No Weddings (5 page)

“Practice. I’m doing trial runs to see how much I can create in one morning and determine which products I want to sell.”

My jaw slackened. “You did all this in one morning? By yourself?”

“Yep. Got here at four.”

I whistled, impressed.

She pointed to the counter beside her. “These are chocolate cupcakes. Those are yellow cake with vanilla pudding in the middle. Behind you is red velvet with a dark chocolate cream cheese frosting I’m experimenting with. Will you try one of those?”

I examined the dark frosted cupcakes. They were the least decorated among the bunch, which made me feel slightly less guilty for destroying one.

As I lifted one from the counter, my mouth watered. I quickly peeled the wrapper away and bit off half the cupcake. I closed my eyes and moaned as tart and sweet flavors flooded my mouth. “Oh my God.” My words were mumbled through a full mouth.

When I went to inhale the other half, she snatched it from my hand and put it aside. I nearly bit her hand off for the offense but snarled instead.

She grabbed my hand. “Don’t gorge on just one. Try these others.” Then she stopped suddenly, her running shoes squeaking on the floor. “Oh, wait. You need to cleanse your palate.” She detoured to a large refrigerator stocked with cream, butter, and other baking ingredients, and pulled out a large bottle of Pellegrino.

I took a few sips, swished my mouth clean, and swallowed as she grasped my free hand and led me further down the stainless steel counter. Row after frosted row, I enjoyed the impromptu cupcake tasting. In the span of fifteen minutes, I’d sampled one of every kind of cupcake she had made, from carrot cake to crème brulee. On a serious sugar high, I’d officially entered a cupcake coma.

Her eyes sparkled with pride as I moaned for the final time and let a last bite of dark chocolate salted whisky caramel melt in my mouth.

I held my hand over my stomach, groaning. “Done. Do you have a white napkin? I wave it in surrender.”

The thought occurred to me that I’d been played. We’d spelled out a list of demands, but Hannah had a secret weapon. No one made cakes like she did. She could call the shots. Demand anything she wanted. And after assaulting me with that kind of ammunition, I’d likely give her everything in my sugar-induced stupor.

When I glanced at her, though, no calculating businesswoman stared back at me. Only the smiling eyes of a young baker pleased with an enormously satisfied customer. Her ice-queen persona continued to perplex me, seeming at times to manifest in flashes during our business dealings, and yet none of it seemed as harsh as I’d remembered half a year ago.

Regardless, clearly she loved what she did. She would do well with her business, whatever her decision with our company was. We’d offered her a rare opportunity in highly influential social circles, but with her talent, she could do anything she set her mind to.

I remembered the empty display cases up front. The barren tables stacked in the corner. The bare, painted walls that made it seem like she’d just moved in. “When do you open to the public?”

“Not for another week.”

“What are you planning to do with all of this?”

She shrugged. “Toss it, I guess.”

My eyes must’ve popped out of my head because hers widened. I scanned the room at the hundreds of cupcakes. “No. You can’t.” The mere thought made my taste buds want to scream in protest. But the always-thinking business side of me hatched a plan.

“Whatever your plans for 10:00 a.m. tomorrow are, cancel them.” That would give me enough sleep after closing tonight to function. With a quad espresso.

She scoffed, narrowing her eyes as she dropped her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? Why?”

“Because this—” I gestured around me with a wave of my hands “—is not trash. It’s your investment in marketing.”

Wide eyes blinked in surprise. She opened her mouth in confusion, but nothing came out before I continued.

“Do you have any business cards?”

She shook her head.

“Make some. Nothing fancy. Just your store name, the address, phone number. Your cupcakes will do all the rest.”

I backed out the door before she could say no. I had a shitload of work to do before my shift tonight if I planned to take tomorrow morning off to help her.

And really, was it helping Hannah?

The way I saw it, she didn’t see the potential of her business the way I did. And I could easily point her in the right direction. Her gratitude would be boundless. So actually, a donation of a few hours of my time on a Saturday morning helped with Invitation Only’s goal.

Because after I gave her a glimpse of what smart business marketing could do, she’d want more. She’d want the full tour.

And that…would only come after she signed on the dotted line.

“Y
ou’re a drug dealer.”

“What?” Hannah gave an imperceptible scowl.

Those hints of her ice-queen demeanor—a brief flash of her furrowed brow and narrowed eyes—became more and more intriguing after experiencing her free-spirited Maestro side. I forced my gaze away from her face and onto the platter of cupcakes she held.

Dressed in what she called a “vintage” apron, which resembled a ruffled dress, she wore a basic black shirt beneath—but per my instructions, the top was low-cut, offering a peek at a tasteful amount of cleavage.

“Great top. Where’s the skirt?” I’d asked her to wear a short skirt, but she wore tight jeans.

She dropped me a deadpan look. “I’m a cupcake peddler, not some Betty Crocker role-playing streetwalker.”

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. But she had a point. The jeans were a good choice.

I whispered as we walked, giving her last-minute instructions before we reached the large group of people standing in line at Curio, the most popular bistro in this quaint town. “Instead of throwing these delicious cupcakes away as experimental trash, you’re giving potential customers a taste of heaven for free, and then a business card so they can pay the next time they need a hit of your drug.”

Understanding dawned in her expression. “Instantly addicted.”

I nodded. “Like me.” I’d devoured three of the red velvet numbers before leaving her store this morning. Just because I helped her, which actually helped me, didn’t mean I had to do it for free. Or on an empty stomach.

She gripped the edges of the platter, her knuckles turning white, as she gaped at the line of nearly two dozen people.

“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be a sensation.”
I hoped.

No matter how incredible those little cupcakes were, it would still be a tough sell. They were waiting to go into a dining establishment for a lunch that, unless you had a reservation, you had to wait in line for, hoping to get a table. Zagat’s rating had put them on the map. The kitchen’s world-class-chef-turned-fashionable-bistro-owner didn’t hurt.

We were up against gastronomic brilliance, and we risked alienating a neighbor business, but we could do this. The best marketing spin turned any challenge into a business opportunity. And if we handled it with a delicate touch, the restaurateur would be all the better for it.

I pressed a firm hand into the small of her back for reassurance but looped a finger through her apron tie, slowing us down. We strolled down the sidewalk until we hit the beginning of the line.

“Follow my lead,” I whispered, tilting my head down for her ears only. I turned to the first customer in line. “Would you like an
exclusive
first tasting of a cupcake sent from heaven?”

The woman wore a smart business suit. She shook her head but looked the platter over anyway.

I gently put pressure on Hannah’s back, urging her forward. She leaned in, holding the tempting tray within scenting distance.

The woman licked her lips. “Well, maybe just one.” She picked up the most extravagantly iced one on the platter. She peeled back a portion of the wrapper and took a small bite with bared teeth. A second and a half later, her moan caught the attention of three people behind her, and they all leaned to the side, trying to see what we were about.

I winked down at Hannah and urged her on to the next victim. And while her first instant, loyal customer took a second, much larger bite, she held out a hand to take the business card I offered. Hannah had done a tasteful job with the business cards. Ivory stationery. Black script. Nothing more on it than I’d suggested. Simple. Impactful. Perfect.

Next was a graying man who stood with a folded
Wall Street Journal
under his arm. Definitely not the cupcake type.

Only a few seconds ticked by before Hannah jumped right in, assessing the cool customer and seizing on the best angle to gain his interest. She leaned forward ever so slightly, making maximum use of the two stunning assets God had given her.

Smart girl.

“Would you mind trying one of my cupcakes?” She made it sound like a plea for his help.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat after his voice cracked. And seconds later, after he made his choice, he sounded his approval. Even stuffy old men were not immune to her charms, or her cupcakes.

And so it went. Not one of Curio’s customers passed on the rare opportunity we offered to have an initial taste for free. And all of them made sounds of ecstasy, like they’d been marooned in a cupcake-free world their entire lives and had been given their very first morsel.

With an empty platter tucked under her arm, and enough cupcakes passed out to feed the entire line plus three passersby, Hannah smiled wide, nearly vibrating with excitement.

I grinned—couldn’t help it. Her happiness was contagious. “Well, what do you think?”

In a startling flash of movement, she grabbed my hand and lunged down the sidewalk toward her shop, yanking me alongside her at a jogging pace.

Unable to stop myself, I laughed, letting her drag me along. She’d discovered what good marketing could accomplish, and
she’d
become addicted with her very first hit.

When we reached her door, she slammed into it, and with my hand attached to her death grip, I crashed into her. Breaking free of her hold, I tempered my impact by shooting my arms up onto the doorframe.

She stilled, her key halfway into the lock.

We were pressed against each other in a compromising position, and it struck us both.

I dropped my head down, resting my head against the windowpane, unable to move—only able to breathe. And her delicate scent wafted up. Tropical. Enticing. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to stay. And losing.

She swallowed. I heard it.

I felt her turn around and drop the platter to her side as it brushed my hip. I opened my eyes to find hers closed as she pressed her soft body up against me.

She inhaled deeply, and her body shuddered.

“Cade, I…” She opened her greenish eyes with those little flecks of gold in them. Uncertainty washed across her expression.

I exhaled but didn’t move. This was so off-limits. But the fact that I couldn’t have her suddenly made me want her all the more. “
Fuck.
” I pulled away. Shook my head.

Cold air flooded between us, breaking the spell we’d both fallen under when we hadn’t been paying attention. Hannah looked surprised, like she couldn’t believe I’d rejected her like that.

“I can’t, Hannah.”

She nodded furiously, like she agreed. But I could tell as her expression hardened and she turned to slide the key into the lock with a shaking hand that she struggled with her emotions.

I put my hands on her shoulders, stopping her from pushing in through the now-open door. “Hannah, it’s not you. Trust me, it’s not. I’m…”

Fighting my attraction had been difficult enough. Knowing she also felt the pull made our working together dangerous. I needed her help to keep our dealings purely professional.

Her voice trembled. “You want me? You feel it too? I…”

Ah, fuck.
Hearing her repeat my thoughts made this excruciating.
Figures.
The first girl who challenged my mind, in addition to physically attracting me, would be the one I couldn’t pursue. Damned “no doing the help” rule.

I exhaled, counting to five. “Yeah, but I…we…can’t. Not only would it be a really bad idea, based on past experience, I promised my sisters. It’s as good as a sworn blood oath.” I ground out the words, shocked I could form coherent sentences with my blood flooding much farther south from my brain cells.

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms while I eased back, putting a good couple of feet between us. In desperation, I vowed to maintain said safe minimum distance at all times.

Slowly, she turned to face me again. Confident, proud, a woman now in charge of herself, body and mind, Hannah nodded. “I promise too. No matter our attraction, we keep it strictly business.”

I blew out a fast breath through tight lips. “Good. With you and me both working on that, it’ll be a lot easier.”

A slow smile crept onto her face, a devilish gleam sparking in her eyes. “Oh? You mean if I didn’t play along, things could get difficult for you?”

My face fell. She wouldn’t. Would she?

She placed a palm on my chest, smiling sweetly. “It’s okay, Cade. I promise not to tease you…too much.”