Chapter Ten
“Guess who I saw on my walk up the shore,” Kara said.
Fen glanced up from the vat of Strawberry Sensation she stirred and narrowed her eyes. Don’t let her mention Sebastian Bane, she beseeched the Universe. Despite that, an image of a lean, black-haired figure trailed by a large black cat invaded her mind. He seemed to make frequent appearances there. And Fen knew how often he walked the shore.
She’d curtailed her own outings for fear of meeting him. She dreaded doing so, even while she ached for just a glimpse of him.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she quipped sarcastically. “The tooth fairy?”
If Kara had met the tooth fairy, the sprite in question would probably thank them for improving her trade. Business at Fen’s Fancy had been brisk. They were so busy Fen barely had time to draw a breath.
That was why Kara had taken to having a walk before they opened, in an effort to alleviate the stress.
“The tooth fairy only makes her rounds at night.”
“Well, who then?” Fen heard the annoyance in her own voice.
“One Ryan Staples.”
“Who the heck is Ryan Staples?”
“You don’t know, really?” Kara cocked her head. “That’s Sebastian Bane’s right-hand man. He’s helped Bane develop some of his recipes, just like I’ve helped you. Funny, isn’t it?”
Funny wasn’t the word Fen would apply. “What is?”
“How similar your paths are. It’s uncanny.”
“Yeah, the irony of it all is astounding.”
“Anyway, Ryan and I got to talking, the way you do. He’s a really nice guy. And kind of cute, in a string-bean, Yankee sort of way.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re attracted to him.”
“Why not? You’re attracted to his boss.”
Fen said nothing—better not try to argue it. Kara knew nothing about the night of blinding passion she’d shared with Seb Bane. No one did, except Seb, and possibly the cat. The fact that Fen couldn’t get him out of her head was her problem.
“Ryan says his boss is just as miserable as you are, which I gather is pretty unusual. He says Seb’s always cheerful—it’s one of his better qualities.”
“I’m not miserable.”
“Oh, puh-leeze!” Kara rolled her eyes. “If you were any more miserable, you’d be driving the customers away.” Kara leaned on the counter. “I can’t figure it. We’re doing so well. People love your flavors. You should be on top of the world.”
“I am. I really am.”
Kara ignored the lie. “Ryan says Seb’s pining for something.”
“Is he?” That arrested Fen’s attention. She stopped stirring the Strawberry Sensation and stared at her friend. Did Seb want her? Did he too relive all they’d shared that night? Couldn’t be.
“Yup. Even though it sounds like they’re every bit as busy at Wicked Good as we are.”
“You and Ryan had quite the nice little conversation, didn’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, we did. Listen, Fen, this has to stop.”
“What does?”
Kara waved a hand. “The attitude, the—the sour grapes. I’ll bet your aura’s black as sin. I don’t want to live like this.”
“Like what?”
“With you all prickly and—and sarcastic.”
“You enjoy my sarcastic quips.”
“I do, usually. This is something else. We have a whole summer ahead. I want to enjoy it.”
“I’m sorry, Kara. I didn’t realize—”
“I know you didn’t, honey, and that’s why I’m mentioning it. Is it Bane?”
Fen nodded her head.
“But so far the business is going well despite Wicked Good. We’re holding our own.”
“Not—not the business Bane.”
“Oh. Oh.” Comprehension dawned in Kara’s eyes. “Well, you have to get a handle on it. Talk to the man, if you need to.”
“You’re right.” Though talking to him would require seeing him, and if Fen did that, she wasn’t sure she could keep her hands off. “You have to admit, it’s aggravating when customers come in and ask for our flavors by his names.”
“Ryan says that happens at Wicked Good, too.”
“Does it?”
“They have runs on Marshy Magic.”
“What does Sebastian do?”
“Looks ’em in the eye and says, ‘That’s called Marshmallow Madness here, mate.’ And takes their money.”
Fen laughed for the first time in days.
“Promise me you’ll talk to him,” Kara urged.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You stop being so stubborn and do that.”
****
“So what do you think’s our biggest draw here at Wicked Good?” Ryan asked Seb, just after they closed for the night.
“Um, good question. I’d have to say it’s the Freaky Fondue. Can’t keep up with it.”
“That’s a good seller, all right. But I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say what really brings in the customers is you.”
“What?” Seb stared.
Ryan gave a big grin. “Haven’t you noticed? The majority of our customers are young ladies between the ages of umpteen and thirty. They giggle and flutter their lashes and eye you up like you’re the newest flavor.”
“Bull,” Seb declared.
“Not that I’m complaining, mind. Women in tiny bikinis make wonderful scenery for me.”
“Don’t be an arse. I’ve seen this shop full of mums and kiddies.”
“Yeah, and even the moms give you the eye.”
Did they? Seb had been too busy and, if he were honest, in too shitty a mood to notice.
“Now, in the old days,” Ryan went on, “say, back in Salem, you would have flirted right back. Young, old, plain, or pretty wouldn’t matter. You’re what my mom calls a charmer.”
“You trying to get at something here?”
“Yeah—what the hell’s happened to you?”
Fenady Clark happened, Seb thought. One night with her, one earth-shaking night. But he said, “I’m trying to run a business. It’s deadly serious stuff.”
“You’re too damn serious, if you want my opinion.”
The door rattled as someone entered the shop. Seb must have neglected to lock the door. “Get that?” he asked Ryan. “Tell ’em we open tomorrow at eleven.”
Ryan soon returned. “It’s for you. I’m outta here.” And he exited via the rear door.
Seb wiped his hands on a towel and went out to the shop, only to stop dead when he saw who stood there.
She’d dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, and her hair hung wild around her shoulders. Seeing her felt exactly like a punch to the gut.
Seb tried valiantly to hide his reaction. “Fenady?”
“Hi. Seb. Can we talk?” No aggression in her voice, no anger in her eyes. Hope speared through Seb like a jolt of lightning. Had she come to say she’d changed her mind? That she didn’t want to live without him?
“Come on.” He nodded. “Let’s walk.”
He called T.T., ushered Fenady out, and locked the door behind them.
The night felt alive, a steady wind blowing inland from the water. It chased clouds across the face of a moon just past full, and Seb’s blood leaped in response to the beauty of it. Or perhaps to the presence of the woman walking beside him.
“How have you been?” he asked cautiously.
“Busy. You?”
“The same.” Should he tell her about the sleepless nights when he lay wishing he could hold her? When the taste of her haunted him?
“Look, Fenady, I hope you’re not still upset with me about—well, our night together.”
“I was never upset. At least, not with you. Maybe with myself.”
“Why?”
“I’ve worked so hard for my dream, Seb. Made sacrifice after sacrifice. To go and toss it all away for the sake of—well, sex…”
“That wasn’t just sex.”
She smiled ruefully. “Maybe not. But I never should have let myself get into that situation. I risked what I shouldn’t, and I lost control. I never let myself lose control, but I did that night with you.”
“So did I. Maybe that’s what made it so astounding.”
“Really? You thought it was—that?”
“Didn’t you? We fit, Fenady. We just fit.”
She said nothing, and he rattled on like an ass, “It makes no sense. Opposites are supposed to attract, right? But we’ve got so many things in common. It’s just, our bodies fit like—like—” Helpless, he broke off.
“Like hand in glove?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t come to talk about that.”
So she could dismiss her feelings, could she? So easily?
“I want to talk about business. I have an idea, and I brought a list.” She fished a paper from her pocket and handed it to him. He stopped walking and peered at it, ill-lit in the wavering moonlight. T.T. stropped against his ankles. “This is a list of our flavors. The ones that are similar.”
“Not similar, virtually the same.”
“All right. I get people coming in asking for your flavors on a daily basis.”
“So do I.”
“I feel there has to be a line of demarcation.”
“How so?”
“I want you to give half your flavors to me.”