Quinn pulled into Amanda’s driveway and cut the engine. She’d been equal parts elated and conflicted when Amanda offered to make dinner for their rescheduled meeting. Elated because it meant time with Amanda, not to mention a home cooked meal. Conflicted because she worried Amanda felt obligated. Oh, and because she had no business being elated.
She took a deep breath and gathered up her bag and the revised plans she wanted to review before handing things over to Joss. For some reason, having them, having a reason to be there other than dinner with Amanda, made her calmer. She shook her head. That was the problem with so many iffy, if not downright bad, dates. They had her on edge about spending time with an attractive woman.
Work. She was here for work. Nothing more, nothing less. At least when it came to work, she knew what she was doing.
She repeated the sentiment to herself as she climbed the porch steps and rang the bell.
When Amanda answered the door in a pair of jeans, a paisley top, and flats, she relaxed. So not a date. Even if the smile Amanda offered was enough to make her wish it was.
“Hey. It’s so good to see you. Come on in.”
“Likewise. Thank you for inviting me.” She took in the details of the entryway and living room—many of them the original craftsman design—and nodded her approval. “You’ve got a great place.”
“High praise coming from an architect.”
Quinn frowned. “I’m not a snob.”
Amanda smirked. “Oh, I hope you are at least a little. I’m an incorrigible snob when it comes to baked goods.”
The comment made her like Amanda even more. “I won’t confess my Little Debbie habit to you then.”
“And I won’t tell you about the original molding sacrificed for my kitchen reno.”
Quinn nodded. “Deal.”
She followed Amanda down the short hall to the kitchen. It definitely had the look and feel of a recent high-end remodel. Still, it wasn’t garish or modern or too out of step with the character of the house.
“I spend enough time in here that I let myself get exactly what I wanted.”
“I find nothing to take issue with.” She really didn’t. It almost made her wish she cooked.
“Are you just saying that so I’ll feed you?”
She chuckled at how close the question cut to her line of thinking. “Maybe.”
Amanda laughed and even though they absolutely were not on a date, Quinn made a mental note to try to get her to do it again. And again after that. “Don’t worry. I never promise to feed someone then take it back. I think it’s part of the mom code.”
“Oh, good.” Quinn set her things down on the table. “Still, I hope you didn’t feel obligated to make me dinner.”
“Does wanting to do something nice count as feeling obligated?”
She sure hoped that wasn’t the case. “Not necessarily.”
Amanda lifted a shoulder in a way that might be flirtatious. “I don’t bail on meetings, especially if someone has gone out of their way to show up at my bakery. This feels like the least I could do for making you reschedule.”
Quinn offered a shrug of her own. Any lingering disappointment was overshadowed by the dinner invitation. For the dinner as much as the company. “It happens to the best of us.”
“It’s kind of you to say so.”
“It’s easy to be generous when a beautiful woman is making me dinner.” Her cheeks flushed. Did she really just say that?
Amanda bit her lip but didn’t seem to mind the compliment. “I’ll remember that.”
A bolder woman would take it as invitation. Quinn wasn’t quite that, at least not these days. “So, what are we having?”
“Coq au vin. It can simmer while we go over the plans, which I figured we should do first.”
She had a point, especially since that was the reason for meeting in the first place. “Sounds perfect.”
“Can I pour you a glass of wine now?”
The offer of wine made her think maybe Amanda didn’t consider this strictly a business meeting. “Only if you’ll join me.”
“Well, if you insist.” Amanda pulled a bottle from the fridge and poured two glasses.
Quinn accepted her glass and lifted it. “Here’s to rescheduling in style.”
Amanda touched her glass to Quinn’s. “I’ll drink to that.”
They sat at the table and Quinn unrolled the plans. After getting Amanda’s approval on her more radical design, she’d worked out a more detailed plan. Still, she wanted Amanda’s input, especially on the layout for the kitchen. “I’ve done a handful of kitchen spaces, but none with your exact uses. I did some scouting for best practices, but I think you should drive the process since you actually spend time there.”
“You say that like it’s unusual.”
“For the owner to also be the head chef? Yes, it’s unusual.”
Amanda gave her an exasperated look. “It’s not some Michelin starred restaurant. I’m not a head chef.”
Quinn studied her, looking for something unspoken. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for false modesty.”
“My cakes could make a grown man cry they’re so good. It has nothing to do with modesty.”
The retort came with a straight face and not a second of hesitation. Had she not found Amanda attractive before, it would have tipped the scales. “Point taken.”
They talked through Amanda’s ideas for the different work spaces—baking, decorating, and the new lunch service. It was good she asked because it wouldn’t have occurred to her roasted garlic should never share the same work surface as modeling chocolate. She made copious notes and penciled things directly on the plans. Amanda did, too. In under an hour, they had enough ironed out to take the plans to Joss and the zoning board.
Quinn rolled up the oversize sheets of paper, securing them with rubber bands. “Do we get to eat now?”
“Hungry?”
“I wasn’t, but I’ve been smelling that chicken for the last forty-five minutes and let’s say I’m pretty happy with myself for not drooling on your blueprints.”
Amanda laughed. God, she really did have an incredible laugh. “You could have said so sooner.”
Quinn shook her head. “No, work before pleasure. I’m super boring like that.”
“Is work done, then?”
“Done.”
It was a special thing when food tasted even better than it smelled. Amanda’s chicken was that and more. The homemade bread helped. As did the second glass of chardonnay. Or maybe it was the company. Probably a combination of everything. Whatever it was, it was the best meal she’d had in as long as she could remember. She said as much to Amanda.
And then Amanda whipped out this torch contraption and burned the sugar on a pair of crème brûlées. Like, literally, right in front of her. Her spoon did that satisfying crack when it broke the shell and the custard underneath might have been the most delicious thing she’d ever put in her mouth.
“Wow.”
“Like I said, it’s the least I could do.”
“Could you forget all our meetings? Please?”
Amanda chuckled. “Couldn’t I just agree to make you dinner again?”
“But what would I do to repay you?”
She considered. “Well, you are giving me the bakery of my dreams.”
Quinn made her face serious. “Um. I’m sorry. Maybe we weren’t fully clear. You’re going to have to pay for that.”
The sound that came out of Amanda was more of a snort than a laugh. Not as sexy, but so genuine and uninhibited. Quinn couldn’t decide which she preferred.
They finished dessert and Amanda refused all offers of help cleaning up. Quinn was sorry to see the meeting end, to be honest, but they were going on three hours. Probably best to make a graceful exit.
Amanda walked her to the door. “Thank you again for being so accommodating.”
“I feel like I should be the one thanking you. Dinner was fantastic.”
“You’re easy.” Amanda folded her arms.
Quinn raised a brow. “Sometimes.”
“I’ll remember that next time I want something from you.”
She held Amanda’s gaze even as her pulse ticked up a notch. “Or you could ask.”
“Maybe I have a hard time asking for things without offering something in return.”
“I could give you a lecture, but it would be a pot and kettle situation.” And true of her personal life as much as her professional habits.
“It’s nice to know I’m not alone,” Amanda said.
The flush that rose in Amanda’s cheeks made her feel bold. Made her feel like herself. “I liked talking about more than work, too, if I’m being honest.”
“Same.”
“So, I think we should do it again.”
Amanda swallowed and felt a flush creep into her cheeks. Was Quinn asking her out? “I’d like that.”
“Maybe with no talk about work at all.”
Aha. All right. She’d thought maybe Quinn was flirting with her, but couldn’t be sure. But that was way more than friendly. “I’d like that, too.”
Amanda opened the door, but Quinn didn’t immediately step through. The hesitation made the air between them feel electric, like the moment before a first kiss. Amanda braced herself for it—excitement and anticipation buzzing through her. Quinn looked at her mouth, then into her eyes.
A car pulling into the driveway broke the moment. The tension or spark or whatever it was dissipated. Amanda glanced over. “That would be my son.”
“Ah.” Quinn’s expression turned sheepish, like she was processing what it would have been like to be caught. Amanda couldn’t help but find it endearing.
“I’ll just catch him so he can let you out.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Amanda stepped onto the porch and waved in Cal’s direction. He put down his window. “What’s up?”
“Could you pull in behind me so Quinn can leave?”
He offered her a playful salute and repositioned his car.
Since a kiss was completely out of the question now, she walked Quinn down the sidewalk. When Cal reached them, she said, “Quinn, this is my son, Cal. Cal, this is Quinn Sullivan. She’s the architect working on the bakery expansion.”
Quinn and Cal exchanged greetings, then Cal headed inside. Quinn seemed unbothered by the interruption. “Still in high school or done?”
“Just finished. He’s starting at Cornell in the fall.”
Quinn smiled. “Congratulations. My nephew just finished his first year in the architecture program.”
“Cal’s planning environmental engineering. We’ll see if it sticks.”
“Yeah. I think Jacob is pretty settled, but who knows?”
While the almost maybe kiss had been nice, this conversation was much more her speed. For better or worse. “As long as he doesn’t change his mind ten times, I think I’ll be okay.”
“Totally reasonable.” Quinn seemed to hesitate again.
“Have a great night.” It came out almost like a question and made her wish she wasn’t so out of practice.
Quinn stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked back on her heels. “You, too.”
Amanda walked back to the house as Quinn got in her car, but she turned to wave from the porch. All the while wondering if Quinn might have kissed her.
Inside, she found Cal with his head in the refrigerator. “Didn’t you eat at Zoe’s?”
“Yeah, but like two hours ago.”
“There’s coq au vin leftover from dinner if you want. Glass bowl with the green lid.”
“Yes.” He dragged out the word and snagged the bowl.
“There’s salad, too.”
He waved her off, scooped out a piece of chicken, and started eating it with his fingers. “I’m good.”
“Don’t you want that warmed up?”
“Nah.”
She shook her head. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re using a plate.”
He shrugged. “Why was your architect over for dinner?”
“Because I forgot I had a meeting with her and felt bad.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I know. She showed up at the bakery and I was frantically trying to finish an order.”
“No, I mean it’s too bad that’s the reason.”
She started cleaning the kitchen around him. “What do you mean?”
“I thought maybe it was a date.”
She didn’t discuss her love life in any great detail with her kids, but they often teased her about getting out more, getting a life. It was mostly that—teasing. Or at least she always figured it was. “We’re working together.”
“So? It’s not like she’s your employee.”
Amanda frowned. She always deflected these kinds of comments, but she didn’t want to this time. Not with Quinn. What was that about? “I know.”
“Seriously, Mom. How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?”
Not counting Mel? God, if Cal or Daniella had a clue about that. She shoved the idea aside. They didn’t and wouldn’t. “A while.”
“Exactly. You’re going to have an empty nest soon. You should start living it up.”
She got the image of a cozy night in with Quinn. Dinner, a fire, a kiss that would lead to more. “I’m pretty happy with my life, thank you very much.”
“You know what I mean.” He sighed and, for the first time, she wondered if maybe there was more to it.
“Are you worried about me?”
He rolled his eyes and she got the impression he wished Daniella was there to back him up. “Not worried worried. We just don’t want you to be lonely.”
Suddenly, the ripple effect of her choices came into focus. She’d always put her kids first, had wanted to as much as she’d felt like it was an obligation. But now she could see she wasn’t modeling the sort of balance she always encouraged them to find. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him. “You don’t need to worry.”
He returned the hug, but then stepped back and folded his arms. The gesture reminded her so much of Mel she almost laughed. “And what’s your answer when Daniella and I say that to you?”
Touché. “It’s my prerogative to worry about you.”
He lifted his chin with a trace of challenge. “Well, same goes.”
“How’d I get so lucky in the kid department?”
He dropped his hands to his sides and shrugged. “Beats me.”
And just like that, the emotional moment passed and her smart-aleck son was back. She loved that he had the capacity for both. She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Are you in for the night?”
“Yeah. I have to work early tomorrow.”
She kissed his cheek. “Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
She started toward the stairs but paused when he called after her. She poked her head back in the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“Maybe you should think about dating your architect. She’s totally your type.”
She shook her head but laughed. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll take it under consideration.”
His voice followed her up the stairs. “You should listen to me. I’m very smart.”