could compete with anything Fulton puts out.”

Sophie glanced at the door. “My grandmother is a talented baker, but she’s not a young woman, El. She’s getting up in age, and sometimes she…sometimes she forgets things. We are really going to be under the gun in the next few months, and I don’t want that kind of pressure on her.” She reached over and laid her hand on the big recipe book. “I was hoping you could take a look at her book and learn the basics as well as some of the fancier designs she doesn’t really do on a daily basis. And we’ll incorporate those into our new menu.”