Sweetened With a Kiss (11 page)

“You do a lot of shopping in Paris?” he asked, not meaning for his voice to sound so nasty but for once he just couldn’t help it. He wasn’t used to being so lightheaded and he couldn’t quite feel the tips of his fingers.

She didn’t even glance at him. “Not really.”

“Good.”

Caramel eyes swept up to his. He’d expected regret, maybe some groveling, and her asking him to take her back upstairs so she could change. What he got was the polar opposite. She was furious and she wasn’t backing down. And the only thing that shocked him more than her reaction was his reaction to her defiance. He loved it. His whole body burned hotter watching her spitting fire at him. He clenched his fingers into fists to keep from grabbing her and showing her what he really thought of that dress, those shoes, those tiny black bows, and her attitude.

“Nothing’s wrong with this dress.”

“I can give you a list of things wrong with that dress.”

They were back to the raging silence as he opened the door to the SUV for her, then slammed the door a little too hard as she tugged her skirt down. He took several deep breaths as he rounded the car to the driver’s side. He didn’t let himself glance at her when he got in. He couldn’t afford to see the way the dress had ridden up her thighs so the lace at the top of those stockings peeked out to torture him.

“You wouldn’t take me home,” she finally exploded. “It’s the only dress I have and you can’t wear jeans at Elliot’s after six.”

Stefan turned the key in the ignition. “You could wear jeans.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll go back and change.”

She was reaching for the door when instinct took over and he reached across and stopped her. He surprised himself by not wanting her to change. He might not be crazy about anyone else seeing her in the dress, but no way was he letting her take it off now. “No, you want to wear it, you wear it.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. I know it’s short, but I’ve seen your girlfriends pour themselves into shorter dresses.”

“Yeah?” He had no good argument for that, but he still heard himself say, “Well, you aren’t one of my girlfriends, are you?”

He heard the sharp intake of breath and felt it hit his gut as he realized she’d completely misunderstood him. He was just about to explain to her that she was a whole lot more important than any of those girls she’d seen him date, when she repeated, in a suddenly small, hurt voice that almost crushed his chest. “Nothing’s wrong with this dress.” Then she caught her breath and turned on him, no longer small and hurt as she launched at him. “Just like there was nothing wrong with my prom dress, but you ruined that, too.”

At the mention of her prom dress, Stefan felt lightning slam into the back of his head as everything suddenly went cotton-candy pink and every single red blood cell in his body headed south with a vengeance. His mind replayed in high definition the image of her walking downstairs on her prom night. It was burned in his brain so he could see every detail of that pink cloud of tulle that had made him lose his mind. “I have a list for that dress too.”

“You have a list for everything.”

He turned to her, really hating the flash of raw pain he saw cross her face. Then he watched her blink it away. If he hadn’t turned so suddenly he never would have guessed she was feeling anything but anger. It made him wonder what else she was good at hiding from him, and that was something he never expected to have to deal with. He’d known Jen all her life. Why was she hiding from him?

“I like this dress.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” he demanded, not at all satisfied when she turned away and stared out the window.

Elliot Carter’s restaurant was on Barracks Street at the edge of the French Quarter, just a few blocks from the French Market and around the corner from Trick’s. Elliot was waiting at the front door when they arrived.

“Jen?” Elliot was more than a little surprised when he saw her. She blushed, because if Elliot thought the dress was surprising then it really must be over the top. She was going to kill Jared. “Jared take you shopping in Paris?” he laughed, ignoring the storm raging on Stefan’s face.

“For my birthday,” Jen said, loving the way Stefan’s nostrils actually flared as he put two and two together and came up with the hippie.

“Well,” Elliot laughed nervously. “Jared has never been subtle, has he?”

They followed Elliot past several people waiting for tables to the small table in the back Elliot always kept available for his partner.

“So we still training for April?” Elliot asked Stefan.

Stefan shook his head, “I doubt it. I’ll know more next week.”

“That’s going to make Jackson happy. I guess his time is safe for this year.”

Startled, Jen watched disappointment flicker across Stefan’s closed expression. Lizzie had said that Martin had pulled him off a bike yesterday. She only now put her own two and two together. The New Orleans 70.3 was in a few months. He would need a really fast time to qualify for the Iron Man World Championship. She took a deep breath. Until he got the Volikovneft deal done, he wouldn’t have time to train.

“Did you get a chance to look at the space?” Elliot was asking her, as Stefan sat down.

Jen froze, her eyes darting back to Stefan who was once again on his cell phone. Elliot had found a coffee shop on Royal that was moving out. He thought it was the perfect spot for the bakery and had emailed Jen all the info a few weeks ago. She had begged him not to tell Stefan. “Not yet,” she said now, “Waiting for Jared to get back.”

“Well, let me know when I can order your secret weapon cakes. I want to put it on the menu. I’ll send out the fish, it’s amazing,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Secret weapon cake?” Stefan asked, setting his phone down on the table.

“It’s a joke,” she said.

His already stormy expression darkened. “You and Elliot have a private joke?”

“No, it’s not a private joke. It’s my triple chocolate layer cake. He wants me to make them for the restaurant. He calls it my secret weapon.”

Stefan looked blank. “Your triple what?”

She leaned across the table. “You may find this hard to believe, but a huge percentage of the human race actually likes sugar, Stefan. And they love chocolate. And just about anyone who has tried my chocolate cake says it’s the best they’ve ever had.” She sat back and crossed her arms. She had complete confidence in her baking. So what if Stefan was oblivious and avoided sugar like the plague? Even the instructors in Paris had been impressed with the crazy things Jen could do with sugar.

“So, why haven’t you made it for me?” he asked.

She shook her head. She had made it for him. She’d invented it for him. He just hadn’t eaten it. He’d taken it back to the frat house just like he had all her other experimental baking attempts. At least his fraternity had appreciated it. At thirteen, Jen had thought it was the coolest thing in the world when his frat brothers started emailing her requests. She’d learned to make bread pudding and red velvet cake for Rogan. Carrot cake for Jackson Napier. Snickerdoodles for Matt Hansen. Brownies and cowboy cookies for Elliot. She’d come up with a bittersweet chocolate cake for Stefan, not that he’d ever tried it. But after Elliot had a slice a few years ago, he’d told her she needed to go to pastry school and had gotten her the information on the school she and Jared had attended.

“You do not eat cake,” she reminded him. “It’s just one more reason why we shouldn’t get married.”

He laughed out loud at that. “Because I don’t like white flour? What has that got to do with anything?”

“I’m a pastry chef,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“I ate your pancakes.”

She opened her mouth to make a comeback but just had nothing.

Stefan grinned when she closed her mouth again. “And I had seconds.”

She sat back in her chair and changed the subject. “You were planning on qualifying for the Iron Man this fall weren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to shave a few minutes off my time. No big deal.” He dismissed it but she knew he was downplaying it. He’d never been happy with his time when he raced in 2004. He’d qualified for the next year but when Katrina blew up the Gulf Coast he had stayed home to help with the clean up. He hadn’t had a chance since then to go back to Hawaii, but this was his last year in this age class.

“There’s always next year,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, it’s done.” He’d made up his mind, and that hurt. She knew how much he loved it. She couldn’t imagine him actually giving it up. That was almost as bad as the suits she suspected she would be seeing a lot more of.

Their salads arrived. The spring mix topped with artichokes and figs looked gorgeous on the plate, but Jen doubted she was going to get any of it past her throat.

“So what space are you supposed to be looking at?” he asked, almost succeeding in sounding casual.

The world dropped out from under her and her fork clattered against her plate. Had she really thought he’d missed Elliot’s question? Would she never learn? Stefan didn’t miss much. 

“You said you were waiting for the hippie to get back to go see it?” Stefan prompted, looking deceptively relaxed as he leaned back in his chair.

She opened her mouth, completely caught off guard.

She watched his face go solid granite and the whole frost giant thing worked across his eyes, down his jaw and thinned out his mouth. “What kind of space do you and the hippie need?” he bit out, and she was surprised his teeth didn’t shatter, his jaw was so tight. She doubted he even realized he was tapping his knife against the table.

She swallowed, wishing the floor would open up and drag her down. She really was not prepared for this right now. “We’re opening a bakery.”

He blinked, a couple of times.  “A bakery?”

She nodded. “Elliot told us about a space around the corner that’s becoming available. There’s a coffee shop in it now...”

“Elliot?” Stefan interrupted her. “Elliot found you a space? In the French Quarter? For a bakery?” His voice was so quiet, so cold, she almost couldn’t hear him.

“Yes.”

He lifted his water glass and she was surprised the water stayed liquid. He took a sip, set the glass down, and leaned forward. “No fucking way,” he hissed across the table.

Pre-Paris Jen probably would have jumped up from the table and tried hard not to burst into tears. Pre-Paris Jen would’ve caved in and accepted his unreasonable reaction as the final word. But not this Jen. This Jen got angry. Fast. And when she answered him, her voice was as quiet as his and he really should have paid attention. “You haven’t seen our business plan.”

He lifted one arrogant eyebrow and for once it was not adorable. “I heard hippie, bakery, and French Quarter. I don’t need to see your business plan.”

“You can’t say no without at least looking at it,” she told him, amazed at how calm her voice sounded.

“Just did.”

She stared at him a minute, drowning in the ice cold knowledge that she really did not know him at all. And he certainly didn’t have a clue about her. “It’s not your call.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Stefan,” she said carefully, “I want fifty thousand dollars out of my trust fund first thing Monday morning.”

He took another sip of water and just stared back at her. He was waiting for her to dissolve into tears. He was waiting for her nerves to give out. She could see it in the smug expression on his face and the glittering light in his eyes. He was so sure he was going to win, he wasn’t even trying to make her understand why he was being such a jerk. Suddenly, it became the most important thing in the universe that he not win this argument. She had no idea where the words even came from. But she heard them coming straight out of her mouth in a strange mocking tone that she hadn’t known she was capable of. “It doesn't matter.  As soon as Jared gets home, we’re getting married and you'll have no say over anything to do with me anymore.”

She had about ten seconds of victory before the world blurred. He moved so fast she never even saw him coming. Fingers closed around her arm. Her chair upended and hit the floor. Shocked gasps surrounded them as he hauled her back to the kitchen. Before her next breath, she was pinned against the wall in Elliot’s office, staring up at a complete stranger she was sure was going to break her neck.

“Say that again,” he dared her.

“We’re getting married,” she said, her voice still calm even though her whole body was threatening to shake apart.

“Take it back,” he growled at her, a vicious desperation in him that she’d never seen. “Take. It. Back.” he repeated slowly.

She wasn’t going to. No way. She just stared at him, not quite believing that he was buying it. Some perverse little spark egged her on. “I love him,” she insisted, determined to push Stefan over the edge. If it was the last thing she did, she was going watch him fall all the way to the bottom.

“You’re lying,” he said, going very quiet which would tell any sane person to back off.

“I’m not lying,” she said, not backing off. “I love him,” she insisted again and met Stefan’s blue eyes straight on when she said it, trying not to love the flare of undiluted fury that made his mouth fall open. Well, it wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. She did love Jared, just not the way she loved the selfish bastard pinning her against the wall. The selfish bastard she was dying to kiss again. The gorgeous bastard she was suddenly having a ball torturing. He’d asked for it, she assured herself. He deserved it.