This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be here, Grace thought, her conscience plagued with guilt. I should be at Sweetness getting caught up on paperwork, not sitting here like a groupie hoping to catch a glimpse of Jackson “player extraordinaire” Drayson.
Seated at a corner table inside Myers Coffee Roasters café, sipping an espresso topped with oodles of whipped cream, Grace watched the comings and goings inside Lillian’s with keen interest, wondering where the man of the hour was.
For the second time in minutes Grace glanced at her watch, then around the room. She didn’t see Jackson anywhere and she’d been looking out for him since arriving at the bakery an hour earlier. Grace was filled with mixed emotions. Relief, because she turned into a jittery fool whenever Jackson was around, and disappointment, because she enjoyed their playful banter. On Monday he’d teased her for ignoring him, on Wednesday he’d complimented her BCBG keyhole dress—claimed he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her—then suggested she take him out for a romantic dinner. He’d slipped a handwritten note into her purse when she wasn’t looking, and finding it hours later made her heart smile. It was a cute gesture, one that made her crack up every time she reread his message, but Grace couldn’t call him, not without looking desperate, so she hid the note in her top drawer and deleted all thoughts of Jackson from her mind.
Ha! barked her inner voice. If you were trying to forget him you wouldn’t be in his bakery.
Grace lowered her coffee mug from her lips and cranked her head to the right. Every time the door chimed her heart raced. Where is he? Did Jackson have the day off? Was he out with one of his girlfriends? Wining, dining and seducing his flavor of the week? Of course he was, Grace decided. The baker was an affable, laid-back guy who obviously loved women, and it would be wise to keep her distance.
Reflecting on their heated exchange the day they’d met, Grace wished she hadn’t let Jackson get under her skin. It was clear from then on that she was going to have her hands full with the hottie baker, and yesterday he’d been in fine form. Every time she entered Lillian’s he was charming his female customers, and when Grace pointed it out to him, he’d teased her for being jealous and insisted she wanted him all to herself.
Snorting in disgust, she shook her head at the memory. Grace couldn’t believe his nerve, how smug he was. To keep her anger in check she’d had to bite her tongue. Despite her misgivings about her “assignment” she’d stopped in at Lillian’s every day to sample something new. Peanut-butter-sandwich cookies on Monday, orange-marmalade coffee cake two days later, a walnut muffin on Thursday and today a Draynut. The pastry was a combination of croissant and donut, and customers were lined up around the block to get their hands on the pricey dessert that her father had mistakenly referred to as a “dragnet.”
Grace stared at her gold-rimmed plate, wondering if the pastry was as delicious as the food bloggers said it was. So far, she’d been impressed by the quality of the baked goods at Lillian’s. She’d assumed the bakery wouldn’t live up to the hype or her implausibly high standards. Trends came and went, and a little bit of buzz could go a long way when a business first opened. Grace was pleasantly—or rather unpleasantly—surprised to learn that yes, Lillian’s was that good. She’d made the mistake of mentioning that to her father last night at dinner, and once again he’d urged her to return to the bakery to sample the rest of the items on the menu. Her father wanted to know exactly what the Draysons were producing, and expected her to report back about the inner workings of the family-operated bakery.
Reflecting on her mission, Grace considered what her dad wanted her to do. One week of spying and she was still uncomfortable about it. Sure, she wasn’t doing anything illegal, but she felt like a snake for spying on the competition and wanted to stop. The biggest problem? Each day she returned to Lillian’s brought her into close contact with Jackson—a man with soulful eyes, juicy lips she wanted to kiss and muscles she was dying to stroke. He was intelligent and perceptive, and Grace feared he’d catch on to what she was doing and expose her. Deep down, she was afraid of how attracted she was to Jackson and decided in her mind to ignore him—if he ever showed up at the bakery.
Grace glanced at her wristwatch again. She knew she should get going, but she didn’t want to leave. Looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of everyone’s favorite baker, Grace couldn’t believe how dark and gloomy it was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the sun, and hoped the thick storm clouds held back the rain until she reached work.
* * *
“Rodolfo and I are abstaining from sex until our wedding night. Isn’t that romantic?”
Grace swallowed the quip on the tip of her tongue. She’d asked her bestie, Bronwyn, to meet her at Lillian’s for breakfast, but regretted it the moment their orders had arrived. When the speech pathologist wasn’t cooing about her nectarine honey tart, she was gushing about her decades-older fiancé and their fall wedding. Slim, with hazel eyes and blond curls, Bronwyn exuded such warmth and confidence she made friends everywhere she went. “Yes,” she drawled sarcastically. “It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re just jealous. You wish you had a man as sweet and as loving as Rodolfo.”
No, I wish my vibrator wasn’t on the blink, because it didn’t get the job done this morning and I need an orgasm in the worst way! Grace finished her coffee and set aside her mug. Anxious to sink her teeth into her dessert, she picked up her fork and cut into the Draynut. “Doesn’t it bother you that Rodolfo isn’t working?”
“No. I make enough money for the both of us and I love taking care of my Pooh Bear.”
The fork slipped from Grace’s hand and fell on the plate. Speechless, she stared at her friend in shock. Bronwyn liked to boast about all the nice things her fiancé did for her, but he was buying her expensive gifts with her charge card. Who did that? A real man would never take money from his woman, let alone demand a weekly allowance, and Grace didn’t understand why her bestie was cool with supporting a grown-ass man.
“The economy’s in the tank. People aren’t buying luxury cars like they used to—”
“Then he should get a job at another dealership instead of mooching off you.”
“No one’s mooching off anybody. Rodolfo’s a great catch, and I don’t mind helping him out financially from time to time. We’ve had our ups and downs and even split up for a while, but I’d rather be with Rodolfo than anyone else. He’s the only one for me...”
Listening to Bronwyn wax poetic about her fiancé, Grace realized she’d never loved anyone with unwavering devotion. Truth be told, she didn’t understand men, couldn’t figure them out, and doubted she ever would.
“Relationships are hard,” she quipped, with a knowing look, a smirk sitting pretty on her lips. “You of all people should know that.”
Grace ignored the dig, refusing to think about the night she’d dumped Phillip. To this day, Grace didn’t know what had possessed her to date the loudmouth physical trainer. Her father had always warned her that men would be after her for her money, but she didn’t believe him. Unfortunately, her dad was right. At the memory of the slap heard around the world—or rather inside Bronwyn’s elegant Capitol Hill home—Grace groaned as if she was being physically tortured. “I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t my finest moment, and every time I think about it I want to hide. It’s so embarrassing.”
Bronwyn pushed a hand through her long, curly locks and Grace peered at her engagement ring. The diamond was so small she’d need a magnifying glass to see it, and the thick band looked cheap and old-fashioned. Grace was convinced Rodolfo had bought it at a pawn shop, or stole it from his great-great-grandmother, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Don’t sweat it, slugger. Philip’s face healed just fine.”
Grace stuck out her tongue, then laughed when Bronwyn did the same.
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m not the one with the mean right hook.”
“You’re the worst, you know that?”
Bronwyn sobered. “If Philip apologized would you give him another chance?”
“No. Never. We have nothing in common, and we had no business dating.”
“Rodolfo and I ran into him yesterday while shopping at Bellevue Square, and he said you’re just taking a break, and you’ll be an item again in no time.”
“Ha!” Grace barked a laugh. “Girl, please, I’d rather join a convent!”
Bronwyn’s shrill, high-pitched giggles drew the attention of the patrons seated nearby.
Hungry, Grace picked up her fork and put it in her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she savored the rich, sweet pastry. Tasting cinnamon and hints of nutmeg on her tongue, she moaned in appreciation. The dessert did not disappoint. Grace sampled another bite of the Draynut and decided she didn’t like the dessert; she loved it.
“Tell me again why you wanted to meet here, and not at the bakery?”
“My dad asked me to check out the competition so here I am—”
“Sweet mother of God! Who is that and where has he been all my life?”
Grace didn’t have to turn around to know who Bronwyn was referring to, knew there was only one man inside Lillian’s of Seattle who could elicit such an emphatic response, but she did turn. Casting a glance over her right shoulder, she caught sight of Jackson stalking through the door, looking all kinds of sexy in a black sports jacket, crisp slacks and leather shoes.
Grace couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The man was a force of nature, so freakin’ hot her body tingled in places that made her blush. He must have sensed her watching him, felt the heat of her stare, because he met her gaze. She wore an aloof expression on her face and didn’t react when he winked at her, but her heart was doing backflips inside her chest. His grin revealed a set of matching dimples, straight white teeth and a twinkle in his eyes. Jackson moved with confidence, as if he could have anything in the world—including her—and that drew Grace to him.
“Do you know him?” Bronwyn asked. “Have you seen him here before?”
“That’s Jackson Drayson. He’s one of the three owners.”
“No,” she quipped, her gaze dark with lust. “That’s my second husband!”
Grace cupped a hand over her mouth to smother her girlish laughter.
“You tricked me.” Wearing an amused expression on her face, Bronwyn leaned across the table and leveled a finger at Grace. “You didn’t ask me to meet you here so we could catch up. You came down here to drool over that tall, beautiful specimen of a man.”
“As if. He’s not my type—”
“Says the girl who’s drooling all over her expensive designer dress!”
Grace noticed she wasn’t the only person in Lillian’s eyeing the dreamy baker. He’d captured the attention of everyone in the room and connected with patrons in meaningful ways. He shook hands, kissed babies, chatted with the group of senior citizens drinking coffee and saluted a female soldier waiting in line for her order. Jackson was a man’s man, a woman’s man, too, and it was obvious his customers loved him.
Watching Jackson charm everyone in the bakery made Grace realize her own inadequacies as an employee at Sweetness. She spent most of her days in her office, chained to her desk, and on the rare occasion she treated herself to lunch she sat outside in the park, not in the kitchen. Too many memories of her mother in there. Too many unfulfilled hopes and dreams, so she avoided the room at all costs. Customers, too. Everyone had a story to share about Rosemary, and hearing them broke her heart, overwhelmed her with pain and grief. For that reason, she kept her distance from the regulars.
“What’s his story?”
Grace told Bronwyn what she knew about Jackson, which wasn’t much, and noticed the expression on her friend’s face morph from excited to skeptical.
“Single, fine and successful?” she drawled. “There must be something wrong with him.”
“You mean besides that fact that he has a monster-sized ego?”
Bronwyn’s giggles skidded to a stop and her eyes widened with interest as Jackson stopped at their table. “Well, hello.”
“Good morning, ladies. Care to sample one of my Peppermint cheesecake bites?”
“Absolutely,” Bronwyn cooed, helping herself to one of the round minicakes.
Stuffed, so full she couldn’t move, Grace shook her head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
Bronwyn popped the dessert into her mouth, declared it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted and stuck out her right hand. “I’m Bronwyn Johansson, and you’re Jackson Drayson. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Everything Grace told you is true.”
Laughing together, Bronwyn and Jackson shook hands.
“It’s true what they say. Beautiful women do travel in packs.”
Bronwyn smiled so brightly she lit up the entire bakery. Grace tried not to gag. Surely, her friend wasn’t impressed with his pickup lines. But, sadly, she was. Silent and wide-eyed, she couldn’t believe her friend was flirting shamelessly with the bad-boy baker. Amused, Grace sank back in her chair and enjoyed the “Bronwyn and Jackson” show.
“You’re a great baker,” Bronwyn announced, her tone full of awe., “Your wife is one very lucky woman.”
“I’m not married.” His gaze slid across the table and landed on Grace. “But that could change any day now.”
Heat singed the tips of her ears and flowed through her body. Jackson made her hyperventilate, caused her thoughts to scatter in a million directions, and there was nothing Grace could do to stop it.
“I haven’t found Mrs. Right yet, but things are definitely starting to look up.”
“Describe your ideal woman.”
Grace kicked Bronwyn under the table, but her friend continued chatting a mile a minute.
“Don’t be shy,” she said, reaching out and patting his forearm good-naturedly, as if they were lifelong friends. “I love playing matchmaker, so let me help you find your soul mate.”
Jackson rested the wooden tray on the table. “That’s easy. I know exactly what I want.”
“Do tell. Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Bronwyn, don’t encourage him,” Grace implored, speaking through dry, pursed lips.
“I want to hear this. Go ahead, Jackson. I’m listening.”
His stare was bold and raked over her body with deliberate intent. “She’s five-ten, give or take a few inches, with mocha-brown skin, hourglass curves and legs like a Vegas showgirl.”
Oh, my goodness, he’s talking about me! Grace resisted the urge to cheer. Pride surged through her veins as she sat up taller in her chair. Fire and desire gleamed in his eyes, radiating from his chiseled six-foot body. Grace didn’t speak, kept the leave-me-the-hell-alone expression on her face, but when Jackson flashed his trademark grin her heart smiled. It must have appeared on her face because he looked pleased with himself, as if he’d developed an antidote for an incurable disease. He sat down in the empty chair beside her, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to kiss him.
“I know just the girl,” Bronwyn said, vigorously nodding her head. “Want her number? It’s 206-621—” Pop music played from inside her gold Michael Kors purse and she broke off speaking. Singing along with Taylor Swift, she retrieved her BlackBerry and checked the screen. “It’s my Pooh Bear! Jackson, keep Grace company until I get back. I won’t be long.”
“My pleasure,” he said, pouring on the charm. “Take your time.”
Her breakfast forgotten, Bronwyn surged to her feet and strode off.
“You look amazing. Do you model for Gucci, or are you just a huge fan of their clothes?”
“Surely, there’s someone else in here you can hit on,” she said with a nod toward the cash register. “How about that cute young barista with the curly hair? She’s always staring at you, and I’m sure she’d be flattered by your pickup lines.”
“I don’t spit lines. Just the truth.”
Seeing her cell phone light up, she glanced down at the screen and read her latest text message. Of course. It was from her dad. He wanted to know how things were going, but Grace decided not to respond. Not with the enemy sitting so close.
“When are you going to let me take you out? You know you want to.”
“I grew up here,” she said, “so there’s nowhere you can take me that I haven’t been to a million times before.”
“Try me. When we go out on Saturday night, I’ll knock you off your feet. Literally.”
“Are you always this cocky?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I have reason to be. I’m a pretty cool dude!”
His facial expression tickled her funny bone. Grace didn’t want to laugh, tried to swallow it, but it burst out of her mouth. Damn him! Why did he have to be funny and ridiculously hot?
“I love your laugh. It’s as captivating as your smile.”
“You wouldn’t be flirting with me if you knew who I was.”
“Ya think?” he said, leaning forward in his chair, his gaze full of interest. “Try me.”
“I’m your worst enemy.”
“Is that so, Ms. Nicholas? I prefer to think of us as colleagues, not rivals.”
* * *
Grace choked on her tongue. Oh, hell no!
The fact that Jackson already knew who she was and had been flirting with her anyway made her mad, but more than anything she was disappointed. All this time, she’d thought she was pulling one over on him, but he’d been pulling one over on her! Swallowing hard, Grace reclaimed her voice and asked the question racing through her mind. “You know who I am? But I never told you my last name. How did you figure it out?”
“Google. Twitter. Facebook. There are no secrets in this day and age. A few clicks of my mouse and I knew everything I wanted to know about you...”
Jackson spoke in a tone so seductive her nipples hardened under her fitted teal dress, and her thighs quivered. It took everything in her not to crush her lips to his mouth and steal a kiss. The man was long, lean and ripped, and Grace imagined all of the delicious things they could do together. Dirty dancing. Skinny-dipping. Tantric sex. Stunned by her lascivious thoughts, she tore her gaze away from his face and took a moment to gather herself.
“I like the quote you posted on your Facebook page this morning and couldn’t help wondering if it was about me. ‘Don’t be afraid of change. You may lose something good, but you may gain something infinitely better.’”
Everything in the bakery ceased to exist, faded to the background. Mesmerized, Grace listened to Jackson with growing interest, realized she’d been too quick to judge him. He was wise and insightful, and to her surprise she agreed with everything he said.
“There is no reason for us to be enemies. In fact, we could probably help each other. There is plenty of room for more than one bakery in town, and to prove it I’d be more than happy to give you a behind-the-scenes look at how things work at Lillian’s.”
His friendliness confused her. Why was he so willing to reveal company secrets?
“Come back after closing and I’ll give you a tour of our state-of-the art kitchen.”
Grace considered his offer. She suspected his invitation was the modern-day equivalent of inviting her upstairs to see his etchings, and wondered what else the hunky baker wanted to show her. The thought aroused her body, infected it with lust. What’s the matter with me? Why am I undressing him with my eyes? Why am I fantasizing about a man who has the power to break my heart and ruin my mother’s business?
“I better get back to the kitchen, or my sister will skin my hide.” Standing, tray in hand and grin on display, he winked good-naturedly. “See you at seven o’clock, beautiful. Stay sweet.”
Then, without waiting for her answer, he turned and strode off, as if the matter was decided. And that was when Grace knew she’d bitten off more than she could chew.