Double Dare (12 page)

She closed the briefcase and put it down beside her. “You also must know promotion never truly ends. If that was the case, we’d no longer see commercials with happy faces cutting prices.”

“I didn’t have to do this for my other store. Word of mouth was golden.”

She must have read something in his expression because she said, “And this time you don’t want it to be known you’re an ex-cop?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “No.”

“Good, because I would have needed another day to tweak what I already have for you.”

Abigail kept up that pace for the next hour, explaining the method and the purpose of everything she’d placed on his desk.

Emmaline had said they’d been friends for ten years. He had a newfound respect for her. In all that time, Emmaline hadn’t lost her identity to Abigail’s will. Friends—no, loved ones who loved you back were the hardest to deal with, because you knew their intentions held no malice.

He could also see why Emmaline loved her friend. The woman sitting in front of him didn’t hold back an inch. She was detail-oriented and logical. From what he could see, reckless and Abigail had never resided in the same sentence. In another life the woman could have been an attorney. By the end of the hour he wanted to both slap duct tape over her mouth to staunch the steady stream of words and sit back in awe.

“So what do you think?” Her shoulders tensed underneath the tailored suit jacket.

He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “I see no flaw in the plan of action. I can also see why you and Emmaline are friends.”

“I wasn’t sure you were buying into it.” Her soft laugh held nerves. “You just listened and only asked a few questions.”

“You were clear and concise and had me convinced mid-way through.”

Something calculating flitted behind her gaze. “Why’d you say you could see Emma and I as friends?”

Tobias didn’t hesitate to answer the question. “You’re self-assured. Loyal. Outspoken. Maybe a little slow on compassion, but it’s there. Emmaline’s only slow on the outspoken.”

Abigail rubbed at her chin. “You got this all from a sales pitch?”

“I’m paying you for your opinion, but you put everything forth as if my opinion wasn’t needed. You haven’t mentioned Emmaline. You have no problem telling me what I should think. A little heavy-handed, but I stand by my observation. And, yes, all that from a sales pitch.”

Lips pursed in distaste, she ran a steady hand down the lapel of her suit jacket. “Shouldn’t you be trying to get on my good side?”

“You wouldn’t be friends with Emmaline if she was easily swayed by what other people thought.”

She smirked at that. “If I asked, would you tell me your intentions?”

He didn’t break the eye contact. “But you wouldn’t believe my answer anyway.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly as if surprised by his insight. “I’m more interested in your stoic calm and whether or not you’ll tell Emma your intentions. Would you?”

“If she has to know in words.”

Abigail nodded. “When do you want to start?”

“As soon as possible.” He couldn’t stop the grin.

“We’ll start next week and you’ll have a re-grand opening in a month when school starts.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She left copies of the prototypes on his desk. At the door, she stopped and turned. “You hurt her, I’ll—”

“Bust my balls. Understood,” Tobias said.

She left, probably reassured. Tobias thought about his words. He meant it. To know a woman you had to know her friends. Another piece of Emmaline came together for him, and he knew there were many pieces left to add.

What would their next meeting reveal? Would it be personal or professional? He didn’t know since she hadn’t come to him yet. He pushed down the spurt of impatience. Going over there would probably make him seem pushy. So would calling her again. The next move was hers. Ah. Her approach would be the next piece. He went back to the counter and knew the waiting would be easier now.

Chapter Ten

Fate had to be co-conspiring against Emma. In the morning, customers loitered outside the door waiting for her to open. It had been tempting to close once that rush had been ushered out with sacks of treats and full stomachs.

The thought had been obliterated once she remembered the appointment with the Whitmen family. She’d barely finished prepping before they descended on the store. So, she did get to close, but for a completely different reason than she wanted. The Bride-to-be had brought her mother, her grandmother and great-grandmother. On the groom’s side there were his parents and both of his grandparents and a stray aunt.

Even if she’d remembered the appointment earlier, she wouldn’t have been prepared for the large, loud group. She’d taken them through the sample booklet and made sure everyone had a piece of the cakes she’d prepared. Like a democracy there was a vote and they made a clean choice. Four-tiers, butter cream filling, ivory fondant icing, no bride or groom on the top―too traditional―buried in vines and grapes―vino companies both sides―and specially decorated cake boxes.

They had her running on her feet until 2:55 p.m. Josh stood outside patiently and when he came inside, she told him to lock the door and collapsed into the makeshift table spread she made in the bakery.

“Looks like I’ll have lots to do.” He pointed to the empty plates and dirty trays.

She was too glad to have hired him at that moment to immodestly protest the help. “Yes.”

He started to clean, and she got that familiar guilty feeling sitting down and watching someone else straighten up her mess. Too bad. She wasn’t moving an inch until five minutes passed. If she could move then, because her brain and body protested the idea with aches.

In those five minutes Josh had the front straightened. She could hear water going in the kitchen. Those Merchant men were nothing if not efficient.

Tobias. Damn. She closed her eyes. Coffee sounded more than nice, it sounded divine. The pain in her limbs subsided. She stood and moved to the hallway. “Open once you’re done. I’m getting coffee.”

She locked the store and crossed to Caff-aholic. Fate visited him too because every seat had a warm body in it and she had to wait behind three people in line. He didn’t smile when he noticed her, but she hadn’t expected one. What worried her was the
look
had less heat and more sizzle. The kind that you didn’t even know you were standing in a hot zone until you ended up with third degree burns. What did that mean? It was her turn and still she couldn’t figure it out.

“Emmaline,” he said.

“I’m late.”

“You’re late.” He nodded in agreement.

She frowned, watching his face. “Too late?”

He put his head down and said, “Mallow, did you still want your coffee?”

“I need an IV drip. Had this huge family come in for cake tasting. I don’t close for another four hours, and I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll fix you something that will keep you up until tomorrow.”

She caught the glint in his eyes and knew he was pulling her leg. “Sounds delish.”

He chuckled and went to work. Each movement was precise but fluid, and it wasn’t long before the smell wafted toward her. A pang shot to her stomach and the first time in her life Emma yearned for coffee. She was salivating by the time he handed her cup over. She hummed after the first sip, looked at him, shook her head and took another.

“Does that mean I get another date?” he asked, standing near the cash register.

“Only if you make me this. And,” she added on a sigh, “if I get caught up, I promise to pay for any delivery of coffee.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile. “I am a
goddess
?”

She took another sip of coffee to hide her own smile. Everything about Tobias was pure man. And, yeah, Emma was charmed he remembered her comment about people loving her pastries. “What did my face say, Third Button?”

“I would say it, but we’re in public.”

She nodded. “Later then?”

He nodded again in agreement. Outside the wind blew, but the coffee warmed every bit of her as she made it back to the store. The cordless phone rang and she bypassed the counter to answer it.

“Miguel just moved his stuff in,” Abigail whispered into the phone.

Knowing hysteria would force this type of reaction, she said, “Hold on.” She placed a hand over the receiver. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she told Josh, and he shrugged.

Outside of cleaning and doing his assistant duties, the shrug was the only physical gesture he gave. At first she thought it was a brush off, but then she remembered who he was related to. So far she’d been able to distinguish the one shoulder jerk with the long way up and slower way down versus the full shoulder shrug.
Ok
and
that’s cool
. He was giving her the latter. At least his smiles came easy, otherwise she’d need one of those foreign language to English books.

She finished her coffee and placed the empty cup in the trashcan under the sink. She put the phone up to her ear.

“Why are you whispering?” Though Emma had an inkling of the problem.

Some people got buyer’s remorse. Abigail had boyfriend remorse. Every few months or so when things looked to be serious, Abigail would see a wedding looming around the corner. Emma tried to remember the last call. Right before the third month marker, but Sasha had fielded it.

“Those boots I hate,” she still whispered.

Emma sat down on the barstool. “The combat ones he wears around his house without laces?”

“They’re in my closet. Next to Lucy.”

Abigail was referring to the red Prada boots both Emma and Sasha had saved up to buy her the Christmas before. Abigail had written odes of love to them. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“And he’s doing something to my entertainment center. Apparently it’s not loud enough.”

“Remember when he took you to the Ferris wheel?”

Silence and then a sigh. “Yeah.” Abigail used in a normal voice. “But,” her voice raised, “isn’t harping on the good times bad?”

“Name a bad time.” Emma rubbed between her brows.

“Him putting those hideous-ass boots in my closet.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Something that broke the very fabric of your relationship?”

“I hate that question.”

Emma smiled. “I know you do.”

There was a rustle of noise, and then Abigail said, “We need better criteria. Remember snoring had been number two on the list?”

“When we were nineteen. Plus, Sasha snores.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Abigail said in a dry tone.

Emma tried to think of a decent answer and leaned against the island. “I think Sasha’s right.”

“No!”

“She’s a proud card carrying commitment-phobe. She can spot a real winner. She can break down relationships to a ’T’ and if you asked, let you know the probable outcome. Maybe we have stunted each others’ growth. Shouldn’t we know by now what makes a relationship work between a man and a woman?”

“I’m going to treat that like a rhetorical questions, because no one really knows. They know what worked for them. I mean look at all the magazines.”

“Bad example.”

Abigail said, “Studies state communication is the key to a successful romance. What exactly is communication? Talking, body language, letters or emails? Any means of transmitting feelings and thoughts?”

“Listening,” Emma added.

“What?”

“Listening is also a form of communication. I can express my thoughts and feelings to…” She glanced around the room. “My plants. They grow from the carbon dioxide. Should I take that as a response? If I didn’t they won’t die, but they wouldn’t be as healthy as they are now.”

“What?”

Emma pretended to bang her head on the island. “Did you tell him to move right in? Or did you sit down and talk about it first? What did he say?”

“It was his idea. I told him my place since it was bigger. He gave his thirty. We’ll probably spend the next week cleaning it so he can get back his deposit. We’ll put that money in the apartment fund.”

She sighed. “Good, but do you know why he loves those boots?”

“His brother gave them to him. Five years ago he was in a rock band, of all things.”

“The same brother that’s stationed in God knows where?”

A long silence. “I’ll move them away from Lucy, but I guess he can keep ’em.”

“That’s my girl,” Emma said with pride.

Her friend blew out a breath and the sound blasted into the phone. “Sorry. So?”

“What?”

“So implies spill the beans on your current situation with straight-arrow-bad boy.”

“Nothing. We made a date,” she said and frowned because when it was supposed to happen hadn’t been covered. Her line beeped. “Gotta go. I’m hanging up. Talk to you later. ”

“But—”

She clicked over and felt a pang for hanging up so fast, but then
Emmaline
was said so silkily through the ear piece it felt like a caress.

“Tobias Graham,” she answered.

“I forgot to give you a time and place.” He sounded amused.

“You did,” she stated matter of factly but had to cough to cover the laugh.

“I’ll pick you up at your place.”

“You will?”

He tsked. “You asked a question.”

She grinned realizing the game they were playing. “I did.”

“Much better,” he paused. “We’re having a picnic. Dress appropriately.”

She pursed her lips. “These sound like orders when not put in a question form.”

“They do. Can’t be helped.”

She snorted. “I’m not good at Haiku so let’s never try that one.”

“I could teach you.”

“I bet you could,” she murmured.

The line went silent, but he hadn’t hung up and then she could hear the soft laugh. “You win this round. Over,” he said.

“Out.”

She pressed the off button and smiled and then remembered he hadn’t given her a time. Before she could dial, the phone rang. She went warm all over.

“Tobias Graham?”

“Abigail Johnson speaking, actually.”

“Oh.” Disappointment made Emma’s shoulders sag.

“That’s all you have to say after hanging up on me?” Annoyance filled her tone.