Chapter Twelve

“I hope you’re not going to kick up a fuss about it,” Kara said, “but I have a date tonight.”

Fen glanced up at her friend. The shop had just closed, and they had started the cleanup. A great day—sales had been brisk and customers happy. Yet Fen felt distracted. A common state of mind for her these days.

See, this was why she hadn’t dared commit to Sebastian Bane. The man did things to her, irreparable things…

They hadn’t been together again, but she woke up in the night wanting him. She ached for his smile, his humor, his company.

She focused on Kara. “Honey, why should I kick up a fuss?”

“’Cause my date’s with Ryan Staples.”

“Ryan—oh!” Fen blinked. “Seb’s assistant?”

“It’s the funniest thing—we’ve just been bumping into each other, like it’s fate or something. And we hit it off. He’s such a nice guy.”

“Well—good.”

Kara flashed a relieved smile. “I was afraid you’d think I was sleeping with the enemy by seeing him.”

No, don’t worry—already took care of that, Fen thought. Want to sleep with him again. Want it bad.

She waved her hand. “That’s all right. Have fun. You know, some things are more important than business.”

“What did you just say?” Kara feigned amazement. “Are you still Fenady Clark?”

Yes, but fundamentally changed.

“Go for it, Kara.”

“Well, thanks, Fen. I promise I’ll keep away from his boss.”

So will I. At least, I’ll try. Fen hadn’t breathed a word to Kara of what had taken place between her and Seb. No one knew besides the moon, and possibly the big, black cat.

“In other news,” Kara went on more briskly, “I wonder what preparations we should make for the storm.”

Fen stared blankly. “What storm?”

“Wow, you have been stuck into your work, haven’t you?”

“Things have been busy since we divided the menu with Wicked Good.”

“You need to listen to the news sometimes. There’s a massive storm moving up the coast.”

“Well, it’s too early in the season for hurricanes. Besides, the weather’s been fabulous.” A stretch of warm temperatures had brought customers in droves.

“Don’t think it’s a hurricane, but it’s already devastated the Outer Banks in North Carolina and other places along the coast. Supposed to be here Friday.”

“That’s two days.”

“Right. So I wondered if we should plan on closing that day, maybe put some plywood over the front windows.”

Lose custom on a Friday, the big lead-in to the weekend? “Do you think it will be that bad?”

“Don’t know, but why take chances? We’ve worked so hard.”

“Yeah,” Fen could only agree. They truly had.

****

“I’m seeing Kara Lewandowski tonight. You know, she works at Fen’s Fancy.” Ryan wiggled his eyebrows. “Want me to do any spying? Maybe I can get a clue to their latest flavors.”

“Heck, no.” That was all Seb would need. He hadn’t seen Fen, except in passing, since their encounter on the beach. That had been three days, two hours and—he eyed the clock—fourteen minutes ago.

Not that he kept count.

Though his body seemed to be keeping track, or maybe that was his heart. He missed her and longed to see her soon.

“Find out what precautions they’re taking for the storm. Weathermen are predicting monster waves.”

Ryan looked worried. “They won’t reach as high as the shop, will they?”

“Hope not.”

Ryan brightened. “I’ve been meaning to ask, when are we going to introduce that new flavor of yours? The one made with the devil’s food cake.”

“Not yet.” Seb dared not rock that boat, not with the recipe still locked in the safety deposit box. He needed to talk with Fen about it first.

He smiled. Maybe he and T.T. needed to take a walk up the beach. Just for conversation, yeah.

Right.

He waited till Ryan left before changing out of his work clothes and calling to the cat. Walking up the shore, he found it hard to believe a storm of any magnitude could be on the way. Back home in Blackpool, they sometimes got gales, and Seb had learned to respect destructive weather. His dad always insisted on closing shop and hunkering down.

Should he close on Friday, when this one was supposed to hit?

The lights still shone in Fen’s Fancy, though the Closed sign hung on the door. Seb and T.T. went to the back door and knocked.

When Fen appeared, she wore her work apron. He lifted his gaze to her face, knowing her reaction to his appearance would tell him a lot. Gladness? He hoped so.

But a guarded look came to her eyes.

“Seb? Hi.”

“Hi.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, to keep from touching her. If he touched her once, he was lost. “Want to walk?”

“I’m finishing up here in the kitchen. Why don’t you come in, instead?”

“Do you mind the cat?”

“Of course not.” She gave a smile—one Seb hadn’t received—to Twinkle Toes. “Just give me a sec, and we can go back to the apartment.”

“Sure.”

She returned to wiping down the stainless-steel counters. “To what do I owe this visit?”

Seb shrugged. Should he tell her he hadn’t been sleeping? That when he did nod off, he woke with the taste of her on his tongue? That he’d never imagined being so in love?

Instead he watched her, delighted by her every movement and the way her red ponytail bobbed behind her. He wanted to free her hair from its confinement, plunge his hands through the strands and—

Whoa, lad.

He cleared his throat. “It seems my employee is dating your assistant.”

“I know. Who’d have thought?”

“Who’d have thought any of this could happen? Are you okay with it? I wouldn’t want you to start imagining espionage, or anything.”

Fen paused with the cloth in her hand. “I’m okay with it.”

“Is your assistant—”

“Kara.”

“Kara, is she very talkative?”

“No, why?”

“Ryan can’t abide a chatterbox. The server we hired, Jenny, is driving him up the wall.”

Fen laughed. “I guess I’m done here. Come around back. But,” she shook a finger at him, “no wine.”

It wouldn’t require wine, not at this point. It would take only one touch for Seb to go up like dry tinder. He wouldn’t tell her that.

In her tiny living room, T.T. jumped up on the sofa, chose a cushion, and curled into a purring ball.

“He sure is an amiable cat,” Fen observed. “Would you like a pop?”

“No, I’m all right.” Seb sat next to the cat. “You’ve heard about this storm that’s barreling down upon us?”

“Yes.”

“You doing anything to prepare?”

Fen sat in the single chair opposite him, not too close. Did she feel it too? The magnetic force…

“I don’t know. How bad can it be?”

“I’m thinking of closing on Friday. There are supposed to be high winds and a big surf. I figure, even if it’s just rain, there won’t be many customers.”

“Hmm.” Seb could see the wheels turning in Fen’s mind. If he stayed shut, she’d get all the custom. “I guess I’ll make a decision tomorrow.”

“Just be careful, all right, Fenady?”

“I’m always careful. That’s why—” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

Seb nodded, though he felt heartsick. “I wanted to run something else by you.”

“Shoot.”

“I’m in production with the mystery flavor, you know, the one I’ve got in the bank vault.”

“Me too. I think it’s going to be a winner.”

“Most definitely. When do you want to compare recipes? And how? Should we exchange sundaes? Compare what’s in the bank vault first?”

“Why don’t we meet at the bank and compare? But when?”

Seb gave her his best smile. “I can do it Friday. I’m closed. In fact, if you close too, we could ride out the storm together, after we visit the bank.”

He wondered if she could see it all in his eyes, everything he wanted. Her naked, under him. Her, on top of him. The two of them twined together as if neither past nor future existed.

But she shook her head. “Saturday morning—when the bank opens. We’ll compare recipes then. And we’ll make a decision as to—as to what fate has in store for us.”

Seb leaned toward her. “You’re far more patient than I am, Fenady Clark.” But, as he was to learn, fate proved less patient than either of them.